“I don’t want to hang around here all night.”

“It won’t be all night. Wait here.”

But LeBrun followed her as she climbed to the second floor. She wished she had brought a flashlight but she hadn’t thought she’d need one. For that matter, she wished she had a gun. Several of the dancers at the club had guns. Gypsy had had a little chrome pistol that she kept in a tortoiseshell case in her purse. It looked like a makeup kit.

Upstairs it was dark, but the night light was on in the bathroom. LeBrun stayed behind her as she moved down the hall. He seemed to be mumbling to himself. The floor was carpeted and their feet made no noise. Her mother’s bedroom was at the far end of the hall in the other direction. Jessica passed the closed door of her old bedroom and she shivered as she recalled the dreadful things that had happened there. Jason’s room was just past the linen closet on the right. Jessica’s legs felt funny—she hated being this far into the house, like sneaking into a bear’s cave.

She paused before Jason’s door.

“Is this it?” whispered LeBrun.

“Yes.”

“Then what’re you waiting for?”

Again she wanted to tell LeBrun to be quiet. Instead she slowly turned the knob and pushed open the door, which creaked slightly on its hinges. The room was dark.

“Jason?” she whispered.

There was no answer. She felt for the wall switch on her right. A sliver of light came from under the drawn shade but not enough to see if Jason was in his bed. When Jessica listened carefully, though, she thought she could hear him breathing.

“Jason?” she said again.

She turned on the light.

Tremblay was sitting on the bed smiling at her. There was no sign of Jason.

Her stepfather waved several sheets of paper. “Isn’t it nice to have a little brother who saves your letters.”

Jessica turned to run and bumped against LeBrun.

“He’s got a gun,” said LeBrun.

She looked over her shoulder at Tremblay, who held a small black automatic, not pointing it at her but holding it out so she could see it. “That’s right, I have a gun. Haven’t you read those stories where a husband or wife mistakenly shoots a loved one who came home without warning?” Tremblay smoothed his mustache with the back of his thumb.

“Where’s Jason?”

“Elsewhere. I think we should have a little chat.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” said Jessica. Even though she wanted to appear defiant, she spoke in a whisper. She moved away from LeBrun, who shouldn’t have stopped her from getting away.

Tremblay gave another smile. It was a meaningless expression, just something to occupy his face while he was being mean. “On the contrary, if you want to see Jason again, then we have to talk.”

Jessica tried to look brave but didn’t answer. Tremblay wore a dark sweater and dark pants. She realized he had dressed that way just so he could surprise her more easily. She almost expected him to have worn a hat as well, but Tremblay never wore hats. He was too vain about his thick silver hair.

“First of all,” continued Tremblay, “I want to see this money belt that you’ve been bragging about to your brother.”

Jessica didn’t move.

Tremblay lazily gestured at LeBrun with his pistol. “Take it from her.”

LeBrun reached under her down jacket and sweatshirt to grab the money belt. She could feel his cold fingers on her bare skin. Then he yanked the belt loose and she gasped.

“Throw it here,” said Tremblay. LeBrun tossed it to him. Tremblay opened it, then shook it upside down so the money scattered onto the rug: three thousand dollars in fifty-dollar bills. “Not bad for showing your little tits.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Jessica, staring down at her money.

“I’m afraid I’m tempted to shoot you both.”

“I had no part in this,” said LeBrun quickly. “She paid me to give her a ride. I had no idea she was going to kidnap anybody.”

Tremblay’s smile this time made his eyes crinkle with good humor. “I’m sure you didn’t. You were just being nice.” He nodded to Jessica. “Couldn’t you find yourself a better-looking boyfriend?”

“That money’s mine,” said Jessica.

“What are you going to do?” asked Tremblay. “Call the police? I’ll tell you what, I’ll try to save it until your twenty-first birthday.”

LeBrun began to chuckle, then stopped himself. He had been looking around the room, which had posters of Red Sox players and a Red Sox pennant.

“Where’s Jason?” Jessica asked again.

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because I want to see him. He’s my brother.”

“We had a deal, right? Now the deal’s off.”

“No, Tremblay, please.”

Tremblay’s smile had great warmth. When Jessica had first met him six years earlier, she had been encouraged by it. Now it terrified her.

“Please don’t touch Jason. I’ll do anything.”

Tremblay appeared to consider. He turned the small automatic over in his hand and seemed to study it. Jessica realized that it was one of her father’s guns. Tremblay stretched his right foot forward and poked at the fifty-dollar bills on the rug. “I want your boyfriend to take you back to Bishop’s Hill. I don’t want any more foolishness. When you’re here at Christmas, we can talk again. But don’t count on seeing Jason. If you don’t behave, I’ll send him out to my brother’s in Illinois.”

Although Jessica was scared, she was surprised that Tremblay was letting her go so easily. But LeBrun was a witness, so perhaps he was acting semi-reasonable because of LeBrun. Or perhaps Jason had told other people that his sister was going to rescue him. But it was still a sham; everything that Tremblay said was a sham.

Tremblay lifted his chin. This time he wasn’t smiling. “So it’s a deal? You’ll let this guy take you back?”

“You won’t hurt Jason?”

Tremblay laid down more conditions—no phone calls, no letters. It was ten-thirty; they could be back at Bishop’s Hill by one. Jessica felt exhausted. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or scream.

“Okay, it’s a deal,” said Jessica.

“Then get out of here.”

“Can I have my money?

“No chance. It’s my money now.”

Jessica’s eyes began to water. She hated to have Tremblay see her tears. “Let me use the bathroom first.”

“I can trust you?”

“I only want to pee.”

She pushed past LeBrun without looking at him and made her way down the dark hall. She didn’t really have to pee, but once she had locked the bathroom door behind her, she peed anyway. There was a phone in the bathroom and it occurred to her that she could call someone; she could ask for help. Then she realized she had no one to call. Maybe she could call Dr. Hawthorne but he was too far away and what exactly could he do? She washed her face in cold water. The sink, toilet, and tub were pink with gold-colored fixtures. There were framed pictures of toy poodles combing, primping, and putting on lipstick. She didn’t flush the toilet. Let Tremblay do it. Jessica unlocked the door, turned out the light, and went back into the hall.

As Jessica approached Jason’s room, she heard LeBrun and Tremblay talking. Then she heard Tremblay say, “What the hell did you bring her down here for? Are you nuts?”

Jessica couldn’t hear LeBrun’s answer.

“And when are you going to do it?” asked Tremblay angrily.

Jessica stood still and tried to make out what LeBrun said but his words were an indistinct mutter.

“Jesus, you’re impossible,” said Tremblay. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing. I should have shot you both after all.”

She was surprised that anyone could talk to LeBrun so rudely and she waited for him to answer, but he said nothing and Tremblay didn’t say anything else. Jessica waited a moment, then moved forward down the hall. When she reentered Jason’s room, they were looking at her. Tremblay was standing by the bureau and LeBrun had moved to the window. LeBrun was shorter than her stepfather but wirier and dark-haired. His narrow face was hatchetlike.