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  When he walks out the door I start writhing and twisting in an attempt to wriggle my wrists free. The pain is unbearable, but so is the thought of dying here today, so I strain harder. Hope springs forward when one section of the rope inches over the fleshy part under the thumb. Inspired, I wrestle with more desperation. Sweat pools on my upper lip. I’m flailing about on the floor in my own urine, putting everything I have into getting free. The skin of my wrists shreds under the rope. My thumb is out. Now it inches quickly over the rest of my hand. My right hand is completely free. My heart gallops with hope. I scramble to my knees and work at the ties that still bind my left wrist to the bed. With a mix of desperation and fear, I’m shaking violently, making dexterity difficult.

  I hear Vance return just as I loosen the last knot.

  “Shit.”

  I roll to my back, ready to fight. He slides to his knees and pins me down with his weight as he reaches for my free hand. Anticipating his move, I wait until he’s directly above me, his head turned toward the task at hand. As he clambers to secure my wrist, I take my left hand, which is still bound with rope, wrap my wrist around the rope and grasp firmly. He’s pressing against my diaphragm, making it difficult to take in a deep breath. Still, I’m determined. In one swift move, I lasso the rope around his neck. Surprised, he glances down and releases my free hand to remove the rope from his neck. With that hand now free, I reach up and grab the other end of the rope. Rage and hope surge through me. Using every muscle in my body, I pull.

  Vance’s eyes bulge and his face flashes crimson. His fingers dig at the rope biting into his flesh. Knowing this is it, that I won’t get any other chances, I bear down and pull harder. Every muscle in my arms and stomach burns and screams for mercy. Spittle dribbles out of his mouth as he fights for air. He rolls to the side in an attempt to escape but I roll with him. Now I’m straddling him and looking into his face. It feels as if I’m holding my own breath while he fights for his.

  I strain and strain, watching him lose the battle. I’m terrified that his strength will outlast mine. The whites of his eyes speckle with burst blood vessels. Finally, his lids flutter and the pupils roll back into his head just before they close. His body slowly goes limp. I hold for another minute, pulling even tighter just to be sure. My hands cramp and tremble.

  He’s dead. Releasing the rope, I scramble backward off his body, horrified, yet relieved. My arms shake uncontrollably from both adrenaline and muscle strain. I scan the room and push my hair away from my sweaty face. Jake will be back any minute. I assume he’s outside cleaning up with the only running water, otherwise he would have heard the commotion.

  With a sharp jerk, I yank the rope out from under Vance. My left wrist is still bound. I don’t have time to untie it. My panties are still down around my knees, wet with urine. Unwilling to go completely naked, I opt to pull them up.

  I run to the door and yank it open. The living area is empty. I dash toward the front door. Halfway across the kitchen, the door swings wide open. Jake stops abruptly as if confused. I swerve to the right, leaping toward the kitchen sink.

  “What the fuck?” Jake says behind me.

  I’m searching for something, anything that I can use as a weapon. A small frying pan lined with bacon grease still sits on the cook stove. A rusty sink holds a few dirty dishes. I want a knife.

  I’m yanked back by my hair before I find anything of use. This time the force is enough to knock me to my ass. Pain shoots up my tailbone. Unfazed, I roll to my knees and crawl away, anxious to get away from him. My hair twists and pulls, but I strain against him in the opposite direction. He bends and grabs me by the waist, so I lean forward and sink my teeth into his calf. Even through the thick denim, I bite down hard enough that I draw blood. I feel the skin give and Jake screams. He releases my hair and gives me a thump on the side of my head. I lose my grip and fall back. I kick out with both legs, aiming for his knees. The force causes a loud crack to resound throughout the room. His face pales and he loses his balance, staggering to a crouched position. I’ve clearly managed a bit of damage but I know it won’t last long. Jake is vengeful and I will pay dearly for this act. Remembering the way he kicked me before, I roll away as fast as I can. I reach for the leg of the kitchen table and pull myself up. As I stand, my gaze falls to the single plate and fork sitting before me. One limp piece of bacon lies in a dried pool of egg yolk.

