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“Nope. I haven’t gotten a thing,” Maddy confirms, and I exhale with relief again. In theory, I would have received the same distress signal as Maddy, if Hannah had sent one. But not if Hannah had taken me off the recipient list because she’s pissed at me.
“Whenever Hannah calls or texts you,” I say, “will you do me a favor and tell her to please contact me, if only to tell me she’s okay? We were supposed to talk today, so I’m hoping she’ll want to talk to me beyond confirming she’s safe. But if not, she needs to give me at least that.”
“Of course. But I bet she’s planning to call you after picking up my mom from work, at the latest. Hannah would never leave you hanging overnight.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
When I hang up with Maddy, Reed has already paid the waitress and is staring at me with raised eyebrows. “So, what’s your destination, brother?” he asks. “LA, Seattle, or New York?”
“Seattle. Hannah will be at her mother’s place tonight. I’m gonna skip the phone call and talk to her in person. Don’t worry, I’ll grab a commercial flight.”
Reed shakes his head. “No, I’ll take you in my plane. I’ve got some stuff I can do in Seattle.”
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary. I’m sure there are plenty of—"
“No, you need to get there as soon as possible, and I really do have stuff to do there. Owen said all the signed paperwork came in from 22 Goats, so I should probably take them out to celebrate and talk next steps. I want to bounce some music video ideas off them. Plus, I want to move them into one of my apartment buildings in LA while they’re writing and recording their debut album, and it’d be more productive to have those conversations in person.”
I shrug. “Okay, if it’s genuinely not a problem for you to fly me there, then I’ll take you up on the ride.”
“Not a problem at all. Happy to help.” Reed stands, and when I don’t immediately follow suit because I’m checking my phone for a text from Hannah, he snaps his fingers impatiently at me. “Come on, Peter. I’m happy to help but not to wait.”
“Sorry.”
42
HANNAH
Ouch.
My brain is on fire.
When I open my groggy eyes, I’m bound to a chair by my chest and legs. I try to scream but something affixed to my mouth muffles the sound. Is that duct tape on my lips? I think there’s a gag in my mouth, too. I try to touch whatever is keeping my lips firmly shut, but my arms are tied behind my back at my wrists. There’s only one person in the world I’d let tie me up. But not like this. Have I been abducted?
No.
It can’t be.
I must have fallen asleep while listening to a true crime podcast.
Wake up, Hannah.
I blink several times, but my bindings are still there. My shabby surroundings the same. I’m in a dilapidated barn or large shed. There’s a card table on the far side of the space with an opened metal folding chair next to it. The chair is slightly askew, like someone slid it back when getting up and didn’t push it back in.
Someone.
My abductor.
Due to my bindings, I can’t turn to look behind me to see if my captor is back there, so I hold my ragged breath and listen carefully for any sounds. But there’s nothing but silence and the faint sounds of twittering birds and wind outside. Either my abductor left me here for who knows how long and for God knows what purpose, or he’s standing right behind me at this very moment, silently savoring my panic and confusion and fear.
Have I been raped?
I close my eyes and zero in on the sensations between my legs, but nothing feels out of the ordinary or painful, other than my bladder feeling uncomfortably full. Although, I suppose, that’s not a guarantee I’m untouched. Tears well in my eyes at the thought of what might have happened to me while my body was prone and unconscious.
The air passing in and out of my nostrils is loud and erratic. My heart is beating so hard, it’s surely going to create hairline fractures in my sternum. Is my abductor going to rape and murder me and then harvest my organs? Or will he rape me and sell me into sex slavery?
Calm down, Hannah. Figure out how to escape.
My phone.
Where is it?
Henn loaded that distress signal onto it that looks like a calculator! My heart sinks. Clearly, that’s not going to help me. Even if my phone is miraculously still on me, I wouldn’t be able to press any buttons on it with my hands tied behind my back.
Fuck.
I’m going to die today.
No, you’re not. Look around. Figure out your escape.
