Emma said in a small reflective voice, “I thought and thought.”
Ramsey felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Emma’s voice was a whisper of sound. He was surprised any of them even heard her words.
Dr. Loo waited for more, but Emma didn’t say any more. Dr. Loo said then, “You thought well. How long did you think about it?”
“All that day. But I didn’t know how I could get the string off my hands, and then he forgot. He just forgot and went outside to smoke.”
“Then what did you do?”
Emma was pressed so tightly against his chest that Ramsey wondered if he shouldn’t intervene. He was on the point of opening his mouth when Emma said in that same whispery soft little voice, “I jumped off the bed. It was real dirty. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. When he came back he thought the pillow was me. I crawled out the front door.”
“You were barefoot?”
Emma thought. “No, I knew I had to run, so I put on my sneakers. I put them on after I was outside.”
“Did he drink very much?”
“I counted four empty bottles. I didn’t have anything to do, so I counted them. They were really big.”
“How long did it take him to drink those four bottles?”
“Five days.”
“That’s how many days it was until you escaped?”
“Yes,” Emma said, her voice not quite so choked now.
“Were there certain times of the day or night that he drank out of those bottles?”
It was loud, that mewling sound that ripped Ramsey’s guts. She was trembling, wheezing for breath, making those awful sounds. “No, no, sweetheart,” Ramsey said, pressing his cheek to hers, holding her tightly, rocking her, keeping her close and closer still. “It’s all right. You’re safe now, with me and your mama. If Dr. Loo had been there I bet she would have kicked that miserable man in his butt.”
“That’s right, Em. She would have kicked him with her cast. That would really hurt.”
The mewling sounds stopped.
“Emma?” It was Dr. Loo. Emma didn’t say anything, just pressed closer to Ramsey’s chest. “I would have kicked him really hard. Count on it.”
Emma jerked. Then, slowly, she raised her head. She looked at her mother, at Ramsey, then at Dr. Loo. “Mama wanted to shoot him,” she said at last. “She might have shot Ramsey if I hadn’t said something.”
“You did well, kiddo,” Molly said. “You did really well.”
“Can you answer another question for me, Emma?”
The little girl looked at her clearly now. “I don’t want to but I know that my mama wants me to, and Ramsey.”
“Yes, but only if it doesn’t make you sick afraid. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Was this man who kept you at the cabin for five days the same man who took you?”
“Yes.”
“How did he get you?”
“Mama was taking pictures in the park in front of our house. I was with Scooter-he’s the neighbor’s dog. Mama said I could get one just like him. I was throwing his stick. It took me a long time to teach him to bring me back the stick because Mama said that Dalmatians weren’t genius dogs, just dumb dogs and really cute. I threw the stick and when Scooter didn’t come back I went to him. There was a man petting him. I heard Mama call my name and I called back and said I was getting Scooter. Then the man smiled at me and he hit me on the head. I tried to call my mama but I couldn’t.”
Ramsey thought: It was that easy. It took just an instant, just that one instant when the adult believed everything was all right. And then it was too late.
He glanced over at Molly. She looked stricken, guilt ridden. He’d have to shake her out of it. It hadn’t been her fault, but he knew just how deeply self-blame could burrow in and corrode.
Then Emma just turned her face in against Ramsey’s chest. It was as if she’d frozen, stiff and cold. He held her, kissing her hair.
Molly rose slowly at a nod from Dr. Loo. “Thank you, Dr. Loo.”