Page 111 of Trust No One

“A man with a child checked in several hours ago. The manager saw him leave.”

“Him or them?”

“Him. He rented room number 206. Second floor.” He held up a key.

My mind jumped to Gabe’s dead body. What was at the cabin that Gabe had wanted so badly?

We climbed the external staircase to the second floor. We passed several rooms with open curtains revealing olive-green carpets, double beds, low and lumpy, and televisions that belonged in another decade.

Ken slid the key into 206 and pushed open the door. The television blared an old cartoon that I doubted Molly had ever seen.

I pushed past Ken. On the far bed, a small body lay curled under a blanket, only a spill of black hair visible. Several stuffed animals were set around the child as if on guard.

“Wait!” Ken grabbed my arm.

But I tore free of his grip with such force I stumbled onto the side of the bed. I crawled on the mattress and yanked back the coverlet. “Molly!”

The child didn’t stir. Her body was so still. I touched her face. Hints of warmth. I rolled her on her back and drew my cheek close to her nose. Finally, a faint puff of breath.

“Molly.” I shook her shoulders.

Ken called 9-1-1, his voice clipped as he directed dispatch to our location. I lifted Molly into my arms and rubbed her sternum with my knuckles. A frown furrowed her brow, and she shook her head.

“I know, honey,” I said softly. “I know you don’t want to wake up.”

She pushed at my hands as a cry drifted over her lips.

“Wake up,” I said. “Wake up.”

Ken’s face darkened as he stepped toward the edge of the bed. Early in our marriage, we’d spoken about having children, but I’d never had my IUD pulled. Doubts I couldn’t name had advised me to wait.

“She’s alive,” I said.

“Good.”

Ken disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a bottle of Benadryl wrapped in a white towel. “He gave her these. A couple would have knocked her out.”

“Did he want to overdose her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he just needed her to sleep to buy time.”

I held Molly upright, supporting her heavy head. “To drive to the cabin. Tear up floorboards? Kill himself?”

“I don’t know.”

From outside, red and blue lights of rescue and fire trucks splashed on the small room’s walls. “We’re getting out of here soon, Molly. It’s going to be okay.”

Okay.

Both her parents were dead.

And now I had custody.

Neither of us had a map for what came next.

The rescue squad arrived, checked Molly’s vitals, started an IV, and lifted her onto a stretcher. Ken handed them the Benadryl bottle, explaining in a low voice how Molly had just lost both her parents.

I gathered Molly’s stuffed animals, but Ken shook his head. “Leave it all here.”