A small child would easily fit. Even a preteen. But a teenager or adult would have to lie on their side and pull up their knees to fit inside. Sitting up would be impossible for a person of any age. A rusty, unlocked padlock dangled from its black metal clasp. No doubt the SWAT team had looked inside.
Did they guess how it was used?
Malcolm threw the padlock to one side and flung open the lid, a ferocious look on his face. Evan peered inside. Empty. The bottom was made from heavy wooden slats, the walls thick and reinforced like the lid. Malcolm spun around and strode to the side of the house, where he grabbed a sledgehammer that leaned against the wall next to an axe and huge branch trimmers.
His gaze locked on the box, Malcolm swung the sledgehammer at the lid and knocked it off one hinge. Another swing detached it from the second hinge, and it fell to the ground. He lowered the sledgehammer, leaning on the handle, panting hard.
He’s too weak to destroy it all.
Evan stepped to his side, placed a hand on his shoulder, and held out the other toward the sledgehammer. “Let me do it.”
“No.” Malcolm shook his head. “I can do it.” He lifted the hammer again and let the heavy head slam into the side of the box. Boards cracked but stayed in place. Malcolm rested again.
“Please,” said Evan. “Let me destroy the fucking thing.”
Malcolm held his gaze for a long moment and then handed Evan the long-handled hammer.
Evan hefted it. It wasn’t a wimpy ten-pound head. It had to be closer to twenty. He wondered how Malcolm had used it, weak as he was.
He’s fueled by rage.
Evan clenched his jaw and swung, letting his body weight carry through the swing. One side splintered, and the impact rattled up every bone in his arms. He swung again. And again, feeding on Malcolm’s anger and hate.
Minutes later, the box was in pieces.
Breathing hard, Evan lowered the handle and rested on it as Malcolm had. A sense of accomplishment and satisfying revenge filled him as he met Malcolm’s gaze.
“Thank you,” Malcolm said, sincerity in his tone.
“Anytime,” answered Evan.
Rowan put her arms around Malcolm, and he tensed but then softened into her hug. “I’m so sorry, Mal.”
He slowly shook his head. “I was always thankful that it was me instead of you.”
Rowan shook with quiet sobs, and Evan struggled to stay back and let the two of them have the emotional moment.
After a moment Malcolm moved out of her arms. “There’s something I want inside the house. Be right back.”
“How are you doing?” Evan asked as she wiped her eyes.
“Why are people so horrible to each other?” she pleaded. “What kind of person does that to a child? Or even an adult? What are they getting out of it?”
“Power. Control,” said Evan. “They feed on it. It’s an addiction.”
“I hate him,” said Rowan. “I hate Liam and Jerry for what they did to us. Especially to Malcolm.” Thor circled her, occasionally pawing at the ground, her emotions upsetting him. She pulled out the floppy Frisbee and threw it hard, and Thor rocketed after it. “Fetch therapy,” she said.
“For you or him?”
“Both of us.” Thor returned, and she hurled it again.
Evan took a few seconds to appreciate the simple happiness of the sprinting dog performing fetch therapy in the calm forest. “It’s been quiet since the team headed to that other building.”
“I think we would have heard a racket if they found Liam and West,” said Rowan. “But it’s a few hundred yards away. The trees could block the noise.” Her face darkened, and her next toss of the Frisbee lacked the effort of the others.
“That’s the building where the two of you were held, isn’t it?” Evan asked.
“Yes.”
Evan waited, but she didn’t have more to say. Her time here was imprinted on her brain in a horrible way. And in the scars on her leg. He’d glimpsed them a couple of times. Silver and pink lines and splotches. She’d never lose them or the limp. Permanent reminders.
He suspected Malcolm’s scars were much worse.
Frowning, Evan listened for movement inside the house. “Malcolm’s been gone awhile.”
Rowan’s head turned sharply as she studied the building. Then she darted around toward the front, Thor on her heels and Evan right behind her. She leaped over the stairs. “Malcolm?”
Evan entered and followed her down the short hall. He pushed the bathroom door farther open this time. Empty.