The darkness reawakened memories of the lake, the cold, the need for oxygen. Disjointed thoughts flashed through her mind. Why couldn’t she see? Another thought even more terrifying. Had the blow that knocked her unconscious blinded her?
The next sensation came as pain that shot through her skull, followed by penetrating cold from the hard floor beneath her. A flat surface, like marble or smooth stones. Terror built inside her chest—a volcano poised to erupt.
Alone. Completely alone. Like after her parents’ death. Her last year at college, they’d flown her back to school. Their plane went down in a storm on the way home. Her whole world ripped out from under her in a flash of lightening that destroyed the aircraft’s navigational system.
Breathing in quick nervous gasps, vivid memories from the present swam by. The forklift explosion, Dolly’s death, and the children. All paraded across a wide screen behind her eyelids. Until, once again, she slipped into the welcome comfort of nothingness.
Matt Foley’s Home
Too many late hours this week had caught up with Matt and he’d turned in early. He tried to ignore the sound of a distant telephone that pierced his sleep-fogged brain. With a punch to his pillow, he turned over, but the annoying ring persisted. Eyes half-closed, he threw his legs over the side of the bed, and picked up the phone. “Foley. What do you want?”
“Uh...sorry to wake you, Chief.” Duly chastised, the desk sergeant’s voice sounded cautious. “A Mrs. Jamison called, sir. She insisted you get back to her right away. Her niece hasn’t come home. The niece called about six o’clock. Said she was on her way, but she never arrived. I explained the twenty-four hour wait period before filing a report, but the lady wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Now wide-awake, Matt looked at the clock. 11:07 pm. “No need to apologize. I know Mrs. Jamison well. She’s a force to be reckoned with. Call her back. Tell her I’m on my way.”
Anger bubbled inside as he slid warm feet into cold slippers. He’d told Sara not to be out after dark without an escort. Considering the recent attempts on her life, he couldn’t ignore Maddie’s concerns. Logic told him she had reason to sound the alarm. Most missing persons showed up unharmed. He could only pray that would be the case in this instance. But he couldn’t quell the apprehension that settled over him.
Sara Bradford’s Home
Twenty minutes later, Matt arrived at the Bradford home. Lights glowed from every window, a testament to the vigil within. A couple of cars he didn’t recognize sat under the portico in the driveway.
Matt swung his SUV in behind a black Mercedes.
Before he could ring the bell, Shannon Connelly opened the door, her face ashen. “I’m so glad you’re here, Matt. Come in. Everyone’s in the den.”
Shannon led him down the hallway into the library where Maddie, Colin, and Jeffery Hayden, the Greek god who’d accompanied Sara to the Stanton party, waited.
Palpable silence hung over the distraught group. The two men stood in front of the hearth, backs to the embers of a dying blaze. A pot of coffee and a plate of sandwiches rested on a teacart. Three pairs of eyes became alert when he entered the room with Shannon.
“Thank you for coming, Matthew.” Maddie Jamison rose from a chair to greet him, her pale skin drawn tight across the cheekbones. “I...need your help. I’m afraid something terrible has happened to Sara...” Maddie lowered herself back into the chair. “Help yourself to the coffee and food. Beatrice insisted on making them. Keeping busy helps her cope. She’s concerned, as indeed, we all are.”
Shannon moved to the cart and filled a cup. She handed it to Matt. “You look like you could use this.”
He took a grateful sip. “Tell me why you’re sure Sara is in trouble. Could she have stopped off somewhere, forgotten to call?”
“Not Sara,” Maddie said.
Maddie continued, “She always calls if she’s delayed for any reason. She wanted to be home for dinner with the children. Matthew, you know about the recent attempts...”
“I’m afraid it’s serious, Matt,” Colin said. “Jeffery and I went to the church. We found her car, still in the parking lot, the door open, and her purse in the front seat. The cell phone lay on the ground by the vehicle. As a cop, I’m sure you know what that means.”
Maddie sat small and still, apprehensive lines creased her normally smooth brow. Matt touched her shoulder. “Try not to worry. I’ll put my people on it immediately. Have you called any of her friends?”
“Most of them are here.” She nodded at the others. “Except for the people in the bus ministry and I’m sure she isn’t with any of them.”
“Humor me. Give Shannon a list of Sara’s friends and their phone numbers.”
The task would give Maddie a chore to do. He wanted to ask Colin some questions but not in Maddie’s presence.
After Maddie left the room, Matt pulled Colin aside. “There were definite signs of a struggle in the church parking lot?”
Colin nodded. “As I said, the car door was open, her cell phone was lying on the ground. It appeared someone surprised her.”
With a motion for Colin to follow him, Matt led him through the front entrance and outside. Jeffery Hayden followed.
Matt stopped near his car. “Colin, did Maddie tell you we found the car that killed Josh?”
Colin nodded.
“I didn’t want to ask this in front of Maddie, but under the circumstances, do you think it’s possible she may have staged the scene at the church. Decided to run rather than face murder charges?”
For the first time, Hayden spoke. “Not Sara. Never.” Hayden’s jaw clenched. “She wouldn’t leave without telling Maddie, and she wouldn’t kill anyone. I’ve known Sara for a long time. She’s no coward. She’d face any charges against her and prove them wrong.”
