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Snap! The zip tie pops off my wrists.
Mission accomplished.
I grab the envelope and stagger down to the street.
At the end of this wall I’ll be able to grab a cab. My good hand holds my manila envelope. My wallet’s in there. Phone, too. I lean against the wall and pull all the items out.
My gun’s gone, of course.
Cash, too.
But my credit cards and ID are in my wallet.
I hail a cab. It takes seven tries before a guy who looks worse than me pulls over, grinning with a mouth full of seven teeth, total.
“You look like shit, man. Where to?”
I’ve never been more grateful for an insult.
And then I give him The Grove’s address.
Because, really, how much worse can this day get?
Chapter 3
Lindsay
Losing long chunks of time while you’re unconscious normally involves the added benefit of dreams. As someone’s rough hands slip my pants off over my hips, I wake up, my face itchy from rubbing against warm, wet cloth. My nose screams with a strange buzzing that makes me want to scratch all the flesh off and douse it with paint thinner.
All the skin along my inner thighs tightens painfully, as if I expect these hands to shove my legs open and pierce me. All that actually happens is that the black cloth bag stays on my head while my body is stripped of every stitch of clothing. Someone puts me in a skin-tight series of clothes, like a bodice with thick leggings. The searing shame ripples on my skin like an extinction burst.
I can’t control my body’s responses. If I keep reacting, though, I’ll lose energy. Focus. The ability to think and strategize.
All I can do is deaden my emotions. Reduce my reactions.
Go numb.
The less I react, the better. The less I do to draw attention to myself, the less likely I’ll suffer abuse.
I know it’s foolish to hope.
But hope and Drew are all I’ve got.
And Drew’s not here.
I don’t know exactly what my captors are doing. I try to be as limp as possible, pretending to still be unconscious. This won’t save me. I know.
But it’s the best I can come up with under the circumstances.
My mouth is dry and sour, tasting gross. I flash back to being bound, waking up with Jane over me, crying and babbling. Four years ago, I was just a body they played with.
And here I am again.
Where are you, Drew?
I slow down my breathing and try to take in my surroundings with my ears. The ocean laps in the distance, gentle sounds interspersed with crashing waves. The Island.
I must really be on the Island.
