Chapter 9
"Get your backpack, Lily," Arthur whispered urgently, kneeling down beside her bed as the little girl scrambled to zip up her small pink canvas bag. She clutched her stuffed rabbit tightly under one arm, her pale face pale with nervous excitement.
"Is she coming after us?" Lily whispered back, looking toward the door.
"Not if we move fast," Arthur said, lifting her gently into his arms. She was alarmingly light, her body weakened by weeks of micro-doses of sedatives, making his heart ache with renewed fury.
He grabbed his car keys from the bedside table and crept toward the second-floor back window that opened onto the flat roof of the ground-floor porch. It was an old route he used to use as a teenager, long before Elena ever entered their lives. He pushed the window open, letting the cool afternoon air rush into the stale bedroom. The wind bit sharply at their skin, but to Arthur, it smelled like freedom.
He climbed out onto the shingled roof first, setting Lily down carefully beside the brick chimney. Then, bracing his boots against the gutter, he lifted her down onto the soft grass of the backyard garden below, before dropping down silently beside her.
Glancing back toward the house, the kitchen window remained dark and quiet. Elena was still inside the front parlor, waiting for him to return downstairs, completely unaware that they had slipped out the back.
"Hold my hand tight, Lily," Arthur said, breaking into a brisk walk toward the detached garage half-hidden behind a row of overgrown boxwood hedges.
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They reached his sedan parked inside the dim garage. Arthur unlocked the doors with a remote click, swiftly buckling Lily into her booster seat in the back and throwing her backpack onto the floorboards. He jumped into the driver's seat, inserting the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered once, twice, and then roared to life with a deep, reassuring rumble that shattered the eerie quiet of the property.
Backing out of the garage, Arthur hit the gas pedal, steering the car down the long gravel driveway. As they rounded the bend past the iron front gates, he caught a glimpse of movement through the second-story window of the master bedroom. Elena stood behind the glass, her dark hair tied back, watching their car accelerate down the private road. She didn't scream or panic; she simply raised one hand, pressing her palm flat against the glass with a terrifying, motionless stare as they vanished into the tree line.
