Page 27 of Love You To Pieces

“Oh, I can.” Smoothly, Deacon gets to his feet, brandishing the key with that shitty fucking grin on his face that’s full of arrogance and satisfaction. “I just did. Think about where you’d rather be, Sadie-Rae. In a cage, in the basement, alone, or…” He gazes upward pointedly.

“Let me out!” My heart is hammering, beating too fast, and my fingers ache as I try to free myself, too desperate and terrified to work with logic instead of panic. “LET ME OUT!” My voice echoes off the walls, bouncing back to me, making everything worse.

“Maybe later.” His blue eyes watch me, cataloging every movement, before he steps away with a dismissive click of his tongue. “Maybe when you’re ready to listen.”

“No!” I hit the bars of the cage as he turns, my panic hitting a new level. “No! Don’t—” He closes the door behind him and the light goes out a second later. “Please don’t leave me alone,” I whisper into the surrounding darkness.

But of course, in the silence of the concrete room and the isolation of the dog kennel, no one answers. Not even Pearl.

CHAPTER TEN

The darkness is so oppressive that I can almost feel it pressing against my eyes. I scream once, then again, but the echo of it feels wrong, which is motivation enough for the screams to fade.

For the first time, I cry. Not reactive tears streaming hot lines down my cheeks, only to be swept away and forgotten. Not my eyes watering from pain, from fear, from whatever else.

No. This time, I sob. Every single one wracks my body, until I’m curled up on my side with my arms around my legs. Every single fucking thing, from the blood and gore in my hair, to my fear and panic, to the anguish over what had happened and, to some extent, the smaller pains from the few injuries I’ve received—every single thing drives the sobbing on.

But no one answers me. Not God, not the devil, and no one here in Wolf Creek who likes to cut up anyone just driving through. There’s nothing, except for the occasional creak from the ceiling above me, and movement that might be Pearl somewhere out in the other part of the basement. Like an infant, I cry and scream and eventually I’m hiccuping, whimpering through tears that won’t fucking stop.

But just like an infant, eventually I’m just so tired, so exhausted, that I fall asleep on the floor of the dog kennel, my face pressed to lightly textured plastic, with tears still hot and wet and sticky on my cheeks.

I sleep because I have nothing else to do, and I can’t stay awake any longer.

Humming meets my ears, and a hand brushing my face causes me to jerk awake, though it takes a few tries for me to open my stinging eyes that are dry and sticky from crying. The room’s light is on and I gasp, sitting up, just to bang my head on the dog kennel’s wire.

Fox watches, his head tilted as he waits for me to get my bearings, and I realize the kennel door is open, though he’s blocking any kind of escape route. Still, as I watch, Fox holds his hand out to me, still humming, and I sit up, forced to hunch against the top of the kennel, my eyes on his.

“What are you humming?” I murmur, my voice hoarse as I still don’t take his hand. Not yet. Not when I know I can’t trust him.

When he smiles, the sound fades. “Why? Does it sound familiar?” When I shake my head, Fox chuckles. “I figured it wouldn’t. It’s an old song, and probably not too popular with people like you.”

People like me?

He flexes his hand slightly, drawing my attention back to it. I know this is my only way out of this fucking kennel, and while part of me wants to spit on his hand, the rest of me can’t bring myself to do that. Not when I’m sure it would mean being locked down here again.

Carefully, oh so carefully, I shimmy forward on the plastic tray, hating how it catches every movement and plays them back to me loudly. My hand finds his, my palm sore even under the bandages, and I let him extract me from my temporary prison.

“There you go.” Tenderly, Fox helps me from the kennel, and before I can say anything, stands to pick me up bridal-style in his arms.

“I can walk,” I protest quickly, only to get a look from him that’s one part exasperated, two parts amused.

“Yeah. You can walk right out the window and off the roof,” he agrees, voice dry. “You look, uh, pretty awful.” His grin is apologetic, while his hold is gentle but firm. I feel like a breakable, delicate thing as he walks out into the main part of the basement, and my eyes go to where Pearl is.

Or, where she was a few hours ago.

“W-where’s⁠—”

“Outside. Deacon looked her over a bit ago and decided she’s okay to be in the backyard instead of down here.” He gives me that sweet, almost reassuring smile again, but there’s something lurking beneath his dark brown eyes that I can’t place.

But even so, it isn’t comforting.

The longer I look into the sheriff’s eyes, the more certain I am that he and Deacon are hiding something more than Ariana’s corpse in the shed and a dog kennel in the basement. It doesn’t occur to me I’m staring at him, scrutinizing every feature, until we’re up the stairs and back on the main level of the house. With sunlight streaming in from a window at the end of the hallway, Fox’s face is illuminated like a Renaissance painting.

Sharp cheekbones.

Full lips with a slightly upturned nose.

Freckles across his tan cheeks, though they’re hard to see in most light.