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She reached into the basket. She lifted out a handful of matchbooks and dumped them into the breast pocket of her shirt. She took out a second handful. The right front pocket of her corduroys held the hammer, stuffed in headfirst. With her knife hand, she swept the hanging front of her shirt out of the way. She thrust the second bunch of matchbooks into the pocket on her left. |
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'That should do it,' she said. Kara set the basket onto the refrigerator. 'OK. I'll keep watch here. You hurry and round up the flashlight and candles.' |
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While the girl was away, Denise stared through the dining room, into the living room beyond its entryway. |
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She felt tight and sick inside. Though she hoped Tom had left the house, she couldn't bring herself to believe it. By now, he'd had plenty of time to work his hands free of the rope. He would be waiting for them. Even in a house that was pitch black, their chances of sneaking past him to the bathroom were slim. |
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Tom, why are you doing this to us? |
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She was terrified of him. At the same time, she hated the idea of being forced to hurt him. If he attacked, she would have to defend herself and Kara. |
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But I can't let him kill us. |
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Just make it to the bathroom, she thought, and we'll be safe. He can't get us there, and we won't have to fight him off. |
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Kara returned with the flashlight and four long, pink candles. |
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Denise took two of the candles and slid them into a |
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