NINETY-EIGHT

6.55 P.M.

‘What the hell?’ Penn asked.

Nazeera had been seated on the floor against a beam in the middle of the shop with her legs outstretched in front of her and bound with chain at the ankles.

Across her thighs was an old-fashioned breakfast tray that reminded Penn of the one he’d used to take meals to his mother. Her hands were secured to the breakfast tray with cuffs and a chain, palms facing down. A rope around her midriff meant she wasn’t going anywhere.

Stacey squeezed his arm with excitement. ‘We’ve got her, Penn. She’s alive.’

He continued to assess her condition. She was still wearing the pyjamas that she’d been abducted in, and her feet were bare. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and there was a cloth tied around her mouth. Her head lolled forward. She didn’t yet know they were there.

Penn tapped on the window, and her head shot up.

Relief lit up her eyes. Somehow she knew they were the good guys.

‘I’ll go get her,’ Stacey said, heading around the side of the building towards the front door.

Nazeera watched as Stacey went out of view. Her eyes filled with panic, and she began to shake her head vigorously.

Penn’s euphoria disappeared. Something was wrong.

Nazeera looked to the ceiling and then back at him. Her face was contorted with fear.

He looked up and saw what she was afraid of.

His heart jumped into his mouth.

‘Stacey, noooooooooo,’ Penn cried at the top of his voice.