CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BROOK

I miss Zac terribly, especially in the evening, when we make supper together and watch TV snuggled up on the couch. Or when we go to bed early, but not to sleep.

It’s way too quiet here without him.

I’ve had a feeling the last couple of days that I’m being watched. But I don’t see anybody, so I chalk it up to loneliness and missing Zac. Thinking it will help, I call Natalie and ask if she and Emily would like to have lunch.

“See you at noon.”

“Sounds good.”

* * *

We meet up at Herbert’s where Zac took me to eat. I look around before sitting. I’m certain someone’s watching me.

“Is something wrong?” Natalie asks. “You look flushed.”

“I’m fine.”

A glass drops, shattering, and I flinch.

“What is it?” Emily asks.

I breathed. “I think someone’s following me.”

Natalie and Emily to look around, human nature.

“I might only feel this way because I miss Zac. I’ve been paranoid since he left.”

Emily reaches across the table and takes my hand. “You never felt this way before he left?”

“I did one other time. A few days ago when Zac brought me here for lunch. I could have sworn my aunt was eyeing me from across the street.” I point to where she had been standing the day I thought I saw her.

“Maybe you should stay with one of us until Zac gets back?”

“I’ll be all right. I’m sure I’m just imaging things.”

“Well, if you change your mind, let us know.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

Things are better after my lunch with the girls. I don’t feel like I’m being watched any longer.

After clocking out from work, I stop by a drive-through and pick something up for myself to eat for dinner. I’m not in the mood to fix anything.

I sit on the couch to eat and watch TV, trying to keep my eyes open. It was an extra-long day at work and I’m beat. But I need to stay up until at eleven because that’s when Zac usually calls.

I’m dozing off when my phone rings.

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“So how’s it going.”

Zac tells me things are going well, and they’re getting close. “With any luck, we’ll have the girl back tomorrow.”

“That would be great.”

We talk a little longer and say our good nights. I don’t tell him I think I was being followed. He has the girl to worry about.

* * *

I didn’t sleep that well last night and I can’t keep from yawning. I’m hoping a second cup of coffee will help. As I sit here drinking it, Zac calls.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” I say when I answer.

“I had to call and say good morning.”

“You sound chipper,” I say. “Did you find the girl?”

“Not yet, but we’re close. I can feel it.”

“Your feelings don’t normally lie.”

“No, they don’t.”

“I missed you in bed last night,” I tell him.

“I missed you, too.”

Someone in the background calls Zac’s name. “Hey, listen babe, I gotta go. We might’ve just caught a break.”

“Call me later, okay?”

“I will.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

I’m more awake after talking to Zac and I’m expecting a good day. By the way he spoke, it sounded like things might get wrapped up and he’ll be on his way home. Maybe on my break I’ll go shopping for something sexy to wear. Give him a night to remember.

I walk to my car, whistling. I’m carrying art magazines and my usual cup of coffee. I set the magazines and coffee on the roof of the car and dig through my purse for my keys. That’s where my focus is when an elbow crooks around my throat and I feel a prick in my neck.

What the . . .?

***

My hands and ankles are bound when I wake up. It’s dark where I am and I feel movement. I might have just heard a horn honk. I believe I’m in the trunk of a car and not a very big one. I scream to be let out, but no one hears, or maybe they do. Either way, I keep screaming until my throat hurts.

The car rolls on and every bump we hit is magnified. I have to pee. Too much coffee earlier, I suppose. I close my eyes and try not to think about it. I doze off — probably an aftereffect from whatever pricked me in the neck.

My eyes open when the car screeches to a halt. Doors open and close. Someone hollers, “Pop the trunk.” I try to push backwards, but can’t. Sweat protrudes from my pores. My fingers and toes go numb. The trunk latch snicks and a sliver of light sneaks through a crack.

I close my eyes and cover my face, hoping it will all go away.

“Get your ass out of there.”

I look. Aunt Karen is standing there brandishing a knife. Her husband is next to her and the lawyer is behind them.

She grits her teeth and reaches for me. “I said get your ass out of there!”

I flail my arms and Karen steps back. She tells my uncle to get me out of the trunk. He hesitates, and she slaps him. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Uncle looks at me, almost pleading for my cooperation.

I give it to him. I’ll have to go with them, eventually.

Uncle pulls me out of the trunk and carries me into a house. I try to take in all I can on our way inside. There’s nothing much but trees. And they all look the same.

“Take her to the basement,” Karen says to my uncle.

He transports me down the stairs and dumps me on the cement floor. “Sorry,” he says.

“Don’t you apologize to her,” Karen scolds and elbows him to the side. She points her knife at me. “I’m going to cut you loose, so don’t do anything stupid.” She moves to my ankles and bends to cut the rope. Then she eyes me with distrust, stands back up, and hands the knife to the lawyer. “Here, you do it.”

“Me?”

“You want your money, don’t you?”

He slouches and takes the knife. His top lip is sweating. He moves to my ankles to cut the rope. His hand is shaking. I think he thinks I’m going to kick him in the head. And though I’d like to, it wouldn’t be the smart thing to do.

He waggles the knife at me. “You try anything and I’ll cut you up.” His voice is an octave higher than I remember.

“I won’t try anything.”

He slashes the rope from my ankles and does the same with my wrists. I try to rub the rawness away. “Why, Karen?” I can’t understand why she’s doing this to me. She’s already taken everything I have.

“Let’s go,” my aunt says and heads for the stairs.

I struggle to my feet. My body aches. “Karen, don’t do this.”

They leave the basement without looking back and close the door behind them. The lock slides into place.

I scan the room for a way out. There isn’t one. There are no windows, either. The only light comes from a single bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. I see a bucket of water on the floor with a washcloth and towel lying next to it. Worse than that is the porta potty and toilet paper sitting in the corner. I have to get out of here.

I spend the next I don’t know how long scrutinizing the room. Walls, floors, ceiling, everything. There’s nothing. No hope for escape.

I lay down on the cold, hard floor and close my eyes. “Zac,” I whisper. “Please help me.”