Free House of Glass by Sophie Littlefield Page B

don’t work down here, remember? You have to be upstairs or the signal doesn’t come through.”
    Livvy looked crestfallen. She switched the receiver off. “Maybe one of us could sneak upstairs.”
    “But it only works if the other one’s on, too. And Aunt Tanya only lets Jake use it after dinner so he doesn’t run down the battery. I just don’t think it’s going to work. I’m sorry, honey.”
    The door at the top of the stairs opened, and they heard heavy footsteps. “I’m coming down.” Dan’s voice. “Stay where you are.”
    Livvy quickly jammed the receiver under the couch and grabbed Jen’s wrist tightly, and they watched Dan descend the steps. Ted groaned softly and shifted on the floor, his joints popping. Teddy turned in his sleep, a soft sigh escaping his lips.
    Dan came down the stairs, looking better than he had the day before: well rested, clean shaven and wearing one of Ted’s shirts. The shirt was snug on Dan, and he’d rolled the cuffs up over his forearms unevenly, the latex gloves looking fussy on his big hands.
    Ted rolled onto his side and blinked, then lurched to his feet, cursing. Dan’s hand went to the gun jammed in the waistband of his pants. The pants were Ted’s, as well; Dan’s gut hung over the waistband.
    “Watch it,” Dan barked. “Get up. Hands up.”
    Ted complied instantly. “I wasn’t—”
    “Save it. It’s showtime.”
    Ted rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Is that—is that my shirt?”
    “Ted,” Jen warned. She pulled Livvy against her, instinctively shielding her daughter’s face from the stranger.
    “You and me,” Dan said, ignoring Ted and pointing at Jen. “We’re going on a little trip. Time to get ready.”
    Jen pulled Livvy tighter against her, trying to read Dan’s expression. His eyes were calculating, not cruel, but not kind. “Where do you...”
    Ted cut her off. “You’re not taking my wife anywhere!”
    “Calm down. Nothing’s going to happen to her.” Dan barely glanced at Ted. “Jen, we’re leaving at ten after nine. I’m taking you upstairs now so you can take a shower and get dressed. Ted, we’ll only be gone an hour or so. Stay here, feed your kids—it’ll be over soon.”
    “I need to know where you’re taking her.”
    “You don’t need to know anything.” Dan took a step toward Ted, his hand never leaving the gun. “You don’t call the shots anymore, remember?”
    “Listen,” Ted said, standing his ground. “How about this. How about I’ll go with you, whatever it is you need us to do, okay? Leave my wife here. I can promise you I won’t give you any trouble.”
    Dan laughed harshly. “That right, Tonto? You gonna come along quietly?”
    Ted paled, and closed his mouth. Jen glanced sharply at him, but he wouldn’t look at her. Tonto... the nickname he’d earned in business school, when he had a reputation for reckless bravado, volunteering in class even when he wasn’t prepared and playing pickup rugby in the quad. The nickname had stuck with him, but only among the handful of guys from school who still got together to ski every March, to relive the youth that seemed more distant as they settled more and more comfortably into middle age.
    “Why did he call you that?” she asked. Livvy was staring, too, confused.
    Ted merely shook his head. Dan looked from him to Jen, smirking. “You can discuss it later. Now, Jen.”
    Livvy whimpered and slid her hand into Jen’s. “She stays with me,” Jen said, trying not to show her fear.
    “She can come upstairs, but only for a few minutes. Then she comes back down here. You’ll both be fine. Let’s go.”
    Jen refused to look at her husband as she followed Dan up the stairs. Tonto, Tonto, the stupid name echoed in her head. Something incomprehensible was going on. Ted knew something, he’d done something and she could barely contain the fury brewing inside of her.
    When they reached the top of the stairs, Dan locked the door behind him. Jen and Livvy blinked