Pop.
Like a toy gun going off.
Paula’s mouth dropped open.
The knife slipped from her hand.
She crumpled to the floor.
Jane leaned over Paula and found the steady pulse in her neck. She pressed open her eyelids. There was a milky white in her left eye, but the pupil in her right eye dilated in the harsh overhead light.
Jane pushed through the swinging door, the box tucked under her arm. She walked through the living room and down the hall. Andrew was sleeping in the bedroom. The morphine bottle was empty. She shook him, saying, “Andy. Andy, wake up.”
He turned toward her voice, a glassy look in his eyes. “What is it?”
“Didn’t you hear the phone?” Jane could only think of one lie that would move him. “Nick called. We have to get out of here.”
“Where’s—” He struggled to sit up. “Where’s Paula?”
“She took off. There was another car parked on the road.” Jane struggled to get him up. “I’ve got the box. We have to go, Andrew. Now. Nick said we had to get out.”
He tried to stand. Jane had to lift him to his feet. He was so thin that holding him up was almost effortless.
He asked, “Where are we going?”
“We have to hurry.” Jane almost dropped the metal box as she guided him down the hall, out the front door. The walk to the van seemed to take hours. She should’ve gagged Paula. Tied her up. How long before she woke up and started screaming? Would Andrew leave if he thought they were betraying Nick and the plan?
Jane couldn’t risk it.
“Come on,” she begged her brother. “Keep moving. You can sleep in the van, all right?”
“Yeah,” was all he could manage between raspy breaths.
Jane had to drag him the last few yards. She leaned him against the van, her knee keeping his knees from bending, so that she could open the door. She was buckling him into the seat when she remembered—
The keys.
“Stay here.”
Jane ran back to the house. She pushed through the door into the kitchen. Paula was on her hands and knees, head shaking like a dog.
Without thinking, Jane kicked her in the face.
Paula oofed out a sound, then collapsed flat to the floor.
Jane patted Paula’s pockets until she found the keys. She was halfway to the van when she remembered the gun in Paula’s waistband. She could go back and get it, but what was the point? It was better to leave than risk giving Paula another chance to stop them.
“Jay—” Andrew watched her climb behind the wheel. “How did... how did they find...”
“Selden,” she told him. “Clara. She backed out. She changed her mind. Nick said we have to hurry.” Jane threw the van into reverse. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor as she drove back up the driveway. She checked the rearview mirror. All she saw was dust. Her heart kept pounding into her throat as she drove down the winding roads outside the farm. It wasn’t until they’d finally reached the interstate that Jane felt her breathing return to normal. She looked over at Andrew. His head was lolling to the side. She counted his arduous breaths, the painful in and out as he strained for air.
For the first time in almost two years, Jane felt at peace. An eerie calmness had taken over. This was the right thing to do. After giving herself over to Nick’s insanity for so long, she was finally lucid again.
Jane had been to Northwestern Hospital once before. She was in the middle of a tour and suffering from an earache. Pechenikov had driven her to the emergency room. He had fussed around her, telling the nurses that Jane was the most important patient that they would ever care for. Jane had rolled her eyes at the praise but been secretly pleased to be handled with such care. She had loved Pechenikov so much, not just because he was a teacher, but because he was a decent and loving man.
Which was likely why Nick had made Jane leave him.
Why did you give it up?