Skye Cree 03: The Bones Will Tell by Vickie McKeehan Page B

can’t comprehend it.”
    “ Evil that lives and breathes here—somewhere—we just have to find where.” Unnerved is the way it made her feel like the victims might be long gone but they had left a part of themselves behind so someone would know they’d been here.
    Josh turned down a back road and then another and another. But none of the streets led them to Willa.
    Three and a half hours later after circling the base several times without actually going through the gate, Josh turned the car around and headed back to Seattle.
    Frustrated and dis illusioned with their efforts, by the time they reached Country Kitchen, Skye had to prepare to face the bank of media that had gathered in front of the restaurant. Skye recognized most of Seattle’s field reporters who waited with cameras, microphones, and note pads at the ready, waiting to ask their tough questions.
    News vans with satellite dishes lined the block, some from as far away as Vancouver and Idaho.
    Of all the things she did for the Foundation, this is the one she hated the most. But appealing to the community had to be done. Willa wasn’t here to speak for herself.
    And that was the problem. After the eerie trip to the base Skye felt she’d somehow let Willa down already. The least she could do was get her photo circulated, make a public plea for help and beg for Willa’s safe return.
     

     
    A bout the same time Skye was addressing the media, Willa Dover woke to complete darkness. Battered and bruised, her body felt sore from head to toe. The man who’d taken her had already raped her four times. Her chest ached. Her head throbbed. Even the roots of her hair hurt.
    There was no doubt in her mind at some point he’d drugged her. With what, she didn’t know. But she still felt groggy enough to have trouble lifting her head.
    He hadn’t blindfolded her or put anything over her mouth to keep her quiet. She realized it was probably because he had no fear of anyone hearing her scream. Willa had already kicked up a fuss. She’d yelled and hollered. But no one had come. She was pretty sure no one was going to.
    H er arms were stretched over her head at an uncomfortable angle. When she tried to move she found she couldn’t because her wrists were manacled to a bolt in the wall. Her feet were bound with heavy cuffs slapped around both ankles. Each time she attempted to roll or turn, she heard the clanging of metal on metal. It was her chains rattling with each little movement.
    Outside in the distance, she heard nothing but the occasional bird chirping. Except for a few noisy sparrows it seemed quiet. Sometimes a jet flew overhead. Maybe she was near an airport. She tried to remember if she’d heard any other voices other than the man who’d abducted her and couldn’t. Her brain was still having a hard time processing. Wherever she was life no doubt seemed to be speeding along without her.
    All she knew for sure was she had to find a way out of this dark, dank place. She tried not to think about how bad it smelled. She needed to concentrate, to figure out how to escape from this horrible hellhole before her captor came back, which she knew could happen any minute. But how? She couldn’t even get off the filthy cot.
    That thought had her trying to sit up again. With all her might, she yanked on her chains. Was it her imagination or did they give a little? She tried again and again and again until her arms grew tired.
    She thought about Charlie in their little apartment. Had he gone to work this morning without hearing from her? She thought about her mother and her sister. Had they missed her yet? She thought about Velma and wondered if her new friend would be angry when she didn’t show up for work this afternoon. Was anyone worried about her yet? Would she ever see them again?
    About that time she heard footsteps advance down a set of steps and knew he was back from wherever he’d gone. The door opened to the little room where she was. Her heartbeat