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kidnapper sunk to his knees. He put a foot on his back and pressed him all the way to the ground while gathering the man’s other hand.
    James sat on his back. “I called the police on my way over here. Do you have any zip ties or rope to help hold him until they arrive?”
    Rachel tried to stop shivering, but her body refused. The adrenaline rush took control. She may have attended kickboxing and self-defense classes regularly, but it didn’t compare to facing someone wishing to harm her. “I...I might have something.”
    She ran to the garage and riffled through the few tools she had piled on a card table in the corner. Why didn’t she think to have zip ties or rope as part of her tool kit? Her stomach twisted at the shame of not being prepared. She thrust off some of the items on the vinyl tabletop until her fingertips grasped a ball of twine she’d intended to use in preparation for her first raised vegetable garden. It wasn’t rope, but it’d have to do.
    She dry heaved. Her entire body trembled. This wasn’t supposed to happen in a good neighborhood, to a church-going business owner. She’d done everything right, hadn’t she? Rachel shook her head, as if forcefully throwing the thoughts away. She ran back into the house.
    James accepted the ball, frowned, and tied up the man’s wrist and ankles.
    The man underneath James’s weight grumbled.
    â€œWho sent you?” James asked.
    The man went silent. Rachel’s pulse quickened. Why would James think someone had sent him? She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to calm her heart rate.
    â€œI asked you a question.” James almost spat out the words. His face turned slightly red.
    The kidnapper twitched but said nothing.
    â€œWhy do you think someone sent him?” she asked, her voice weak.
    Grief crossed his features as his eyes, dark and tortured, met hers. “I want to know why they tried to kidnap my kids and then you.”
    Rachel blinked. “I’m pretty sure he’s on meth or something.” She recognized the symptoms, and judging by the man’s eyes and the pallor of his skin, she imagined he’d spent years addicted to illegal substances. “I doubt you’ll get any useful answers from him right now.”
    The sound of sirens rang through the window screens. “I hope that’s for us.”
    â€œShould be.” James didn’t take his eyes off the man underneath him. “I’d hoped they were still in the vicinity. They should’ve been hunting for this guy.”
    Her shoulders relaxed, the reality sinking in. James had the man subdued. The police were on their way. Once the man was gone, the danger would be over. Everything could go back to normal. “Thank you, James,” she whispered, straining past her aching throat.
    She stared at the kidnapper’s meaty hands, hands that had almost succeeded in taking her, hurting her. Was this all because she had stopped him from kidnapping the neighbor’s kids?
    No good deed goes unpunished . Her uncle used to say that often. Of course, he was a drug dealer, and the only good deed he’d ever done was not forcing Rachel into the family business. She’d often wondered if her uncle knew the quote came from the first female ambassador to Italy. If he did, she was sure he’d never have repeated it again. Her uncle didn’t believe women were worth much. None of the men in her family did.
    Two police cars parked in front of her house, and the officers rushed to her door. Rachel crossed the wooden floor and flung the door open. “He’s in here.”
    Two officers ran to where James sat. James jumped up from his post on the man’s back so the officers could take over. The same officer who’d collected her witness account stood just inside her doorway. “I can send for an ambulance.”
    â€œNo,” Rachel replied. She placed a hand on her neck.