in her mouth. She fought to struggle but could barely move; she wasstrapped down to something hard and flat, bound by restricting strips that crossed her chest, waist and ankles.
Panic seized her, as she felt the vertigo of motion and heard the growl of engine noise. She inhaled to scream, and nearly choked on the heavy, chemical smell suffusing the air around her. The fumes had her nasal passages closing, making her gag and fight for breath. When lack of oxygen made her even more terrified, threatening to send her over the edge, she told herself to calm down, to think. Focus.
It wasn’t easy, but she managed it. Her heart still hammered and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, but she slowed her breathing through sheer force of will. She could get enough air—barely—through her nostrils, and suck some through the towel. She wouldn’t suffocate, at least not immediately. But that was small comfort as she began to suspect that she was bound to a backboard and zipped inside a coroner’s body bag. She could feel the heavy plastic with the tips of her fingers, and it stood to reason. Lee and the others had escaped from the ARX Supermax in body bags, on gurneys transported out of the jail in a coroner’s van. If she had to guess, from the tip and sway as the vehicle transporting her rounded a corner, that was exactly what had been done with her as well.
It fit with Lee’s twisted sense of irony. Knowing him, she was probably lying in the very body bag he planned to use to dispose of her when the time came.
Revulsion tore at her, alongside despair, but she fought both with the hard practicality she’d been forced to learn over the past two years. If she vomited with a gag in her mouth, she’d aspirate and die. If she despaired and gave up, then Lee had already won, and that wasn’t acceptable. Over the past few months, as she’d reawakened to herself as a person, she’d begun to see beauty once again in the dawn and dusk, and the woods around her home. She’d discovered a new sense of purpose, of determination. And she’d kissed a man and felt the burn of lust. Maybe he hadn’t been the right man, maybe it hadn’t been the right time, but the kiss had proved that she was able to respond sexually. She’d worried now and then, late at night when her brain insisted on replaying hurtful segments of her marriage, that that capability had died. She was still alive, dammit. Kissing Gray had proved that, if nothing else.
The burn of remembered heat hardened her resolve. She wasn’t giving up without a fight. Not this time. But what could she do from where she was? She was trapped. Helpless.
Panic washed through her at the thought, but she forced it away, made herself think and remember what had happened, how she’d gotten where she’d wound up.
The cop, she thought, remembering that she’d rolled onto her side so the officer sitting just inside the door couldn’t see her tears, which had been mostly out of frustration and anger, and a bit of self-pity following Gray’s precipitous exit.
Her eyes filmed again, and a desperate wish shimmered through her. Please find me, she thought, as though her brain waves could magically reach inside his thick skull. I don’t care how you feel about me, or whether you walk away afterwards, as long as you get me out of this before Lee does…whatever he’s going to do.
The thought brought a shudder of dread, one that threatened to undermine her sense of purpose. But she fought not to give in to the terror.
Lee needs something from me, she reminded herself, trying to breathe through the panic. Otherwise, I’d already be dead. But how long would that logic hold? At what point would the terrorists decide that keeping her alive was too much of an effort and just kill her?
As if answering her question, the driver swerved, hit the brakes and brought the vehicle to a skidding halt. Inertia made Mariah’s insides slosh sickeningly, but the flat surface beneath her
Panic seized her, as she felt the vertigo of motion and heard the growl of engine noise. She inhaled to scream, and nearly choked on the heavy, chemical smell suffusing the air around her. The fumes had her nasal passages closing, making her gag and fight for breath. When lack of oxygen made her even more terrified, threatening to send her over the edge, she told herself to calm down, to think. Focus.
It wasn’t easy, but she managed it. Her heart still hammered and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, but she slowed her breathing through sheer force of will. She could get enough air—barely—through her nostrils, and suck some through the towel. She wouldn’t suffocate, at least not immediately. But that was small comfort as she began to suspect that she was bound to a backboard and zipped inside a coroner’s body bag. She could feel the heavy plastic with the tips of her fingers, and it stood to reason. Lee and the others had escaped from the ARX Supermax in body bags, on gurneys transported out of the jail in a coroner’s van. If she had to guess, from the tip and sway as the vehicle transporting her rounded a corner, that was exactly what had been done with her as well.
It fit with Lee’s twisted sense of irony. Knowing him, she was probably lying in the very body bag he planned to use to dispose of her when the time came.
Revulsion tore at her, alongside despair, but she fought both with the hard practicality she’d been forced to learn over the past two years. If she vomited with a gag in her mouth, she’d aspirate and die. If she despaired and gave up, then Lee had already won, and that wasn’t acceptable. Over the past few months, as she’d reawakened to herself as a person, she’d begun to see beauty once again in the dawn and dusk, and the woods around her home. She’d discovered a new sense of purpose, of determination. And she’d kissed a man and felt the burn of lust. Maybe he hadn’t been the right man, maybe it hadn’t been the right time, but the kiss had proved that she was able to respond sexually. She’d worried now and then, late at night when her brain insisted on replaying hurtful segments of her marriage, that that capability had died. She was still alive, dammit. Kissing Gray had proved that, if nothing else.
The burn of remembered heat hardened her resolve. She wasn’t giving up without a fight. Not this time. But what could she do from where she was? She was trapped. Helpless.
Panic washed through her at the thought, but she forced it away, made herself think and remember what had happened, how she’d gotten where she’d wound up.
The cop, she thought, remembering that she’d rolled onto her side so the officer sitting just inside the door couldn’t see her tears, which had been mostly out of frustration and anger, and a bit of self-pity following Gray’s precipitous exit.
Her eyes filmed again, and a desperate wish shimmered through her. Please find me, she thought, as though her brain waves could magically reach inside his thick skull. I don’t care how you feel about me, or whether you walk away afterwards, as long as you get me out of this before Lee does…whatever he’s going to do.
The thought brought a shudder of dread, one that threatened to undermine her sense of purpose. But she fought not to give in to the terror.
Lee needs something from me, she reminded herself, trying to breathe through the panic. Otherwise, I’d already be dead. But how long would that logic hold? At what point would the terrorists decide that keeping her alive was too much of an effort and just kill her?
As if answering her question, the driver swerved, hit the brakes and brought the vehicle to a skidding halt. Inertia made Mariah’s insides slosh sickeningly, but the flat surface beneath her
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