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H is phone beeped in a message.

Sierra watched Henry’s demeanor change drastically. He vaulted to his feet. Pulled out the phone and did his best to hide it from Sierra. He turned away.

This was her chance.

She’d noticed a paperclip on the floor underneath the table. While Henry’s attention was diverted, she reached under the table and clasped the clip. Now that she had it, finding the best place to store it so that she could retrieve the paperclip once Henry was out of sight wasn’t so easy.

Her long-sleeved jacket might work unless it fell out while he was securing her wrists.

Henry clearly wasn’t thrilled by the person who sent the message. His fingers stabbed into the keypad as he typed a response.

Sierra tucked the paperclip out of sight as he turned. Her brow glistened with perspiration. If only the drug he’d injected her with had worn off, she would’ve taken him out by now. She hated how physically weak the drug made her.

Henry shoved the phone into his trouser pocket, his face flushed with anger. “I have to go.” He looked at her and stopped. “You’re hot.”

Sierra’s heart fell to her stomach. “No, I’m cold actually. I think I may be coming down with something.” To prove the point, she coughed several times.

Henry watched her for a second longer before he grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.”

Sierra was thankful it wasn’t the arm with the paperclip. If so, it would all be over. He dragged Sierra along behind him. “Get up on the table.” The Henry she’d been talking with a few minutes earlier was gone.

Sierra climbed up onto the metal table that gave her the creeps because it reminded her of the type used at the morgue.

Henry didn’t say a word as he secured her wrists and ankles before hurrying from the room.

He’d forgotten to turn off the lights. She’d be able to see as she worked. A big help. Plus, he hadn’t gagged her again. She had a voice. She’d have to find a way to get someone’s attention.

Henry locked the door behind him. His footsteps disappeared up a set of steps. Soon, floorboards creaked above followed by a door slamming shut, then a vehicle started up.

What had been in that message that had caused Henry’s mood to change so drastically?

“Doesn’t matter,” she murmured to herself. She had to get the paperclip out and get free.

She’d worked the paperclip just past the cuff of her jacket. Sierra jiggled her arm. The paperclip slipped down. Another jiggle and the paperclip landed on the table near her wrist.

Now, all she had to do was get the paperclip apart. She’d studied the lock used to secure her wrists. She could pick it easily, thanks to her self-taught escape artist studies. She’d been fascinated with Houdini and other escape artists from the past. She’d practiced getting locks open, using a timer. She knew what to do to make it happen.

Sierra stretched out her fingers. Almost got it . . . her limbs were still weak. She took a break before trying again. Her fingers grasped the paperclip. “Got it.”

Now the next problem. How to get it open. There was only one way. She struggled to sit up without using her hands. It took three tries before Sierra managed, the effort zapping her strength. She pulled in several breaths before leaning over her hand. It was excruciatingly slow to get the paperclip straightened out with one hand.

Once it was semi-straight, working the clip in the tiny lock proved another challenge. She held the clip between her teeth and went to work.

In all her escape practices, she hadn’t been forced to use her teeth. Another challenge she hadn’t expected.

As she worked, Sierra listened for Henry’s return.

Her worst fear was that she’d drop the paperclip on the floor.

Don’t think that!

She continued working as fast as she could. The clicking sound the lock made as it opened was the best sound ever.

“Yes!” Tears flooded her eyes, blinding her vision for a moment. She didn’t have a free hand yet to wipe them. She leaned against her jeans and did her best.

Sierra dropped the paperclip carefully onto the table. She used her mouth to get the lock open and slowly free its shackle.

It felt like the biggest victory of all when she had her left hand free.

“Thank You, God.” She wept openly and praised God. “Help me get out of this place.”

She grabbed the clip and released her right hand, then leaned over and did the same to the shackles on her ankles. And then she was free. Completely free.

Hurry. The word sped through her head.

Gripping the side of the table, Sierra swung her legs over the side. She tested them to make sure they’d hold her again. Weak, but strong enough to keep her upright.

She grabbed the Glock and realized he’d removed the clip with the bullets. She checked the chamber. Empty. It would be useless except for using it as a battering tool. The rest of the instruments on the table were straight out of a horror movie. A scalpel. Other sharp tools that would be used during surgery. Where had Henry gotten them?

Don’t worry about that now . There’d be plenty of time to question him once he was arrested, and she planned to be the one to do it.

Sierra looked around the space for anything else she could use as a weapon, while avoiding the women in the barrels. Her heart broke for the ones who’d died and probably didn’t have any idea why, other than their paths had crossed a madman’s.

A set of shelves held boxes with the names of the women she recognized from the previous disappearances. She opened one. It held a driver’s license and a bracelet. Someone’s treasures had become trophies of a serial killer.

Sierra found her box and opened it. Her license and Bureau ID were inside. No phone or watch. That would have been too easy. She grabbed her possessions and then spotted Dawn’s box was next to hers. It held Dawn’s ID and an engagement ring. Nothing more.

With the exception of the medical instruments, she found nothing of any use, and she was wasting precious time.

She rushed to the door Henry had exited. Locked. Of course. She’d heard the locks engage. Sierra dug out the paperclip and went to work. With her heart racing, her fingers fumbled. The urgency of the situation contributed to the struggle.

It took up way too much time before the lock snapped open. She was free. Before she opened the door, another frightening thought occurred. What if someone else was in the house? Henry was married. Was his wife part of this disturbing game?

She grabbed the scalpel and carefully eased the door open, half expecting an attack. She realized this was another part of the basement. Stacks of old furniture and discarded things from the past were everywhere. Shelves held rows of canned goods. There was a woodworking table and tools all around. She grabbed something heavy, knowing she couldn’t linger here long.

But if Dawn were still being held here in the house, she had to find her. She searched the basement as thoroughly as possible. No sign of the woman.

A set of stairs led to another door. She ran up the stairs and tried not to give up when faced with yet another lock.

Sierra got it open and stepped out into the kitchen. If she’d come here without knowing the awful things stored in the basement, she would think this was just another country home. She hurried through the rooms on the lower level. No Dawn. She was wasting valuable time, but she wouldn’t leave Dawn behind to this monster.

Upstairs were a couple of bedrooms and a bath. There was no sign of Dawn anywhere in the house.

She had to get out of here and get help. Sierra started for the front of the house, where the living room door promised freedom.

Reaching for the knob she forced herself to slow enough to unlock the deadbolt.

Out of the corner of her eye, movement grabbed her attention. Before she had time to turn, another needle was jabbed into her neck.

No!

Sierra swung around with the scalpel. A tall, thin person hidden by dark clothes and a grotesque Halloween mask backed away.

She lunged for them, but her legs gave way. Another needle pricked her neck. Her attacker wasn’t taking any chances.

One chilling thought registered through the engulfing fog. Henry hadn’t been talking about himself as the monster. He had a real-life partner. One far more dangerous than an old man.

“Please, let me go.” She begged. She’d never once begged before, but this time felt different. This time felt final.