What's Done in Darkness

by Laura McHugh

  I lay in bed thinking about how, years before, in our old house in town, my family had watched reruns of The Waltons together on television. On the show, at bedtime, the Walton children would call out good night to one another until their father told them to be quiet and go to bed. Eli and I had started to do the same thing, as a joke. Good night, Eli! Good night, Sarabeth! Good night, Mama! Good night, Daddy! We hadn’t done that in a very long time. Sylvie didn’t even remember The Waltons, nor did my little brothers.

  “Good night, Eli,” I said to the darkness. “Good night, Mama. Good night, Daddy.” No one answered.

  CHAPTER 29

  SARAH, NOW

  Panic tingled through my limbs and I tried to shake it off. Minnie wouldn’t have had time to move my car while I was in the root cellar, so the pastor was around here somewhere. I couldn’t stay out in the open, so I ran for the cover of the trees and hid among the pines. It was miles to the main road from here, maybe twenty more to town, but there must be houses down the other dirt roads, someplace I could find a phone, if I could navigate the woods in the dark. If they didn’t find me first.

  Or there was Ronnie. I didn’t know if I could trust him—if he was in on their plans, whatever they were—but he would have a truck, and a phone, and maybe I could get to one or the other. His trailer was only a half mile away.

  I crept between the trees, feeling my way, barely any moonlight making its way to the uneven ground. I wasn’t used to the cumbersome skirt swishing against my legs, catching on thorns and vines. I stopped to listen and didn’t hear anyone following me, but as I got closer to Ronnie’s, I could hear the dogs over the ventilation fans. They were barking and howling and rattling the cages. It occurred to me that the kennel would be a perfect place to hide someone—the animal noise would mask any other sounds. I moved closer to the road so I could get a look and saw a shadow moving around the side of the building. Parked in front of Ronnie’s trailer were two vehicles: his truck and my car. It had been a stupid risk. I’d wasted time and now I had to go back the way I’d come.

  I needed to avoid the road, where I might be spotted, and I knew I’d get disoriented quickly if I slipped deeper into the woods, but all that mattered to me now was that I get away. There was little chance they’d find me in the acres of wilderness, and I could hide until daylight and hike my way out.

  I spun around at the sound of my name. Someone was calling for me. Not Sarah, but Sarabeth, drawing out the syllables, hollering from a ways off, and I walked in what I hoped was the opposite direction. I wondered if Sylvie would be worried when I didn’t come home, or if Minnie or my parents would tell her I’d left again without saying goodbye, that I couldn’t stand to watch her marry Noah.

  I tried to move as quietly as I could, biting my tongue when branches caught my hair and clawed my face. A car engine squealed and I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, how close it was. I had angled away from Ronnie’s, heading north, but apparently I hadn’t angled enough or hadn’t kept a steady course, because the back of the old farmhouse appeared through a break in the trees.

  I turned away from it and heard a sharp crack, a stick snapping. I held my breath, my eyes wide, waiting, watching. There was a soft rustling and I saw something move. I ran toward the old house, not knowing where else to go. It was dark inside, no lights burning, so I tried the back door and it squeaked open far enough to slip in.

  I peeked out the window and didn’t see anyone coming after me. Maybe it had been an animal moving in the woods, a deer. I pushed a chair against the door and looked for a landline phone but didn’t see one. There were a few pieces of furniture and little else. This was the Blackburns’ old house, the guesthouse that Ronnie said was used for the ministry. It didn’t look like anyone was staying at the house now, but I couldn’t hide out here. If there wasn’t anyone waiting for me when I checked the rear window, I’d run back into the woods and keep going.

  I glanced around the room one last time to see if anything might be useful as a weapon, and a door caught my attention. I’d seen it when I first came in but hadn’t looked closely in the dark. Now everything else fell away and it didn’t matter that Minnie and Ronnie and the pastor might be circling the house that very moment, blocking my escape. I didn’t know if the door led to a closet or bathroom or a furnace or a set of stairs, but it was locked from the outside with a sliding bar and a deadbolt, and I knew that I couldn’t leave without opening it and seeing what lay behind it.

