“That’s right,” Elizabeth interjected, her heart aching for the poor man, “you got what you wanted. Let Agent Dawson and his family go.”
Dawson looked at her then, his expression trapped somewhere between thankful that his family appeared to be safe for the moment—since he would soon hear his wife’s voice—and down trodden because of what he’d done to Elizabeth.
The woman said nothing to Elizabeth but tossed a cell phone to Dawson. “Hello?”
The look of relief on his face told Elizabeth that his wife was on the other end of the line.
“You’re all right?” he verified. Horror abruptly claimed his expression. “No!” He stared at the woman who’d given him the phone, then at the phone. “What’ve you done?”
The oxygen evacuated Elizabeth’s lungs and the room suddenly tilted. Had they…? Oh, God.
“Don’t worry, Mr. CIA Agent,” the woman taunted with a wave of her gun, “you’re going to join them…right now.”
The horrible woman fired two shots. Dawson jerked with the impact, staggered back then collapsed on his side into a twisted heap on the dusty wood floor. The color of blood spread rapidly in a wide circle on his shirt front.
Elizabeth dropped onto her knees next to him. She rolled him onto his back and assessed the situation.
Before she could at tempt to stop the bleeding, the man with the gun hauled her to her feet.
“He’ll die!” Elizabeth screamed at him as if he were deaf or stupid.
“That’s the point,” he said in that low guttural growl of his.
Elizabeth felt the hysteria clawing at the back of her throat. She felt cold and numb. The urge to scream squirmed in her chest.
She thought of the keys in her pocket and how she might be able to use them. But it was no use. She recognized from the location of the wound that nothing she could do in this setting would benefit Agent Dawson.
His family was dead. Maybe he was better off that way, too. He would never have forgiven him self if he’d lived.
Elizabeth swiveled to ward the woman standing only a few feet away. “What do you want?” Her voice carried its own kind of malicious intent.
For the first time in her life Elizabeth understood completely how it felt to want to kill someone. If she possessed a weapon she would not hesitate to murder one or both of those holding her hostage.
The woman grinned, an expression straight from hell. “Everything,” she said with sinister glee.
The man grabbed Elizabeth’s arm again and pushed her to ward a door on the other side of the room. “Where are we going?” she demanded, a new kind of fear rushing through her veins.
He cut her a look but said nothing.
The smaller room he shoved her into was empty and just as unkempt as the other one. Before she could turn around he slammed the door shut. She rushed to it, knowing before she twisted the knob that it would be locked.
A surge of relief made her knees weak. At least he hadn’t followed her in here.
She moved back from the door, took a moment to gather her wits. Okay, she had to think.
The events of the past few minutes reeled through her mind like a horror flick. She closed her eyes and banished the images. She didn’t want to see Dawson’s face when he’d heard what ever they did to his wife on the other end of that phone call. She didn’t want to see him fall into a dying heap on the floor over and over.
Things like this didn’t happen in her life. She was just a doctor. One who worked at a quiet, upscale clinic. She’d never had to deal with the hysteria and insanity of E.R. work. She’d never been exposed to this sort of horror out side a movie theater.
Several more deep breaths were required before she could stop her body from quaking so violently.
She reached into her pocket. Keys, ink pen. Not much that would help her in this situation.
Okay…think. First she needed to take stock of her situation. She moved to the boarded-up window on the other side of the room. Peered through the cracks between the boards. Nothing. Not a single pedestrian to call to for help, not that she was sure any one in this neighbor hood would be willing to get involved. But maybe someone would call the police if they heard screaming. She glanced to ward the door. Of course if she screamed her captors would come running.
She tugged at one of the boards. The wood creaked and shifted but not enough for her to work it loose. “Damn.”
She walked around the room. Surveyed the floor. Looked in side the one other door that opened up to a tiny closet. This room had probably been a bedroom at one time. She looked up at the ceiling. No removable ceiling tiles or attic access doors. Just stained, cracked dry wall.
There was no way out of here. She had to face that fact.
She propped against the wall near the window. She couldn’t get out the window, but it made her feel better to be near it all the same.
Why hadn’t they killed her? There had to be a reason she was still breathing.