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Vera took a breath, then rolled onto her other side, facing Eve, and reached for the razor. Vera held it firmly and waited as her sister pushed her bound hands toward her.

The van braked to a hard stop.

The blade sliced across Eve’s arm.

Vera’s eyes went wide.

Eve kept her own closed in pain. Her lips tightly pressed together.

Heart thumping, Vera tried to see how bad the cut was ... exactly where it was. Above the wrist on the front of the forearm. Not too deep.

Thank God.

The driver’s side door opened. No time. Vera tucked the blade back into her sock.

Heart pounding, she pulled the tarp back over their heads, then positioned herself as if she were still bound, feet together, hands behind her back. She needed him to believe she was still secured. And she needed him close ... close enough to injure.

Leaves and sticks crunched beneath his steps as he moved toward the back of the van. Vera’s gaze collided with Eve’s as those rear cargo doors wrenched open. Vera hoped her sister knew how very much she loved her. She suddenly wished she had said as much while she had the chance.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Mama,” Eve whispered abruptly.

Before Vera could tell her that right now nothing but survival mattered, Eve was jerked from the van by her feet. Her shoulders and head hit the ground. She cried out.

Vera bolted upright. Scrambled into a crouch.

Patrick dropped Eve’s legs and charged toward Vera.

She lunged at him.

They hit the ground together. She grabbed at his throat.

Something rammed into her shoulder.

Sting.

Needle.

She tried to squeeze his throat, but her arms felt limp, wouldn’t work.

She crumpled atop him, her respiration slowing ... her body helpless.

He rolled her off.

His face floated above her ... the image wavy, as if she were looking through water.

“I knew you’d try something like that. Nighty night, Vera Mae.”

She sank beneath the blackness.

38

Lincoln County Sheriff’s DepartmentThornton Taylor Parkway, Fayetteville, 12:00 p.m.

Three hours.

Vee had been out of communication for three hours.

Bent stared at the maps spread across the conference table. All area grids were being searched. County and city law enforcement personnel as well as civilian volunteers were covering ground as quickly as possible. Bent had issued new BOLOs for Vee, Eve, and Patrick Solomon, as well as the news van from Memphis. Everyone who had watched the news or listened to the radio had been alerted and asked to call in any sightings or suspicious activity. But it didn’t feel like enough.