by Katie Ruggle
Now that her stomach had settled, she scooted closer to the window and awkwardly rolled to her knees, trying to keep as quiet as possible. She couldn’t hear any sounds coming from beyond the wooden door, but that didn’t mean she was alone in the cabin. The last thing she wanted was for someone to hear and come knock her out again.
No, her brain corrected. The last thing you want is for someone to hear and come shoot you in the face.
With that cheery thought, Cara refocused on the window. The sill came to her chin, so she was just tall enough to see out once she used the side of her face to push the shade over. It rustled as she moved it, unsettled dust floating in the air, tickling her nose, and making her wish she had at least one hand free to rub her face. She shook her head slightly at the ridiculous thought. Of her current most urgent needs, scratching an itch was a pretty low priority.
The view outside the window focused her stray thoughts. No wonder they didn’t gag me. There was nothing out there except miles of sparse, sunburnt grass stretching farther than she could see. If it weren’t for the mountain peaks in the distance, she would’ve thought the cabin was on a prairie, rather than the high plains in the middle of the mountains. Although she’d only driven through Field County a couple of times, the rocky, flat openness seemed familiar, and she was almost certain that’s where she was.
Her brain worked as she smashed her cheek against the window, trying to see as much as possible from her awkward vantage point. No matter how hard she looked, though, there were just open high plains. She couldn’t see a driveway or even a two-track trail leading up to the site. It was as if aliens had dropped the cabin from the sky—with her in it.
Fear started nibbling around the edges of her mind, so she quickly smashed down her irrational thoughts. The driveway is on the other side of the cabin, she told herself firmly. I just can’t see it. In fact, there’s probably a road and other houses and an entire shopping mall on that side. I just have the room with a wilderness view. Even though she didn’t really believe her assurances, the possibility that she wasn’t in the middle of nowhere was enough for her to get a grip on her panic.
Knowing her sisters, Molly and Norah had most likely figured out who’d taken her and where they were keeping her in the first couple of hours. In fact, Molly probably had a plan in place—and eighteen backup plans—and she and Norah could very well be about to mount a Save Cara mission at this very moment.
That thought both reassured Cara and terrified her. As much as she wanted to be rescued, she didn’t want her sisters to be in any danger.
So start rescuing yourself, dummy. Resolve filled her, erasing the last of the hopelessness the sight of her barren surroundings had caused. She’d get herself out of here and save her sisters. It was time for her to be the hero.
She pulled back slightly to examine the window and swallowed a curse. Shiny silver screw heads dotted both sides of the wood bracketing the glass, angled in a way that meant those screws had been driven right into the surrounding frame. Even if she managed to reach the lock at the top of the window, there was no way it would be opening unless she broke the glass, making a loud crash in the process. She set that idea aside for plan C or D.
Easing her head away from the window, she allowed the shade to fall back into place. It made a light smacking sound as it tapped against the frame, and Cara froze, straining her ears for any indication that someone in the other room had heard. There was only silence except for the wind whistling outside.
She moved carefully so that she was on her knees facing the door. By arching her back, she could just reach one of the bands holding her ankles together, and she wished desperately she had a knife or box cutter. Without some type of sharp-edged tool, she could only brush the hard plastic tie with her fingertips, and that did nothing to help.
Swallowing a sound of frustration, she sat on her heels and curled her shoulders forward, easing the ache in her spine. Her mind hopped from one escape plan to another, each more implausible than the last. She was bound and stuck in a room. It would take several minutes of trying for her to open the door even if it was unlocked—which she doubted.
Okay. What’s the first step?
The answer was clear enough: Get out of the zip ties.
She mentally flipped through possible ways to accomplish that. She wouldn’t be able to break them, there didn’t seem to be anything in the room that could be used as a cutting tool, and they were tight enough to block most of her circulation, so she doubted she could work them off over her hands or feet.
She abandoned a half-thought-out notion to convince her captors to untie her. If—when—they returned to her bare room, it was doubtful they’d be here to free her. It was much more likely that bad things would happen. The longer she could escape notice, the better.
A creak of wood came from the other room, making her tense and stare at the door. Her thoughts raced, along with her heart. Had she made a noise? Did they know she was awake? Would the masked man come in and drug her again—or worse? Her breathing sped up until her vision grew wavy around the edges, and she forced herself to calm. Focus on the next step, she repeated over and over in her mind until she’d managed to lock down her panic enough to function again.
Giving up on the idea of getting out of her zip ties for now, she focused on the next part of her plan. Get out of the cabin. Her backup plan, in case she was really and truly stuck in this wooden shack, was to find some way to communicate with her sisters—phone, radio, fireworks, or whatever she could manage.
Even though she wasn’t positive that being outside the cabin in the middle of the wilderness would be the safest thing, it felt good to have a solid goal. Besides, the most urgent danger was a masked man who kept shooting knockout drugs into her system. If she could escape her captors, she could deal with whatever the empty high plains could throw at her…probably.
