I swallowed down the rising burn. No one would hear me if I screamed. No one would stumble upon me on their drive home.
I tried to move more, to reach the kitchen. If I could just get a knife—anything to defend myself. The chain pulled taut with a clang. I stretched my arms out as far as they would go but was still feet shy of the counter or any drawer.
I stepped back, letting the chain fall to the floor. At least when it was lax, it didn’t weigh on my ankle as badly. I tested its bounds, moving in a half-circle around the space, seeing what I could reach.
Whoever had me had obviously done the same thing. And then had moved everything with any potential to be a weapon out of that sphere. The only thing I had in my space was a rug and the bed. The frame itself was heavy, made of thick wood. But it was also securely constructed. I wouldn’t be able to break it apart. At least not without a lot of noise and pain.
I ran my hands over the posts and joints—no seams or lips I could grab hold of. Yet I kept moving my hands over the frame, not even entirely sure what I was looking for.
Hope. A little bit of that reckless hope was what I was desperate for.
I almost didn’t notice the first time my fingers ran over the slightly raised nail. But I paused, backtracking more slowly. There it was again. A single nail that hadn’t been hammered in fully. A mere millimeter of the head stuck up, but it was something.
I patted my pockets, looking for anything possibly left behind. There was no multitool, of course. No cell phone. All that was left was a penny and a dime—the remnants of my lunch change from picking up at Spoons.
I went for the dime first. Slowly and methodically, I worked it under the edge of the nail. My fingers cramped the longer I worked and sweat pooled on my brow. But, finally, I worked the penny under there, too. I had a coin on each side as I pulled.
The nail moved a quarter of an inch, but my penny went flying across the room. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. I’d made progress. I had to keep going. I tried with just the dime, but it was no use.
I tugged at it, and my fingers bled, a few tears slipping free. I grabbed at the quilt on the bed, finding a corner that was a bit thinner but still had a little padding. I gripped the nail as hard as I could through the fabric and pulled. Pain flared through my fingertips, but I didn’t stop.
I heard a faint squeak and whine as the nail moved out another inch. I readjusted my hold and drew back with everything I had in me. It came free with a force that sent me flying back into the mattress, but I held onto my treasure.
Dizziness swept over me as I straightened into a sitting position. I had the nail, and it wasn’t even bent. But before I could shift to work on the lock, the door swung open. I shifted on instinct, tucking the nail under the mattress but still within reach.
“Evie.”
The voice, so achingly familiar and painfully gentle.
“I’m so glad you’re awake.”
“B-Ben?”
His cheeks heated. “Sorry about the chains. It’s just until you’re used to it here.”
Until I was used to it… Bile crept up my throat. My childhood protector. My oldest friend and confidant. But everything had changed without me even realizing it. Only one question found its way to my lips. “Why?”
His expression gentled even further. “It’s always been you, Evie. We’re meant to be.”
43
Hayes
My SUV bumped over a series of potholes as I made my way up the drive to the Kemper ranch. Pulling to a stop in front of the series of buildings, I forced my hands to release their stranglehold on the wheel. I flexed and fisted my fingers, trying to get a bit of feeling back in them. But they remained numb, just like the rest of me.
I couldn’t feel a damn thing. From my fingers to my toes. Some part of me registered that my heart was still beating inside my chest, but I felt so removed from it that the organ might as well have not existed.
My gaze swept over the buildings and ranch roads, but everything looked eerily still. There were trucks and a beat-to-hell sedan parked next to the house, but I didn’t see one sign of life. I flexed my hands again. Was Everly here? In one of these buildings? In a shed like Shiloh had been held in? Or worse, was I too late?
I shoved that thought from my head and pushed open my door. Mom kept saying when Shiloh was missing that she would know if her baby was gone. I had to believe I would know if Ev had left this Earth. I would feel it in my bones.
As I slammed the door to my vehicle, Allen stepped out onto the front porch of his house. “You’re not welcome here.”
“I don’t care where I’m welcome. I have some questions, and you’re going to answer them.”
Allen’s jaw worked back and forth. “We’ve talked to a lawyer. We’ll be filing harassment charges against you and the department next week.”
“Good luck with that.” It wouldn’t be the first suit Allen and his family had filed. They were always thrown out of court at one point or another, but they clogged up the legal system—sometimes for months. And the department would have to waste resources to deal with it.
The door swung open again, and Ian appeared, a sneer on his face. “Here to throw your bullshit papers around again? I already told you. I’ll go wherever the hell I want. Talk to whoever I want. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
I rested my hand on the butt of my gun. “Where’s Everly?”
Ian’s face immediately blanked. “How the hell would I know? Can’t keep track of your woman, Sheriff? That’s because you don’t take a firm enough hand with her.”
My fingers tightened around the metal, the grip like an extension of my hand. Rage pulsed through me like a second heartbeat. I closed my eyes for the briefest of moments, trying to pull it back. “I’m going to ask you one more time, where is she?”
“Is Evie missing?”
The soft voice came from my right, and I whirled around to see Addie. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and she moved stiffly. But even with those struggling movements, I hadn’t heard her coming. “Yes. She was taken about an hour ago, give or take. Have you seen her?”
Addie’s eyes widened, fear streaking through her expression. But it was Allen who spoke, his words cracking out like a whip. “Don’t say another word to him, Adaline.”
She straightened, but I didn’t miss the wince of pain as she did so. “She’s not here. No one’s come or gone in over two hours.”
“Adaline, be silent.” Allen charged from the porch, but I stepped between him and his daughter, pulling my gun.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stay there, sir.”
“This is my property, and that’s my daughter.”
“And she’s answering my questions right now.” I glanced back at Addie. “Who has been here recently?”
Addie tore at the side of her nail, a bit of blood springing up. “Ben. He came a few hours ago to talk to Ian.”
“Is that typical?”