the case. I knew what books I would throw across the room in the future, providing I had a future.
Also, detectives in books seemed to take as many aspirin as they wanted, without regard for the recommended adult dosage. Was I the only person in the world who watched the clock so I wouldn't take my pills too close together? Though at the moment, I would take anything anyone handed me. Please, knock me out. You can see the quality of my thinking was not high. And those were only the good parts.
I tried to concern myself about escaping. I tried to pretend I was well, and resourceful, and determined. The truth was, I was sick in body and heart, and desperate.
There was an outside door to the basement, the kind I'd only seen in movies before now; almost fiat to the ground, barred on the outside. No windows. Regina assured me she'd tried that door many times, and it was of course always barred. There was nothing like a saw in the basement; the Granberrys had removed the tools. What they'd left was extra stores of canned goods, luggage, and a pile of odds and ends of lumber.
One of them would have to bring us food eventually. And after some hours, Luke did. But Margaret stood above him on the stairs, her gun in her hand. "How's Hayden?" Regina asked, beginning to sob yet again.
"Our baby's fine," Luke said briefly and pointedly.
I prayed Regina wouldn't ask them what they were going to do with us.
"What are you gonna do with me?" she asked. So I was only half disappointed. Luke didn't answer, which was just as well. He set down a tray on Regina's makeshift table, and left. Margaret was vigilant the whole time. I looked as ill as possible, which was no stretch.
There was a bottle of Excedrin on the tray. Regina opened it for me, and though I was afraid it would make me sick again, I took four. What a rebel. I propped myself up on one elbow to try the soup, which was Campbell's chicken noodle, and I managed a couple of crackers and some water. I was exhausted when I lay back down.
But after about thirty minutes, I found I felt better.
"Help me up," I told Regina.
"Need to go the girls' room?"
"No, I need to move a little."
Regina had carried the tray up to the top step, which she said was normal routine. Margaret had opened the door, bent down, and removed it. It had looked to me like she was alone.
Now, after my cell mate had helped me stand, I managed to walk by myself, though "walking" makes it sound more organized than it really was. I went over to the cellar storm doors. I had to push against them for myself. They gave only a fraction of an inch. There was a dead bolt inside the cellar, of course, but at some point Regina had unbolted it and left it that way. "What's the bar outside made of?" I asked.
"Metal," she answered gloomily. She had experimented more than she was letting on. "I did think of breaking one of the jars, putting a straight piece of glass through the gap, and sawing at the bar, if it was wood. But it wasn't." "You were talking before like you were content just to wait down here." "I was trying to act like I thought everything would be okay." Now that, I understood. "And I guess I figured they were more likely to let me out if they saw me assuming they were going to let me out." She shrugged. "It couldn't hurt." Her head tensed. "Listen! There's someone here!" After a second, I could hear it, too. The front door slammed, and there were more footsteps above us. Suddenly the basement door swung open a crack. "If you say one word I'll kill this baby," Margaret said. "Don't scream, don't say anything."
After she shut the door Regina and I stood looking at each other.
"She wouldn't hurt Hayden," I said. "Look at what she's done for him already!"
"I know ... but.. ."
Suddenly deciding, I managed to get to the stairs, grabbed the wooden railing, began to haul myself up. Then I felt a hand gripping my pants leg. "She might mean it," Regina said.
"Martin may already be dead," I told her. "I have to get out of here and get help for him." I was pleading.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Roe. Not if there's a chance