by Alison Stone
Jimmy lashed out, his fist connecting hard and firm with Liddie’s cheek. “Shut up!”
Liddie yelped and skittered away, confined by the seat belt. She held her hands to her face.
Hot fury exploded in Bridget’s head. “Leave her alone,” she growled.
Jimmy laughed again. “You can shut up, too.” He pulled out into the passing lane and went around a slower-moving car. “You should have left well enough alone at the clinic,” he muttered.
“Why are you doing this? It’s over. Dr. Ryan’s dead.”
“You’re joking right?” Disgust dripped from his tone. “You stuck your nose in where it didn’t belong. Now you’re going to be made an example of.” He reached over and dragged his knuckles across Liddie’s red check. “If you think of doing something stupid, I’ll kill your stupid sister.”
Liddie cowered in the passenger seat, making an awful whimpering sound.
What could Bridget do? She already ruled out leaping from the car. And if she tried to distract the punk, they’d go careening into a tree or another car. No, she couldn’t risk killing them or some unsuspecting driver.
Bridget stretched her foot and pushed her cell phone deeper under his seat, praying that Zach had gotten her location and was tracking her right now. She was grateful that a coworker had shown her that app, among others, while they ate lunch and chatted.
Jimmy suddenly took a sharp turn and bumped off the road into a field. The jarring turn made Bridget slam her head against the back passenger window. A clattering sound came from under the seat and her phone slid into view, but she couldn’t snatch it because she had to brace herself. The car came to an abrupt stop. Liddie groaned.
The second Jimmy put the car into Park, the locks automatically disengaged. Adrenaline propelled Bridget into action. She unclicked her seat belt, snagged her cell phone and pulled the door handle. The door sprang open. She jumped out. The tree line wasn’t far. She could make it. Hide.
Get Liddie first.
The whoosh of her pulse roared in her ears.
Bridget’s laser-like focus landed on Liddie still sitting in the front seat. Jimmy had her sister’s cheeks squeezed between his strong fingers. Her face was contorted in pain. Fear. The glee in his eyes mocked Bridget. He jerked his chin in a cocky gesture as if to say, Go ahead. Leave. I’ve got your sister.
Dear Lord, help us. Help us.
She dug deep, to the depths of her faith, still not seeing how they’d get away from this man. She let out a long, slow breath, and a strange calm washed over her.
Through the windshield she locked gazes with Jimmy. Her shoulders sagged, and she realized they had reached a silent understanding.
Bridget walked over to Liddie’s door and opened it, all sense of urgency lost. This wasn’t going to be Bridget’s escape, but if she complied, it might be Liddie’s. Bridget reached in and unbuckled her sister’s seat belt while her younger sister quietly sobbed. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Let’s get you out of here.”
Liddie looked up at her with a tearstained face. “I’m sorry. I thought he was a nice guy.”
“It’s okay.” She pulled Liddie into a fierce embrace, feeling the time slip away. “I love you.”
Liddie sobbed into Bridget’s shoulder.
Over her sister’s shoulder, Bridget tracked the man as he sauntered around the vehicle. He paused at the rear. The click of the trunk release forced Bridget into action. She didn’t have a deal with this man. He was ruthless.
“When I let you go,” Bridget whispered in Liddie’s ear, “run toward the trees. Run and don’t stop. Don’t turn around. No matter what.”
Liddie stiffened, and Bridget sensed her sister’s refusal before she had a chance to voice it. “Now!” Bridget shouted, shocking her sister into action. “Now!” She shoved Liddie toward the tree line, away from the menacing approach of this man.
Liddie tripped. She scrambled to her feet, found her footing and started to run, her forward momentum hampered by the weeds and hidden ruts.
Go, go, go.
Bridget’s gaze dropped to Jimmy’s hand. A gun! Her knees went to jelly. He lifted the weapon and pointed it at Liddie. A sinister smile tugged on half his mouth. “Should I go for her head or heart?”
