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Logan got out of the car and walked a few feet away so he could see what was happening more clearly. Jeff joined him, and they stared down at the scene below. The agents were moving toward the structure, weapons drawn. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl.
“I wish they’d hurry,” Logan said.
“You know they have to be careful. Not only for themselves but for Alex. If they move too fast—”
Suddenly, a loud explosion rocked the ground, and in only seconds fire engulfed the building. With Alex still inside.
Nine days earlier
Tracy craved more sleep, but her mind fought the almost overpowering urge. Where was she? How long had she been here? She had no memory of coming here. For a moment she wondered if she were dead, but that couldn’t be right. This wasn’t heaven. God didn’t drug people.
She pushed herself up from the bed and swung her legs over the side. Immediately, the room swirled around her, and she grabbed the edge of the mattress to keep herself from falling off. It took a while for the dizziness to subside. She felt sick. Nauseated. And damp. She looked down and realized she’d wet herself. She was so embarrassed. She hadn’t wet the bed since she was a child. Then anger quickly overtook humiliation. This wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t supposed to be here.
She reached inside her pocket for her phone, but of course, it was gone. Not a surprise.
Then she looked around the room. It was small, and there were no windows. But at least it seemed clean and neat. Besides the bed, there was a dresser, a wooden chair against one wall, a bookshelf with a few books, and a small table with something on it. She stood, wobbling some, and made her way to a note on top of a pile of folded clothing.
You can change into these or any of the other clothes in the dresser. Clean sheets are in there too. There’s a toilet behind the curtain. A plastic receptacle for the bag is next to it and will be emptied every night. Other plastic bags are available for any trash or laundry. Just put it all next to the door at the end of the day. Also put your food trays at the bottom of the door after each meal.
Plastic bags? A receptacle? Food trays? What in the world?
She turned around and carefully made her way to a dark pink curtain that closed off one corner of the room. Pushing it aside, she found the kind of portable toilet her family had used when they’d gone camping years ago. She remembered how it worked. Once the bag attached under the seat was partially full, you disposed of it and put a fresh one in its place. As the note promised, a plastic pail sat next to the toilet.
She took in a small sink and some towels and washcloths hanging on a metal bar. A cabinet under the sink was filled with shampoo, soap, lotion, feminine products, a brush, and a bag with makeup. It seemed he’d thought of everything, but she certainly wouldn’t be applying any makeup for this freak.
She stumbled back to the dresser, where she found sheets and pillowcases in one drawer and packages of new underwear and socks in the next one. Jeans and some folded T-shirts had been placed in the last one. She slammed it shut. She had no intention of staying here long enough to use all of this.
But even though she didn’t want to agree to anything asked of her, she couldn’t stand the way she felt—or smelled. It was obvious she’d been here at least a day, maybe two. She took the clothes from the table, lifted a package of underwear from the dresser, and started to strip off her sweat suit. But then, suspicious, she looked around again. Sure enough, a camera was positioned up in one corner with only the curtained area blocked from its view. She had no intention of giving this pervert a show, so she stepped behind the curtain again.
She washed herself, then pulled on the jeans and T-shirt, which fit surprisingly well. They also looked clean and smelled fresh. She felt better.
She shoved her discarded clothing into a plastic bag, then dropped it on the floor next to the dresser, where she grabbed some socks. The floor was concrete. Cold. She carried the socks to the wooden chair next to the wall, then sat down and tugged the socks onto her bare feet. They were thick and warm, which felt good.
She carried the plastic bag to the door, but when she turned the knob, it was locked. The door was made of metal with a small knob about three-fourths of the way up attached to a small panel. There was a larger panel positioned near the floor.
The walls were made out of some kind of stone. She touched them, and they felt cool to the touch. Where was she?
She was about to try opening the top panel when another wave of dizziness hit her. She made it back to the bed, but it was still wet, so she returned to the chair and waited for the room to stop spinning. When it did, she quickly removed the wet sheets and shoved them into another plastic bag. The mattress had a plastic protector, and she used one half of a towel to wipe it down with soap and water. Then she dried it with the other half.
After that she wrangled clean sheets onto the mattress and slipped a new pillowcase onto the pillow. She checked a tiny closet in another corner and discovered a soft comforter. There was also a hook with a flannel nightgown hanging from it.
She was so tired. Even though she wanted nothing more than to learn where she was and get out of there, she crawled into the bed and pulled the top sheet and comforter up to her shoulders. Then she allowed herself to start drifting off again, determined to fight back as soon as she could.
