All he could do was hope she would come back so he could make things right. But it dawned on him that he was like his father, that he had lost the woman in his life and, like his old man, drank to ease the pain.
That was several months ago.
In the aftermath, Jason painstakingly regained control. He quit drinking and clung to the only dream he had left, becoming a reporter. He was so close now, he thought, staring at the front page of the Seattle Mirror.
He finished eating, then went to his fridge, opened the door, and stared at the lone bottle of beer. He kept it there to prove to himself he didn’t need it anymore. That he was not like his father. Right, but he deserved to celebrate. Just tonight.
No.
He reached for a bottled water, shut the door, picked up his fresh copy of the Mirror from the floor, headed down the hall. After brushing his teeth, he fell into bed, exhausted. He removed the bracelet, capped it on his bedpost, then folded the paper so he could study his piece.
Karen Harding stared at him from the newsprint.
He could not take his eyes from hers.
It was as if she were pleading for him to help her.
8
----
K aren Harding was surfacing.
Eyes closed.
Dreaming, still dreaming, she was rising slowly to consciousness as her senses awakened. Her head throbbed with the noise. A drone. Deafening against her ears. Something rolling, circulating at high speed like a power tool. Like a buzz saw.
Her entire body bounced gently as if on a spring. Swaying. Floating. Moving as she grappled to keep dreaming of her sister. Marlene. She was talking to Marlene. She needed to see Marlene. Calling out to her. And Luke. She was no longer upset with Luke. She needed them. Desperately. Why didn’t they hear? Why didn’t they come to her?
Her ears were pounding. Was that her heart beating?
Closer now. Almost there.
Her dreams faded and she could feel her blood pulsating in her ears. Then a sickening feeling slithered in her stomach. Something has happened. You’re not dreaming.
Don’t open your eyes.
Her heart began to hammer. She shuddered. Instinct told her to feign unconsciousness. Assess everything. She tried to swallow, but it was difficult to breathe. Her jaw ached. Her teeth biting on something foreign wedged in her mouth. Her tongue timidly probed the object. It was large, circular, fabric and twisted like a cord, which went completely around her head.
She was gagged.
Her mouth was filled with a terrible bitter taste. Breathing was hard. Swallowing air hurt. Her cheeks were wet with drool.
Don’t open your eyes.
There was pressure near her hands. Karen strained her fingers, feeling the coils of rope binding her wrists. She drew short quick breaths. Her ankles. She felt pressure at her ankles and ordered her muscles to move her feet apart. Nothing happened. Her feet were bound. She was on her back.
What was happening to her?
God. Please help.
Keeping her eyes closed, she clawed at her memory. Go back. Think. She’d been driving. Upset with Luke, she had left Seattle to see Marlene in Vancouver. Her car had broken down in the storm and someone stopped.
The reverend.
So kind.
She had stepped into his RV. It had a strange odor. Newspapers, maps, files, and other assorted items were strewn about the front. A bad feeling overwhelmed her. She wanted to return to her car but didn’t want to appear ungrateful. He’d been so good to stop and help, and then everything went dark.
Then she remembered feeling as if someone was carrying her….
Her heart slammed against her rib cage.
Oh God!
Karen swallowed. She was fully conscious. She knew she was moving. Traveling. She opened her eyes to darkness. She tried to lift her head but struck it against something hard, knocking her back. She manipulated her hands to the right and felt a hard wall.
Gooseflesh rose on her entire body.
Oh, dear God!
Karen was terrified. She tried to scream but couldn’t. She tried to kick but couldn’t. She tried to pound
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