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L ivia pulled the heavy, black-metal tire iron from her trunk with the help of the dome light, and raced back to the house, leaving her trunk wide open.

As she ran, she tried to concentrate on the house in the distance, its image dark and shaky in her tunnel vision.

Up the front steps first and then through the opened front door, Livia finally bounced down the darkened stairwell.

Megan was standing with Elizabeth Jennings, holding her hand.

Livia crouched down and placed the end of the tire iron into the eye of the bolt.

She leaned back, pulling with all her strength.

After ten seconds of grunting, she checked her progress and noticed under the glow of the flashlight that nothing had budged, or moved, or bent.

Repositioning the tool, she stood and placed her foot on the tire iron, then transferred her weight onto the bar.

When nothing happened, she tried to bounce to increase the force but this resulted in the point of the lever coming free and Livia stumbling to the ground, the metal tool rattling onto the bare concrete floor .

Megan tried for another minute or two, before Elizabeth began to cry.

Livia turned to her. “I’ve already called the police,” she said. “Help is on the way. They’ll be able to free you.”

Livia watched Megan feebly work the pry bar against the bolt.

“In the meantime,” she said in the best calm voice she could produce, “we wait. All of us. We’re not going anywhere without you. Let me see how you’re doing.”

Livia passed the minutes by examining Elizabeth Jennings. She performed a cursory exam and determined the girl to be malnourished, underweight, and with signs of abrasions to her ankles and wrists as the method of bondage periodically moved to each extremity.

While Livia softly ran her hands over Elizabeth Jennings’s body, checking for broken bones or signs of infection, the girl spoke.

“Did you find the other girl?”

Livia stopped her exam, stared at Elizabeth. Megan stopped fumbling with the pry bar and looked over.

“What other girl?” Livia asked.

“The other girl who’s here. We talk to each other sometimes,” Elizabeth said, pointing to the ceiling.

Livia looked up and followed the beam of the flashlight as Megan slowly raised it to the ceiling. The light came to rest on an air vent.

“We can hear each other,” the girl said. “She’s the one who saved me. He hasn’t hurt me since she’s come. When we’re sure it’s safe, we whisper through the vent. But I haven’t heard her for a while. Not since he came last time.”

Livia felt her breathing accelerate. “This other girl is upstairs?”

“Somewhere,” Elizabeth said. “Wherever the vent leads. Her name is Nicole.”