Chelsea could hear years of anger and resentment pouring out of Lauren. Chelsea had no idea what that kind of abuse was like. Her father had never hit her. Not even once. She was starting to understand why Lauren would blindly do anything Greg told her to. In her eyes, he was a hero and Chelsea could tell that nothing she said would change that. She needed a new tactic. She had to put the focus on Sonia.
“He’s robbing an innocent woman who’s done nothing to you. Sonia doesn’t deserve any of this.”
“That bitch’ll be fine.” Lauren snorted. “She’s loaded. Twenty-five grand is nothing to her, and her insurance will pay for it anyway.”
“The insurance isn’t going to matter once we’re dead.” Lauren couldn’t possibly believe that Greg would let them live. How idiotic could she be?
“No one gets hurt if she just follows his directions. If she’s smart, she will.”
She’s brainwashed, Chelsea thought. Completely brainwashed.
“How do you think this is going to end?” Chelsea asked, hearing the steeliness in her own voice. She was doing it. She was staying calm and logical the way Sonia could. The meek Chelsea was gone. She had to be strong and take some control. If she could just convince Lauren that Greg would kill them, maybe she’d be so appalled that she’d turn against him. Chelsea’s mind raced, trying to find the right thing to say next. “You think we’re all gonna hug each other good-bye and go our separate ways?”
“He said everyone would be fine as long as they do what he tells ’em to,” Lauren said flatly.
“You’re out of your mind. I already turned him in to the cops once. He’s going to kill us both unless you stop him!” She waited for Lauren to say something, but Lauren didn’t. Chelsea could tell she was taking in everything she said, so she decided to keep going. “And you know what happens if I die? Or if Sonia dies? You are going to spend the rest of your life in prison. If he—”
“Shut up!” Lauren screamed.
“Lauren, if you kill us—”
“I said shut up!” Lauren shoved the gun into Chelsea’s face. The car weaved into the oncoming lane until Lauren yanked the wheel back. Chelsea swallowed and turned toward the window, away from the gun. From the corner of her eye, she could see Lauren lower the gun back into her lap and turn her attention to the road.
Nearly an hour had passed since they’d started driving. It felt even longer. Trying to find a sign or marker or anything that might clue her in as to where they were going, she stared out at the sparse landscape. Each car that came toward them ignited a spark of hope in Chelsea, a reminder that there were other people around who might help her. However, as they drove farther and farther away from the city, the fewer and fewer cars there were. If she could just get out of this pickup, maybe she could flag one of them down and they’d take her to the police.
The car slowed abruptly, and Chelsea realized they were turning off the two-lane highway onto a desolate country road that disappeared into a thick coppice of hickory and hemlock trees. Chelsea’s anxiety shot up a notch.
“What is this? Where are we going?” she demanded to know.
“You’ll find out very soon.”
Blinded by the afternoon sun reflecting off her windshield, Sonia felt Greg’s grip tighten on her arm as they approached her SUV. He opened the passenger door and waited for her to slide across into the driver’s seat. Jumping in, he extracted the gun from his pocket and pointed it at her.
“Drive,” he instructed.
“You got what you wanted. Aren’t you going to text your sister?” Sonia was certain Greg’s story about letting them go was just a ruse to ensure her cooperation, but decided to call his bluff.
“Figured we’d give her the good news in person. Now turn the key and drive.”
Sonia’s mind reeled as she pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic. She had to think of something quickly; time was ticking away. For all she knew, Chelsea was already dead, her body dumped along some rural road, but she decided to believe that she was still alive. If they were planning to kill them, it would make sense to kill them together. And if that were the case, she’d be better off making a move once she was reunited with Chelsea. They could work together and she’d know Chelsea was safe. If she tried something now, like crashing the car, she risked not finding Chelsea at all. Besides, if she crashed the car she could be injured in the process and he could make it out unscathed. And what if she tried to step on the gas and before the impact, he pulled the trigger, shooting her in the side? Too many variables. Too many ways that could go wrong, she thought. It would be better to at least get out of the car.
