Chapter Twenty-Five
We crossed out of Roman’s neighborhood and into an area cluttered with businesses and restaurants. Every mile dimmed my hope of rescue and my panic escalated. Even if someone had seen Thomas force me into the SUV, how long before that information made it to the police, and how long after that before someone spotted this one vehicle amid a sea of similar models.
I didn’t know what to do. I’d lost my phone when Thomas grabbed me. The only ways out of the car were through the front passenger door, and possibly the rear lift gate in the back, but I wasn’t sure how to open it from the inside or even if it could be. A wild leap into the back only to find myself trapped there would accomplish nothing, aside from pissing Thomas off even more. I hadn’t been able to confirm my suspicion that he’d had a gun on me, but I thought it a safe enough bet to think leaping into the front of the car in an attempt to get the door open would only get me shot.
I already had a broken wrist, no need…
Stilling out of pure instinct, I barely breathed at all as I contemplated an idea. It was almost certainly a bad plan. Chances were high I would end up hurt, or worse. It was all I had. If it worked, I might be able to make it far enough to get help or attract some attention, at the very least. If he caught me…I shook my head, knowing I would pay for it if I failed.
When he signaled for a right turn, I made an attempt to relax my body in preparation. Thomas might have been insane, but he was unfortunately a very safe driver. Slowly, he turned, and my original plan to pretend the force had tipped me over became a swift movement to place myself more toward the middle of the bench seat. He seemed content to drive silently forward for several more blocks. I knew the area well enough to know we were headed back toward a neighborhood, and if I waited too long, I’d have a hard time finding help or getting the attention of passersby. Slowly, I shifted again, inching my way closer to him as my fear spiked and my stomach turned.
I was about to make my move when I looked up to make sure Thomas wasn’t looking at me and spotted a familiar car in the rearview mirror. The back window of the SUV held a dark tint, making it a little challenging to see the details, but I’d seen that car earlier in the day and was almost positive I recognized Detective Cordova’s shaved head.
Sitting there without moving another centimeter, I debated my options. I could sit and wait for Detective Cordova—if that was really him—to come up with a plan and rescue me. Did he have a plan? Would he just follow us until Thomas stopped and then grab him as soon as he got out of the car? What if Thomas recognized the sedan as an unmarked police car before we made it to wherever it was Thomas was taking me and decided he’d rather take us both out than be arrested? What if he caused a car accident and hurt other people?
Half a dozen more what ifs ran through my mind before I wanted to scream. I thought I might lose it if I had to stay in this car much longer, not knowing whether Thomas planned to kill me or lock me in his basement for the next decade. I looked up again and was now almost positive it wasn’t Detective Cordova following us, but even if it wasn’t, a girl leaping out of a moving car was bound to cause whoever it was to stop, right? If nothing else, I’d make a run for the nearest building and hope the door was unlocked.
Two more blocks before the businesses dropped away and houses took their place. I glanced at the car behind us again, trying desperately to remember if Detective Cordova’s car had been blue or black. The one behind us was black, but I was almost sure I remembered the sun making the blue of his car sparkle a little as it sat in front of the house earlier that day. Why would it be him, anyway? He was looking for Sammy, not me. Even if Roman had heard me being taken, he would have had to hang up on Sammy to call the police, which he would have hesitated doing. Detective Cordova probably didn’t even know I was missing yet. Realizing that, I decided I only had one option.
Bracing myself because I knew it was going to really, really hurt, I took a deep breath and swung my cast at Thomas’s head. The crack sounded a split second before the car lurched to the side. Pain nearly crippled me, but my adrenaline had spiked high enough to keep me from losing focus and I leapt into the front seat. Reaching for the door handle, I yanked as hard as I could, realizing too late that I still needed to unlock the door before it would open.
My one good hand flailed, searching for the lock button as Thomas stirred and growled. Desperate, I started kicking out at him as I slapped my hand against the lock button and continued to yank on the door handle. I felt the door give right as Thomas stomped the brakes and I was sent straight into the dashboard. The impact rocked me and I slid down to the floor without protection. I was screaming at myself to get up and run, but my breath had been knocked out of me and everything hurt. It ran through my mind that I had probably just secured my fate. Then the boom of a gunshot split the air and I felt my body give up as the sickening scent of blood filled the car.
The Crazy Girl's Handbook Page 30
