She slumped against the seat as the SUV sped through the city, carrying her away from the man she had loved like no other. Her lungs seized in a silent gasp, her chest aching, and her vision tunneling until everything went black.
Chapter 30
Consciousness returned slowly. Erica lay on her side on a narrow mattress, facing the wall. The room smelled like a basement: damp, moldy, and full of stale air.
She didn’t recall how she’d gotten here. Or someone changing her out of her gown and into jeans and a T-shirt.
Normally, the thought of someone touching her would have sent her into a panic. Now she felt nothing. It was like something inside her had burned out. The part that cared had simply stopped working.
The last thing she remembered was the garage. Her mind kept circling around it but never quite reaching it. Vince had been running toward her, shouting her name. Then searing pain, and everything went silent.
Her vision blurred with tears. She couldn’t believe he was gone.
Voices drifted through the door. A man was speaking Russian. His tone sounded irritated, but the words meant nothing to her.
Nothing mattered anymore. Not the approaching footsteps. Not the click of the lock.
The door opened briefly. Something clattered behind her before the footsteps receded and the lock clicked again.
Food. She could smell the grease. Her stomach threatened to rebel at the thought of eating. She was empty, but not hungry.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Time had lost shape.
Eventually, a quiet voice spoke from the other side of the room. “Are you awake?”
She didn’t respond.
A pause. Then softer: “Ma’am… are you all right?”
Fabric rustled. A moment later, a damp cloth touched her forehead. The cool sensation broke through the fog. She turned her head.
A young woman knelt beside the cot, hair pulled into a ponytail, revealing bruises along one cheekbone. Her eyes were familiar, but she was blonde, not a redhead.
“Shannon?”
She blinked in surprise. “No… I… You know Shannon? Have you seen her?”
“I don’t understand. Aren’t you her?”
“I’m Lauren.” She hesitated. “Shannon is my sister.”
“You’re twins,” Erica deduced.
“Yes, but not identical. We’re close, though.”
The vaguely different versions of Shannon in her visions made sense now.
“Who are you?”
“No one,” she said, staring up at the ceiling. “Just someone who saw something she shouldn’t have.”
Lauren hesitated. “You must be important, or they would have—” She stopped, her voice catching.
“Would have what? Killed me?”
“Yes,” she replied, voice trembling.
Erica turned toward the wall and curled up, her broken heart a physical pain worse than any she’d endured. “It feels like they already did,” she whispered.