Bridget held up her hands, forcing him to focus on her. “It’s me you want. Let her go. She’s harmless.”
He pivoted and aimed the gun at her. She spread out her fingers. “You don’t have to do this.”
Dear God, please protect me.
“You have no idea what you got yourself into, do you?” He tucked his gun into the back of his pants. His arm snaked out and snatched the phone out of her hand and threw it in the field. He grabbed the front of her T-shirt and twisted and pulled her close. His stale breath reeked of cigarette smoke.
“Please, please, please...” Tears clouded her vision, and panic made her stomach revolt.
Jimmy yanked Bridget forward. She struggled to gain purchase, but he was too strong. Too fast. The tops of her sneakers dragged across the muddy field. The lid of the trunk yawned open, his intent unmistakable.
“Please, please, please, don’t do this.”
Her hip slammed on the lip of the trunk as he forced her against it. She fought against his hand palming the back of her head. Her feet scrabbled in the mud, a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable.
“Stop struggling,” he said, his voice oddly calm. “Ralphie told me not to mess up your face. He wants to make sure I got the right person this time.” Had he killed Ashley by mistake? His fingers dug into her neck. The pain made it impossible to think clearly. He positioned her between his hip and the vehicle. He forced her arms behind her and cranked on a zip tie. Bridget’s racing mind flashed to Zach doing the same when he arrested the doctor.
Ugh, that hurt.
“Please, don’t.” Heat swept over her. Knowing this was her last chance, Bridget twisted and flailed. She bent one leg and kneed Jimmy, catching him in the gut. He doubled over in pain. She scrambled forward and lost her balance with her arms fastened behind her back. She fell forward, landing heavily on her shoulder with an oomph.
In a fit of rage, Jimmy grabbed her arm and picked her up handily. He tossed her toward the trunk, and her midsection slammed on the lip. He forced her the rest of the way in. Her arms were awkwardly bound behind her. His face shook in rage as he hovered over her. He pulled back his fist. “You brought this on yourself.”
Gritting his jaw, he punched her in the face like he had done to her sister. Her nose exploded in light and shocking pain unlike anything she had ever experienced. He muttered an expletive and slammed the trunk shut.
Bridget was shrouded in darkness.
All the fight had been beaten out of her.
* * *
The engine of Zach’s truck purred as he gained on Bridget’s location. Come on, come on, come on. The indicator on the GPS showing her location had stopped about ten minutes ago. He didn’t know if this was good or bad. At the very least, it gave him a chance to catch up.
As he drove beyond Hickory Lane, the occasional farm gave way to fields and trees. “Where are you, Bridget?” he whispered. “Where are you?” The remote location made him pause.
He slowed and double-checked the screen on his cell phone. He had gone past the little blue dot. Zach threw the truck into Reverse, twisted in his seat and rested his forearm on the steering wheel to stare out the passenger window. Trees thick with foliage blocked his view. Still in Reverse, he swerved over to the side of the road and jammed the gear into Park. He jumped out of the truck, keenly aware of the absolute stillness and his gun in its holster.
Why was Bridget’s location indicating this field?
An imagine of Kevin Pearson’s vacant eyes staring up at him from the empty parking lot flashed in his mind. Zach had had a bead on his location, too. What if he was to
o late? Don’t go there. Focus.
With the intensity of an undercover agent going into a stash house, Zach scanned the area. Fresh muddy tire ruts cut into the overgrown vegetation. An image of Bridget sprawled in the field gutted him. He had missed signs that his confidential informant was in danger. He hadn’t been there to save his sister. He had finally opened his heart to someone. Found a connection outside of work.
He would not let Bridget down. He could not...
A hint of a long-forgotten plea whispered across his brain. A prayer a Sunday school teacher had taught him back when his mother was sober enough to remember it was Sunday. He had admired Bridget’s faith through all of this.
Have a little faith...
Zach slid out his gun. He stalked toward the rustling in the field. He paused. The sound stopped. “DEA. Show yourself.”
