and lapped it all up.
I watched as Peter brought the woman an egg carton and accepted her money. She said something to him. He responded.
Rufus was still on his feet, smacking his chops. The coffee and piecrust were gone.
The woman opened the back door to the car, still talking to Peter as she strapped her child into the car seat. Peter nodded, looking toward the house.
She said something else. Peter faced her.
Rufus swayed. He blinked. He swayed again.
Then he lowered himself onto his front paws. He dropped to his haunches.
A second later he was on his side, snoring in chorus with Leslie.
I grabbed the knife off the table. I looked out the window. The woman’s car was gone. Peter was nowhere in sight.
I listened. The house seemed silent. Maybe Peter was still outside.
I tiptoed across the room and flattened myself against the edge of the doorway. The house remained silent but I was afraid to move.
Now would be the perfect time for Ray to show up with his search warrant. But somehow I didn’t think I could be that lucky.
I decided to risk taking a look into the kitchen.
I eased myself around the edge of the door and let one eye take a peek.
The kitchen was empty. The only sound was the tick of a round clock with a rooster on its face. My purse and cell phone lay on the table.
I darted across the room and grabbed them up. I ran for the door, the purse, phone, and knife pressed tight to my chest.
Only a few more feet and I’d be out of the house. My gaze flicked to the window, keeping a nervous eye out for Peter. Too nervous.
I tripped over a shoe and started to fall. I let go of everything I held so that I could use my hands to break my fall.
As my hands and knees hit the floor, the cell phone bounced once and landed inside a rubber boot caked with mud. The knife skittered across the tiles and under a bench. The contents of my purse spilled onto the hallway carpet runner. I lost a few seconds catching my breath.
When I was able, I grabbed my car keys and left the rest of my things on the floor. I leapt to my feet, stopped at the door, and looked out the window.
No one in sight.
I listened. Besides the occasional rustle of leaves from a gust of wind and the distant moo of a cow in the pasture, the day was silent. Nothing to indicate Peter was nearby.
Now was the time to make my break. I took a deep breath, burst through the door, and ran for the Lexus, pumping my arms like an Olympic track star.
I got halfway there.
Hands dug into my stomach as they swung me off my feet. In a second, I was airborne. The keys flew from my fingers and smacked into the Lexus’ windshield. I screamed in fear and despair.
Peter hustled me across the gravel drive toward the barn, holding me two feet off the ground. I kicked and screamed. My heels made contact, drumming his kneecaps. He didn’t seem to notice. I tried to twist my body so I could hit him in the head. He just twisted me back. I was like a bundle of hay to him.
Of course, he was like a tractor to me.
The barn was dark. At first, I couldn’t see anything. My eyes adjusted. I caught sight of stacks of foam coolers, two refrigerators, bales of hay, buckets of all shapes and sizes, and drums filled with farming tools like pitchforks and shovels. Horse stalls lined both sides of the barn. Empty horse stalls.
I kept on struggling, but I was running out of air as his hands squeezed my torso.
He tossed me into a horse stall. I landed hard on my knees. As I scrambled to my feet, he locked the door.
I could see his shoulders and face above the wall of the stall. I was too short to see anything else outside it. The walls were about my height with iron bars that reached three feet higher. It made the perfect jail cell. No way would I be climbing out of here.
Now what? Where are you, Ray? I need you.
Peter said, “You never should have made friends with my brother. No one else wanted anything to do with him. I tried to warn you off. Most people who get shot at tend to stick close to home, not go around butting their