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Heather jumped, but Allen had obviously been ready because he smiled. “I think there’s a pretty clear feeling among the townspeople that nothing needs to change. If those that want it have any hope for it to come to a vote, they have their work cut out for them.”
The store clerk nodded. He had to be new in town, since she didn’t recognise him. Heather grabbed up two wool blankets, a flashlight, two small kerosene heaters and some high protein bars. Her brain immediately went to the coffee Allen had given her at his office, and her stomach churned. She’d need a slightly less thick brew in the morning. She headed for the next aisle to get some instant coffee. It was her least favorite, but there was no way she’d invest in anything more extravagant that she wouldn’t need in a few days.
This had to be over soon, right?
Something cold lay against her cheek and a hand clamped over her mouth. She dropped everything she carried, hoping it made noise and tried to pry the powerful grip away from her mouth. In the next instant, her mind went fuzzy. They had to have put something on their glove. Heather focused on holding her breath, slowly going limp, faking a faint.
The man pulled her close to his body and dragged her toward the door. Heather caught her foot on the wire handle of the lantern and knocked it over, loudly crashing to the floor. Her attacker froze, then tried to run, but her limp bulk made moving difficult.
Allen raced around the corner. She heard him yell, “Freeze!” For a split-second her heart froze because she’d watched enough cop shows to know he had to do something with the gun that made a loudclickbefore he could shoot anyone, unless he’d already done that beforehand… “I said, freeze.” Allen’s voice was cold and demanding.
In the next instant, she hit the floor, and her kidnapper raced away from Allen. She opened her eyes and pushed up, wanting to race after and help catch that man. He could take them to her father!
The store clerk gripped her arm tightly. “You don’t want to do that. Let him handle it.” He tugged her away from the center of the store to the front. “Just wait here until Allen gets back.” He dug under the counter and handed her a tissue. “For your cheek.” He pointed to the right side of his face.
Heather dabbed at her right cheek, and the tissue came away with a thick line of blood. He’d cut her, but the knife had been so sharp, she hadn’t felt it until now. “Thanks.”
“Come with me. You can sit back here instead of standing in the middle of the store.” He led her through a door behind the counter to a small breakroom. “There’s a couch and a vending machine. There’s even coffee if you want some. Help yourself.”
“Did you recognize who he was? I didn’t see his face.”
The clerk shook his head. “We get a lot of tourists in here. I don’t even live here, so I never know if people are local. I’m from Norris. It’s a long commute when I work, but jobs are few.” He shrugged.
Living in South Dakota often meant people had to drive long distances to do things. When she wanted to buy groceries for more than one meal, she drove to Rapid City. That was the closest place with a large grocery store. Rapid City was an hour each way. Such was life in a rural area.
There were no windows in the breakroom and Heather paced, trying to hear what was going on in the store. Had Allen returned? Where could he be? Had he caught the man who’d attacked her? She blotted at her cheek again, but it hadn’t stopped bleeding. She needed to find a bathroom and clean it up.
There were no other doors in the room, and she headed for the public restrooms. The door stuck, and she jiggled the knob. “Hello? I’m stuck in here.” She pulled on the knob harder. “Someone?” Her heart picked up speed.
Was that man working with the attacker? Was that why Allen hadn’t seen him? Had he been right back here the whole time? She pounded on the door. If anyone else was in the store, they would hear her. They had to.
“Help!” Her voice cracked. She looked around again, searching for a way to get out.
There was a long counter on one end, a refrigerator in the corner, and a microwave on one counter. A shallow sink was a few feet from the fridge, and one small table sat along the wall with two chairs. The room was narrow enough that she could probably pace from one end to the other in under ten steps.
The only way out was to let people know she was trapped. She opened the refrigerator and searched for something hard. There was an unopened 2 liter of soda tucked in the door. Hopefully, it wouldn’t burst all over her when the pressure built, but it would make a good bat in a pinch. She grabbed the bottle and headed for the door.
With a windup like she hadn’t used since high school softball, she swung the bottle with as much force as she could against the solid door. The bottle wasn’t harmed, but the noise was deafening. Someone had to hear.
A moment later, the clerk came back to the door and yelled from the other side. “If you keep that up, I’ll make sure you can’t make noise. Hold tight and you’ll see your cop friend soon enough.”
She slowly backed away, the bottle feeling much heavier than it had before. The first attacker had tried to drug her, and her head already pounded from whatever that was. Did the store clerk have access to the same drug? If she was unconscious, she couldn’t defend herself or remember where she was.
She paced back to the fridge and opened the door, careful to keep quiet. No sense in giving the clerk a reason to come back and threaten her again. Allen would come for her. Her chest hurt thinking about how she would explain this situation to her father.
In the next instant, the door swung open, and a person was shoved in with her. He grunted as he landed on the floor in a large heap. It didn’t even take a second for her to realize the form was Allen and there was blood dripping from his neck.
* * *
Allen’s worldwent in and out of focus as he laid with his face on the cold, hard floor. Blood ran in a steady hot stream from the gash in his neck. The only good thing was they hadn’t killed him. That would be their biggest mistake and one he would make them regret. If he could staunch the bleeding and keep some of his energy, he would get out of this. Somehow.
He opened his eyes as Heather kneeled at his side. The combination of the stench of his own sweat and blood and her sweet shampoo made his stomach churn. He didn’t want her to see him like this. “How?” His throat closed, and he flinched as she firmly pressed something to his wound.
“Shh, just lay still. Let me help you for a change,” she whispered, her loose hair falling over her shoulders. “I remembered the first aid kit was on top of the fridge. I don’t trust any of the ointments in there because there was a thick coat of dust over the outside of the kit, but the bandages work. They were sealed in plastic.” He could feel her hands shaking against his shoulder.
“Shock,” he tried to tell her to rest.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to help you the best I can.” She added more pressure.