Page 87 of The Chain

Pete carefully lifts the gun and puts it in his own jacket pocket. “Is that Seamus Hogg?” Rachel whispers.

Mike nods.

Rachel picks up the Bible.

He was reading Deuteronomy.

Now,she thinks,it is time to teach him a new religion.

41

Monday, 4:17 a.m.

Empty beach. Indifferent sky. Waves iterating on the cold black ocean.

Rachel walks up the back steps of the Appenzellers’ home.

From the outside, the house looks deserted.

In through the kitchen.

To the top of the basement steps.

“Kylie?”

Voices down below.

Dutch angle. Tight on Rachel’s face. Jesus. What now?

She takes out the .38, levels it in front of her, and walks downstairs.

Kylie and Amelia are in the dome tent.

They are playing Operation. Kylie isn’t wearing her ski mask. They are eating potato chips and Amelia is laughing her head off.

This is the first time Rachel has heard her laugh.

She sits down on the basement steps and puts away the gun.

She wants to be angry at Kylie for not following the protocol. But she can’t be. Kylie is looking after the little girl the way a human being should care for another human being.

Kylie has more empathy than she does. Kylie is braver than her.

Rachel goes back upstairs.

She puts the gun on the kitchen table and sits.

She is filled with self-hatred and revulsion. None of this would have happened if she had been a better mom.

For a moment she wonders what it would feel like to put the barrel of the nine-millimeter in her own mouth. That cool carbon steel resting on her tongue as if it belonged there. The thought scares her, and she pushes the weapon away.

“When is this going to end?” she whispers to the darkness.

The darkness keeps its own counsel.

42

Monday, 6:00 p.m.