Page 11 of Traces of Kara

“So sue him.” She laughed. “Even people who once had restraining orders are allowed to go out of their apartments.”

Mark nodded. His cell phone rang. Mable walked away as he answered.

“Mark?” Harry’s tone was hesitant. “You asked, and well, Roland hasn’t called in today.”

Mark drew in a loud breath.

“Now, Mark, let’s just settle down. The guy hasn’t ever missed a day of work. You can’t just jump to conclusions that he’s doing something unsavory. What are you worried about, anyway?”

“That’s just it. It’s what I don’t know that I’m worried about.”

Chapter Eleven

Kara wriggled with discomfort as the hours ticked slowly by. She could no longer hold her bladder. She had to figure out a way to escape the dungeon like basement. She steeled herself against her mounting fear. She had to connect with her captor.

Kara drew on every bit of strength she’d ever known. Fear hovered behind her thoughts like a ghost infiltrating a room. She had to get free of the bindings and find a way out. She listened to the distant hum of the plant, felt its vibrations beneath her. She scanned the room, looking for something, anything that might give her an indication of where she was within the plant. There were too many rooms that looked exactly like the one in which she was trapped. The bare concrete walls, one light bulb hanging in the middle of the room. She looked behind her—an opening to another room. If only there was an exit in that room. She’d have to find a way out.

She made noises, wriggling to get her captor’s attention.

He walked toward her.

Kara’s heart raced. She had to do this. She had to try. He stared down at her, his face a mixture of concern and…something malicious that she couldn’t place. The guy was insane, and Kara thought she just might be, too, for trying to connect with him. Her legs were bound too tight to cross them, so she pulled her kneecaps together and glanced from her knees to him, over and over again, trying to signal that she had to go to the bathroom. If she were untied, she could run. Don’t go down without a fight.

“What?”

She shook her head, bent forward, rocked.

“I don’t know what you want.” His voice rose and fell with agitation. “All I want is to be together. Siblings shouldn’t be separated.” He turned his back to her.

Siblings?

Roland turned around and she silently pleaded for release, eyebrows pulled together, sad eyes at half-mast.

He crouched beside her. “I’m gonna take off this tape, Marissa, but if you scream, that’s it. Understand?” His eyes remained locked on hers.

She nodded, her eyes hopeful. Who the hell is Marissa?

She held her breath as the duct tape ripped clear of her skin. Tears sprang from her eyes. Stinging pains pierced her cheeks.

He sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. Your face.” The edges of his lips sagged. He took his sweatshirt in his palm and moved to wipe her cheek.

She pulled back. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said in a shaking, thin voice.

“Oh.” He scratched his head, looking around as if he, too, wondered where a bathroom might be.

“Please, I don’t care where I go, just let me go. I won’t scream. I won’t run. I promise.”

He walked out of the room in silence.

“Please?” she yelled after him. “I just have to pee. I won’t scream. Please?” Her throat was so dry, as if it were stuffed with cotton.

She heard the same dragging sound she’d heard earlier. She spun her head around, this time afraid to scream—afraid of what he might do to her. She didn’t think she could take another minute of that tape on her cheeks. She felt her tongue along the tiny piercings inside her mouth, where her teeth had ripped into the flesh of her cheeks. The sharp taste of blood was still present. She felt her face grow red and set her lips in a determined, tight line. Who the hell was he to hurt her like this? Anger seared through her veins, brewing a resolve she wished she could harness.

Slow footsteps approached. He slid a box cutter from his pocket.

“Marissa,” he whispered. His hand shook as the blade came closer.

“I’m not Marissa,” she cried, pulling away, whimpering.