Hit 'N' Run (Under Suspicion #1) (21 page)

The door opened just as Lorna took the first of two stairs to the small, slant-roofed porch. “The chair,” the woman illustrated behind her, stepping aside. “Sit.”

Like I have a choice.
Lorna pushed her hair off her face and walked with forced dignity towards the only stool.
They will not get the best of me.
Three of them surrounded her, leaving her with nowhere to go, so she did as she was told. The woman pulled out more tie straps and gave them to Stan. “Here.”

Turning towards Gap-tooth, Lorna saw her perception of him was correct. He was wide, but squat.

“There’s some wood out on the porch,” the woman commanded, obviously in charge of the trio. “Grab some and build a fire.”

The men followed the woman’s instructions without comment or complaint as Gap-tooth turned on his heel and retreated back out the door.

Biting the inside of her cheek to contain any emotion from showing on her face, Lorna’s mind raced to Kris and Mariam.
Where do they have my baby? Is Mariam okay? For sure she would give them a good fight. They didn’t mention Ma. Why?
Maybe if she had called Mitch back today when she had a chance. Maybe if she had told him about the information he would have gone over to the house, and now these bastards wouldn’t have an opportunity to hurt her family. Questions and doubt filled her.

Watching without seeing, Lorna only noticed the fire Gap-tooth built when it started to smoke in the pot-bellied stove in the middle of the room. Her chair was close enough to feel the heat from the flames, and she prayed the sparks wouldn’t jump onto her clothing, sure this miserable bunch wouldn’t prevent her from being burnt. The smoky flames filled the one-room shack until the woman returned, with some exasperation, to tell Gap-tooth to open the door and window to clear the fog.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid all the time,” she sneered.

“Well, if you don’t like the way I do things, do them your fucking self.” He huffed before stomping out of the room.

Movement was out of the question with each limb tied to a spindle. Even pulling marginally on the straps caused such intense pain that she allowed her limbs to go limp in the restraints.

Compartmentalizing the pain, Lorna concentrated on what she knew.
Not much.
We turned off the highway shortly after leaving the crash site.
Though she couldn’t be sure—however much she had counted to try to maintain some semblance of time, she didn’t think it was far. The dirt road was another matter entirely. It could have seemed far only because the going was rough,
but I’ll have to assume we’re at least six to seven times the rough distance that we travelled on the highway
.

Shivering as much from fear as from cold, Lorna watched the woman close both the window and door after the smoke cleared.
If they wanted me for themselves, they’d be doing something right now. It doesn’t make sense to drag Kris into this if it was a random kidnapping. I’ve heard about this highway of tears, but I simply didn’t ever think anything like this would happen to me. Girls, women going missing, never to be heard from again.

But then it hit her, if this was a random pull from the highway, they wouldn’t know about Kris, and they would never use his name.
They don’t want me for themselves. They’re working for someone.
Then Tim’s strange look from the afternoon played across her memory. His sad smile. The way he held onto her shoulder a fraction too long.
He knows I hacked into Aqua’s mainframe. He knows I know
. She pulled at the straps, fear turning her insides to water.
They’ve gone to the house looking for the files. That’s how they got Kris and Mariam. Ohmigod, I did this.

The woman shot her a hostile look, and she ceased her movement. As the woman scraped a homemade bench across the planked floorboards towards the lone window, Lorna caught sight of her own reflection in the grimy window.
Not only that,
I’m involved with the cop they knew was part of a sting operation to penetrate their organization. As much as Mitch thought I was working for the Fongs, Tim thinks the cops planted me.

Clamping her teeth together to keep them from chattering, she couldn’t imagine what they planned to do with her and her family.
Were Kris and Mariam here? The place looked deserted when they arrived. Are they on the way then? If their intention was to kill her in retaliation, why go to all this trouble to bring her here?
They could have easily finished the job out on the highway. Maybe they need to know how much I know?
Her head came up straight in her chair.
No. They need to know if I told anyone.