  I slid the bar, twisted the lock, and swung the door open. A set of stairs led down into absolute darkness. I felt around for a switch and found it but couldn’t risk anyone seeing the light from outside. I stepped into the stairwell and shut the door firmly behind me, sealing myself inside, unable to breathe until I flicked on the light. I descended the plank steps, holding tight to the rail, and the first thing I saw at the bottom was a utility sink with a laundry bar hanging above it. My head swam. I had never seen this room before, but I remembered it.

  I bit down hard on my tongue to quell the rush of panic so I could focus. To the right I spotted two doors, both locked from the outside like the one upstairs. I staggered to the first one and knocked. “Is anyone in there?” Something slammed into the door from the other side.

  “Let me the fuck out!”

  I unlocked the door and a girl with long black hair and freckles stared back at me. She eyed my dress suspiciously. It was identical to the one she wore. “Who are you?”

  “Sarah. Are you…Eva?”

  “How do you know me?”

  “I—”

  “I don’t care.” She shook her shackled wrist in my face. “If you’re here to help, hurry up. The key’s on a hook by the sink.” I ran to get it while she pounded on the wall between the two rooms. “Abby! Come on, we’re getting out.”

  Abby. The name sent a shiver through my bones. I gave Eva the key and hurried to open the other door. The girl inside backed into the corner, eyes wide. I recognized her face from the picture Farrow had given me the day we met. “Abby Donnelly,” I said. “We’ve been looking for you.” Eva pushed past me to remove Abby’s shackle and then we rushed up the stairs, Eva dragging Abby behind her.

  “Hold on to me,” I said. “I have to turn off the light before we open the door.”

  “Where’re we going?” Eva hissed.

  “Out the back of the house to the woods. If it’s clear, we run.”

  I switched off the light and turned the knob. The door creaked open and I blinked, my eyes still adjusting, straining to map shapes in the darkness.

  “Shit,” Eva whispered in my ear. “He with you?”

  It was Noah. He blocked the back door, a rifle cradled in his arms.

  “Come on,” he said. “They’re looking for you.”

  I didn’t move. Abby and Eva huddled behind me on the stairs, holding tight to my dress, and I could feel them breathing, the thud of their heartbeats moving through me.

  “I’ll help you.”

  “You trust him?” Eva murmured.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I got you out before,” Noah said.

  “What?”

  “Last time. It was me.”

  My skin prickled. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

  He moved closer. “I came back early from a prayer retreat my dad sent me on, and the basement door was open, blood on the steps. They were upstairs, yelling, didn’t hear me come in. I found you hog-tied and got you to the truck. When I pulled you out, I lost my grip and you got cut on the door. Here.” He pressed his palm to his hip and I could feel it on my own body, the outline of my scar. “I laid you down and made sure you were breathing before I left.”

  Noah. He was the one who’d set me free. He was the one who’d leaned over me, listening for my breath, not to make sure I was dead, but that I was still alive.

  I s
tepped over the threshold, the girls squeezing through the doorway with me. “Let’s go.”

  “Stay close,” Noah said.

  We followed him outside, to the corner of the house. As he peered around the edge, a shot rang out. He flattened himself against the wall and motioned for us to get down. Someone ran toward us from the other side of the house and Noah popped up and aimed the rifle.

  The woman saw us girls first in our pale gowns and then froze when she spotted Noah. I could tell she wasn’t with the Blackburns. She was dressed in a dark hoodie and cargo pants, a bandana over her hair. She held her hands up in front of her, and I noticed they were perfectly steady, no tremors, despite the gun in her face. She was close enough that I could make out a mark on her wrist. A tattoo. It was a paw print, same as Melissa’s, and I knew who she was. She’d gotten my tip about the dogs, had come to scout it out, just like Melissa said.

