Chapter 3

The cold went straight through me.

I'd never said those two words to a single soul. How could he know?

I stepped back without thinking.

But the uncle was standing right in the doorway of the cold-storage room, blocking the only way out.

I flung the lid in my hand at him and spun to run.

"What are you running for?"

I didn't dare look back.

Charging out of the cold room, my shoulder slammed into the doorframe hard enough to black out my vision.

I didn't even slow.

By day the back kitchen was maybe forty feet across. Right now it felt like it had no end.

Footsteps came fast behind me.

"Stop!"

I glanced back.

The uncle had grabbed a cleaver from beside the cutting board.

He really was going to kill me.

I scrambled up onto the windowsill, half crawling.

"Are you crazy? Get down first!"

Get down and wait to die?

I climbed out the window and lost my footing on the drop, my knee cracking hard against the ground.

No time for the pain. I got up and ran.

My phone was clamped tight in my hand, and I unlocked it as I ran.

Call the police. I had to call the police.

But the alley was too dark, and my foot caught a cardboard box on the curb and sent me sprawling.

The footsteps got closer.

I shrank back two steps.

"Stay away from me!"

He still had that cleaver in his hand.

"My phone's got location on. Anything happens to me, the cops come for you first!"

The uncle caught up and grabbed my wrist.

"Stop yelling!"

"You wanted to know what's inside? Fine. I'll show you right now!"

He hauled me back toward the shop, no arguing.

My eyes stayed on the cleaver in his hand, and my legs still wouldn't hold.

Inside the cold room, he let me go.

He crouched, lifted the lid, and ran the cleaver lightly across the top of the bag.

So the knife was for opening the bag.

Inside were only a few small sealed jars, holding something grayish-white that looked like dough.

The uncle picked one up and gave it a shake.

"This is a fermentation starter I keep going myself."

"The stuff's sensitive to temperature, so I store it separately in here."

For a long moment I couldn't say anything.

"Now you get why I had the knife?"

My face went a little hot. Then it hit me again.

"Then how did you know I suspected human flesh?"

The uncle pointed around the shop.

"You climb through the window in the dead of night, go digging through meat in the cold room."

"Then you see me and your face goes white as a ghost."

"You think I can't guess what's in your head? You really took your own uncle for a murderer?"

I said nothing.

He set the jar back in the box.

"Don't go home tonight. The meat delivery comes a little after four. See for yourself."