Page 16

FIFTEEN

KNOTTY PINE HILL

A shudder cut through Claire as she stirred from unconsciousness. The window was open, the freezing wind blowing through, chilling her to the bone. Blinking at the blinding light shining through the window, she realized she was naked.

Fear crawled through her chest, pressing against her ribs, and she instantly reached for a blanket.

But her hand was still bound to the bed post and the covers were gone.

She tried to sit up, but the ropes dug into her wrists. Tears stung her cheeks and her lips felt numb. She tugged at the rope to loosen them and lifted her head. A gasp caught in her throat.

The room was empty.

No bedding. No toys or stuffed animals or dolls.

No little girls whispering or the pitter patter of feet.

Suddenly footsteps shuffled outside the door. Then his low whistle, a happy tune, as if nothing was wrong. The door swung open, and he stood in the shadows, a hulking figure in black, a menacing glare in his eyes.

“Who are you and why are you doing this?” she cried.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

His evil laugh boomed through the room, echoing with disdain. “Are you going to behave if I give you clothes?”

She swallowed back a sob. Part of her wanted to argue, to shout that he had to let her go. But he took pleasure in her pain and would only make her suffer more.

Although this was nothing compared to the agony of losing her precious daughters. She wished he’d killed her, too.

He strode over to her, gripped her chin so hard she thought her bones would crack and twisted her face, forcing her to look at him. “Are you going to behave?” he asked again, enunciating each word carefully.

She nodded, swallowing a whimper.

“Are you going to cry?” he barked.

A sob caught in her throat. “No.”

He threw a pair of sweats at her, then unlocked her bound wrist, watching her intensely. She sat up cautiously, bracing herself for another beating. But the only thing that touched her was his cold, hard eyes. He stared at her in contempt as she dressed, then he walked to the door and, a second later, pushed a ladder into the room. Next, he brought a tarp and spread it on the floor, then brought in a paint brush and can of paint.

“Pack up all the clothes in the closet then paint the room,” he ordered. “And don’t get any paint on the furniture or else.”

Too terrified to protest, she simply nodded then pushed herself to a standing position. Whistling again, he spun around, walked out and locked the door behind her.

She glanced at the closet with the girls’ T-shirts, little dresses and shoes and tears blurred her eyes.

She knew exactly what he was doing. He intended to erase any sign Taylor and Heidi had ever been there.