LITMIR.BIZ

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bed was made. Not a thing was out of place. The room was perfect. It made Rebecca’s blood run cold.

      Holly had never come home.

      Her phone! There could be a text waiting for her. Maybe Holly had decided to visit her sister again. She had done it before.

      Rebecca knew she was reaching. Holly always came home when she had class the next day. She worked so hard to keep her grades up at the small liberal arts college she attended—she wouldn’t risk that to go visit her party-all-night sister. Except, sometimes Laurie hit rock bottom and pleaded with Holly until she felt guilty and went over. So there was a small chance. A very small chance, but it was the only hope Rebecca had to hold on to.

      She hit the button on her phone and her heart thudded in her chest. One notification. She pressed the text icon. It was from Miles, sent late last night. Any warmth she might have felt that he had checked on her was drowned out by the knowledge that Holly hadn’t sent her a text. Holly always sent a text if she would be late. She knew how much Rebecca worried. Holly worried just as much about any situation where Rebecca might be in harm’s way. And why shouldn’t she? She’d been there. They both had. For days, they had sat together, shackled in the dark, locked in that same small room. Waiting, as terror fogged their minds while hunger gnawed at their bellies.

      But Holly and Rebecca had survived. Not all of them had.

      Jasmine Winters hadn’t made it out in time. She’d been strangled, mere hours before the police had broken through the basement door. They had all wondered who would be next...

      No!

      Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists as she pushed that memory out of her mind. The darkness that tried to ooze into her mind didn’t belong there. Not anymore. She’d banished that years ago, when she’d testified. When she and the other girls had put away their captor.

      The memory of the trial made her shiver more. Would she never forget the face of their tormentor? He had been on his way to prison, and still he had held such control over the women he had terrorized. And he had known it.

      He had control over her still—was still the face in her nightmares. What should she do?

      Miles! He would probably check to see if she had responded to his earlier text. And he was a police officer. He’d know what to do about Holly.

      Unlocking her phone, she pulled up his text. Her fingers trembled as she tapped out a message of her own, explaining the situation. She curled her lip as the auto correct kicked in, messing up a word of her message. She erased the word and started again. Many people would have sent the text anyway, trusting that he would understand. But this was too important. Plus, if she was honest with herself, she knew that people expected mistakes in her English, both because she had been Amish, and because she was deaf. It never failed to gall her. She hit Send.

      Then waited.

      And worried.

      She tried to sit back down on the couch, but couldn’t stay still. She bounced back up on her feet. She felt icky. Glancing down at herself, she grimaced. Not only was she still wearing yesterday’s clothes, but her skirt was torn and wrinkled. And what if Miles decided to stop by when he got her text? She couldn’t be seen this way. Ignoring the part of her that questioned why it mattered how she looked, she showered and dressed in clean jeans and an oversized royal blue sweater.

      She checked her phone again. Still no word from Miles.

      It was almost seven. She sent him another text, just in case the first hadn’t gone through, then dragged out the Crock-Pot and started making chili. After she had the meat, beans and spices simmering, she stepped back and smirked at herself. What had she been thinking? She’d made enough to feed her parents and five sisters and brothers, when it was just she and Holly who lived in the apartment.

      Holly.

      Immediately, her mind was back in the middle of the current nightmare.

      She glanced at her phone. The light was blinking. Maybe it was Miles. She clicked on the message, and his face appeared. The intensity of his blue eyes caught her unawares. Her breath caught in her throat. Those piercing eyes set in his honest face had attracted her from the first time she’d seen him. If only...

      But it was no use. A man like him, strong and decent, wouldn’t be interested in someone damaged like herself. Some of the members of her own community had been disgusted by what had happened to her all those years ago, even though she hadn’t been to blame.

      Besides, after what she had gone through, after what she had seen, she needed security in her life. A policeman who put himself in danger every day, no matter how handsome he was or how great he signed, was not on her list of possible mates.

      Forcing her mind to accept the reality of her situation, she read his text.

      Be there at 7:40. Jackson coming, too.

      It was seven fifteen now. The sun was just starting to come up. She had almost half an hour. She’d go crazy just sitting here. To give herself something to do, she set about cleaning her already spotless apartment.

      The light in the hall flashed. Someone was at the door. It had to be Miles and Jackson. The cautiousness she’d learned as a teenager wouldn’t let her open the door without checking the peephole. Two men dressed in dark blue uniforms stood in the hall. She recognized the LaMar Pond uniforms. Miles and Sergeant Jackson. With a sigh of relief, she swung open the door.

      The relief drained out of her when she saw how they looked. The tension emanating from the two men crackled like a live wire. She instinctively stepped back from them. Keeping her distance, she searched for clues in Miles’s expression as he entered the apartment. The morning sunlight streaming in from the windows emphasized his serious expression. The downward curve of his mouth. The set of his strong jaw. Both spoke of a man on a mission. And an unpleasant one at that. Something bad had happened.

      Fear lay in a leaden ball in her stomach. Please, Lord, let everything be all right. Even as she prayed, though, she knew everything was not all right. Something had happened to Holly. What? Sweat slicked her palms. She was about to find out.

       THREE

      Her throat was dry. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

      Miles nodded, then turned to say something to Jackson. She was fairly certain he was relaying her message to the other officer. In the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then held it up with a questioning look. Did they want one? Both officers shook their heads. Fine. She uncapped it and took a long swallow. It made her throat feel better, but nothing else felt any relief.

      Her stomach hurt. Not sick hurt. Scared hurt. The way it always had as a child. The way it had when she’d been held against her will ten years ago.

      She scraped back a chair at the table and sat down across from Miles.

      “Can you understand okay if I switch to pidgin? That will make it easier to keep Jackson in the loop.”

      She nodded. Pidgin sign language used mostly ASL signs, but put them in English word order. This way, the signer was able to speak and sign at the same time. Not optimal, but she could follow along.

      “Rebecca, I got your text this morning. I drove by the parking lot of the restaurant Holly works at. Her car was in the lot. But she was nowhere to be found. The manager said that she had left after she’d finished her prep work for the morning shift. That was around ten thirty. She never came back in. When he saw her car this morning, he thought she must have had car trouble and had someone pick her up.”

      What? That was absurd. If she’d left her car, she would have let them know so it wouldn’t get towed. How could they not have realized something was wrong?

      But she knew she couldn’t really blame the manager. Holly’s behavior at times was a bit erratic. She had already lost two jobs in the past for being unreliable.

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