  Jake grabs me by the waist again. As he pulls me backward, my fingers wrap beautifully around the shaft of the fork. I twist from my torso and raise my hand in the air, bringing it down with as much force as I can muster, aiming for the only spot that will save my life. His eyes. The first stab misses and hits him in the cheek. He screams and releases me. Before he can pull away, I raise up again and then arc down hard, this time hitting my mark. The tines of the fork pierce through his eyeball and lodge deep enough that I cannot pull it out. Blood spurts into my face. Jake screams, both hands flailing for the fork.

  I’m not done. I cannot leave him like this. He will find a way to kill me. I turn back to the kitchen drawers. The first one has a few more eating utensils and some rat droppings. The second one down has what I’m looking for. I snatch the largest knife out of the drawer and turn to face my captor, who is still trying to dislodge the fork from his face. He’s screaming, and when he finally pulls it out, a gush of blood streams from the wound. The eye automatically closes as he tosses the fork to the ground. He faces me with only one open eye. He’s squinting it tightly, blinking repeatedly as it waters uncontrollably. The other bleeds profusely down his face.

  “Agh! Fucking bitch!” he yells.

  I lunge forward. He lifts his hands to protect himself but I’m at an advantage. I can see clearly. He strikes out at me but misses, his knee buckling under from pain as he takes a step. As his balance shifts, I take a wide swing and slice just under his collarbone. Blood seeps from the clean cut. I had been aiming for his throat. I jump back when he swings at me again. Even with his injuries, he’s still stronger than me. If he gets the upper hand, I’m dead.

  As he steps back, preparing for another lunge, I leap forward, and this time make sure my aim is straight. I feel the eerie sensation of the blade piercing through skin and nestling itself neatly into his flesh. It’s deep. I cannot pull it out. Like Vance only minutes ago, Jake’s eyes widen. Both fear and pain haunt his expression as his fingers flutter over the handle of the knife.

  In shock, I step back and watch with fascination. I know he’s going to pull the knife out. That will be what finally kills him. With trembling knees, I stand by the kitchen table as he struggles with the knife, finally unsheathing it from his throat. He gurgles and coughs. Blood spurts from his mouth. He falls to his knees. Gaping up at me, his mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for oxygen. A wasted effort.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  I watch him drown in his own blood.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Staring down at Jake’s dead body, I go weak in the knees and kneel down to keep from passing out. On all fours, I’m in my urine-soaked underwear, swollen, black and blue from head to toe, blood on my hands and face, a rope still tied to one chafed wrist.

  Jake stares back at me with wide, empty eyes. Everything I’ve been through over the last forty-eight hours rushes forward in a series of terrifying memories. Gasping for air, I’m hyperventilating. Breathe in. Breathe out. Hot, salty tears stream down my cheeks. I’m not embarrassed. I’m not humiliated. I’m no longer scared. Rage fills my insides and spills over each pore of my body. Every cell is consumed. I scream into the empty room. A sharp, piercing scream that tears through my parched throat and echoes my agony. It’s not enough. I scream and scream until my throat is hoarse and unable to produce much more sound. Instead of easing this building tension, it feeds it until I’m a pressure cooker ready to blow.

  I leap to my feet and cross the room to stand over his body. It’s not enough that he is dead. I kick him over and over again, thriving on the pain
that shoots up my foot as it connects with his limp body. I don’t recognize the shrill sounds that escape my ravaged throat as my own. Have I lost my mind?

  When that no longer feeds me, I march into the bedroom where Vance lies inanimate. His hands still clutch at his throat as if he’s frozen in time. His face is purple and his eyes are open, glazed over with a glassy gleam.

  I move past him and head for the camera, fixated on its ominous blinking red light. I snatch it from its cradle and throw it to the floor. Then I grab the tripod with both hands, yielding it like an ax. I raise it above my head before bringing it down with all of my rage and anger. Screaming my warrior song, unleashing all my fury, I bring the tripod down over and over again, breaking the camera into hundreds of pieces. Shattering its wretched history.