“Pull in there,” Greg said, and motioned to a warehouse they were coming up on. “Did you hear me?” he demanded when she didn’t respond.
“Yes.” Sonia eased up on the accelerator, letting the car slow down as it neared the turn. She pulled into the parking lot and continued to drive past the monstrous white brick warehouses lined with rolling steel doors and concrete loading docks. There was no one around. Not a soul. This is not it, Sonia told herself. This is not the place where I’m supposed to die.
“Park there,” Greg said, and pointed to a space near the side of a building. Sonia obeyed and pulled over. But before she could shove the SUV into park and jump out, Greg grabbed her by the shirt and thrust the gun to her temple.
“I can read your mind,” he chided, and threw open the passenger door. Yanking hard on her shirt, he dragged her over the console and out of the SUV. Greg spun her around and shoved her face against the side of the Lexus. What was he doing? Was he going to rape her first? Shoot her in the head? Forcing her hands behind her back, he snapped a zip tie around them, binding them together.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, trying to form another plan.
“My turn to drive,” he said, his voice razor sharp as he yanked opened the back passenger door. Greg shoved Sonia into the back seat and hurried around to the driver’s side. The plastic was so tight, Sonia could feel it cutting into her flesh. As the vehicle took off again, merging back onto the road, Sonia had no idea where they were going. All she knew was that her wrists were bound behind her, making it hard to run away, and a crazy man was at the helm.
Greg’s car crunched along the gravel until it came to a stop near a cluster of trees that flanked a small, decaying wood cabin. We’re so far from the main road now, Chelsea thought. It had been about ten minutes since they turned off the highway. Chelsea had been silently counting the seconds to herself, trying to figure out where they were. A ten-minute drive would be at least a thirty-minute hike on foot back to the spot where she could flag down a passing car. Not impossible, but she’d have to get away from Lauren first.
Chelsea watched as Lauren got out of the truck and came around to open up her door. She pulled Chelsea out of the car by the arm and led her down an overgrown path.
Chelsea looked around, noticing the stillness as Lauren tugged on her shirt, pulling her along. Gnats dipped in and out of the tall grass and Chelsea could feel them land on her arms and neck. With her hands bound, she couldn’t swat them away, but they were the least of her worries.
As the path circled around to the left, Chelsea saw a dilapidated wood cabin hidden behind the tall oak trees. The front window was broken, shards of sharp glass jutting away from the splintering frame. Chelsea had no idea what was in that cabin, but she didn’t want to find out. She dug her feet into the soft dirt, jerking Lauren backward.
“Come on!” Lauren ordered, wrenching Chelsea’s arm. Chelsea grunted in pain. She tried to wrestle her arm away from Lauren, but Lauren shoved the gun into Chelsea’s face. “I’ll kill you right here, right now. Swear on my life.”
The door was unlocked. The bottom edge scraped the concrete floor as Lauren pushed it open. Chelsea stumbled in, shoved from behind by her captor. She was instantly hit by the pungent odor of mold and decaying wood. There was no furniture, just some overturned buckets and crates used as makeshift chairs and a ratty
mattress in the corner. There was trash everywhere: fast-food wrappers and cigarette butts and empty booze bottles. It looked like a drug den.
“Sit down.”
Chelsea made her way over to one of the overturned yellow paint buckets and sat down. Lauren pulled out her phone to check for a message from Greg. Nothing. Chelsea could tell she was nervous.
“Can we change this to the front?” Chelsea asked, hunched over a little.
“Change what?”
“My wrists. It’s hard to sit like this with my hands behind my back.”
“No,” Lauren said, annoyed.
Chelsea sat there in silence. Lauren blew out a sigh and began to pace around, kicking at crumpled soda cans. After a few moments, Chelsea decided to try again.
“Please. It really hurts.”
Lauren exhaled and studied her. Chelsea looked back down at the floor, trying to appear frail and nonthreatening.
“Stand up,” Lauren said as she pulled a folding knife from her pocket. Forcefully turning Chelsea around, she cut the zip tie, freeing her hands. Chelsea immediately rubbed her shoulders, which had begun to hurt. Now, back in a normal position, they ached even worse. Lauren pulled another zip tie from her pocket.
