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Reese checked her cell as she walked to her vehicle. One call from Hayes. And a voicemail, also from him. She stood still in back of the SUV and listened to the message. Short. Terse. There was a note in his voice that she’d never heard before. The man was seriously pissed. She felt a sliver of regret. There’d been a time when she would have predicted he wasn’t the type to lose his cool. She turned on the cell’s volume. Reese could plug it in when she got in the car and speak with him as she headed home. While she didn’t expect him to be understanding about her leaving without him, she hoped to salve his temper by telling him what she’d learned. And then she’d call Dr. Sedgewick to set up an appointment.
Her phone clutched in one hand, she pulled the keys out of her purse with the other and sidled between her car and the one next to it toward the driver’s door. A scrape sounded behind her. A shoe on gravel. She whirled, one key poised between her fingers, to wield as a weapon if need be. But a weight hit her before she could fully turn, knocking her to her knees.
She kicked backward and made contact. Heard a whoof of breath. She tried to scramble to her feet but was flattened.Reese opened her mouth to scream, and a large hand clapped over her mouth. “Not a word, bitch.” A man’s voice. Ragged, but triumphant.
A shudder shook her, as memories crowded in. Thorne, springing out of the shadows on the rental’s back porch. Zapping her with something. Waking up in the kennel. Blood flying. Autry motionless on the cellar floor. The mental images slapped over each other in quick succession. And something inside her shut down, leaving only a visceral will to survive. She worked her hand out from under her body and dragged the key she still clutched across the hand on her mouth.
“Goddammit!”
Reese struck again, this time digging it into the thick wrist covered with brown hair. A man. But not Thorne. His hair was black. The details registered a moment before the hand disappeared. She fought for breath. Managed a scream that was cut off abruptly when she was pulled to her knees.
“A fighter.” The man sounded out of breath, but oddly pleased. “I love the feisty ones.” He grabbed her head in both hands and slammed it against the next vehicle. Once. Twice. Again. Colors swirled behind her eyelids and nausea lurched in her stomach. She felt herself being half carried, half dragged. She was left alone for a few seconds before she was lifted. Reese struggled for all she was worth, twisting and turning in the stranger’s grasp, kicking and scratching like a prey trapped in a predator’s paws.
She was shoved headfirst into a cramped, dark place—a trunk. The flash of comprehension was a lit match igniting her frenzied movements. She kicked out violently, but her legs were folded in behind her. The wedge of sunlight disappeared as the trunk lid slammed shut. With effort, she turned over and beat her feet against it repeatedly, to no avail.
Then she stopped, horrified.
The car was moving. Backing up first then straightening before going forward. Away from the purse, keys, and phone she’d dropped.
And away from any chance to call for help.
Hayes contactedher twice more while he drove to the location shown on her phone’s app. Both times, he reached her voicemail. He swore, long and imaginatively. They were going to have a come-to-Jesus talk, but first he had to find her. One thing was sure, he wasn’t getting less frustrated on the drive. Just the opposite.
It took longer than it should have because of the traffic congestion. When he drew closer to the location, he slowed. The neighborhood was zoned for business, borderline seedy, but not disreputable. He swung into a small park lot in front of a restaurant that had seen better days. There were eight or ten cars out front. Reese’s SUV wasn’t one of them. He drove around the property, spotting the vehicle parked at the back. Hayes slid into a space, walked swiftly to the back entrance, and stepped inside. He’d frequented some hole-in-the-wall spots that had surprisingly good food, but that didn’t seem likely here. The posters on the wall were curled and fly-specked. The only visible improvement in the last two decades might have been a coat of paint.
It took only a moment to ascertain that Reese wasn’t there. He caught the eye of the red-haired waitress behind the counter and approached her. Pulling his cell from his pocket, he brought up a web browser and typed in a search command. He tapped on an article with Reese’s byline and picture, enlarging it and showing the server. “Have you seen this woman?”
She reached for a glass carafe of coffee and refilled the cup of the nearest customer before angling her head to see his phone. “Yeah, she was here a bit ago. Left with Kervin. He’s a regular. See him most mornings. Never seen her before, though.”
“What do you mean, left with him? In his car?”
The woman shrugged. “Can’t tell you that. But I emptied the trash in the Dumpster over on the side of the building”—she tilted her head to indicate the direction she meant—"and they were standing by his car, talking. Then I came back in and didn’t see either of them again. He’ll probably return tomorrow, though. He comes most weekdays.”
“Thanks.” He headed out again, troubled. So, Reese had intended to meet the CNA. Given the cash she’d slipped him yesterday, Hayes wasn’t surprised that she’d captured his interest. He couldn’t believe she would have left here with the man, though. She wasn’t that trusting.
When he got outside, he walked toward her vehicle as if it could provide the answers he was seeking. He drew closer, then froze, spotting her purse on the gravel by the rear wheel. Car keys nearer the driver’s door. Beelining for them, he spied her cell under the SUV. His heart clutched.
Wherever Reese was right now, she hadn’t gone willingly.
Past and presentmelded with a stomach-churning intensity. Reese focused on her Tai Chi breathing, beating back the batwings of fear fluttering in her chest. From the maelstrom of thoughts whirling inside her, she plucked out one. Held it close.
She wouldn’t be a victim again.
Reese searched the space around her. It smelled like a gym locker. There were old fast-food wrappers, a wadded-up blanket,and smelly clothes that might be contributing to the aroma. She managed to turn over, stretching a hand toward the lip of the trunk lid. She hadn’t paid much attention to the vehicle parked next to hers. Tan. Not new, but a recent enough model that it would have the government-mandated release device. She ran her fingers over the lid’s seam, searching for a cable or a button to push, lingering over an indentation that had some give when she pressed it. But nothing happened. Either the driver disabled it, or it worked only when the car came to a stop.
She paused and focused on what was happening outside the vehicle. They slowed and moved in rhythm with traffic stops. Her fingers hovered over the release, and the next time the car halted, she pressed it again with all her might.
Nothing happened.
The surge of disappointment was very nearly crippling. Reese rolled to her back, kicking hard at the lid, screaming at the top of her lungs. The radio went to full blast, playing a raucous country song. Nobody would hear her.
Undaunted, she scooted over to align her foot with one of the taillights. She kicked at the cover repeatedly, until it cracked. Then redoubled her efforts. When parts of the plastic dropped away, Reese stopped and squirmed around so she could break some of the shards and tuck them into her pocket. She might not have keys anymore, but the jagged edges of thick plastic would provide her with a weapon.
The vehicle started moving again, and trepidation squeezed her chest. There was no way to know how much time she had. She flipped to her back, gave another hard kick, and more of the pieces fell away. Reese rested for a moment, panting. Her head pounded. She raised her fingers to her temple where her assailant had smashed it against his car. They came back sticky.
With effort, she wiggled around until she could work a hand into the opening offered by the missing taillight cover. Began to wave it for all she was worth. Surely, someone would notice.
But there was no response. Minutes ticked by before the vehicle halted again. She kept her hand in constant motion. A horn sounded nearby. Then another.