“If she calls, she’s gonna call you, dipshit. Not her own number. Give me the goddamn phone. Water bottle too.”
My brother doesn’t pull out the “I could have been the older one” tone very often, but maybe that’s why it’s so fucking effective.
I pass him the phone and water bottle, then cringe at the sound of rustling plastic.
Jasper seals the bags, then walks the length of the ditch without leaving the asphalt. “Don’t look like anyone disturbed the scene. No signs of a struggle. No blood. We need forensics out here. The whole fucking team. Canvas the area, find any security cameras with a view of this spot…a helicopter if we can get one.”
He’s all business, like this is an official investigation.
I land on my ass in the weeds. Fuck. It is.
My wife. My best friend. She’s gone. Someone took her.
Chapter Five
Grace
The vague scent of soap surrounds me. But it’s not mine. My soap smells like gardenias and jasmine. AJ’s is good, old-fashioned Irish Spring. This is almost…industrial. Harsh, with a bite of lemon that burns my nose.
My lids are so heavy. I force them open, catching a quick glimpse of a wood ceiling before they close again.
Wood? Our bedroom is a light beige. Where am I? This pillow is too thin. Lumpy. Same with the mattress.
The headache splitting my skull makes it hard to think. I don’t remember how I got here. I was out on a run. I left the lake behind. Then…?
I try for another peek at my surroundings. God, the light makes my head pound even harder.
“Drink!”
The memory of that harsh voice, of someone holding me down, is too much. I roll onto my side, bile crawling its way up my throat. It’s only the shock of what I’m wearing that stops me from vomiting.
My running clothes are gone. I’m braless, barefoot, and clad in a white cotton dress that buttons all the way up to my neck.
Scrambling back, I kick at the sheet and blanket. I’m so dizzy, but when I bring my hands to my mouth, I realize I’m…clean.
Someone kidnapped me, brought me here—wherever here is—bathed me and dressed me. I reach between my legs and find a pair of simple cotton panties. They’re dry. Nothing hurts down there. But the idea that I could have been raped while I was unconscious…
The nausea hits again, so strong I dry heave over the side of the bed until my stomach muscles ache and sweat dots my brow.
Collapsing back against the thin pillow, I struggle to clear the fog muddling my thoughts. There was a van. Then pain. But after that, nothing.
The room is still blurry, and I rub my eyes until tears gather at the corners. They’re so dry. My throat too.
This time when I sit up, the dizziness isn’t so bad. An old, beat-up desk and chair sit against the wall to my left. On the other side, two solid wood doors. One is open a crack.
You can do this, Grace. Get up and find a way out.
Feet on the floor. A hand on the rough-hewn headboard to steady myself. And I’m standing. Wobbly, but upright. Slowly, I shuffle toward the open door.
Stark white walls, a simple tile floor, a toilet, sink, and tiny shower.
For a few seconds, I stare at the faucet. If I turn it on, someone could hear. But I’m so dehydrated, I won’t last much longer without water.
As I reach for the handle, the world tilts. The next thing I know, I’m on the floor, my cheek pressed to the cool, white tile. The side of my head throbs, and tears leak from my eyes. Everything hurts. Panic tightens my chest. I’m shaking.
“Move, darlin’. You can do this. Try that other door. Now.”
It’s not my voice I hear in my head. It’s AJ’s. Does he know I never made it home? He’ll search for me. He’ll find me. But I can’t just lie here and wait. Whoever took me did it for a reason. I don’t want to find out what it was.
