Relief washes through me.
If he was damn near crawling across the porch, that means the blood I saw is his, not Margot’s.
“I don’t know,” he babbles. “I’m telling you, I-I… I didn’t do anything.”
“Did she do that? Did Margot hit you?” I glare at him, and when he doesn’t answer, I shake him again. “Fucking talk!”
“Wha—no! No, she never saw me. It was the other man.”
“What man?” I growl.
He shakes his head again, mouth opening and closing like a stunned fish out of water.
Goddamn.
The rain pounds on, spraying his face, but I don’t give a flying fuck about his comfort.
I want answers to the only question that matters.
And if he’s here at all, it can’t mean anything good. I’m sure his evil sneak of a wife will be slinking around here somewhere, too.
But that’s not what concerns me most—what other fuckingmanis he talking about?
The man who left the note?
The man who wanted Margot and the kids gone?
I rear back and power-slam Joseph into the wall again until his head bounces.
“Where is she?” I bite off. “You have five seconds. Then you’ll wish I wasn’t carrying this hammer.”
“That man, he’s got her!” he snarls. Fear flickers in his eyes now, his face hollowed out like a jack-o’-lantern past its prime. “Storm cellar, I think. Last place I saw them.”
Fuck me.
Without a second glance, I toss him on the porch face-first and go sprinting through the sleeting rain, rocketing toward that ominous hole in the ground.
23
HOMESICK (MARGOT)
Twenty Minutes Earlier
Ithink my kidnapper might be the dumbest man alive for thinking I’d go out easy.
The second Lee grabs me, my fight instinct wakes up.
There’s no one close enough to hear me, but I scream my lungs out anyway.
I read somewhere once that you can’t always scream if stress puts you in a choke hold. That’s why people carry around whistles, I suppose.
Whatever the science—and I amstressed—I don’t have any problem making noise.
Piercing, earsplitting, eagle screech loud.
He swears and grabs my arms, wrenching them behind my back.
I throw myself down, resisting.
