Chapter One
“This is a mistake. This is a mistake.”Steffanie Price’s skin itched, and anxiety crawled up her spine like a spider creeping up a wall.
The large group of people laughing and having fun at the two-year-old’s birthday party were all harmless, she knew that, but after her kidnapping, any type of gathering was too much for her to handle.
It had been over two years since she and Cynthia had been snatched off a street corner while doing their job. A job she could no longer do because the very thought of being so exposed was more than she could bear.
Cynthia was coping much better than her. At least she’d been able to go back to work. They weren’t as close as they had been prior to their kidnapping, considering they didn’t work together anymore, but they caught up occasionally. Cynthia was always sending her messages, sometimes just smiley emojis to let her know she was thinking of her. Steff appreciated it, and it always made her smile. Cynthia was being a better friend than Steff was to her. It was a surprise Cynthia still bothered with her, but Steff was glad she did.
Steff had no idea what her friend had endured during their captivity, and she hadn’t asked. She hadn’t wanted to know.
Had it been as bad as what had happened to Steff? Or had she been treated differently?
No matter how much counseling she had, Steff couldn’t seem to make any forward progress. Leaving her house was becoming more and more of a chore, but she made herself at least try. Even if all she could manage was to walk down to the end of her street and back home, she believed she’d accomplished something.
This party, though, was too much. It brought everything that had happened back to her. These people were the ones who saved her. Had seen her at her absolute worst. The man who’d carried her out, because she hadn’t been able to walk, had been so gentle.
Steff had no idea who he was because his face had been covered with black paint. Out of all the men gathered in the garden, one of them had been her savior. Was he looking at her now wondering how she was doing? Had he even given her any thought since that night so long ago?
What had she been thinking accepting Teresa’s invitation to come? She should’ve said thank you, but no.
Steffanie scratched at her arms; her nails filed to sharp points so that she was almost digging into her flesh. Pain sometimes helped ground her, but not this time. It wasn’t doing anything. The panic was consuming her to the point her vision was blurring. Her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps. Perspiration beaded on her top lip.
I have to get out of here.
I have to leave.
I’m not safe.
The words shouted in her mind, like they always did when she was outside. Or around a group of people. Steff turnedand rushed away, not seeing where she was going. Not seeing anyone. The need to escape, the driving force for her to run.
She slammed into something hard, and unmoving. Panic engulfed her as arms closed around her. She screamed.
They’d found her.
She was being taken again.
“Let me go! Let me go!” Steffanie twisted and turned to get out of their hold. She’d taken some self-defense classes after she’d been freed, but everything she’d learned was forgotten. Fear had robbed her of the ability to execute the moves to escape her captor.
Immediately she was released, but she didn’t feel free. Phantom arms were still closed tightly around her. The same ones that had dragged her to a dark room where the carefree, happy life she’d once known had been ripped from her.
“You’re safe, Steff. No one is coming for you. You’re safe.” The deep voice kept repeating the words over and over, but she didn’t believe them. How could she?
She was never going to be safe again. How could she be? The people who took her and Cynthia may have been caught, but there was always someone else waiting in the wings to take over.
“You don’t know that,” she whispered.
“Is it okay if I cup your elbow?”
The weird request penetrated her panic. “What?”
“Is it okay if I touch you?”
There was something infinitely calming about the way he spoke. Also, familiar. As if she’d heard him before. Which was totally impossible, because the only people she’d spoken to since everything had gone down was Cynthia, and more recently Teresa.
Had this man been there that night? He probably had been. But which one was he?
Did it matter?