Pushing away thoughts of bears and mountain lions, Cara shifted onto her hip and then into a seated position. One of the wooden floorboards creaked beneath her, and she froze in place, holding her breath. Her blood rushed through her ears too loudly to hear anyone coming, so she carefully maneuvered her body so that her back was to the door. Despite it making her feel incredibly vulnerable not to be able to see someone coming into the room, she knew it was the fastest way she could travel while bound the way she was. Drawing up her knees, she pressed her feet against the floor and scooted herself backward, ignoring the way the rough floorboards grabbed at her pajama pants. The rustle of her clothing and the occasional creak from the floor made her tense, but there was no way to prevent every sound unless she stayed perfectly still, and that would get her nowhere—literally.
She was horribly tempted to glance over her shoulder at the door, to try to catch a glimpse in case someone entered, but she forced herself to keep her gaze focused on the shade-covered window. It was getting brighter outside, and the sunlight peeking around the shade was shifting from pale pink to golden. She wondered how long she’d slept—if it had been almost twelve hours or actually longer than that. It was a creepy feeling that she’d been out so long, especially since she knew her kidnapper—or kidnappers—had been with her at least for part of the time. They could have done anything to her while she was drugged.
She shoved that thought away. Instead, she tried to focus on making each motion as quiet as possible as she made her way across the floor like a backward inchworm. It seemed to take endless time to cross the tiny room, but when she finally allowed herself a quick glance over her shoulder, she found that she was just a few feet from the door.
Scooting closer, she looked up at the small cast-iron knob. Not only did she have to figure out a way to open the door—provided it wasn’t locked—but then she’d have to venture out into the rest of the cabin, possibly confronting one or more of her captors. Her brain instantly created an image of a whole army of ski-mask-wearing, gun-toting bad guys, all waiting fo
r her to try to get away. Suddenly, breaking the window and escaping that way seemed a lot more appealing.
Knock it off, she told herself firmly, banishing all thoughts of her probable bloody death. Resolutely, she pressed her shoulders against the wall, leaving space at her lower back so her hands didn’t get squashed. Bending her knees, she tucked her bound feet close and pushed up, using the wall for leverage. Her hoodie rubbed against the wood, making a shushing sound. Wincing, she tried to raise herself as slowly as possible, but the creak of the wood and rustle of fabric still sounded terrifyingly loud in her ears.
Her quadriceps burned as she inched higher, balancing on feet that were too close together. It reminded her of chair pose in yoga, and she almost let a frantic gasp of laughter escape before she bit back the sound. Who would’ve thought that yoga had practical, lifesaving applications?
Inch by inch, her shoulders crept up the wall as her thighs trembled from the effort of the painfully slow movement. In an effort to find her balance, she rocked a little on the soles of her feet, the small swaying motion adding to the difficulty of the maneuver.
If I get out of here alive, she silently promised herself, I will first kiss Felicity’s feet in thanks for pushing us every morning, even when we whined about it. Then, I will ask her to make us work even harder from now on.
The slight shake in her legs increased until her whole body trembled, and she told herself it was just muscle strain, not complete terror. With a final push, she straightened to standing, letting out her breath silently in a relieved whoosh. There wasn’t time to waste, though, so she didn’t allow herself to rest. Shuffling sideways, she turned so the doorknob was at her back and in reach of her bound hands.
The plastic zip tie cut into her wrists as she closed her fingers around the cold metal knob. It turned silently in her grip, and her stomach jumped with hope and apprehension. It couldn’t be so easy, could it? What kind of kidnappers didn’t even lock the door?
Trying her best to not think of what might be on the other side waiting for her, Cara pushed at the door, but it didn’t budge. It must have a dead bolt on the other side. Of course it wasn’t actually unlocked. Her disappointment was cut with a thread of relief. As terrifying as it was to be locked in a strange room, at least she was alone and unhurt. A huge part of her didn’t want to go out into the rest of the cabin and face unknown dangers.
Before she released the knob, she pushed at it again, just in case the door was simply stuck, rather than locked. As she pressed, she glanced to the side. When she saw the black iron hinges, she blinked as realization struck. Immediately, she felt like a huge idiot.
The door opens in, dummy.
She mentally smacked herself for being stupid as she drew a deep, bracing breath and shuffled forward. Without the door or wall to help support her, it was hard to balance, and she wobbled with each tiny, mincing step. As tightly as her ankles were bound, she could barely push the toes of one foot ahead of the other, and it took much too long for her to inch along the rough floorboards.
The latch gave a snick as it released, and the door opened. As soon as it was clear of the jamb, she released the knob slowly, her fingers aching from the awkward angle. She started shuffling in a half circle, turning to face the door, all too aware that any sound would carry farther now.
As she inched closer to the door, her anxious impatience got the best of her. She shoved her foot forward too quickly, knocking herself off-balance. Her upper body swayed unsteadily, threatening to tip her over. Sucking in a panicked breath, she jerked on the zip tie around her wrists, automatically attempting to get her hands in front of her to catch her. The motion pitched her forward even more, bringing her face just inches from the door. She knew that if she fell against the door, it would slam closed, letting everyone in and around the cabin know that she was awake and attempting to escape.
Desperately, she clamped down her abs and steadied her swaying upper body, dragging her torso back in line with her bound feet. For a moment, she stood still except for the fine tremor making her muscles vibrate, her brain replaying the close call over and over.