“It’s my job to look at this from all angles. Because of the past attempts on her life, I’ll treat this as a kidnapping. We’ll pull her car in; ask questions of the neighbors, see if they saw or heard anything.”
Colin nodded. “I think you should. I have to agree with Jeffery on this. Sara wouldn’t leave, not when she knew Maddie would be worried sick about her. And don’t forget, she just brought those kids home.”
“Where are the children?” Matt asked.
Colin stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded towards the house. “Shannon read them a bedtime story and put them to bed. They don’t know what’s happened. We didn’t think they needed anything else to upset them. If we don’t find Sara soon, they’ll have to know. Not a job I want to tackle.”
Shannon walked out of the house to Colin’s side. She slipped her arm through his. “I called two of Sara’s friends. They haven’t seen or heard from her. Find her, Matt. She’s in danger. I know it.”
Matt walked around his car and got into the driver’s seat. The reflections of the three friends were outlined in his rearview mirror as he drove away.
He had worn a confident demeanor in their presence, but he was more than a little troubled. The woman he’d comforted in the kitchen wasn’t the type to run.
Stopped at a red light on his way back to the station, Matt glanced at his cell phone. He’d missed two calls from Sara, about the time she’d vanished.
CHAPTER 26
Outside Twin Falls, Texas
The touch of the tile floor sent needles of cold piercing into Sara’s body. She shivered uncontrollably as she tugged the sweater tight around her body. The vicious pain in her head caused her stomach to roll.
The icy dungeon mocked her. Her own fault she’d landed in this situation. Matt warned her. She should have waited inside the church until Matt or a patrol car arrived. If she had insisted, the desk sergeant would have located Matt.
Couldn’t think about that now. The damage was done.
She faced death. If not from thirst and exposure, then from the hands of her abductor when he returned. But she also knew she couldn’t give up. Maddie, Danny, and Poppy gave her reasons to fight this predic
ament with everything in her power. The children couldn’t lose another caregiver. Not this soon. Not this way. She had to suck it up and find a way out. If she waited until her captor came back, she was dead. That reality spurred her into action.
The first step towards escape would be to find a light source so she could explore her prison.
No way to tell how long she had lain unconscious. A day? Hours? Urgency consumed her as she fingered the useless watch on her wrist—unable to read the time in the dark. She jerked upright, and gulped a breath of air as pain shot through her head.
She extended her legs as far as possible. Physical activity might at least provide some warmth. Her foot bumped something solid. Closer examination revealed a wooden column that braced the ceiling.
With her back pressed against the partition, she straightened and slowly rose to her feet, fighting the vertigo washing over her. She grabbed hold of the beam and regained her balance, but still a little shaky.
From the column, she reached out and touched the wall. Moving around the room, she ran her hands up and down the partition in search of a light switch. Nothing.
As she continued the circuit around the area, her shin connected with a sofa and a small table. Her heart leapt as she touched a refrigerator and her fingers made a frantic search for the door handle. With a steady hand, she opened the door.
Only more darkness.
The panic-demon gripped her again, until the warm air emanating from inside the appliance, told her the power was off. Probably worked from a generator that had been turned off.
She closed the door and pushed her fingers into the sweater pockets. The iPhone was gone. Either her assailant had removed it or the phone had slipped out during the attack.
That cell phone would solve all her problems. Even if she didn’t know where she was, the authorities could find her with the phone’s GPS feature.
Continuing exploration around the wall, she bumped into a desk. She groped through each drawer and fingered every item, trying to identify the objects by touch. Pliers, a hammer, a few nails. After searching four drawers, she had nothing but tools, which she might be able to use later. If only she could see.
The items she’d hoped for, she found in the last drawer. A box of four candles. But no matches. Success urged her on. There should be matches or some means to light the candles. She searched the drawers again. Still no matches.
“Arrrrrgh,” she slammed the last draw closed and groaned in frustration.
A tight one-handed grip on the precious candles, she continued the search, wincing as an object jammed into her leg. Something made of wood protruded from the wall. She rubbed the bump that formed, just above her ankle, then reached out. It was a stairwell in a basement or cellar.
No handrails on the stairs. She moved up them like a child, sitting on one-step and pushing up to the next level with her hands and feet.
At the top, she found a metal door. The discovery gave her added strength. She pulled against the doorknob with every ounce of power that remained. Before long, her breath came in exhausted gasps, her head throbbed and the queasiness returned. For the moment she conceded defeat.
Her dungeon―locked securely from the outside.
Twin Falls Police Station
By one o’clock Saturday afternoon, Matt’s people had inspected the pavement where Sara’s car was parked, and Dale McCulloch had gone over every inch of the rented sedan. The search yielded no clues as to who her abductor might have been.
Two patrol officers had interviewed neighbors in the church vicinity. A senior citizen out walking his dog around six-thirty Friday evening saw a man and a woman in the church parking lot, but he couldn’t describe either.
Despite efforts to keep Sara at a distance, she had become more than just another missing person. But she was still a suspect in a murder case. For that reason alone, Matt had to cover all the bases.
