The darkness overcame her once more.
Something. Biting her. Many somethings. Or pins poking and pricking. Her arms and legs, her back, head, and neck. Randi moaned and shifted. A sound followed. A crackling, like the crunch of dry leaves in the fall.
Her eyes popped open. Not in her small bedroom in the double-wide, not curled up in her narrow bed. Where?
She blinked and focused on the darkness. Trees. Lots of them. Underbrush, something rustling there.
She was on the ground. The smell of pine straw and rotting vegetation stung her nose. She whimpered. How’d she get here? She’d been in Billy-Bo’s F-150 … no, walking. She’d hitched a ride. The guy in the ’Bama ball cap … the other girl—
Randi became aware of another sound. A broken mewl, like a fretting baby. What was a baby doing out here?
Not a baby. The other girl. Randi searched her foggy brain for the girl’s name. Carly? No … Cassie or—
Something dropped from a branch above her, landed on her arm, and scurried. With a cry she went to swat it away—and found that she couldn’t.
Her wrists were bound.
So were her ankles.
Momentary disbelief was quickly followed by panic. Randi fought against the binding, but no matter how she tugged and twisted it didn’t loosen. Her wrists and ankles burned, her head throbbed, and she flopped back, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
The soft sobbing from nearby had stopped. Randi craned her head in the direction from which it had come. “Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“Where … is … he?” Her voice shook so badly, she could hardly get the words out.
“Gone. He went for food.”
“Let me go,” Randi begged. “Please come untie me.”
Her request brought silence. It seemed to stretch on forever. When the other girl finally spoke, it was so softly Randi had to struggle to make out what she was saying.
“You think I … I’m tied up, too!” Her voice rose. “He raped me. He held me down and he—”
She started to cry, not softly. Wracking sounds of despair and hopelessness.
The sounds she’d heard earlier, Randi realized, the contents of her stomach lurching to her throat. She rolled as best she could onto her side and vomited. She retched until it felt her diaphragm might split clean apart.
“You’re lucky,” the other girl said. “That’s why he didn’t touch you. You did that earlier, too.”
“I don’t remember,” Randi whispered, voice choked with tears. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ve got to try to get free.” The other girl paused, the moment of silence foreboding. “He’s coming back.”
Coming back.
Randi’s blood ran cold at the thought.
“Randi?”
“What?”
“Maybe you can get loose?”
“I can’t. I tried.”
“Stay calm … deep breath—”
Randi did as she suggested, sucking in one deep breath, then another.
“Are your hands behind your back?”
“No, in front.”
“Look at the binding. What is it?”
Randi lifted her arms. “Tape. The wide kind. Clear.”
“Tape,” the other girl repeated, sounding surprised. “He used rope on me. Maybe you can break it?”
Using all her strength, Randi tried tugging her wrists apart. “I can’t break it! It’s seems like it only makes it—wait, I’ve got an idea. Maybe I can tear it with my teeth.”
“Try it, Randi. Hurry! He’ll be back soon.”
For several minutes she tried without luck, gnawing at the edges of the tape, trying to find a vulnerable spot. Finally, at the point where her wrists were joined, she found one. Using her tongue and teeth, she worked it until it began to give, ripping millimeter by agonizing millimeter.
Her hands were free. Tears running down her cheeks, she frantically tore at the tape around her ankles.
With a cry she scrambled to her feet, hurrying to the other girl. She reached her and started on her ropes, freezing at the sound of tires on the gravel road. Headlights, cutting across the trees.
“Don’t stop! Hurry, before he gets back!
Randi tugged on the knot at the other girl’s wrists, hands shaking so badly she couldn’t control them.
“I can’t loosen it.”
“Keep trying! You can do it, you—”
The slam of a car door. The crinkle of a take-out bag. “He’s coming. I’ve got to go.”
“No! Don’t leave me! Please—”
“I’ll get help.” Randi straightened, took a step away. “I promise—”
He was whistling some light, happy tune. It was getting louder. She took another step. “I have to get help. It’s the only way. I’m sorry…”
“You can’t leave me.” Her voice rose. “No … no—”
Randi backed away, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll get help. I promise.”
With one last glance back, she turned and ran.
CHAPTER FOUR
7:10 A.M.
They’d finished processing the scene and Miranda and Jake sat on the hoods of their cars, parked side by side at Irma’s Coffee, Cakes & More. The “more” included breakfast sandwiches to die for. Or to die from, considering they consisted of egg, bacon, and cheese, all piled on a buttermilk biscuit.
“You want to talk about it?” Jake asked, then took a bite of his sandwich.
“About what?”
“About what you’ve not been talking about for the past couple of hours. Ever since I asked you about the news clipping.”
She looked at him. “Oh, sure, now you go and get perceptive.”
He laughed and took another bite. She followed suit, using the time to assemble her thoughts. She decided on the direct, short and sweet approach.
“That article was about me. I was that out-of-control teenager.”
He snorted. “Did not see that coming. So much for perceptive.”
“I was arrested for possession and sent to juvie for six months.”
“Possession of pot? That seems harsh.”
“Wasn’t my first brush with the law. There’d been the shoplifting episodes, the drinking, the truancy. Oh, and let us not forget the defacing of public property.”
“Let me guess, graffiti?”
“Yup.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t give you life.”
He sounded so amused. He didn’t get it. He couldn’t. “You didn’t grow up here. You didn’t live in a trailer on the wrong side of the tracks or have a daddy who was a habitual loser and two older brothers following his example.” She met his gaze. “Of course they threw the book at me, Jake. That’s what the law does to folks like me.”
He shook his head. “That’s not who you are, Miranda.”
“Not anymore.” She turned her gaze to the horizon. “I was mad when I got sent away. And bitter. Real bitter.”
“What about your mom?”
“I was more trouble than I was worth to her. Truth was, I think she was happy to see me go.”
“I’m sorry. That does pretty much suck.”
She stuffed the last of her sandwich into the paper bag it came in and slid off the hood of the car. “I’m glad it happened. It forced me to think about where I was going and what I wanted out of life.”
For a moment he didn’t respond, just stared at the horizon. “How long have we been partners, Rader?”
“A couple years. Why?”
“Two and a half,” he corrected. “And we’re friends?”