I promise to ask Fifi to make us do more core work, too.
The thought of home and her sisters and her normal routine helped calm her enough to plan her next move. She needed to free her legs at the very least. From her view out the window, they were very likely in the middle of nowhere, and she couldn’t shuffle her way over miles of rough terrain. She needed to find a knife or some type of sharp edge she could use to cut the zip ties. The kitchen would be best, since that was normally where knives lived.
With renewed determination, she used her chin to nudge the door open a little more, just enough so that she could see out. As she peered through the crack, her stomach knotted, but she relaxed slightly when the army of imagined bad guys wasn’t there. All she could see was a rough wooden wall and the arm of a ratty-looking sofa. Her immediate relief disappeared, since she knew that the kidnapper—or kidnappers—could very well be in the part of the room she couldn’t see. Were they watching the door? Creeping closer toward her? The suspense was too much to handle, and she used her chin to open the door even more, the need to know overcoming her caution.
Using the frame to balance, she pushed far enough into the opening to see the entire room. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears as she looked wildly around, her muscles tensed and ready to fight, even as she knew that, bound as she was, there’d be little she could do to protect herself. At best, any struggle would end with her once again drugged and unconscious. At worst…
Now wasn’t time to think of the worst.
Tamping down the desire to hide, she forced herself to look around the room. The space was empty. All the air rushed out of her as relief made her head spin. She glanced over everything again, more calmly this time, making sure that she hadn’t overlooked anyone. The area was mostly living space, with a small kitchen lining one wall. The worn couch was the only furniture except for an equally battered wooden table with a couple of camp chairs pulled up to it. From her angle, Cara couldn’t see much except the glare of the morning sun out of the single window. There were two doors besides the one to her room. One was slightly ajar, revealing a bathroom, and the other appeared to be a front door. Her heartbeat sped up again at the sight, making the possibility of escape seem so real.
She shouldered open her door the rest of the way and started her agonizingly slow shuffle. Even though it would’ve been faster to sit and scoot backwards, she couldn’t bring herself to get down on the floor again. Despite her slow and wobbly progress, she felt infinitely less vulnerable on her feet.
She’d feel even better with a knife. Cara headed for the kitchen, even though the sparse furnishings made her worry that the drawers and cupboards would be empty. No matter. All she needed was one sharp edge.
A movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she whipped her head around just as a large form passed by the window. She froze and then tried to rush her steps, terrified that whoever was outside would be coming through the front door any second, catching her out of her room but still bound and helpless. But as soon as she hurried, as soon as she let the spike of fear overwhelm her, her body overbalanced, and she tumbled toward the floor.
Landing on her side with a heavy thud, Cara held her breath, not even noticing the dull throb of pain in her shoulder and hip. She stared at the front door, unable to move as she waited for it to open and let in her kidnapper. Even if he hadn’t heard her hard landing, there was no way he wouldn’t see her immediately now, sprawled across the floor as she was.
Another movement at the window broke her fixed, terrified gaze, and she looked over to see a man cross it again, moving away from the door this time. He’d shoved his ski mask up to his forehead and was holding a cell phone to his ear. As he passed, she stayed completely still, not daring to breathe until she couldn’t see him any longer.
Once he was out of sight, she sucked in a breath and swiveled around until she was sitting with her back to the kitchen. She pulled her legs in and scooted backward as quickly as she could. The kidnapper could be leaving, or he could’ve just forgotten something. If that was true, then he’d be coming through the door within seconds. She needed to have her arms and legs free before that happened.
She could hear him speaking, but his words were muffled. Her hands bumped against the refrigerator, and she hurried to turn to face the bottom row of cupboards. She went for a stack of drawers first, biting down on the top drawer pull and yanking it open, revealing a few loose forks and spoons scattered with some drinking straws. The man’s voice was getting louder again, becoming clear enough that she could make out an occasional word.
“We’re…around…want…Kavenski.”
She paused for a half of a second at the name, her brain racing to make sense of it. Henry was involved? She’d assumed that this was part of Jane’s mess, that she was being held ransom for the priceless necklace her mother had stolen, but that wouldn’t involve Henry Kavenski…unless he was in on it, too.
Her mind revolted at the idea, even as her practical side reminded her that he was supposedly a killer. Why would he hesitate at kidnapping?
Because it’s me! the soft, squishy, naively romantic part of her wailed. He wouldn’t hurt me!
Shaking off the distraction, she refocused on her task. It didn’t matter at the moment who’d engineered her kidnapping. What was important was getting her hands and feet free so she wasn’t completely helpless. Quietly closing the top drawer with her forehead, she used her teeth to open the second one.
There!
With a fierce sense of triumph, she stared down at her find. Tangled in a mess of wooden spoons and a can opener and a pair of tongs was a bread knife. Before she could fish it out, the kidnapper crossed the window again, and Cara went still. The man was a stranger and extraordinarily ordinary looking. His features were average, his appearance so nondescript that Cara knew she’d have trouble describing him accurately if she managed to get away. Still, she fought her panic in order to take in the details, knowing he was an important part of solving her kidnapping.