Rosary girls

77

Drew waited at the bottom of the basement stairs. Jessica lit the candles in the kitchen, then sat Sophie on one of the dinette chairs. She put her weapon on top of the fridge.

She descended the steps. The bloodstain on the concrete was still there. But Patrick was not.

"Dispatch said there's a pair of patrol cars on the way," he said. "But I'm afraid there's no one down here."

"Are you sure?"

Drew flashed his light around the basement. "Uh, well, unless you have a secret way out of here, he must have gone up the steps."

Drew aimed his flashlight up the stairs. There were no bloody footprints on the treads. Wearing latex gloves, he knelt down and touched the blood on the floor. He slicked two fingers together.

"You're saying he was just here?" he asked.

"Yes," Jessica said. "Two minutes ago. As soon as I saw him, I ran upstairs and down the driveway."

"How did he receive his injury?" he asked.

"I have no idea."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Well, the police will be here any second. They can give the place a good going over." He stood up. "Until then, we'll probably be safe down here."

What? Jessica thought.

We'll probably be safe down here?

"Is your little girl okay?" he asked.

Jessica stared at the man. A cold hand squeezed her heart. "I never told you I had a little girl."

Drew peeled off the gloves, tossed them into his bag.

In the flashlight beam, Jessica saw the blue chalk stains on his fingers and the deep scratch on the back of his right hand, at the same moment she noticed Patrick's feet emerging from beneath the stairs.

And she knew. This man had never called in the 911. No one was coming. Jessica turned to run. To the stairs. To Sophie. To safety. But before she could move a hand shot out of the darkness.

Andrew Chase was upon her.