“Sit down,” she said. Chelsea sat.
As Lauren started to wind the new zip tie around Chelsea’s wrists, Chelsea spotted a broken beer bottle lying near her foot. This is my chance, she thought. It may be the only one I get.
Suddenly, before Lauren could slide the end of the zip tie through, Chelsea yanked her arm away, snatched up the bottle by the neck, and swung it like a bat at Lauren’s head. Lauren jumped back, narrowly escaping being sliced open with the jagged edge.
In a fraction of a second, Lauren had Chelsea’s wrist in her hand, twisting relentlessly. Chelsea screamed in pain and dropped the bottle, afraid her wrist would break. Lauren may have been smaller, but she was scrappier. And she knew how to fight.
Lauren forced Chelsea’s arm behind her back, sending her belly-first into the dirty cabin wall.
“You filthy little whore,” Lauren spat, and pulled Chelsea’s arm back even harder. “You’re gonna pay for that.”
Sonia lied curled in a fetal position in the back seat of the SUV, hands still bound behind her back. With her cheek pressed against the cold leather, she could feel every bump as they sped down the highway. Her mind raced to come up with a plan. She could see Greg in the driver’s seat, staring intently through the windshield. He seemed to grip the wheel as if it might try to get away. Physically, there was little she could do without the use of her hands. And slipping free of the binding seemed impossible. It was tight and with every move, it seemed to get tighter. If she couldn’t beat him using that method, she’d have to outsmart him. She just needed to come up with a way.
Sonia’s gaze fell to her vet bag on the floor. The tranquilizers, she remembered. She’d just filled each of those three syringes with enough to put a frightened eighty-pound dog into a deep slumber. That was more than enough to have the same effect on Greg. How much does he weigh? she wondered. One seventy? One eighty, maybe? Certainly not more than that. Two injections should do it. If she could just get them out of the bag and into her pocket, she might be in a position to take control.
Sonia rolled over on the seat, taking her time so she wouldn’t alert Greg to the fact that she might be concocting a plan. Once she was on her left side, facing the back of the leather seats, she waited a few moments before stretching her arms back as far as she could. Clasping her hands together, she sucked in her breath and bent forward until she could feel the woven handle of the bag.
Sonia ran her finger along the coils of the zipper until she found the small metal slider body and the pull-tab connected to it. That’s it, she thought. The sound of the zipper opening seemed unconscionably loud. Please don’t let him hear what I’m doing. Don’t let him turn around and look.
When it was halfway open, enough for Sonia to get her hands through, she adjusted her body once again and spread her fingers to search around in the bag. She first felt the gloves, then the gauze. Moving them aside she tried to reach farther but couldn’t manage to stretch far enough to touch the bottom. That’s where the syringes would be. At the bottom. Sonia grabbed hold of the handle and pulled the bag closer to her. She still couldn’t see what she was doing, nor could she keep an eye on Greg from her position. Pushing her hands back just a bit farther, her middle finger finally scraped the bottom of the bag. Sliding it side to side, she stopped abruptly. Lodged against her finger was the round plastic cap of one of the syringes. Thank god!
Cautiously disguising what she was doing, Sonia pinched the syringe into her hand and tucked it up under her thumb. She felt for the other two, found them, and slipped them into her palm as well. Bringing her hands up, she managed to bend her elbows enough to slide the syringes into her back pocket and pull her shirt down over it.
By the time Greg turned off the highway and onto a gravel road, the sun had begun its descent in the western sky. The SUV came to a stop next to Greg’s pickup near the cabin. Greg got out. Sonia shrank back as he yanked open the rear door and dragged her out. Pulling the gun from his waistband, he motioned for her to walk toward the cabin. Is this where they’re going to kill us? Sonia wondered, trying to fight the feelings of terror. Is Chelsea already dead?
When the door flew open and Sonia stepped inside, a wave of relief washed over Chelsea. He hadn’t killed her. It must’ve meant that everything at the bank went as planned.
