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Mason put his hand on Jon’s arm. “Speaking of Ben, I want to thank you for prodding Anu to get checked. She means a lot to me. And of course my wife. But thank you.” His voice roughened, and he looked away.
“Annie and I are praying for the best.”
Jon watched Mason go to his SUV and drive away before pulling out his phone to text Annie. His head was starting to hurt by the time he finished his report, so he made a beeline to the doctor’s office. He might be able to determine if Eckright had jumped to the right conclusion about Kylie’s paternity. If he did, Jon would ask him to keep it quiet until the dust settled.
Twenty-Nine
This stupid leg. Michelle stared balefully at her enormous limb. As near as she could tell, it had been a week since she broke it, and it wasn’t much better. The discoloration seemed worse to her this morning, and her leg radiated heat. Had it become infected?
She was no nurse, but she knew she needed a doctor. What if this delay meant she’d be permanently disabled? The thought made her shudder. She’d hoped to have some kind of weapon when her captor came back, but she’d found nothing.
Her despair throughout the week had only deepened. Her situation appeared hopeless, but that couldn’t be true. There was always a glimmer of hope somewhere—she just had to find it.
She sat up and slid to the floor, then made her way to the bathroom again. Every trip was more and more of an ordeal, and she always returned weaker with worse pain. On her way back to the bed, she heard the sound of an engine. He was back so soon? He’d been here yesterday.
She managed to return to the cot before the lock clicked and he entered the cabin. The ski mask was in place again, but she memorized the shape of his body. The way he walked, cocky and with his head high, was another tell she could use to identify him if she managed to live through this.
He carried stuff with him. Was that a broken ankle boot? It would be a welcome relief to have some sort of protection for her leg. Maybe she could even manage to hobble on it.
He said nothing but came to stand beside her. He took the boot apart, then lifted her leg to position the back of the boot onto her leg and foot. Her eagerness for help ended quickly when he moved her leg the wrong way and excruciating pain gripped it.
She couldn’t hold back the scream, and she pushed his hands away. “Don’t touch me! You’re not doing it right.”
“I watched a YouTube video on how to do it. Hold still and it will be over soon.” He reached for her leg again.
She balled up her fist and landed a punch on his nose. He reared back with his fist up, and she cowered.
She held up her hand. “I’m sorry, but I reacted before I could help it. I’ve had a broken bone before! I know more than you about what to do. You’ll make it worse.”
“You can’t let it heal in this position.”
“And you’re an idiot! It needssurgery. No boot is going to fix this. All it will do is help support it and keep the bones from moving.”
“Don’t you ever touch me again, or you won’t have to worry about your leg hurting.”
She shuddered at his low, ominous voice and didn’t reply. She released the air in the boot and positioned it on the back of her calf, but her leg was too swollen and out of place to go into the support boot.
She looked up at him. “It’s not going to work. Could you get some elastic bandages?”
“Just force it into place. I can do it if you’re not going to.”
She shook her head. “I think it’s infected. We’ve waited too long to try to splint it. Can’t you tell by looking that it won’t go into that boot? There’s no room, not even with all the air out.”
The man’s hands clenched. “Look, you’re going to take me to where your stuff is stashed, or you’ll be dead. This could help you walk out of here.”
“I can’t get in this one, and even if I could, I’d never be able to walk over rough ground in it.” She studied the man’s posture. Maybe he was telling the truth and would let her go once she gave him what he wanted. “How about I try to draw you a map?” Not that she knew the distances, but maybe he could find her campsite. “Get me a paper and pencil, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll have to get some. There’s nothing to write on in the truck. You’d better not be stringing me along.” The man stalked toward the door and slammed it behind him. Moments later the key clicked in the lock.
Michelle slumped against the cot mattress and moaned. Manipulating her leg had caused the pain to rage even worse, and there seemed to be no end in sight to her misery. What could he want in her belongings? She had no idea.
She shook her head. Even if she complied with everything he wanted, he couldn’t let her go. He’d worry that she could identify him. And while nothing about him was familiar, if she saw him walk or talk once she was free, she’d know him instantly. She had always been good with voices especially, and his mannerisms and body type were imprinted in her mind.
She stared at the boot. What if she elevated her foot even more? If she could get the swelling down, the boot would be helpful. Sliding to the floor, she lay on her back on the hard wood andlifted her foot to the cot. The elevation relieved the way it was pounding, but she would be unable to hold the awkward angle for long without the support of a pillow.
She lay there for several minutes until her leg began to throb again. Maybe she could roll up the blanket to cushion her foot. She brought her leg back down and pulled on the blanket until it was beside her. She rolled and fluffed until it appeared to be the right shape, then tried again. It was better, but she would still be unable to keep it that way for longer than a few minutes at a time.
But if she continued to elevate, then rest it, the swelling might come down. She touched the swollen, purple flesh on her foot. It was huge. Hadn’t she read something about making sure you could feel the pulse in your foot after a break?
