Page 93 of The Girl Who Was Taken

“I will, sweetheart. I will,” Livia said. She put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. The girl quickly took it and squeezed and reached for Livia’s embrace. Livia hugged her and matted her coarse, dry hair as the girl sobbed on her shoulder. Livia allowed the embrace to last only a few seconds.

“We have to get you out of here,” Livia said. “We have to hurry, all right?”

The girl nodded. “The chain is shackled to the wall. I’ve tried to loosen it, but there’s no way.”

Livia moved to the wall and crouched down to the chain that was anchored there. She grabbed the chain and pulled. It didn’t move. She looked to Megan, who was stuck, unmoving, at the bottom of the stairs. “Megan! Come help me.”

Megan snapped to attention. She shook her head. “You won’t be able to,” she said. “Not without a tool or a hammer.”

Livia shined the light around the cellar. There was a table near the corner. She went to it and found a bottle of spray paint, noticing for the first time the dualX’s painted onto the far wall, excess paint weeping down in long streaks to the floor. The sight sent an eerie flutter through Livia’s gut. She resisted the morbid urge toexamine this troubled place, and instead opened the drawers in search of anything that might help her pry loose the shackle. The drawers were empty.

“Okay,” she said. She turned to the girl. “Sweetie, what’s your name?”

“Elizabeth Jennings.”

The name was familiar. Livia had searched during the last weeks for other missing girls in the area, and she vaguely remembered coming across this girl’s story. She remembered, too, this girl’s profile in Nate’s black binder. She was another girl from a bordering state.

“Okay, Elizabeth. I have to go out to the car to—”

“No! Don’t leave me.”

“Elizabeth,” Livia said in the darkened basement. “I have to get a tire iron so we can pry this chain loose. There is no other way. We’ll be right back, I promise you.”

The girl began to shake and cry.

“We are not leaving you. We’ll be back. One or two minutes, I promise.”

“No!” the girl cried.

“I’ll stay,” Megan said.

Livia paused. She knew what it would take for Megan to remain here on her own.

“Are you sure?”

“Go,” Megan said. “But leave the flashlight.”

Livia handed Megan the light and ran up the steps. Outside, she bolted for her car, which sat two houses away, parked at the end of the winding road that led nowhere and everywhere. She reached into her pocket as she ran, fished her phone out, and dialed.

“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” the female voice said.

“My name is Dr. Livia Cutty,” she said, trying to control her voice as she ran. “I’m in an abandoned subdivision in West Emerson Bay. In one of the houses I found Elizabeth Jennings, a missing girl I believe from Tennessee. I need help right away.”

“You are in a subdivision in Emerson Bay, is that correct?” the calm voice asked.

“Yes. In West Bay. Stellar Heights. Off Euclid and Mangroven. I found a missing girl. Elizabeth Jennings.”

There was a short pause as the woman tapped a keyboard. “Elizabeth Jennings has been missing for two years. Is this who you’re referring to?”

“Yes. I need an ambulance right away. And police.”

“Officers are being dispatched now, ma’am. Would you like me to stay on the line with you?”

“No.” Livia shoved the phone in her pocket and raced to her car.

* * *

The girl sat quiet and still on the bed. Megan stared at her in the shadow of the flashlight. She shuffled around the cellar in a way she was never able to do during her two weeks of captivity. There was nothing restraining her. She shined the light onto the painted wall.

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