Out of Turn (38 page)

I pulled again. Still nothing. I pulled again and again, not wanting to face the truth.

They’d disabled the release.

The car started moving and I frantically searched in the dark for any kind of cables or lines that connected to the trunk, but I’d never examined the inner workings of a trunk latch before, which left me ill-equipped to figure it out in this situation.

My eyes burned from the sweat dripping in them, my bra and tank now soaked. I’d never been this hot in my life. The car ride seemed to go on and on, though my frame of reference was probably skewed since every moment inside the trunk felt like an eternity.

My hands faltered in their blind search as I struggled to breathe. My thoughts were fuzzy and after a while I realized my arms were still. I had no energy to move them. It felt like I was going to die, locked in a car trunk that was more
like an oven. I could hear my own struggling gasps over the sound of the car.

I thought about Blane and prayed he’d be okay, that the evidence we’d collected would be enough to convict James and set Blane free. I thought of Kade and hoped he’d keep trying to turn his life around with the new business he’d started.

I wished I’d gotten to say good-bye, which was my last coherent thought before I sank into darkness.

I didn’t expect to wake up, which is why I was so surprised to open my eyes and find that I was out of the trunk. Unfortunately, my new location wasn’t much better, though at least there was more air.

It seemed I was in some kind of a metal shed and not a very big one at that. The floor wasn’t the usual concrete slab but just hard-packed earth. There were four small, dirty windows, all of them tightly closed.

I sat up with a groan, holding a hand to my aching head, and heard the rattle of a chain. I jerked around, afraid someone was in there with me, but then I realized the chain was attached to a thick metal collar around my neck. My fingers scrabbled at the chain and collar for several minutes before I allowed myself to recognize the futility of trying to remove either of them.

The sun was high in the sky—I could tell by the shadows on the floor—and the inside of the shed wasn’t much cooler than the trunk had been. My hair was matted to my sticky skin.

Getting to my feet, I followed the chain to a metal rod stuck in the ground. The chain was rusty, as was the rod, but both were still heavy and solid. I pulled at the rod in the ground, but it didn’t budge. It looked like it had been in that spot for a very long time. I tried to push and wiggle it, but it held firm against my sweat-slicked grip.

The chain’s length allowed me only a few feet of movement and I couldn’t get close enough to the windows to open them. From what I could see through them, I was out in the country somewhere. I didn’t see any other houses around.

The shed itself was nearly empty, with only a couple of workbenches attached to the walls and an old sawhorse. The smell was musty and old, as though it hadn’t been used or opened up for fresh air in a while.

Exploring kept my fear at bay, but as time passed, I couldn’t help but grow more terrified. I was so thirsty, so hot, and the metal on my neck cut into my skin. I went back to working on the steel rod in the ground, though it seemed useless.

The shadows had grown long when the door finally rattled with the sound of a lock being slid back. I braced myself as it opened, revealing the guy with the sunglasses, only he was no longer wearing them and his eyes were cruel and cold. He was carrying two boxes.

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice coming out a rasp.

“I don’t want anything,” he said, setting down the boxes just inside the door. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Which is?”

He smiled. “Torturing and killing you.”

I swallowed, my mouth nearly too dry to make saliva. “I have friends,” I said, “people who would pay you a lot of money to let me go.” And I prayed Kade had whatever it took to make that a true statement.

He laughed. “I’m already being paid a lot of money to make you suffer”—he paused—“and… I enjoy it.”

A cold chill went through me. “Who’s paying you?”

“You already know the answer to that one, I reckon,” he said. “He hired me to make sure it’s done right this time, with a bonus for every day I can drag it out. He really hates you, sweetheart.”

William Gage.

One of the boxes moved, a scratching sound coming from inside. The guy reached for it.

“I felt kind of bad, leaving you all alone out here, so I brought you some company.” He opened the box and dumped it. Two dozen or more rats scurried out, scampering into the shed and toward me.

I screamed, scrambling backward until the chain jerked on my neck.

“Now don’t worry,” the man continued calmly. “We don’t want the rats taking over the place, so I brought them some friends, too.” He opened the next box, then used his foot to carefully tip it over. Horrified, I saw a tangle of reptiles. Two, no, three big snakes slithered out of the box.

“It’s gonna be getting dark soon,” he said, backing out the door. “If I was you, I might try to stay awake. Those rats are hungry, and those snakes’ll probably send them into a bit of a tizzy. But watch yourself. A copperhead bite won’t kill ya”—he smiled—“but I hear they hurt like a sonofabitch. You have a good night now, ya hear? I’ll see you in the
morning.” He shut the door and I again heard the slide of the lock. After a moment, there was the distant sound of a car engine, which then faded away.

I stood, shaking, in the center of the shed, my eyes glued to the snakes. The rats had scurried to the shadowy corners of the shed. There were three copperheads, two adults and a young one by the looks of them. You didn’t grow up in Indiana without being able to identify that particular snake. I’d never been bitten by one, but a neighbor kid had when I was about ten. He’d said it had hurt like hell, and by the way he’d yelled, I’d known he hadn’t been exaggerating.

They weren’t aggressive, though, and even as I watched, they slithered into nearby pools of light to sun themselves.

My heart was racing and my palms were slimy with sweat. I tried to think. The rats, I knew, would come around when it got dark. I didn’t think there was reason to fear the snakes, unless I accidentally got too close. Given where the shed seemed to be located, it was going to be pitch-black inside when night fell.

And if I survived the night, he would be back in the morning to finish the job.

I eyed the sawhorse. It stood near a corner but within reach of my leash. Unfortunately, a snake was now curled around one of the legs, basking in the sun.

