The Lost Daughter. Diane Chamberlain

Her heart twisted at the thought. How would she ever know? She had no way to communicate with the outside world.

      She locked the dead bolts on the front and back doors and pocketed the keys. Then she checked the windows. All but one were swollen too tight to raise, although she supposed her captive could break the glass. Even with the windows closed, the sound of the rushing river filled the cabin.

      The bunk beds were neatly covered with bedspreads, but unmade. She found musty-smelling sheets and pillowcases in the closet of the larger bedroom and made the bottom bunk of one set and the top bunk of the other. She wandered through the rooms, peering into closets stuffed with sleeping bags, blankets and games. The medicine cabinet contained a bottle of aspirin, a packet of razor blades and some dental floss. She found cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink, so she scrubbed the counters and then cleaned the sink and tub in the little bathroom. There were a few books on a shelf in the living room, and she sat down on the ragged living-room sofa and tried to read, but concentration was impossible.

      Giving up, she lifted her legs onto the couch, wrapped her arms around them, and tried to push away the dark and troubled thoughts that filled her mind.

       Chapter Eleven

       You don’t get scared very often, but you shake like a leaf when you do. You came into my room this afternoon, trembling all over, and I knew Dr. Watts must have told you I don’t have much longer. You were trying hard to hide your fear. You handed me a glass of juice and spilled it all over the blanket and when you tried to clean it up, your hands and arms were shaking so hard, you couldn’t. I felt so bad for you. I wanted to fix it, like I do your scraped knees and bee stings. But there was nothing I could do except hold you. I held you until you finally stopped shaking. Do you remember?

      NIGHT FELL EARLY OUTSIDE THE CABIN. SHE ATE TUNA FROM the can for supper, barely tasting it. There were no shades at the windows, and she felt exposed to whatever or whoever might be lurking in the woods. A strong breeze came up and the world outside crackled with the sound of swaying branches. She jumped at a thud on the small front porch and unlocked the dead bolt to peer into the darkness, but the chilly wind made her shiver and she quickly shut the door and bolted it again.

      Should she sleep? Who knew when she’d next get the chance? She turned off all the lights in the house and lay down on the bottom bunk bed she’d made, but she was trembling all over. She got under the covers, but the blankets didn’t help; it was not the cold that was making her shiver. How was she going to control a grown woman? She’d felt so young these past few days, so aware of the age difference between her and Tim and Marty and Naomi and Forrest. She wondered again if Tim regretted asking a mere kid to be responsible for an important part of his plan. He should have asked the girl from SCAPE.

      She curled into a ball. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to get the governor’s wife. Please don’t let them get her. Tim would be sorely disappointed and she felt bad about that, but self-preservation was kicking into gear.

      The slamming of a car door jolted her awake. She sat up in the darkness, still shivering, although the cabin had grown quite warm. She heard voices outside. Jumping from the bed, she ran into the living room to peer through the window into the darkness. She couldn’t see anything at first, and she felt dizzy, as though she might pass out or throw up. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself.

      Moving to another window, she spotted the light inside the van. She watched Marty reach into the passenger seat and pull a woman to her feet. CeeCee caught a glimpse of a white blindfold tied around her eyes.

      Her mask! She raced back to the bedroom and quickly wrapped her hair around her head, dropping some of the bobby pins on the floor with her trembling, gloved hands. One of the brothers pounded on the front door as she pulled on the blond wig and slipped the mask over her face.

      “Coming!” she called. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she whispered to herself as she ran into the living room and unlocked the dead bolt.

      It took both Marty and Tim to pull the blindfolded woman through the doorway. She was nearly as tall as they were.

      “Stop it!” the woman yelled, her cuffed hands batting the air. “Let go of me!” Her short red hair was mussed, her cheeks crimson, from the cold or from crying. She wore a fur coat. Real fur, CeeCee thought. Dark and rich and shimmery. And she was very fat.

      “She’s an obstinate bitch,” Marty said to CeeCee as he pushed the woman past her, but even with her eyes covered, the woman’s expression looked more anxious than obstinate.

      “Don’t be afraid,” CeeCee said to her.

      The woman stopped fighting. “Who’s that?” she asked.

      She hadn’t thought of a name for herself. “Sleeping Beauty,” she said. “What’s your name?”

      “Her name’s Genevieve,” Tim said, as though the word tasted bad in his mouth. He reached up and untied the woman’s blindfold. She blinked against the light, blue eyes red and puffy from crying, and her gaze fell on CeeCee. “Who are you?” she asked. “Why are you wearing a mask? What’s going on?”

      “Does she have to have the handcuffs on?” CeeCee asked Tim.

      “You going to behave now?” Tim asked the woman.

      Genevieve didn’t respond. She stared at CeeCee, trying to peer into her eyes behind the mask and CeeCee felt an unexpected connection with her: They were both trapped in this situation.

      Tim pulled a small key from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs. The moment Genevieve’s hands were free, she slapped him hard across the face, much the way CeeCee had during their breakup performance on Franklin Street.

      “You bitch!” Marty grabbed the woman’s wrist, but Tim merely smiled. He looked unsure of himself, though, as if he’d gotten in over his head. It scared CeeCee to see him that way. She needed him to be certain that what they were doing was right. Certain enough for both of them.

      “Let go of me!” Genevieve tried to twist her wrist out of Marty’s grasp.

      “Let go of her,” CeeCee agreed. She was not trying to protect the woman as much as ease her own discomfort. She didn’t like physical conflict, always fearing it might escalate into something worse. The woman was a massive and imposing figure in the fur coat. She could do some damage if she chose to. “She’s okay,” she said. “She can’t go anywhere.”

      Marty let go, and the woman rubbed her wrist.

      “Take off this animal you’re wearing,” Tim said. He helped her as though he was helping his girlfriend in a restaurant. When the coat slipped from Genevieve’s shoulders, it was clear she was not fat after all.

      “She’s pregnant,” CeeCee said.

      “Well, at least one of you can face reality,” the woman said. She was wearing a long, navy-blue sweater and pale blue slacks. “I’ve been telling these jerks that the whole way here. I’m thirty-seven weeks and this is a high-risk pregnancy.” Her voice broke as she rested one hand on her belly. “Please take me back,” she said to Tim.

      “Did you know she was pregnant?” CeeCee asked Tim, but Marty answered.

      “It’s no big deal,” he said.

      It was a big deal, CeeCee thought. This was a human being they were dealing with. Two human beings.

      “If your husband does what he’s told,” Tim said, his eyes were on the woman’s huge belly, “you’ll be home before you know it.”

      “Thirty-seven weeks,” Genevieve repeated to him. “That’s more than eight months. Do you understand?”

      “I’ve got it,” Tim said. “That’s all the more reason the gov should want you back safe, and soon.”

      “If anything happens to this baby,” Genevieve said, “you two will be in worse