A roar of a revved engine split the air.
She jerked her head up.
A white van shot into the lot from the far entrance—too fast, tires skidding, engine screaming. It fishtailed once, corrected, and barreled straight toward her.
“What the?—?”
Instinct jolted her backward. She stumbled a step.
The van veered hard and skidded to a stop beside her, its brakes shrieking loud enough to hurt her ears. The scent of burnt rubber hit her a second later.
“Hey!” she yelped, her heart hammering.
The sliding side door flew open.
Two men in black ski masks, jeans, and T-shirts jumped out before she could react. One grabbed her wrist in an iron grip. The other wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her off her feet.
“Stop—stop!” She shoved against the arm cinched around her middle, panic flaring so fast it made her vision strobe. “Let go!”
They didn’t.
A formidable hand clamped over her mouth while a rough voice snapped, “Get her in!”
Her phone slipped from her fingers and skittered across the pavement.
“No—no!” She kicked blindly, her heel connecting with someone’s shin. A grunt. But the hold didn’t loosen. She was half carried, half dragged toward the open van as she fought harder—her legs and arms flailing, her body twisting. Every instinct screamed at her to get free.
“Move!” one barked.
A shove from behind came hard, and her world tilted. She hit the metal floor of the van on her side, pain cracking up through her ribs, hip, and shoulder. Before she could scramble to her feet, the first man was already climbing in, grabbing her ankles. The second pushed her shoulders down. She barely got out half a shriek before a hand clapped over her mouth again.
“Quiet, bitch!”
The door slammed shut, blocking out most of the afternoon sun. There were no windows in the back. It was hot in there and smelled of grease, sweat, and gasoline. A glance around revealed nothing she could use as a weapon.
Before she had time to register the van moving—fast, too fast—a hood was aggressively pulled down over her head. Darkness swallowed her. Zip ties cinched around her wrists, digging deep, the ratcheting sound, sharp and unmistakable. Another set clamped around her ankles. She kicked on instinct, but her legs barely shifted before the plastic dug in harder. Thefloor vibrated beneath her, every bump and turn sending her rolling like loose cargo.
“No—please!” She choked against dirty fabric over her face, wild panic clawing up her throat. “Help!”
No one heard her.
The van lurched to the left so violently that her head snapped back and banged the floor. With her hands behind her back, she couldn’t grab onto anything to stop her body from sliding.
Her pulse thumped wildly, becoming white noise in her ears. Her breath came fast and useless, like her lungs didn’t know how to work anymore. She tried again to kick one of them, but her feet didn’t make contact.
The vehicle whipped around a sharp turn, and her already bruised shoulder impacted with something hard and metallic. Pain shot down her arm.
“What do you want?” she begged. “Please—what do you?—”
“Shut the fuck up!” one of the men ordered. His voice was low and threatening.
Her thoughts skittered everywhere, incoherent at first—Dr. Hansen? Patty? Someone saw, someone must’ve seen?—
But the parking lot had been nearly empty, and no one else had been around.
Oh, God! No one knows what happened to me!
Tears slid hot down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop struggling—not even when her muscles groaned inpain, not even when her chest burned with terrified breaths she couldn’t control.
