hadn’t declared her independence from their gated community and security systems quite so completely.
Did her father know she was missing? She hadn’t talked to him in weeks thanks to her moratorium on his nightly phone calls to check on her. And her jailer told her there was no ransom note.
Until he’d told her she wasn’t kidnapped for the ransom her lawyer father could pay for her release, Sondra had held out hope. Ransomed, she at least stood a chance of surviving this…whatever this was. But, though she knew deep down who her kidnapper was, she didn’t understand what he wanted from her.
He ranted. He raved. He talked about people she’d never met and, every time she tried to tell him he’d mistaken her for someone else, he became enraged and threatened to kill her. To kill everyone she loved.
When he wasn’t acting crazy, he brought her presents. A book. Perfume. Clothing. She hated the last, not because the girlish blouses and skirts were awful or didn’t fit, but because he insisted she strip in front of him and give him everything. The first time, she’d refused. Dragging her by her chain to the bed, he’d cut everything off her. And he’d not been gentle. She still had several cuts from the knife he’d used. Since then, she’d swallowed her humiliation and done as he asked.
Thank God, he’d taken each change of clothing and his disgusting hard-on with him when he left her alone again. But she was terrified of the day when he didn’t. “Daddy, please,” she sobbed, praying into her knees. “Bug me. Smother me. Make me move back home. Just come get me before it’s too late!”
Her tears stopped abruptly when she heard the only sound that ever reached into her prison from the outside world, the scrape of a key on the door lock. Scrambling across the floor to the armchair, she settled into it and hid her bleeding ankle by tucking her foot under her bottom. She arranged her skirt hem over her bare legs just in time.
The door opened and her captor walked in.
Fear gripped her senses. She frantically searched his expression as a barometer of his state of mind. Last time he’d left her, he’d been infuriated by her refusal to open the present he’d brought her. She’d forced herself to open the package. But it was too little, too late. With a growl that sounded more animal than human, he’d leveled her with a vicious backhand that threw her several feet onto the bed and stalked from the room. Her head ringing from where it struck the brass bed frame, she’d almost pitied the poor sap that crossed his path before he cooled down. She hated even more thinking about him coming back and turning that monstrous rage on her.
“Ah, Angel,” he frowned, “you’ve been crying again.” He emptied his jeans pockets, setting coins, candy wrappers and what looked like a walkie-talkie or radio alongside his keys on a shelf next to the door just like he was returning home after a long day at work. “I think I’ve got something here that will cheer you up.”
All he had to do was approach her with something with which she could hit him. That would cheer her up! Not that it would do her any good with the key to her ankle cuff dangling from his key fob three feet beyond the length of her chain.
Reaching around the doorjamb, he picked up something. When he turned around, he had a deli sack and a small box she recognized from her favorite cheesecake store. Hope surged. She’d wondered how far her kidnapper had taken her. She was still in or near Denver!
If she could just escape this room—
The air froze in her lungs when he crossed the invisible line delineating the real world and the end of her chain. “Your favorites, Angel,” he said, approaching her chair. “Ham, turkey and pastrami sub with brown mustard, low-salt chips, whole milk and a double slice of chocolate mousse cheesecake.”
She hated that he knew such intimate details about her. He must have been watching her for some time to
Did her father know she was missing? She hadn’t talked to him in weeks thanks to her moratorium on his nightly phone calls to check on her. And her jailer told her there was no ransom note.
Until he’d told her she wasn’t kidnapped for the ransom her lawyer father could pay for her release, Sondra had held out hope. Ransomed, she at least stood a chance of surviving this…whatever this was. But, though she knew deep down who her kidnapper was, she didn’t understand what he wanted from her.
He ranted. He raved. He talked about people she’d never met and, every time she tried to tell him he’d mistaken her for someone else, he became enraged and threatened to kill her. To kill everyone she loved.
When he wasn’t acting crazy, he brought her presents. A book. Perfume. Clothing. She hated the last, not because the girlish blouses and skirts were awful or didn’t fit, but because he insisted she strip in front of him and give him everything. The first time, she’d refused. Dragging her by her chain to the bed, he’d cut everything off her. And he’d not been gentle. She still had several cuts from the knife he’d used. Since then, she’d swallowed her humiliation and done as he asked.
Thank God, he’d taken each change of clothing and his disgusting hard-on with him when he left her alone again. But she was terrified of the day when he didn’t. “Daddy, please,” she sobbed, praying into her knees. “Bug me. Smother me. Make me move back home. Just come get me before it’s too late!”
Her tears stopped abruptly when she heard the only sound that ever reached into her prison from the outside world, the scrape of a key on the door lock. Scrambling across the floor to the armchair, she settled into it and hid her bleeding ankle by tucking her foot under her bottom. She arranged her skirt hem over her bare legs just in time.
The door opened and her captor walked in.
Fear gripped her senses. She frantically searched his expression as a barometer of his state of mind. Last time he’d left her, he’d been infuriated by her refusal to open the present he’d brought her. She’d forced herself to open the package. But it was too little, too late. With a growl that sounded more animal than human, he’d leveled her with a vicious backhand that threw her several feet onto the bed and stalked from the room. Her head ringing from where it struck the brass bed frame, she’d almost pitied the poor sap that crossed his path before he cooled down. She hated even more thinking about him coming back and turning that monstrous rage on her.
“Ah, Angel,” he frowned, “you’ve been crying again.” He emptied his jeans pockets, setting coins, candy wrappers and what looked like a walkie-talkie or radio alongside his keys on a shelf next to the door just like he was returning home after a long day at work. “I think I’ve got something here that will cheer you up.”
All he had to do was approach her with something with which she could hit him. That would cheer her up! Not that it would do her any good with the key to her ankle cuff dangling from his key fob three feet beyond the length of her chain.
Reaching around the doorjamb, he picked up something. When he turned around, he had a deli sack and a small box she recognized from her favorite cheesecake store. Hope surged. She’d wondered how far her kidnapper had taken her. She was still in or near Denver!
If she could just escape this room—
The air froze in her lungs when he crossed the invisible line delineating the real world and the end of her chain. “Your favorites, Angel,” he said, approaching her chair. “Ham, turkey and pastrami sub with brown mustard, low-salt chips, whole milk and a double slice of chocolate mousse cheesecake.”
She hated that he knew such intimate details about her. He must have been watching her for some time to
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