Page 61 of The Chain

“Oh my God, sweetie, hold on, just hold on.”

Amelia is drooling and her breathing is getting shallower.

Rachel pulls her out of the sleeping bag.

She’s on fire. Her eyes flutter.

Her breathing slows, slows, slows, and then stops completely.

“Amelia?”

She isn’t breathing. Oh my God! CPR! How do you—

Rachel remembers what to do and begins giving her mouth-to-mouth.

She inhales deeply and then breathes life back into Amelia. Once, twice.

She changes position and pumps Amelia’s chest hard and fast, thirty times.

The little girl is breathing again but she needs help, now. Rachel taps 911 into her phone but doesn’t press send.

One call and the paramedics will come and save Amelia’s life.

They’ll save Amelia and condemn her own daughter to death.

She squeezes the iPhone so hard she thinks the glass is going to crack.

Amelia’s face.

Kylie’s face.

No. She can’t do it. Sobbing on the concrete floor, she puts the phone down.

31

Saturday, 7:27 a.m.

The door at the top of the basement steps opens.

“Breakfast on time this morning,” the man says, coming down the stairs with a jug of orange juice, toast, and a bowl of cereal. Kylie looks for the gun and there it is, tucked in the front of his pants, something her uncle Pete says nobody should ever do with firearms.

“Are you awake?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Kylie says, sitting up in the sleeping bag.

“That’s good. Do you like marmalade? I love it. I never had it before I went to London a few years ago. Had it on my toast at breakfast.”

“Yes, I do like it. My mom gets it sometimes.”

“Toast cut into triangles, Maine butter—from grass-fed cows, of course—Coco Pops, and OJ. That should keep you going for a while.”

He sets the tray down on the ground.

She has deliberately placedMoby-Dickon the floor, opened, facedown, two-fifths from the end. She knows he’ll pick it up, impressed.

“My goodness, you’re doing well with this. You’re over halfway—”

While he is bending over, Kylie clubs him on the head with the wrench. The fact that he’s wearing the ski mask makes it easier to do because she can pretend she’s not hitting a human at all. The man groans and she hits him again.