The pinch of her phone in the soft flesh of her underarm reminded her there was hope.
If only I could call Mitch. Tell him where I am. If I knew where I was.
Without moving her head, Lorna watched the rough-looking woman seated on the bench along the wall opposite. Her back against one wall, her booted feet were propped upon the windowsill as she texted on her phone. “Goth” was the best word to use to describe her look. Inky black, chunked hair partially obscured her face as she concentrated her attention on her mobile. Lorna wriggled her fingers, trying to maintain feeling in her extremities. Eyes focused, Lorna was positive the other woman was texting based on the number of dings coming back and forth.
Cell coverage. Here?
Her heart skipped a beat, praying her phone was undamaged.
Perhaps we’re close to a cell tower
.

Duct tape covered her mouth and she ached to rub her nose. The urge to urinate was as strong as her thirst. She needed to see if her family was here. She needed to get a sense of her surroundings. Having remained as quiet as she could throughout this ordeal, striving to keep a cool, calm head, Lorna now moaned to capture Goth’s attention. Needing a bathroom break might be her only excuse.

The woman’s eyes flicked in Lorna’s direction with irritation, and she huffed. “What?”

Lorna wiggled her bottom on the chair, squelching in the accumulated puddle that had dripped from her clothes. Moaning, she cast her eyes downward to indicate her need.

“You gotta take a piss?” Her voice was low and harsh like someone who smoked a great deal, but she had yet to leave the hut for a cigarette, and though she’d been in close proximity with the woman for a while now, Lorna could detect no odor on her clothes.

Lorna umm-hummed her ascent, nodding her head.

“Don’t piss on the floor,” she snarled, rising with reluctance to her feet. As Goth approached, Lorna was surprised to see the inky-haired girl was just that—a girl, barely a woman—maybe twenty or twenty-one at the most. Goth’s lips drew back in a hateful sneer. “I don’t want to smell that stench. Bad enough it smells like wet dog in here already.”

A sensitive kidnapper, pardon me.

Goth tossed her head to the side to lift the hank of bang off Lorna’s face as she pulled out a long switchblade. The blade’s mirrored edge caught the Coleman lamplight and seemed to reflect in the girl’s dark eyes as she wheeled it like a pro, bending close to Lorna.

The painted girl grabbed hold of Lorna’s hair, yanking it backward by the roots. Lorna was surprised she still had feeling in her scalp from the hair-pulling Stan had inflicted earlier. Biting the inside of her cheek, she stifled a moan, realizing with certainty that the nerve endings were still well intact.

Lorna’s breath released in a whoosh through her nose when the woman pushed her face level, her dead, emotionless, brown—almost—black eyes stared into hers without mercy. “You try anything, bitch, and I’ll slice you open and leave you for the cougars.” The girl lifted the knife with deliberation towards Lorna’s eye in a control tactic Lorna was all too familiar with.

Never give the bully a target or a victim.
Her fair complexion and slender frame often gave the impression of frailty. But she could be as tough as nails when the need arose, and with Kris and Mariam’s lives on the line, the need for tough was an understatement. Survival tactics forced her back to straighten as she returned Goth’s cold stare with one of her own, unwilling to be intimidated. In the close proximity, she could see Goth’s white skin was the result of putty-like foundation that had flaked and marred with the weather.
Yuk
.

With slow, deliberate intent, the girl lowered the knife from Lorna’s face. The blade gently sliced the thin skin where her pulse jumped, belying her outward countenance. Warmth trickled down her neck as the blood pearled. Holding steady was difficult because of the shivers riding up and down her spinal cord, which had turned into minor convulsions she strove to suppress. With a deep breath through her nose, she kept her back straight and her face impassive, hoping her eyes were as cold as the girl’s.

With great showmanship, the younger woman removed the knife and released her head. The sudden release of tension on her neck muscles caused an almost whiplash-like movement forward. The thick blood made a slow trail down her neck, almost tickling in its progress.

