Except she couldn’t pretend that for long. She had to face reality, had to get out. And nothing she saw would help her, even if she could get hold of it. There were no knives, no scissors.
She was just going to have to work at her bonds until they came loose, she decided. That was her only hope.
Flexing her hands to allow some of the blood back into them, she thought of Amarok and wished he’d come, even though it was impossible. She thought about the night he’d shown up when her phone line had been cut and how she’d stepped out of her house and into his arms. It’d felt so reassuring, so good. He wouldn’t want her to go through this again, she told herself. He wouldn’t want her to suffer. He was trying to help her heal. Just what he’d done so far had made her feel more alive than she’d felt in twenty years.
She had to keep fighting...
She yanked on the ropes that held her feet in place, but there was little give. She tried the same with her arms. They were tight, too. But if she could get the damn gag out of her mouth, she might be able to lean over far enough to be able to use her teeth to untie one of her hands. This was an old bed, not quite a double.
She’d started by concentrating on nothing except the need to roll that gag down so she could spit out the ball in her mouth.
Pulling her chin back toward her neck as far as possible, she used her tongue to push the ball against the fabric that was holding it in. It did no good, but she kept at it, hoping to create enough flex that she’d eventually be able to shove it through the opening she was trying to create. Then she would at least be able to use her jaws.
It was a painstaking process, so painstaking that she was soon soaked with sweat. She could hear the rasp of her own breathing, felt as if she was just this side of suffocating at all times. But it was the heat of the sun, beating down on the shack outside that frightened her most. That’s what told her it was no longer early, that time was slipping away...
“It’s not going to work! He’s going to get here before I can even get close!” a voice wailed in her head. But somehow she silenced it, drew as much breath as she could muster and kept straining against the gag.
***
By the time Jasper got the girls off to summer camp, it was nearly nine. Then he had to report the Camry as stolen, which took another hour of dealing with his wife and her shock, the insurance company and then the police. By the time he was finished with it all, it was almost eleven and he felt like the day was nearly wasted, especially because Hillary wouldn’t be home until late this evening, so he’d have to be back by three to pick up the girls. It’d made Hillary mad enough that he’d sent Chelsea to camp despite having thrown up in the night; Hillary wouldn’t hear of her spending any time at a friend’s after. “They need to spend time with their father,” she’d said, making sure he understood that he was supposed to stay home with them regardless of any job interviews, training or other conflict.
Having Hillary go out of town was what had made it possible for him to kidnap Evelyn, but it was also making it difficult to spend any time with her, because he had to fulfill all the responsibilities that Hillary normally handled.
“Bitch,” he muttered, hating his wife and her girls. He needed them. He knew that. He’d have to figure out a way to pay his own rent and living expenses without them. And yet he couldn’t help resenting them at times. He’d often felt the exact same about his parents when he was growing up.
But he was free for now—for the next four hours. With drive time, that’d give him only three with Evelyn, however, which wasn’t as much as he wanted.
He glanced over at the sack he’d put in the passenger seat of his wife’s minivan. It contained a few new toys he was eager to experiment with. One was a stun gun.
He promised himself he’d start out easy so he wouldn’t lose her as fast as he’d lost the last one. He preferred to make the pleasure last.
Once he reached the turn-off, which was merely a nondescript dirt road going into a wooded area, he watched for signs, as he always did, of other people. He couldn’t see why anyone else would come here. It wasn’t a place that attracted hikers or joggers. It wasn’t particularly scenic, either. It was just a piece of wasteland, owned by the railroad.
Fortunately, he saw no signs of trouble. He also checked to make sure that the car he’d left the night before couldn’t be seen, and was satisfied that he’d hidden it well enough. He wouldn’t be able to hide the one he was driving quite as completely, but he wouldn’t be at the shack for long.
Releasing his seat belt, he grabbed the sack that held the stun gun, as well as the new restraints he’d bought at an S&M store, and opened his door.
***