  “She can help us,” I said. “You’re with the animal rescue, right? Melissa gave me your number. I sent you the map.” The hard line of her mouth softened when she heard Melissa’s name, and she blew out a pent-up breath and nodded. “Where’s your car? We need to get out of here.”

  The woman glanced at us in turn, Abby sobbing quietly, Eva looking ready to tear someone’s throat out, Noah gripping the rifle. “Just them,” Noah said. “Can you drive them out?”

  “Yeah,” she said. Whatever she thought was going on, she seemed okay with escaping first and asking questions later. She fished a walkie-talkie out of her pocket and held it up. “My partner’s in a van outside the gate.”

  “I’ll get the gate open and keep them from coming after you,” Noah said. “Stick to the woods till you’re sure it’s safe.”

  He eased around the corner and waved for us to go, and we ran. Moments later, there was another gunshot, and another. Each one made my heart jump, but I didn’t look back. We had just made it into the trees when Eva buckled and sank to the ground.

  “You hurt?” I bent to pull her up and saw a dark smear on her dress. It looked like blood. “We’re almost there,” I whispered. “Come on.”

  “She okay?” the woman asked. “Wayne can help, he’s a vet.” She clicked the walkie-talkie. “Gate should be opening, I need you here now. I’ve got three kids with me. One of ’em’s injured.”

  We followed the edge of the woods until we neared the driveway, then started running when we heard the van. Abby and I dragged Eva between us. The van barreled toward us and skidded to a stop in the gravel. The woman flung open the sliding door.

  “Gina! I heard shots.”

  “Get in back!” she hollered at Wayne. “I’m driving.” He gaped at us as we piled in. Gina shoved him. “Help her! I’ll call 911.” Wayne scrambled into the back while Gina swung the van around and sped down the road.

  Eva was doubled over, clinging to Abby’s hand. “Here, can you lie down?” Wayne said. He aimed the light from his phone. Eva’s dress was stained with blood. “Where does it hurt?”

  “My stomach.”

  “Somebody hold the light.” I grabbed the phone. He felt along her abdomen, frantically seeking a wound, fighting to pull up the voluminous skirt and get it out of the way. He stopped suddenly, sucked in his lip. “Is there any chance you’re pregnant?”

  “Maybe,” Eva said, her jaw clenched.

  “You might be having a miscarriage. We’ll have to get you to a doctor.”

  “Was it the pastor?” I asked.

  Eva looked at me and spit her words through gritted teeth. “That’s Ronnie’s job. Pastor’d do it himself if he could get it up. He promised Minnie more babies.”

  “But she has Rachel, and she just told me she thought she had another on the way.”

  “Another on the way?” Eva grimaced and glanced down, her bloodstained hands pressed to her stomach. “She was talking about me. My babies. Rachel’s mine.”

  “Oh god…so your parents thought the Blackburns were sending you on a mission trip, but really they were just…keeping you here? For this?”

  “No.” She struggled into a sitting position, leaning on Abby. “My parents knew the mission trip was fake. That whole thing was a cover. They brought me here when they found out I was pregnant. They just wanted to get rid of me. The Blackburns were nice at first, said they’d help me. They were all about tough love, but Minnie was sweet to me. Talked to me about giving the baby up for adoption—she always wanted more kids of her own. But Rick started up with some creepy shit, coming in my room at night to check on me. Walked in one time when I was in the bathtub and put his hand on my belly…said he needed to ‘examine’ me, see how far along I was. I knew it’d only get worse from there. Later, I told Minnie what happened, told her I had to leave, and she poured me a glass of sweet tea so we could talk it over. Woke up the next day in the basement. When Rachel was born, Minnie took her for herself. Then she figured, if she could have one, why not more? She said it was God’s will—that this was my purpose. I was a vessel.”

