Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [80]
Neither prospect was at all appealing.
This time Martin got lucky. The first window, the one above the sofa and facing the side yard, was locked tight, but the other, facing the backyard and obscured by a tall row of hedges, was unlocked. A window fan sat on the floor beneath the window, still plugged in, an indicator as to why the window may have been left unlocked.
He had found his means of escape.
Not only was the window unlocked, but it was a large window, tall to be precise, and he thought that, with a bit of crouching, he could probably kneel on the sill in the rectangular space that the bottom pane of glass currently occupied.
Only one piece of evidence indicating his presence in the house remained. The door to the room in which he was trapped was closed, but it had been open prior to his entry. In order to restore the home to its original state, he would have to open the door before exiting.
Even with the ABCs, Martin doubted if Cujo would remain still once the door was opened. Though quiet, the dog continued to occasionally whine and growl. But this wasn’t a bad thing. Martin was banking on the dog’s continued anger, and desire to eat him alive, in order to get the door open again.
First, he raised the bottom pane of glass and examined the area outside. Because Laura Green’s property sloped down toward the backyard fence, the window was unusually high off the ground, perhaps as high as six feet. The bush obscuring the window was nearly flush against the house, promising Martin a prickly but concealed escape. The area beneath the window was free of debris, and the drop to the ground, though farther than he would have liked, was manageable. The bush would probably slow his fall a bit. An electric meter was jutting out of the siding to the right of the window frame, about two or three feet from the ground, but Martin thought it would be easily avoided. With the window now open, it was also clear to Martin that he would be able to jam his crouching body into its space. His knees would be none too happy, supporting his full weight atop the sill, and his head and neck might not appreciate the degree of bending that would be required, but the space was large enough. This would be the first time in his career that Martin used a window as a means of exit, but as he examined his landing zone and the cover that the bush would provide, he felt confident that it would work.
Next came the dangerous part of his escape plan. Returning to the door, Martin raised the volume of his ABCs as he reached out and grasped the doorknob. His goal was to open the door just enough for the knob to release from the catch without the dog noticing any change. In order to cover the expected click of the knob, he increased the volume of his ABCs even more. Turning slowly, he twisted the brass knob until he felt the door release from the jamb. He then turned the knob back to its original position, hoping that the door would remain unlatched but in place. As he loosened his grip a bit on the knob, it seemed like his plan would work, but the test would be to release the knob entirely; he hoped that the door didn’t swing inward.
About fifteen feet separated Martin from his escape window. Keeping his right hand on the knob, continuing his passage through the alphabet, Martin positioned himself for a diving leap through the window in the event that the door moved too much and Cujo became aware of his intentions. He envisioned himself leaping over the sill, grabbing hold of the bush, and sliding down.
He thought it could be done rather easily, albeit painfully, if necessary.
Taking a final deep, relaxing breath,