Liddie’s tearstained face peered around the base of a tree where she had been hiding. “I thought you were him,” she said, bracing her hand on the bark and pulling herself to her feet.
“Are you alone?” Zach asked, constantly scanning the area.
“Yah.” The single word came out on a squeak.
He tucked his gun back into its holster and rushed through the tall weeds toward Liddie, extending his hand to help steady her. “Where’s Bridget?”
“He has her. He has her.” Liddie’s panicked gaze bounced around the overgrown field. One cheek had an angry red bruise.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded hesitantly.
“You’re safe,” Zach reassured her. If only he could say the same about Bridget. He plowed a hand through his hair. “Who has her? The guy from the pool back at Bridget’s apartment?”
Liddie narrowed her gaze in confusion. “Yah, it was him. I thought Jimmy liked me.” She looked up at him with terror in her eyes. Her lower lip quivered.
“He’s involved with whatever’s going on at the clinic. He was caught on surveillance.”
Liddie swung her hand in the direction of the field. “He tossed her phone out there. We need to find it.”
“Okay.” Zach grabbed his phone. He called Bridget’s number. Something caught his eye. He pushed the tall stalks aside with his foot until he reached the muddy tire tracks. His number displayed on a cracked screen.
He picked it up. “Got it.”
Liddie held out her hands for the phone, her only connection to her missing sister.
“Let’s get you in the truck.”
Even though it was a warm summer day, Liddie wrapped her arms around her midsection and shivered. Clumps of partially dried mud clung to the knees of her pants.
“You’re going to be okay,” Zach reassured her. “We’re going to find your sister.” He closed the passenger-side door and jogged around to his side of the truck. His pulse whooshed in his ears, reminding him that every fleeting second was another that Bridget was in danger. He yanked open his door and climbed in. “Was he driving a metallic blue muscle car?” He thought about the last photo Bridget had sent him.
Liddie nodded. “It’s really loud.”
“Tell me what happened. Did Jimmy mention anyone else? A location?” She kept shaking her head. He pulled out onto the country road and kept his eyes peeled for a vehicle that met that description, any sign of Bridget. He feared the kid had a good ten-minute head start.
Liddie retold the story of how she had befriended Jimmy when she had hung around the pool whenever Bridget was at work. They kept in touch by text. When she tried to explain why she had done what she had done, he gently touched her hand. “I’m not judging you. What we have to focus on now is finding your sister.”
“He shoved her in the trunk. She’s going to die and it’s all my fault.” Liddie’s growing hysteria was frazzling his nerves. He prided himself on his cool demeanor in a crisis, so his growing agitation was disconcerting. He found himself saying another prayer for Bridget’s well-being.
“I’ll find her.” Driving around here aimlessly was wasting time. “I’m going to make a few phone calls.” His supervisor had probably had time to run the plate from the photo. “Now that we have more information, we might be able to figure out where he’s hiding.”
Liddie sniffed back her tears.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.” He tightened and loosened his grip on the steering wheel.
“Neh, I’m fine.” She gingerly touched her cheek. “It’s just bruised. Take me home.”
“Are you sure?”
Liddie nodded. “You have to find Bridget.”
“Okay, okay... Now tell me, did Jimmy mention any names? Anything?”
Liddie stiffened and sat upright. She tapped her leg, as if the memory needed a moment to shake free. “He was screaming at Bridget.” Her voice cracked. “He mentioned a Ralphie.” She nodded. “Yah, a Ralphie.” She shrugged, appearing frail and tiny in the passenger seat. “I don’t know if that will help.”
“Every little bit helps.” Zach pulled into her driveway. “Go on in. I’ll find Bridget.”
Liddie pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I’ve made a mess of everything. I led him right to her.”
Her brothers emerged from the barn and started running toward his truck. “I have to go. Reassure your brothers.”
“We need our sister back.” Liddie paused at the open passenger door.
“Stay calm. Have your family gather in the house and lock the doors until I get word back to you.”
“What am I supposed to say?” Liddie plucked at her T-shirt with a dirty hand.
