Chapter 3

Hearing that, my mom's hands stopped on the straps.

She wiped her tears with the back of a mud-caked hand, then suddenly covered her mouth and broke into stifled, wretched sobs.

“Jane, this afternoon I was saving your life!” She grabbed the hand I'd pulled back and clutched it tight, gasping through her tears. “Leo came charging in with a whole gang of them — they looked ready to tear you apart! If we hadn't played along and said you were crazy, gotten the cops to take you, Leo would've beaten you to death right there with a shovel! Even the town sheriff is on his side. Your dad and I had to give in to them first, just to keep you alive, so we'd have a chance to come for you tonight!”

Looking at the blood smeared across half her face, and my dad's leg that couldn't even hold him straight, my throat tightened. “Then how did you end up like this… what happened to your head?”

“That animal Leo did it.” My mom kept fumbling at the straps, hissing through the pain. “He was afraid we'd come for you in the night, so he locked the main-house door with an iron lock. Your dad smashed the back window glass and pulled me out — and Leo caught us. He swung a shovel at us. Your dad took the handle across his leg shielding me…”

Her voice grew hoarser, almost despairing. “Jane, they mean to kill you! If you don't run now, you really won't make it!”

“I'm not running! Mom, if I run, that makes me a fugitive admitting guilt! I didn't kill anyone. When the city police come tomorrow—”

“You won't live to see the city police!”

My dad leaned against the wall, dragging his broken leg, panting hard and shaking. “Leo did the poisoning. He secretly bought Claire a one-million-dollar accidental-death insurance policy, and the cop who took the bribe gets the biggest cut. The man escorting you tomorrow is his crony. Somewhere on the road, he'll just stage it — ‘psychiatric patient jumps from the car, suicide’ — and you'll never even reach the city police station!”

Outside, a low roll of thunder passed.

The storm had sealed off the hills; there was no getting out, not even down the dirt road.

In this village ringed by mountains on three sides, waiting for the people from the city really was no different from waiting to die.

Seeing me hesitate, my mom dropped to her knees beside the bed with a thud.

Big, heavy tears splashed onto the back of my hand.

“Jane! Just go! If you won't, I'll smash my head open right here and let you watch me die in front of you!”

I looked at the blood dripping from her forehead.

And suddenly I remembered the winter I was fifteen, when my hands were covered in chilblains, aching so badly I cried under the covers at night. She'd sat up with a coat over her shoulders, tucked my cold, oozing hands into her armpits to warm them, and hushed me to sleep, breathing warm air over them.

The tears came down without warning, blurring everything.

I stopped fighting it.

“Mom, I'll go…”

I nodded, my voice ragged.

The straps came fully undone. My mom swiftly pulled a black waterproof bag from behind her and pushed it into my arms.

My dad gripped my arm and shoved me toward the window. “There's five thousand dollars in the bag and my old phone. Follow the back hills south — once you're clear of the mountains, call the police! Hurry!”

“What about you two?” I clung to the bag's strap.

“We'll hold them off!” My mom pushed me out the window, her voice gone completely hoarse. “Run! Don't look back, not even if it kills you!”

In the pouring rain, I looked at my blood-soaked parents, bit my lip until it bled, and plunged into the dark of the back hills.

I stumbled all the way to an abandoned little hillside chapel halfway up the slope, shivering, hugging the waterproof bag tight.

This was the way out my parents had risked their lives to buy me. Leo had raised his hand against his own father — if he found out I'd escaped, would my parents, left behind in that den of wolves, even survive?

I unzipped the bag and pulled out the chipped old phone, hoping to find evidence for the police or send a message that I was safe.

The photo album was empty. But in the “Recently Deleted” folder sat one unnamed video file.

The timestamp below it read: April 12, 8:00 PM.

That was the night Claire drank the poison — three full days ago.

I tapped the video open.

The instant I saw what was on the screen, the color drained from my face.