She ran until her muscles hurt, until she was sure JD was gone. She dropped to her knees, feeling the moist earth dampening her jeans, and cried. She couldn’t trust anyone. Her best friend was in a coma, and everyone else in her world was lying to her.
JD had been watching her. She felt herself shudder. Was JD working for someone? Was he being paid to watch her? Had he known she was Jane all along? The thought made her whole body ache. He wasn’t a friend; he was a spy.
For who?
Riley willed herself forward, and after a few steps, her heart sped up when she began to hear the whooshing of cars racing by. The eucalyptus trees were thinner and sparser here, the grove opening up to a sidewalk on a quiet, suburban-looking street. The houses were old but well-kept with manicured lawns and pretty pots overflowing with flowers. The calm scene almost made Riley feel safe.
She stepped out of the forest, focusing on a pot of bright red roses directly in front of her. They were the last thing she saw before everything went dark.
? ? ?
Everything hurt when Riley woke up. Her shoulders, her stomach, her legs—everything felt heavy and bruised, and her mouth burned with the bitter taste of bile. And it was dark.
Her whole body started to move, to roll, and she instinctively put out a hand and a foot to steady herself—or she tried to. Her legs were bound together at the ankle, a thick ring of duct tape encircling her legs halfway up her calves. There was duct tape around her wrists too, and Riley started to panic.
Where am I?
Her eyes weren’t adjusting to the overwhelming darkness until flashes of red, one by her head and one by her feet, illuminated just enough of Riley’s surroundings for her to make them out.
Black, industrial grade carpet. The faint smell of gasoline. The rumble from underneath her.
A car! My God, my God, I’m in someone’s trunk!
Her mind immediately went to JD, and she cringed, her stomach turning over. He wouldn’t do this to me, he wouldn’t do this to me…
The silver charm flashed in her mind. The image of a dark figure standing in the window, staring down at her. JD.
She gritted her teeth and refused to cry, instead, using her bound feet to kick anything and everything she could reach.
“Help!” she screamed, and struggled against the duct tape, but the more she did, the more it burned hot rings into her skin. “Help!” she screamed again.
The car started rolling again and Riley quieted, trying to listen for any sound—a radio squawk, a police siren—but all she heard was the constant flow of traffic.
What had they told us to do?
Riley had sat through a half-dozen school assemblies about safety and stranger danger and how to run away. Had there ever been one about being locked in someone’s trunk?
She started kicking again, screaming, and trying to use her fingers to claw at the roof.
Nothing happened. The car kept rolling.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Riley felt the car turn onto a road that wasn’t as smooth as the other. The car bounced around, and she bounced in the trunk, wincing, completely unable to protect herself from the next blow.
And then the car stopped.
Everything inside her went hot. She didn’t want the car to keep moving, but once it stopped—right now—she would be faced with JD. He had drugged her, duct-taped her, and tossed her in the trunk. What was he planning on doing with her now?
She heard a car door slam and the sound of footfalls on gravel. She knew they were drawing near. Her heart thumped with every step, but she couldn’t breathe.
Her bladder felt heavy as she heard the jingle of keys and then the smooth way they slid into the lock. She used every last muscle she had to scooch herself to the darkest corner of the trunk, her back up against something hard and metal.
“Please, JD,” she whispered. “Please don’t hurt me.”
She couldn’t help it; she clamped her eyes shut when the trunk opened.
“I didn’t want to have to do this. I didn’t want it to turn out this way.”
Riley opened her eyes and stared into Tim’s ice-blue ones, which looked as sharp as ever. She started then pressed herself tighter, deeper into the depths of the trunk. Tim reached out and grabbed her bound ankles and slid her forward as if she didn’t weigh a thing.
He grinned down at her before pulling her out of the trunk and slinging her over his shoulder. “I told you that you don’t have to be afraid, Janie. I told you I’m the good guy in all this.”
Riley knew she should be screaming. She should be struggling or banging on Tim’s back with her bound hands, but she was paralyzed by fear. She wanted to believe that Tim was a good guy, but good guys didn’t snatch girls off the street, bind their limbs, and toss them in the trunk.