“Good. I’m gonna need your help in a li’l while. Once I take care of this, I want you to get some plastic and roll her up good and tight to bury her. You know what to do.”
And just like that, her fantasy popped. He wasn’t hauling her into the woods to let her go. Jack had been right all along. Olivia shuddered, her weak legs giving out beneath her as the world began to spin and the faces of her parents and little sister flashed in her mind.
“Get me my hunting knife.”
Every one of her muscles went rigid with terror. A scream rose in her throat and burst from her mouth. He clapped a hand over it, shoving the fabric between her split lips. “Shut up, girl, or it’ll go worse for ya.” Then, to the boy, he snapped, “Well? Get goin’!”
“Knife’s broke,” Jack mumbled. “I was usin’ it to tighten up the hinges on the barn door and the blade snapped.”
Her kidnapper moved suddenly, the hand releasing her mouth. A sudden thwack said he’d backhanded the boy. Jack didn’t cry out, didn’t stagger away, as far as she could hear.
“What am I supposed to do now?” the man snapped. Jack cleared his throat. For a second, she thought he had worked up the courage to beg for her freedom, that he would try, however futilely, to stand up for her.
Instead, in that same brainwashed voice, he made another suggestion. And her last hope died.
“Why don’t you drown her?”
Cold Sight Page 35
