Look Again

Chapter Seventy-four

"You see your kid?" Moore bent down and drilled the barrel of the gun into Will's temple. "I'll blow his head clean off."

Ellen was too terrified to cry, her emotion strangling the sounds in her throat.

"I'm gonna cut you loose, only because they're not goin' away. You answer the door and tell whoever's there to go. Do one thing wrong, just one, and I blow this kid's head offa his shoulders."

Ellen nodded frantically. This could be her only chance. She had to make something happen. Could she risk it? Could she not?

"I'll kill him. You understand?"

Ellen pumped her head, yesyesyes.

Bing Bong!

"All right then." Moore raised the revolver, sprang over to Ellen, and reached behind her back. He yanked her into the air by her wrists, hissing into her ear. "Up to you, bitch. One word and I shoot the kid."

Ellen shook her head, desperate to reassure him. In the next second, her hands were cut free and she fell like a broken doll to the hardwood floor.

Moore cut loose her ankles, flipped her over, and tore the duct tape from her mouth. It stung until he drilled the gun between her eyes.

"Don't hurt him, don't hurt him," Ellen heard herself whisper over and over, like a prayer.

"No tricks." Moore's face was six inches from hers, a close-up of bloodshot eyes, greasy mustache, and breath foul with beer.

Ellen scrambled to get her feet under her, her knees jelly. Her thoughts clicked ahead, running the possibilities. "What if it's my neighbor? What if she won't go?"

"Make her." Moore shoved her from the kitchen, and she half walked, half stumbled through the dining room, glancing quickly out the windows. The lights still were off at the Coffmans'. Connie would have let herself in. So who was ringing the bell?

Marcelo!

He was the only possibility. He would help her. Together they'd get Will out of this. She hurried through the dining room. Her heart thundered, and she crossed the living room toward the door.

Bing Bong!

Ellen couldn't see the face at the door, but a shadow stood silhouetted in the yellowish porch light. She opened the door and stood stricken against a blast of frigid wind.

At her front door was the last person in the world she ever expected to see.