Monday, September 16th, 4:37 p.m.; south of Dallas, Texas
Charity Sinclair sat in the backseat of a four-door black sedan, staring at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Her shoulder-length dark hair, tinged red, was tousled; individual locks and strands stuck out on either side of her head. Her left eye was covered by a large lock; she pushed it away from her face, letting the hair slide between her fingers.
Charity was five-feet, six inches tall and weighed one hundred and fifteen pounds, but her slim figure gave her the appearance of a taller woman with longer legs. The lines of her bust, waist and hips flowed gracefully down her body, creating the outline of an hourglass. Her eyes were dark and large, set beneath dark eyebrows that followed the curvature of her round eyes. Eyeglasses with red plastic frames rested on her short, slender nose. Despite her attractive features, the one characteristic most people saw first was her smile. Her mouth was wide and paired with a full set of lips that Charity loved to color with red lipstick. A broad smile revealed large white teeth, her lips stopping short of showing her gum line. When she smiled, no one could resist the urge to return the gesture. It was her greatest physical quality. Men were enchanted by it. Women were jealous of it. Children were drawn to it.
Charity’s eyes shifted to the man in the driver’s seat. His chin rested on his chest and his head was cocked slightly to the right. One hand rested on his leg, palm up. The palm was bright red—the result of his efforts to stop the flow of blood from a bullet wound in his chest. She could not avert her eyes from the man. “What have I gotten myself into?” Several moments passed, but the body in the front seat still held her gaze. A nearby crow cawed and she blinked her eyes a couple of times before shutting them. Removing her eyeglasses, she set them on her lap and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. I’ve got to do something. Sitting in the backseat of the sedan was not going to save her life.
Charity slid the bows of her eyeglasses past her ears, placed a hand on the back of the front seat and twisted her upper body. Peering through the back window, she saw no other cars in sight. She opened the back door on the driver’s side and stepped out. Her fingers curled over the top of the doorframe and her right foot still inside the vehicle, she whipped her head left and right; her hair flew over one shoulder, and then the other. The road was deserted. Squinting, she gaped through a stand of trees on the other side of the road, her eyes straining to make out a few far away buildings and another road. With no other signs of civilization in the area, the storefronts were her best chance for help. She could not stay here much longer. If those men came, they would kill her for sure this time. They had found her once. They could find her again.
Charity slammed the door and ran across the road. Her thong shower sandals flopped against the heels of her feet. Roused from a late afternoon nap, she only had time to grab the sandals before she was rushed out of the house and pushed into the vehicle. A pair of light blue shorts and a white tank-top shirt accompanied the footwear.
Snaking between two large trees, she went deeper into the woods and disappeared from sight. Stepping over fallen limbs and zigzagging around low-hanging branches, sharp twigs scratched Charity’s arms and legs. She felt the waistband of her shorts stretch to the rear, halting her forward progress. She reached around and grabbed her shorts before they were torn from her body. She stepped backwards and released the branch. Her eyes caught sight of the scratches on her arms. She sighed. “This is going to be fun.”
For twenty minutes, Charity methodically made her way through the woods, until she emerged on the other side. Waving her hand in front of her face to clear away bothersome bugs, she got on her tiptoes to get a better view of the building she had seen from the road. The structure appeared to be a restaurant, but the sign was obscured. She lifted her right foot off the ground and slapped the back of her calf. A mosquito had enjoyed its last meal. Clearing the air in front of her once more, she entered the field, the only thing standing between her and the restaurant.
Tall blades of grass tickled her bare legs. Charity thought back to the moment that had started her current journey. She shook her head, wishing she had never opened her laptop computer that day. Being the inquisitive type, however, she was compelled to take a closer look at what had been displayed on her computer screen. If she had known then that her life would forever change, she would have closed the laptop and gone to the hotel pool. Without breaking her stride, she picked a red-colored wildflower and brought the blossom to her nose, breathing the aroma. She half laughed. No, I wouldn’t have. That’s not me.
Minutes later, Charity’s sandals slapped the concrete parking lot behind the restaurant. In the open, she felt exposed and quickened her pace, her sandals making a ‘flop-flop-flop’ sound. She tossed the flower aside and ran to the front door.