  When I’m tired and need to catch my breath, I pause. I take in my surroundings, imagining how I must look. But there is no longer a witness to my plight. I’m still alone. More so than ever. And I have no idea where I’m at or how to get home, but I’m going to leave this place anyway. I can’t get away fast enough.

  I bend down and pick through the remnants of the camera. It takes some finagling, but I manage to extract the SD card. These memories are mine and mine only. I’ll never allow this video out to the public. I will find a way to destroy it.

  With it in hand, I snag the wool blanket from the bed and wrap it around myself. I shuffle out to the living area in search of car keys. I don’t see them right away, so I dig through Jake’s front pockets and find them in the left side. I avoid looking at his face again. My hands are still covered in blood.

  Without another look back, I leave the cabin. I march down the path and turn on the faucet. Daylight is quickly fading and I’m desperate to get out of here before darkness settles. The idea of being here at night initiates a flux of anxiety. Dropping the blanket to the grass, I run my hands under the cold water, then over my face, back under the water, and over my legs and arms. Scrubbing. Scrubbing, until my skin rubs raw, I continue to scour the filth from my body.

  I’m shivering, so I turn off the water and toss the hose to the side. I pick up my blanket and focus on getting away from this place. Rounding the cabin again, I see the SUV off to the side, parked in tall grass, away from the dirt path. I click the remote keyless entry and the lights flash.

  Once inside the vehicle, I don’t waste any time turning it on and shifting it into gear. Tires spin as I press firmly on the gas. Hands grip the steering wheel. Knuckles are white. I turn on the heat.

  I have no idea where I’m going. All I know is that I’m free.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lights shine too bright. Sounds amplify and grate on every nerve. I lie quietly under the thin hospital blanket, worn thin and frazzled. I feel small, my skin translucent. Anger simmers gently underneath a thicker layer of fatigue. It took up residence inside me during my fit of rage against my captors and remains there still. Suppressed. But there. Bubbling.

  The officer who has worked with me over the last many hours sits patiently at the side of my bed and waits for me to answer his last question. It’s hard to focus over the noise in my mind.

  I can’t seem to stream together coherent sentences or even form full-bodied thoughts. I shake my head to clear the cobwebs. Earlier I refused pain meds because I fear letting my guard down. I desperately need to sleep, but I’m afraid to. The doctor insisted I at least take alprazolam to calm my nerves. It mixes with my weary blood and numbs me thoroughly. I sink further into the bed. Can I disappear?

  “Miss Benson?”

  I blink once and shake off wandering thoughts. “I’m sorry, Officer…?”

  “MacGregor.”

  “Officer MacGregor. I’ve just…”

  “You’ve had enough for one night.”

  With a thin smile, I nod. “Yes, thank you for understanding. I’m tired and probably a little drugged. And to be honest, I don’t want to relive that nightmare anymore today, if that’s all right with you.” I’m shocked at how calm my voice is, given my desire to scream.

  His smile is gracious, lending his boyishly handsome face a genuinely trustworthy quality. His calm demeanor gives me a much needed sense of security. “It’s quite fine with me. You’ve been through a lot these past few days. I’m not sure when you slept last, but it’s been nearly six hours just since you wandered into the precinct. Since then you’ve been examined by doctors, run through CAT scans, and questioned for hours about your ordeal. I’ll let you get some rest. I have to warn you, though. In the morning I’m going to bring in photos so you can identify the men who assaulted you.”

  A shiver runs up my spine. “Photos?” I ask in alarm.

  “Yes. After you wandered into the station, investigators searched for hours for the place you described. Your directions were a little confusing, but that’s to be expected. I don’t imagine you would have been paying attention to fine details when you made your way back into town. But they eventually pieced it together and found it.”

  Officer MacGregor pauses. I sense that he’s carefully contemplating the best way to word the next few sentences. My patience grows lean. “Yeah, but why do I have to identify them. Isn’t there enough identification on them? Driver’s license? Wallet? Bank cards? Fingerprints, et cetera. Can’t your team identify them with other means? I don’t ever want to look at those men again.”

