“If you hurt her, I’ll make you pay,” said Matty.
“Oh, don’t you worry,” said Betty. “I’m not going to hurt her. I’m just a poor old lady.” She wagged an index finger in the air.
“No, Betty’s not going to hurt anybody. Betty’s just the trapper. She will deliver you all without a scratch.” She looked at me and rubbed her thumb and index finger together. “They pay far more if the catch isn’t hurt.”
“Who?” said Dalton. “Who pays?”
Betty twirled around in the center of the kitchen and spoke as if she were on stage delivering lines to a packed theatre. “I told them I had two lovely young specimens, brother and sister. The brother was such a fine-looking young man. The sister,”—she looked down at me with disdain—“well, I did what I could to put some meat on her bones.”
“You’re sick, Betty,” said Erik. “You’ll never get away with this.”
She ignored him and went on with her monologue. “But then the sister brought me, not her brother, but six young men.” She clutched her chest and gazed up at the ceiling. “Oh, and such fine-looking men—the meat on their bones!”
She bent down and opened the oven, stuck her arm then her head inside. Metal rattled against metal as if she were rummaging for something. Then she pulled out a gun and faced me with a sad look on her face. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Greta.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” I said.
“You did this!” She rushed over to my cage, got on her haunches, and waved the gun in my face. “Everything was going perfectly well before you came along.” She stood, and again clutched her chest, twirled around, and gazed dreamingly at the ceiling.
“I had a fine young man who looked after me.” She glanced back at me. “He did everything for Betty. Cooked for her, cleaned for her.” She glanced longingly toward the window. “He even stole a sick man’s identity so Betty could get the medicine she needed.”
The euphoric, dreamy look on her face quickly changed to one of anger and hate. She turned and pointed the gun at me. “Then you came along! You thought you could take him from me, didn’t you?”
“No,” I said. “I’m not taking Jake from you.”
“Of course you’re not.” She dropped the gun to her side and smiled. “Jake’s been arrested. You can’t have him now.”
“You!” said Austin. “You’re responsible for Jake getting arrested.”
“She’s responsible!” Betty pointed at me with the gun then quickly regained her composure. “Of course I had to call the police. Otherwise, that tramp was going to run off with him. And then who would look after poor Betty?”
“But how is he going to look after you if he’s in jail?” I asked.
She beamed and pivoted to face me. “Oh, you see, that’s where I’m such a genius.” She tapped her temple with the barrel of the gun. “I’m the only one who can help Jake now. Don’t you see? Now, Jake needs me just as much as I need him.”
She waved her gun at the row of cages before her. “And with the money, they’re paying for seven splendid specimens, well, Betty will be able to hire a lawyer and spring Jake from jail.” She clutched her chest and smiled widely. “And Jake will be so grateful he won’t ever again think about leaving poor old Betty alone.”
“It’s too late,” said Gabriel. “Jake’s already been released from jail.”
Betty laughed. “That’s impossible.”
“He’s telling the truth,” said Matty. “That’s why we were celebrating at the lodge last night. We already hired a lawyer, and he’s already been freed.”
“Liar!” She shouted so loud, her voice rattled the cages and the windows and the doors. It took a long moment for the angry reverberations to die down, after which, Betty’s eyes darted toward the door. “That must be them, now.”
She paced from the cages to the open oven, glanced in then paced some more. “I do hope the oven is big enough to hide all the money.” She glanced down at me and added, “You can never be too careful what with all the crazies in this neck of the woods.”
“Who are you selling us to?” asked Dalton.
“Shh!” she said. “I can hear them coming. A bit early, but you can’t blame them for being so eager.” She faced the front door, wet her fingers, and ran them through her hair then she straightened her shirt and practiced her smile.
I heard the front door open and saw the smile on Betty’s face disappear. “No!” She raised the gun.
“Betty!” It was Hans’s voice.
No, Hans! Don’t come in!
Betty fired.
“No!” I shouted.
The window behind Betty shattered and a rock smacked against the kitchen counter and tumbled to the floor.
Betty turned. “What?”
It wasn’t Hans I saw storming into the kitchen, but Philip. He ran right at Betty, lowered his shoulder, grabbed her by the waist, and slammed her into the counter. In doing so, he slipped and fell.