I took hold of the wood and slowly, very slowly, tipped the sawhorse backward. The snake was only about a foot away from me, and every time it twitched, I froze. It took an eternity, but eventually the leg was free of the snake’s coils. I carefully dragged the sawhorse toward myself inch by inch.

I had two choices. I could try to tear apart the sawhorse so I had some kind of weapon when he came back in the
morning, or I could use it to stay up off the floor. Being bitten by rats and snakes held no appeal, but both were survivable. Another encounter with the guy wasn’t.

Decision made.

The sawhorse had seen better days, thank God, but the splinters bit into my hands. After the third splinter and scrape, I pulled off my tank top, using it to cover the wood as I tried to pull it apart. The inside boards at the bottom seemed to be slightly looser than others, so I concentrated my efforts on them.

My stomach growled for about the fiftieth time, which I tried to ignore. I was so hot and thirsty, I decided that if I got out of this, I’d never again take air-conditioning or water for granted. I was getting tired and weak, and had to take frequent breaks. I wished I’d taken the time to put tennis shoes on this morning instead of flip-flops.

The wood finally cracked just as twilight was fading. The copperheads were moving now, sensing prey in the dark corners where I couldn’t see. I heard rustling and scratching and wondered how long it would be before the rats came closer.

I shuddered. I wasn’t afraid of rats, not exactly, but wasn’t real thrilled about being locked up with them all night, either. I picked my way carefully to the closest bench nailed to the wall, but my chain brought me up about six inches short. Damn it.

I made my way back to where the pin rested in the floor. Holding the heavy two-by-four like a bat, I swung, hitting the side of the pin. The blow reverberated up my arms like they were piano strings, but to my relieved amazement, the pin
moved just slightly. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and swung again.

Something scurried over my foot and I screamed, jumping back. My scream echoed inside the shed, as if mocking me. I gasped for air, trying to get my breath back, before creeping back toward the pin. I swung the two-by-four again and again, missing it because of the dark as often as I hit it. My hands grew numb and my arms ached, each blow taking more and more effort.

A flurry of squeaking and hissing erupted a few feet away. There was more scurrying and something touched my feet, making me leap back again with a choked sob. It was so dark now, I couldn’t see a thing. I held on to the wood and followed my chain until I came to the pin. Praying I’d touch nothing but metal, I reached down and grasped it, pulling and wriggling it for all I was worth. I was unprepared for it to suddenly fly free from the ground, sending me lurching backward to fall flat on my ass on the floor.

A hiss that was too close for comfort made me freeze in place. I couldn’t tell exactly where the snake was or how near. Too afraid to move, I stayed exactly where I was. I couldn’t track how much time passed, but long enough for my legs to cramp from not moving and for my head to bob from sheer exhaustion. Then something furry brushed against my leg, jerking me awake, and it took everything I had not to move.

The night was the longest night I’d ever endured. Time passed with agonizing slowness. I stayed where I was, not knowing where the snakes were, if they were coming closer or staying put. After the first rat brushed against me, they grew bolder, scampering right up to me. None bit, thank God, but the smell of them, the feel of their sharp little
claws as they climbed on me—all while I was unable to see them—combined to keep me in a constant state of terror. Creepy things crawled up my arms and legs, some kind of bugs, maybe spiders, but I dared not move to brush them away. Chills racked my body, but they were from fear, not cold.

I was so tired, so thirsty and dirty. Though the sun had gone down, it was still at least ninety degrees in the shed. I’d stopped sweating, which I took to be a bad sign, and I knew that meant I was extremely dehydrated. Every sound seemed amplified in the pitch-black silence, and every horror movie I’d ever watched came back to replay itself inside my head.

I’d never been as glad to see dawn as I was when morning came at last. The first lightening of the sky had me searching the shed. I caught my breath when I saw a copperhead was only about a foot from me. I was sure that if I’d tried to get up or move at all during the night, it would’ve bitten me.

The rats had disappeared back into the dark recesses of the shed and I couldn’t see the other two snakes. Hoping they weren’t nearby, I inched backward. It wasn’t until the sky had lightened considerably that I felt far enough away from the snake that I could chance getting to my feet.

My legs were practically numb and it was only through sheer will and perseverance that I remained standing. I stumbled to the workbench and climbed up on it, dragging my chain with me.

More than anything, my body begged to lie down. My back was cramped from me sitting all night and my ass was numb. But I didn’t know when the man was coming back. I had to be ready, not sacked out.

I tucked my feet up under me and waited, the two-by-four lying next to me. I worked on the chain, trying to get it off the pin, but it wouldn’t budge.

The sound of someone approaching had me setting the chain aside. My path to the door was clear and I grabbed the two-by-four, holding the chain so it wouldn’t drag, as I took up a position just inside the doorway in the shadows. It was still really early and it surprised me that he’d come back so soon.

My arms shook with fatigue as I held the plank of wood like a baseball bat, ready to swing. My shirt was still wrapped around the base of it so I could get a good grip. I had no doubts that if I missed, I wouldn’t get a second chance.

The bolt slid back and the knob turned.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

I
held my breath, closed my eyes, and swung.

The plank of wood stopped, midflight.

Aghast, I opened my eyes to see he’d grabbed the two-by-four as it had swung toward his head. And I was glad he had, because it wasn’t the guy from last night.

It was Kade.

I choked in a breath, my mouth agape as I stared, wide-eyed, at him. My shaking hands dropped their grip on the wood.

“Kathleen,” he said, looking as stunned as I felt.

“Oh God, Kade,” I blurted before flinging myself into his arms. I sobbed with relief, though my tears were dry.