Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)

Inside, the gift shop had just closed, its wooly sheep, plump teddy bears, and tethered balloons keeping their silent vigil in the dark. Afton rode an elevator up to the fifth floor and crept down the hallway looking for Room 522, Ashley’s room. The overhead lights had been dimmed and the floor was quiet but not yet deserted. Nurses floated past on rubber-soled shoes, a patient shuffled along pushing an IV pole down the hall. As Afton passed a few open doors, she heard snatches of quiet conversation, the hum and hiss of machines, and the rattle of privacy curtains being pulled.

Room 522 was at the very end of the hall. Afton stopped outside the door and listened. Nothing. No TV, no talking. Maybe Ashley Copeland was asleep already? Maybe, just as Max had figured, she’d been given a pill to carry her away to dreamland.

Well, she’d come this far. Besides, she knew that Ashley was just a few years older than Tess. Which meant the girl could be huddled under the covers, playing possum and texting like mad.

Afton pushed open the door and stepped into the room. A dim nightlight was on somewhere, but a flimsy privacy curtain had been pulled across one half of the room, blocking her view. Behind the curtain a shadow quivered.

“Ashley?” Afton said. “Are you still awake, honey?”

She put a hand out and slowly pushed the curtain aside.

“My name is Afton Tangler. I’m with the . . .” Afton’s eyes suddenly registered the dark apparition that loomed up on the other side of the sleeping girl’s bed.

“Ashley?” she choked out again. But she knew it wasn’t Ashley. Whoever this dark, menacing person was, they were suddenly lunging directly at her!

Spinning as fast as she could, Afton raced for the door and pulled it open maybe half an inch.

Quick as a snapping turtle’s bite, a hand shot out and smashed the door closed.

Too late! Her escape was cut off!

Afton twisted her body around to face her attacker, determined to make a stand and defend herself. She jabbed toward the darkness that was his face, intent on poking a finger into his eye. But the man—whose face was completely obliterated by a wool ski mask—heaved himself hard against her and flattened her against the door.

Afton opened her mouth to scream, but he quickly clapped a hand across her mouth. She squirmed as she felt his pelvis bump up against her. His closeness, his almost indecent intimacy, made her skin crawl. Terrified, forcing her frenzied brain to recall her self-defense training, Afton fought like a wild woman. She wiggled and bit and struggled until she managed to rip her right arm free of his clutches. Mustering all her strength, she drove a fist up, hard, directly under the man’s chin.

He let out a woof, drew back an arm, and swatted her with an open hand, as if she were a bug. Afton’s head flew back and cracked hard against the door. Before she could regain her bearings, his fist slammed into her jaw.

Afton literally saw stars. Miniature constellations that spun sickeningly inside her head. She sagged into him and when he took a half step back, she gathered what strength she had left to jerk her chin downward and head-butt him in the chest. Two seconds later she was tossed to the floor. Pain flared in her lower back as the man crawled on top of her, trying to capture her arms and legs, as if they were contestants in a high school wrestling match.

He was so strong! And the sickening odor that came off him smelled like a wet animal.

Slowly, Afton stopped struggling until she lay completely still. He didn’t seem to have a weapon, so what was he going to do? The man was breathing hard now, like an overwrought teakettle. Was he excited by their struggle? Was he enjoying himself?

A terrifying thought rose like a bubble in Afton’s brain. Oh no! Was this the same boy who’d strong-armed Ashley the other night! Had he come back to finish things with Ashley? To rape her? Or worse, to kill her?

As Afton felt the man lift up slightly from where he had her pinned, she brought a knee up hard, aiming for his groin. She wasn’t on target, but she wasn’t all that far off either. As her knee connected, the man groaned and partially loosened his grip.

That was all she needed. Elbows and knees pumping like pistons, Afton spun away from him and clambered to her feet. Catlike, the man sprang up after her, blocking her chance for a getaway. With her options dwindling, Afton sprinted toward the bathroom. Just as her feet hit tile and she struggled to pull the door closed behind her, he landed a roundhouse punch and she felt a stabbing pain in her right shoulder. Afton stumbled as he hit her a second time, and this blow sent her reeling across the bathroom and crashing into a second door.

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