“Sonia!” Chelsea exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up!” Greg ordered, and pushed Sonia down onto a crate next to Chelsea.
“Did you get it?” Lauren asked.
“Twenty-five. Just like she said. Plus a few nice little surprises.”
“Good. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Lauren kicked an empty soda can aside as she walked to the door. When Greg didn’t follow, she stopped.
“Get the shovels from the flatbed.”
Lauren cocked her head, confused. “What shovels?”
“Do it!”
Lauren pulled the pickup keys from her pocket, but hesitated before exiting. Greg turned to Sonia with a smirk.
“Shovels? What are those for?” he said in a high-pitched, mocking tone. “I guess you’re realizing right now that I lied. We’re not letting you go.” Panic swelled in Chelsea, tears stinging her eyes. As calm as Sonia was, she could see the anxiety in her as well.
“Think about your sister,” Sonia said with a note of authority. “How old is she? Seventeen? Is it really worth life in prison?”
“Interesting you bring that up.” Greg wandered over to examine a carving in the wall. “That’s the very thing I’m trying to prevent. No witnesses, no bodies, no conviction. Thanks to Chelsea here, I learned a lot in prison. Now get up.” Greg waved the gun toward the door. Chelsea exchanged a terrified look with Sonia and stood. Sonia went first and Chelsea followed her out. Greg grabbed a heavy flashlight from the counter and brought up the rear.
“That way.” Greg swung the flashlight up, casting an eerie pool of light toward a rocky path that led deeper into the woods. Despite the chill in the air, Chelsea could feel the armpits of her shirt damp with sweat. The temperature was starting to drop. It was September and the nights were getting cold. The light was waning quickly and soon it would be too dark to find their way out. Even if they could, by some chance, get away from Greg and Lauren, getting lost in the rambling woods with no coats could mean freezing to death. Chelsea and Sonia were still wearing the short-sleeve shirts and jeans they’d had on in the morning.
Surely someone was looking for them by now, Chelsea thought. At least for Sonia. She’d missed those procedures at her office. Wouldn’t the staff there have called her? Maybe sent someone to her house when she didn’t show up? As she considered those reassuring thoughts, Chelsea realized that even if someone was worried about Sonia they would have no way to figure out where she was. Chelsea t
ried to push the thought from her mind. She needed to focus on surviving, not on all the ways this could go wrong.
As the three trudged down the path, Lauren caught up with the shovels. She tagged along silently until they came to a clearing where the ground felt soft under Chelsea’s feet.
“Okay, stop right here,” Greg ordered. Everyone stopped. He pulled a knife from his pocket and held it up, grinning. Chelsea heard herself gasp, unaware she’d done it. Greg chuckled and twisted the knife until the moonlight reflected in the blade. Lauren shifted uneasily.
“Knives are so much quieter than guns,” he said, staring directly at Chelsea. “And so much more personal.” He’s just doing that to scare us, Chelsea told herself. Don’t let him win. Don’t be scared. You are going to survive this. Your life doesn’t end here tonight.
Greg grabbed Chelsea’s arm and spun her around. Chelsea stared out at the shadowy path, flanked by gnarled tree trunks and fallen leaves. With her hands bound behind her, she could feel the slick fabric of his coat against her palms. He pressed himself into her back.
“Don’t,” Sonia said. But Greg ignored her and brought his mouth down to Chelsea’s ear. She could hear the wispy sound of his breath.
“Do you remember the way I looked at you when you were on the stand?” he whispered. She knew instantly the moment he was talking about. She remembered sitting in the witness booth after she’d just been sworn in. She’d glanced over at Adam and Mikey and her dad. Her father had nodded encouragement. Then she’d looked over at Greg, who sat behind the table, dressed in a suit. He’d tilted his head ever so slightly at her, then grinned. It had sent chills down her spine and she had immediately looked away. She remembered that moment as if it had just happened.
“Do you?” he asked with an edge in his voice she hadn’t heard before. She nodded. “Know what I was thinking when I looked at you like that? I was thinking about how much I’d enjoy killing you.”
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