Goth-girl pulled thicker tie straps from her pocket, cutting first one, then the other of Lorna’s arms free of the binding before bringing them together to lash in front of her. The cuts on her wrists had already congealed. Her relief was momentary. Lorna flinched when the girl nicked an ankle when she freed her feet.

“Forget your shoes?” The woman laughed, standing to reach and take Lorna by the hair again.

No answer was expected or received as they opened the door to step outside in the drizzle.

Stan stood under the eaves, taking up the width of the door with his girth. Lorna stepped down one stair, feeling the mud squish between her toes and small rocks dig into the sole of her foot. “Over here.” The woman pushed her towards what Lorna assumed from the smell to be an outhouse. She looked around the compound, praying for the opportunity to check her phone for a signal. With her head tilted at such an awkward angle, from the corner of her eye, she saw her captor in tow close behind, watching.

The door closed only partially, causing the whole emptying-of-the-bladder business to be demeaning. Unable to get to her phone, Lorna kept her attention focused on the return trip. She noticed just one other cabin in the compound. It appeared larger, but she couldn’t be sure through the gloom and dark. Light showed from within, but no shadows moved across the lit windows, one on each side of the door. Gap-tooth stood sentry in front of the entrance.
Just the four of us then?
She padded slowly forward with her head yanked backward.

The rain had lessened and the thunder rumbled in the distance, giving every indication the main body of the storm had passed. With the cessation of booming thunder, the small clearing seemed eerily quiet. The pitter-patter of light rain hitting against the tin roof echoed loudly as she was pushed back towards her assigned jail.

Her step faltered when whirring and crashing branches announced the arrival of another vehicle.
This is it then.
If it was Tim, Lorna prayed she’d have a chance to look him in the eye. Despite all she had learned and all she had gone through in the last hours, she still found it difficult to imagine someone as charismatic as Tim Fong could be involved in such underhanded dealings. Was that why she hadn’t sent the package over to Mitch immediately?

Retaining a steady eye on Goth-girl, Lorna was pleased when the younger woman dropped her eyes, snorting as though bored. Logically she knew she wasn’t getting out of this alive.
I’ve seen their faces. They’re never letting me go
. But she’d be damned if she was going down without a fight. Ensuring Kris’s safety was a chief concern.
If he’s not here, my only hope is to get out of here and pray my phone gets a signal. I must get to Kris and Mariam
.

Mitch. That was the answer. If she had enough of a signal for even one call, she would call Mitch. He would know what to do. Trapped as she was, clarity without ego allowed Lorna to see the situation from his side.
Would I have done anything different if I were him? I didn’t hesitate to pry into Tim’s personal files when I suspected Mitch might be right. How are my actions justified and his not?

Listening for voices and the approach of the new arrival, Lorna waited with a churning stomach, pondering so many aspects of the last few weeks as she hadn’t allowed herself to do previously. Time seemed to stand still, and her breathing became shallow with apprehension.
I need more time. I’m not ready. I can’t leave Kris and Mariam like this. This can’t be the way things are left with Mitch. When he held out his hand to me calling me back, I should have given him the chance. I wanted to, but…I should have taken a chance on trust. On him. On us.

The waiting seemed endless. Lorna was thrown back in time: being locked in the basement as a child, being trussed up in an old potato sack in the closet in her uncle’s house, and more.
All these you managed to escape
, she reminded herself.
You’re stronger than they give you credit for
. Lorna chewed the inside of her cheek, wriggling her fingers. There is a way out.
Think
. There is always a way out.
I just have to find it
.

Time was endless. Nothing happened, and no one came. Despondent, minutes stretched to what seemed like hours. Her nerves stretched like an elastic band, except she couldn’t afford to let the band snap. Yet she was just so tired. Tired of thinking. Tired of her regrets. And most of all, tired of the worry. Exhausted from cold, her injuries, and the ordeal, her head began to loll.