Abby’s sobs subsided into whimpers and hiccups, ending when the mucous clogging her nose shut off her air supply. She wiped her face with the back of her arm, blew her nose into the hem of her shirt, and stood to examine the wall in front of her.
Jack had done a good job boarding it up. She took stock of her options. Her mom would be sleeping in Philly tonight instead of on the other side of the wall. Mrs. Blank would never climb three flights of stairs to look for her, assuming she had gone to bed. And her phone had long since died.
Abby could only think of one thing to do. She pounded on the wall with both fists. She screamed until her throat ached and the sound came out in scratchy bursts. No one came, as expected.
Time crawled by as slowly as she had crept through the tunnel. Although it seemed light at first in contrast to being underground, she realized the stairwell remained dim. But at the bottom of the staircase, a faint glow seeped in through the partition.
“Meow.” Kitty’s soft purr whispered hope into the gloom.
Kitty must be in the kitchen, where she had first accessed the stairs.
“Maybe I can find enough space to pull apart the plaster and crawl through. I’m coming, Kitty.”
Abby put one hand against the wall and edged forward, testing each step before placing her full weight on it. She headed for the irregular patches of light coming in along the base of the wall beyond the broken step. Kitty’s plaintive mews called for her. When she got to the partition, she ran her hands along it. The wood seemed thin, hopefully breakable.
“Move, Kitty.”
Bracing herself against a step, Abby lifted both legs and kicked as hard as she could against the wooden barrier—once, twice, then a third time. A hole appeared in the plywood as dust billowed into the stairwell. Abby waved it away, took a deep breath, and jumped over the broken step. She landed face down on tile. Dazed, she glanced up to where Kitty sat washing her paws. Looking back, she saw the brick-framed alcove in the kitchen, with the secret stairs behind.
Abby stood up and grabbed for Kitty. She buried her face in the soft fur behind her ears. “I am so glad to see you. Everything else is beyond weird, like I’m swimming underwater and the world is blurry.”
She put the cat down and got a bottle of water from the refrigerator, grateful that the electricity had come on again. After chugging the water, she saw a note taped to the freezer door. On bright orange paper it said: Dear Abby, came over but see that you went to Morton’s house. I’ll be back in the morning. Mrs. Blank
Another note under it, in Jack’s handwriting, said: Mrs. Blank, going to Morton’s for the night. Mom said it would be okay. Will call you tomorrow. Abby
Jack had taken care of everything. Except for his sister.
Abby looked out the window into murky dusk, melting into darkness. Rain pelted the ground and now had been joined by lightning and thunder. Abby shivered.
“It’s a good evening to stay inside, Kitty. I need a bath and my bed.”
Then she remembered the reason Jack hit her, the letters, his father’s plan to kill the president, Jack’s vow to follow through with it. She felt the aching wound on her head. And recalled the pain of her brother’s betrayal. Instead of a bath she needed the police, the Secret Service, someone. If Jack came into the house, she might not live through another encounter with him, even if Silas helped her.
Abby ran to the landline to hit 911. The light above the sink flickered and went out. She held the receiver to her ear; no dial tone. No electricity, no phone, no internet. Where was Jack? How could she get help?
Holding the curtain aside a tiny bit, Abby peeked out the window at sheets of gray rain. Flickering candlelight came from the barn and, as she watched, Jack rode through the open door on his bike. His saddlebags were attached to the back, leather wet-gleaming in the rain. Pedaling fast, he glided past the house, down the path, and turned onto the trail, out of sight in seconds.
Abby’s mind raced. She had no way to get help. And if she did contact the authorities, they would arrest Jack, maybe hurt him … or even kill him if he resisted. But she couldn’t let him follow through with his plan. He had to be stopped. Not just to save the president, but to save her brother from his own demons.
She ducked into the downpour and ran toward the barn, immediately soaked to the skin. A bolt of lightning cut across the sky. Thunder boomed, trees bent in the increasing wind. Skidding into the barn, she grabbed her purple bike and then let it fall to the ground. Climbing on her dad’s Cannondale, she rode into the storm and turned right onto the Youghiogheny River Trail, heading southeast.
Darkness swallowed her up as she rounded the first bend. The rain pelted Abby’s arms and legs, stinging as though tiny nails were being driven into her flesh. Her head throbbed, and she wondered if a bike helmet would have helped or made it hurt even more.
Abby concentrated on the trail, the path almost invisible in the dark. No street lights, nothing to illuminate the way except occasional streaks of lightning ripping across the fabric of the sky. She huddled closer to the handlebars as a dazzling, jagged bolt flashed horizontally above the trees. It showed nothing more than sheets of rain, water-soaked trees lolling over the trail, and a glimpse of reflection from the river on her left.
The wind shifted, blowing rain into Abby’s face. She realized how hard it had become to pedal with the added resistance, the only consolation that it would be harder for Jack, too. Wet ribbons of her hair whipped against her face and neck. Sodden strands of something curled around her ankles, and she realized she’d ridden off the trail.
She muscled the bike back onto limestone. The wet surface grabbed at the tires with a soggy hiss that impeded her progress. Her legs ached from pumping, and she had no idea how long she’d been riding. It seemed much farther than she had ever gone, way past the cemetery, as if a surreal, slow-motion nightmare was being played out in the storm.
While one part of Abby’s mind concentrated on navigating the bike trail, another part considered how to stop Jack. Limited access to the trail meant leaving it to find a phone or a person; no one would be out here at night, much less in a storm. If she failed to get help, too much time would pass; Jack would get away. If she got help, Jack would be in trouble. Big trouble. Jail-for-life trouble—or worse.
As an experienced biker, Jack had the advantage off-road and on. He could hide all day and ride at night. His hate-induced insanity would lead him to do whatever his father said to get revenge for his brother. The loaded gun he carried meant other people could get hurt. But surely he wouldn’t shoot his sister.
Abby had a sudden epiphany. She had become enmeshed in a love triangle. With Silas, whom she loved with passionate intensity. And with Jack, who shared the blood coursing through her veins.
She had to save them both.