“The truth.” His nerves hummed. He needed to go. “Everything will be okay,” he added calmly.
Liddie gave him a watery smile. “You’re good for my sister. Maybe when this is all over, you can start courting.”
Zach laughed; he couldn’t help himself. “Courting, huh? Yeah, I’d like that.” His job wouldn’t make that easy.
The two brothers reached the truck. “Where were you?” Caleb asked. “Where’s Bridget? She went looking for you. Dat’s really mad.”
“Hold on.” Liddie held up her hand to her brother’s barrage of questions. “My phone is in Jimmy’s car. How will you reach me?”
“I’ll reach you,” he promised. He started to back out the lane when Jeremiah emerged from his little house. Zach flicked his hand in a wave, and the two men nodded in silent understanding. He’d allow Liddie to give her grandfather an update, but he had to make some calls. See if he could get a hit on this Ralphie guy. Bridget’s life depended on it.
SEVENTEEN
Bridget didn’t know what was worse: the blackness, the dank smell, the cramp in her side or her rioting thoughts crashing over her.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. Please, God, don’t let me die.
Sweat trickled down her forehead. Something dull and hard pressed into her hip. No amount of shifting relieved the pressure. It didn’t help that her arms were bound behind her. A nagging ache radiated out from where her shoulder supported her weight. She blinked rapidly, unable to see. Panic threatened to overwhelm her. She had to focus, stay clearheaded. Images of all the things he might do to her crowded in on her.
Relax. Be calm.
Jimmy seemed to be driving forever. She didn’t know if this was good or bad. She dreaded the moment he stopped. She feared he never would.
Help me. Help me. Help me.
The only peace that kept her from letting a scream rip from her throat was that her sister had gotten away. She only hoped Zach had followed the GPS location of her phone and found her sister. The GPS tracker had been her last hope.
Tears burned the back of her eyes. The throbbing in her cheek had dulled. Growing up Amish, she had been warned countless times to avoid the evils of the outside world. In her naivety, she assumed not following the Ordnung would be her downfall, not being stuffed into someone’s trunk
.
Please help me, Lord. Please...
The car made a sharp turn, and Bridget rolled against the wall of the tight space. A pain ripped through her shoulder. Something damp squished in her fingers. The plastic cut into her wrists. The car bumped over something. The car stopped, then inched forward. The engine cut off. Her heart raced. The sound of something rattled overhead.
The car door opened. Slammed closed.
Breathless anticipation made her dizzy.
Footsteps. A key fob chirp. The click of the trunk release.
Bridget gulped in the fresh air that was tinged with a whiff of exhaust. Her relief was short-lived. Jimmy reached in and yanked her out of the trunk. She blinked against a bright yellow fluorescent light. They were in a garage. An Englisch garage with large red toolboxes, motorcycles and folded lawn chairs.
“Please let me go—I won’t say anything,” Bridget pleaded.
Jimmy laughed. “Too late, sister wife.” He was having a good time mocking her. “You should have kept your mouth shut to begin with.”
Bridget wondered what he was going to do with her next, but the words got trapped in her throat. Maybe it was better if she didn’t know. Nothing good could come from this.
Jimmy grabbed her by her ponytail and led her into the house. Every time she tripped over her feet, he ripped a few more hairs out of her aching scalp. Her heart raced, and her vision tunneled.
Jimmy shoved her down on the couch next to a thin young woman who seemed only vaguely concerned with her sudden arrival. The girl seemed to be watching them through a haze.
“Where’s Ralphie?” Jimmy barked at the girl.
“Ralphie?” she said dreamily.
Apparently disgusted with the girl’s drug-induced confusion, Jimmy picked up a rope and threw it at her. The girl grunted and swiped at it. “Stop it!”
“Tie her up. Now!” Jimmy’s nostrils flared.
The girl smirked and tilted her head lazily toward Bridget. “Her hands are already tied up.”
“Unless you want her running out of here, you better find a way to tie her to something.”