With every hour that passed, Matt’s frustration mounted. He’d had her picture flashed on local news outlets, and two of his men checked car rentals, taxicabs and flight schedules. Part of his responsibility as a cop. He’d known it was a wasted effort. And he was right.
Matt called Seth Davidson to meet him at church that morning, before services. They’d knelt at the altar and prayed for Sara’s safety. No time to stay over for church. The first forty-eight hours after abduction were crucial. Each minute that passed lessened the odds of finding her alive.
****
Sara whacked the doorframe with her palm in frustration. The salty taste of blood on her tongue told her she’d bitten her bottom lip. Fighting back tears, she lowered herself to the last step. Panic and despair was the enemy. Remain calm. Stay focused.
Maddie or Matthew Foley would start a search for her. How they would find her, she had no clue. Even she didn’t know where she was.
Chin in her hands, she refocused on the problem at hand.
Someone placed candles here, for power failures. They must have provided some means to light them. She just had to find the matches, a lighter, or whatever. No matter how long it took. She rose to her feet, using the wall for support, and started back around the room.
Sara slipped the candles into the sweater pocket and retraced her steps, checking above her head for shelves. She felt along the partition as high as she could reach until her arms ached, then felt stupid. A light switch would do her little good. It would be useless without the generator.
She passed the table and sofa again, finally drawn back to the refrigerator. On impulse, she stopped and checked the top. Her fingers closed around a large square box.
“Yes!” She slid the top back and fingered the wooden sticks.
For a fraction of a second, she paused––afraid to strike the match. What if she felt the heat but couldn’t see the flame? She removed the candles from her pocket, gripped the match in her other hand, and sat on the floor.
Pushing her fear deep inside, she drew the matchstick across the side of the box. The light flared in a bright blue and yellow flame. Nothing had ever looked so beautiful. With a trembling hand, she lit the wick.
Hope welled inside her. She had a fighting chance to survive this trial.
The candlelight renewed her courage. Things were looking up. A glance at her wristwatch gave her the time, 8:15. Morning or evening? No way to tell.
Since Josh’s death, she had gone through the motions of living. Going to her job, working the bus ministry, just putting in her time. If she survived this ordeal, she would do better. She’d raise those wonderful children, God had brought into her life, with unconditional love and understanding.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, Sara scanned the room. The frosty dungeon was a storm cellar, about twenty by fifteen feet. One room with a door to a small bathroom she’d somehow missed earlier. The switch she couldn’t find was a cord tied to a bare bulb in the ceiling. As expected, when she jerked the string, nothing happened.
On a bathroom shelf, she found a small battery operated radio. She pulled it down and pressed the on button. Static filled the small space. She tuned in to a local talk show. The familiar voice of the host, dispelled her sense of isolation. It also gave her the time and day. Saturday evening. She had been here since Friday night.
Knees weak, she moved to the cabinet, pulled down a cup, and filled it with water from the sink. The cool liquid soothed her parched throat, but it made her colder. She’d give a thousand dollars for a cup of hot tea with honey to ease her frayed nerves and warm her body.
Thirst quenched, she let the tallow drip into another cup, then set the candle inside. The wax would hold it upright after it hardened.
Sara moved towards the hide-a-bed sofa. She pulled the bed out and found two blankets and a pillow on the mattress. She retrieved the cover, and let the bed drop back into the base with a cloud of dust that filled the close space with the musty smell of rat droppings and damp fabric. She brushed away as much dust as possible from the couch, and wrapped the blankets around her s
houlders. Please don’t let there be spiders, she thought.
Now to see if there was food in the cabinets. When she opened the doors, a fair stock of staples appeared. At first glance, it looked to be mostly soup and beans. Unappetizing, but she could exist on them for a while.
Satisfied that her survival needs were met, Sara’s mind raced with possibilities. Perhaps she could dig out with the tools, or maybe unlock or pry the door loose.
She tackled the door again. Using the tools at the top of the stairs, she began to work on the doorknob. The screw heads on the knob were Phillips, and the only screwdriver she’d found was a flat-head. She gave it a try anyway, before finally admitting defeat. With the claw end of the hammer, she tried to pry the knob plate off. No luck.
After an hour, exhaustion overcame her. The knob had loosened but was nowhere near ready to come off. She stopped. Her head throbbed and nausea swept over her. She’d try again after she rested.
It was after midnight when disappointment slowed her steps as she walked back down the stairs. She lay on the sofa, and wrapped herself in the covering. Welcome warmth seeped into her body.
The need for rest overshadowed the smell of the blankets.
****
The muffled sound of thunder filtered into the cellar along, with the sounds of raindrops splashing against the ground above her. She had slept eight hours. Her eyelids seemed weighted. She let them close, sleepy in the soft candlelight. Her mind drifted off into a gentle, quiet place.
She awoke hours later to the sound of drip, drip, drip. Her fingers touched the floor.
Water.
The cellar had a leak somewhere.
What next? Along with darkness and cold, she could now add wet. Could pestilence be far behind?
Killer Reads: A Collection of the Best in Inspirational Suspense Page 45