  With thumbs hooked in his belt, he rocks back and takes in a slow breath before answering. “Yeah, yeah, those are all means to confirm their actual identity. However, we still need you to confirm that yes, those are indeed the men who kidnapped you. It’s all part of policy and procedure in cases such as this. Does that make sense?”

  I close my eyes and take a shaky breath. “Yes. I guess that makes sense.” Another thought weaves through the fog of my brain. “Wait. You said the police did make it out there…to the cabin?”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “And they’re dead, right? Both of them?”

  Realization and compassion passes over his features, softening them. He leans forward and places a hand over mine. I flinch. He waits and allows me to settle, keeping his warm palm securely over my hand. “They are both confirmed dead, Miss Benson. I promise you.”

  The breath I’ve been holding releases in one long sigh. “Okay, thank you. I…I guess I just needed to hear that. Call me Tessa, please.”

  Another long pause fills the room. The sound of my heart monitor echoes a steady rhythm, reminding me that I survived. I’m alive. I feel dead inside.

  Officer MacGregor’s gaze flits back and forth nervously and I know he has more questions for me. Though I’m tired and spent, I’m oddly comforted by his presence, so I wait patiently for what’s to come.

  When his hazel eyes settle back on mine, he speaks softly. “One of my officers sent over a few photos. From the scene, that is. He also gave me a thorough verbal report over the phone. Of course I’ll go up there first thing tomorrow morning and get a look myself, but from what I can tell, it’s pretty grisly up there. It’s difficult to imagine someone such as yourself, young and thin, a librarian at that, being able to take on two strong, hostile men. I’m not sure how you did it, but it took a lot of bravery to do what you did.”

  I hold his gaze. “It wasn’t bravery at all. I just did what had to be done. Otherwise I’d be dead by now.”

  His hand squeezes lightly. “That may be true, but you are brave. Most women would not have survived such an ordeal. Most would not have fought so fiercely and lived to tell the tale. I know it’s hard to hear, but it’s true.”

  Resistant to his choice of words, I remain silent.

  “There’s one other thing.”

  I sense what’s coming. Breathe in. Breathe out. The heart monitor picks up the pace, reflecting my trepidation.

  “The camera they found. It was smashed to pieces in the middle of the bedroom floor. You didn’t mention it in your statement.”

  “Uh huh?”

  “They
’ve searched the cabin thoroughly and they can’t locate the SD card. It’s missing.”

  “Uh huh?”

  “Having that card would be extremely beneficial to this case, Tessa. Do you know where it is?”

  Without blinking, my tone is passive and flat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He leans back into the chair and lets out a deep sigh. “I see. Well, I’m guessing it was lost in the shuffle. I’m sure we’ll find it eventually.”

  He’s giving me a reprieve even though he knows I’m lying. I’m grateful for it, but panic sets in when I realize he plans to leave. When he stands, I reach for his hand. “Please don’t go yet. I’m…I’m not ready to be alone.” Sleep is closing in as the sedative seeps through my veins, but I can’t stand the idea of being alone tonight. Nightmares will visit for sure, and I doubt my ability to cope with the torment of what they will bring.

  “Is there someone you’d like me to call for you? Someone who could come stay with you? A friend? Family, perhaps?”

  “Not yet. I’m not ready. Maybe in the morning. Can you stay for a while?”

  He looks surprised but he doesn’t refuse. He quietly sits back down and doesn’t utter another word. The sounds of the hospital coalesce together as my eyes flutter. His tranquil presence blurs to only a shadow in the corner of the room. Everything fades to black.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I’m in a movie theater. The smell of heavily buttered popcorn permeates the air. Tom sits next to me, but his eyes are on the screen. Terror fills my body and I want to run out of the theater, but I don’t know why I’m afraid. I squeeze Tom’s hand and lean in, my lips close to his ear. “I want to go home.”

  He ignores me.