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“Oh, you’re gonna love this, he’s gonna dissect it,” Mason told her.
He was only eight, and that was something they didn’t teach in school until eighth grade. First worms, then frogs, then pigs. Everyone knew about it because the entire school smelled like a jar of bad pickles for nearly a month. “Does he know how?”
“Ass-burger,” Mason said again, this time emphasizing the second word like he was making some kind of statement. “Little man knows how to do all kinds of crazy shit.”
“But he still picks his nose.”
Mason nodded slowly. “But hestillpicks his nose. I don’t get it, either.”
“You’ll wanna see,” Evelyn said, stepping closer to her brother to get a better look.
“I think I’m okay right here.”
“Naw, she’s right,” Mason told her. “If it’s like the other one, you’ll want to watch. Breathe through your mouth. It’s not so bad.”
“What other ones?”
“From the diner. Hurry up, before we miss it!”
Mason pulled her by the arm until they were hovering over Robby.
“Flashlight, Ev,” Robby said. “Maybe record it this time?”
“Good idea.”
Robby produced a scalpel, no doubt pilfered from the middle school, too. He waited for his sister to shine the beam of herphone’s light down on the bird and brought the blade to its belly. Riley wasn’t sure she could watch.
“Recording?”
“Yeah.”
Mason whispered, “I know it’s gross, but don’t look away. It happens fast.”
Riley was about to ask himwhathappens fast when Robby pressed down on the blade and drew it down the bird’s belly in one quick motion, like a doctor on TV, only this wasn’t TV, and the camera didn’t cut away. There was a soft crunching noise, like potato chips breaking, and a thin, dark line appeared in the feathers. Riley thought it was blood, at least until it started to smoke.
56
Hannah
THE MASK WAS SOMalcolm couldn’t be recognized in the pictures; Hannah was able to figure that much out. She also understood that meant he planned to show the pictures to someone, or he wouldn’t care. Maybe a lot of someones. Maybe he’d post them anyway. Maybe he planned to sell them. That explanation was horrible, but none of that mattered unless she got out alive.
“You scream, and you’re dead,” Malcolm said in that low, gravelly voice. He removed the tape from Hannah’s mouth and pulled out the rag. She sucked in a breath but said nothing. He brought the blade of the screwdriver to the tape on her wrists and forced it to cut through. “I’m freeing your hands so you can undress yourself. You try anything, and I mean anything, and—”
“You’ll kill me.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
Malcolm shuffled away from her, until his back was against the opposite wall of the hall. Between the mask and his long limbs, he looked more like a spider than a person skittering acrossthe floor. He moved the screwdriver to his left hand, scooped up his phone with his right, and watched her through the small screen as he snapped a few pictures, then switched to video. “Okay, stand up. Slow.”
Both Hannah’s legs were asleep, and she had to use the table on one side and the grandfather clock on the other to leverage herself up. The feeling quickly returned to her limbs, but that didn’t stop the shaking.
“Now take off your jeans, slow.”
Hannah fumbled with the snap, got it open, and pulled down the zipper.
“Wait. Stop,” Malcolm ordered. “First, the sweatshirt, then the rest. That’ll be better. You’re not wearing a bra, right?”
The memory of Danny fumbling with the clasp and finally getting it came back to her, the warmth of his gentle touch. It all felt so long ago. The tears wanted to come, but Hannah wasn’t about to give Malcolm the satisfaction. She reached for the hem of her baggy sweatshirt, started to pull it up.
