“Please? Just real quick?” she begged. “His room’s right there.” Low-pitched angry tones were coming from the left. She pointed to the right.
Protect us, Leah prayed. Easing inside, she followed Annie as silently as possible. The smell of burned toast clogged the air.
Annie stopped at the first door they came to and gestured to the lock she’d mentioned earlier. A slide lock.
Breath shallow, Leah’s mind screamed,Get out! Get out!as she freed it.
Within the room, Mason, his face splotchy from crying, pushed to his feet. He looked a few years older than Annie.
“Get on some shoes,” Leah whispered to them, “and meet me in the front yard.”
They scrambled to do as she’d asked.
Leah rushed outside. In less than a minute, Mason and Annie exited. A minute after that, a middle-school-aged version of Claire slipped from the house. Her skin was ashen, her mouth set. This must be Becca.
“He’s not going to let Claire leave,” Becca told Leah flatly.
“No?”
The girl gave an abrupt shake of her head—
Wes jerked open the door. His attention swept to the three children in the yard. His brow crimped. “You can take them, but not Claire. She’s grounded.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. She’s been struggling slightly with the concept of integrals, and the display does a great job of illustrating that in a way I think will help her understand.”
“She’s not going,” he said.
Claire would want her to take Becca, Mason, and Annie away. Yet everything in her was rebelling at the prospect of leaving Claire behind. Should she brave further entreaties?
No. Wes’s expression left no room for that.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll be back with these three shortly.” Or not. How was she going to handle this? She didn’t have the right to kidnap this man’s children.
The kids bundled inside her car. Three was better than none. She’d get them somewhere safe, discuss the situation with the police, then decide what to do about Claire. She executed a U-turn in order to leave the neighborhood.
“Wait,” Becca said as they drove back past the house. “There’s Claire.”
Motion caught Leah’s eye. Claire, climbing out one of the downstairs windows. Leah’s heart wadded in her throat. The girl’s head and shoulders were out, but when she tried to step through, something held her in place. She tugged but could go no farther.
“We have to help her!” Annie cried.
“I will. Just let me ... let me park out of sight.”
Two houses down, she came to a halt. “Wait here.” She dashed toward Claire.
Claire was weeping silently when Leah reached her. The teenager strained forward. “My sweater’s caught.”
“I’ll help you.”
“No, you’d better go, Ms. Montgomery.” Making a ragged sound, she heaved forward again. It was like watching an animal trying to escape from a trap. Behind Claire lay a messy bedroom and a discarded window screen, but Wes wasn’t in sight.
“I’ll help you,” Leah repeated forcefully. The knit of Claire’s sweater had snarled in the crank handle. Leah wrapped her fingers around the threads and pulled. They began to give way. “Move to the side, Claire.”
The girl did so. Leah got a better grip and yanked with all her might. This time, they ripped. She supported Claire as the girl jumped down. They jogged, holding hands, toward the car.
They’d only gone a few yards when Claire’s dad stormed from the house, swearing. “Stop!” he yelled.
Claire wrenched to a halt, separating herself from Leah.
