Page 98 of Over Her Dead Body

The man holding it wore a dark suit. His car was black. Civilization has accepted less convincing credentials.

He asked whether she was Emma Calloway.

She said yes.

Fingerprints proved unnecessary. Emma confirmed he had the correct woman.

Daniel hangs up and calls again.

I ignore the call.

The driver hired to collect Emma Calloway arrived nine minutes later.

By then, the first man had her suitcase, her destination, and a considerable head start.

The distinction between a chauffeur and an abductor appears to be approximately one missed exit.

Emma noticed.

The driver declined to explain.

This was unwise. Emma Calloway has a remarkable tolerance for ridiculous explanations. Someday, I’ll tell you about the lamb.

For now, you’ll be pleased to know the vehicle lost its argument with a construction barrier.

The driver lost his depth perception.

She left skin from both palms on a Portuguese road. He left with her suitcase. Against increasingly poor odds, Emma kept her phone and her life.

Given the decisions that brought her to Lisbon, this may represent growth.

I smile despite myself.

The abduction has now been documented in admirable detail.

Emma ended it with a metal pen.

You may wish to review the division of labor.

I stop smiling.

The report continues.

The car was not connected to the collection.

The driver knew her name, flight, hotel, and the transportation arranged on her behalf.

Someone else has begun making decisions about Emma Calloway.

I assume you’ve already come to this conclusion. I assume you’re not taking it well.

When Daniel calls a third time, I answer.

“Emma escaped.”

“I’m aware.”

“Her hands and one knee are torn up. Her shoulder may be injured.”