“You think Martin lives in the woods in Wisconsin?”
“Who’s Martin?”
“The Munchkin.”
“Right.” Graham bent over Hew’s shoulder and hit several keys that switched the map from 2D to 3D. “Huh,” he muttered as he straightened. “Looks like she’s parked inside a stand of trees. The only structure nearby is a farmhouse. And that’s half a mile away.”
Fear grew in Hew like a malignancy as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He scrolled to Sabrina’s contact information, hit the button, and held the device to his ear.
It rang.
And rang.
When her voicemail picked up, he cut the call as broken glass filled his lungs. It shattered up into his throat, making breathing impossible as he stared hard at Graham’s now concerned expression.
“Something’s wrong,” he wheezed.
4
Location Unknown
Sabrina woke slowly and felt like she was swimming through Lowcountry muck after a hurricane. Nothing felt firm. Nothing felt real. Everything was soft, quiet…
Except for the pain that thumped mercilessly inside her head.
Her skull was too small. Or maybe her brain was too big?
She also had a crick in her neck like she’d slept with her head bent at a ninety-degree angle.
And what the hell is wrong with my tongue?
Why was it coated with something fuzzy?
She tried to swallow, but her throat was as dry as parchment paper left out in the sun.
She needed water. And Tylenol. And more water. And probably some more Tylenol. But the thought of moving made her break out in a cold sweat.
She shivered.
And that hurt too.
Everything hurt.
Why does everything hurt?
Screw it, she thought. If everything hurt, there was nothing to do but grit her teeth and do what was needed.
Tylenol.
Water.
In that order.
Girding herself, she opened her eyes. Or…she tried to. They didn’t cooperate. Her eyelids were sandbags soaked with rain. It took everything she had to pry them apart the barest crack. Just enough for her to make out a soft, gray light.
She tried to focus. Tried to get her bearings. But her vision floated, and her head spun as terrible nausea churned in her belly. And Jesus! The throb inside her skull was worse with her eyes open.
Did someone spike my drink at the bar? Was I roofied?