  So that was Minnie’s big revelation after years of faith and prayer and steadfast struggle, the answer she’d been looking for. I remembered her talking about each of us having a purpose, being vessels. She’d found out what her husband was doing with the girls he was “counseling”—it had been going on for years, since Retta, at least, and maybe before. When Eva threatened to leave, Minnie might have worried she would tell. She couldn’t risk losing everything—her husband, the church, the ministry, and definitely not the baby that was finally within her reach. She must have convinced herself that this was God’s plan, His wisdom at last revealed: that the girls her husband brought into their home could serve a greater purpose. If they could feed his fetish, they could give her what she wanted, too. She’d suffered long enough as the barren wife of the pastor and decided it was time to claim her due.

  “How’d you get here, Abby?”

  “My mother kept locks on everything.” Her voice was soft and halting. “The refrigerator. My bedroom door. I snuck out my window one night and she caught me stealing food from our neighbor’s trash. Said she couldn’t handle me anymore and she brought me here.”

  “So who are you?” Eva asked me. “You said you were looking for Abby. How did you know where to find us?”

  “I was in that basement, too, before you.”

  I almost said “same as you,” but that wasn’t quite true. I hadn’t been subjected to the same horrors they had. Maybe the Blackburns were still figuring things out when they took me, thinking they were truly helping families—that they could somehow transform me into the obedient daughter my parents wanted me to be. It had felt like they were getting me ready for something the night I escaped—maybe they were preparing to take me home before I fought back and Noah found me. But if they had returned me to my doorstep as they’d likely planned, the police wouldn’t have been called. My parents would have kept it quiet, a family secret. I wouldn’t have ended up on the news. I wouldn’t have gotten the help I needed to work through the trauma and start over again on my own. I might never have left Wisteria.

  The difference between me and Abby and Eva was that my parents were expecting me back. Pastor Rick had been abusing children for a long time, but at some point, as their ministry grew, the Blackburns must have recognized that there were no limits when it came to girls who would not be missed, girls with no place else to go.

  Eva had said she blacked out after drinking Minnie’s tea, the same tea, perhaps, that Minnie had offered me tonight. What would have happened if I’d taken a sip? Would I have ended up back in the basement? She could have told my family I’d returned to the city, and they would have believed it. But back home, in St. Agnes, my absence would raise alarms. I had people waiting for me. Helen and Melissa would report me missing. Farrow would come looking, and he wouldn’t give up until he found me.

  “Ambulance’ll take an hour,” Gina hollered from
the front. “I can get us there quicker.”

  Wayne, who’d been sitting in stunned silence, roused at the sound of Gina’s voice. “You girls need to call somebody?” he said.

  Neither Eva nor Abby replied. “I do,” I said. I still had Wayne’s phone in my hand. I didn’t know Farrow’s number by heart, so I did a quick search and dialed the Missouri State Highway Patrol.

  CHAPTER 30

  SARABETH, THEN

  AGE 18

  Deputy Willis came to pick me up and my parents watched me go, my mother handing me my Bible as I walked out the door. I was grateful, at least, that I didn’t have to ride in a car with Sheriff Krieger. His mocking voice twanged in my head, sharp as a pinched nerve. Deputy Willis was quiet. He said nothing on the way into town, his lips moving to an old Hank Williams song on the radio. When we arrived at the station, he escorted me inside. Two women were waiting. One was a county social worker, a stout gray-haired woman in a polyester pantsuit. The other, a younger woman with thick red curls, introduced herself as a victim advocate from the Midwest Victims Advocacy Network. They guided me into a room and closed the door, leaving Deputy Willis out in the hall. The three of us sat down.

  “I’m sorry you were alone before,” the advocate said. Her name was Leah, and she wore a denim dress and ankle boots. “We should have been notified.”

  Tears flooded down my face. It was the first time I’d cried since opening my eyes at the rest stop. I realized that I hadn’t teared up once during the hours of interrogation or exams, or when I was reunited with my family.

  The social worker opened her bag and handed me a packet of tissues. She took out a clipboard and pen. As Leah discussed the various services and resources available to me as the victim of a violent crime, she spoke of decisions, plans. It took me a while to realize that she wasn’t telling me what was going to happen. She was asking me what I wanted to do.