3

Stay focused, Bailey. The trees disappeared, replaced with a cloudy December sky. The periodic whoosh of passing cars let me know which direction we were going on the interstate. Pretty sure we took a right off the exit, which meant toward Dallas.

Keep thinking. The babies settled down, and I turned my attention to the interior of my mobile prison. Maybe I could write HELP on my hand and slip it up the window. Nothing, not a stray pen to write with or use as a weapon. Maybe I could sit up and put my hands on his face, cause the car to swerve, get attention. No. An accident might hurt the babies. If I could just find my voice. I took a deep breath, but coughed against the acrid scent of exhaust. “Where are you taking me?” The fear in my tearful voice made me mad. I needed to be strong.

“I won’t hurt you.” He kept his eyes on the road.

“Please, I need to go to the bathroom.” Keep your head, Bailey.

“I told you to shut up. You can go in a minute.” The earlier venom in his voice had morphed to a nervous tremor. “I won’t hurt you.”

“You already did. You wrenched my arm and practically dragged me to this car. I’m pregnant, can’t you see that?” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Keep your head. God help me. “Please slow down.”

He had to be doing ninety.

I leaned against the door. Maybe I could jump out if he’d slow down, but the interstate offered no chance for that. Could I jump out without hurting my babies? Maybe I could flag somebody driving past.

“I just want to talk to you. All those people around you wouldn’t let that happen.” He ran a shaking hand through his hair.

“You kidnapped me so you could talk to me? You risked jail so you could talk to me? I don’t understand.” My heart beat so rapidly I thought I might be sick.

“You’d press charges against your own father?” He looked over his shoulder at me and then suddenly lurched and grabbed my arm, bobbing his vision between me and the road.

I tried to pull free. “Please, you’re hurting me. I don’t know you from Adam. This isn’t right. Please, let me out. I’ll get a ride home.”

“You can’t just go for a ride with your old man?” His grip tightened until my fingertips went numb.

He accelerated then jerked and flailed my arm from side to side. “I said I need to talk to you. Don’t make it so difficult!” Spittle spewed from the side of his mouth. His breath reeked of alcohol.

Terror tightened my chest. I gripped the door handle and prayed. He weaved in and out of traffic. It was a wonder I didn’t hear fast-approaching sirens. That would be a good thing.

My babies would not die like this. Father, I’m turning this over to you. Please lead me. I willed my breathing to slow. What kind of mother would I be if I lost my head now? “All right, let’s talk. But pull over or something. Your driving is scaring me. It’s not good for my babies.” I tugged my arm away.

He shot me a surprised look. “Twins?” He let go.

The blood rushed into my fingers, making them tingle. I forced myself to look up at him. Blue veins bulged in his neck like lightning bolts. He wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve. Gradually, he slowed the car’s speed.

“Let’s go back to Marshall. There are lots of places we can talk.”

“Right. As soon as I let you out of this car, you’ll be calling the police.” He revved up the engine again.

“It’s amazing they’re not on your tail already.”

He jerked his head toward me, lips white.

My breath caught in my throat. I’d said the wrong thing.

He banged his fist on the steering wheel. “You’d turn me in? Your own father? She must have made you hate me.”

The volume in his rant hurt my ears. “No, I’m sorry. I mean that the way we left, it will cause my family to worry. If I could just let them know I’m all right, then there’d be no police and we can talk.” Some kind of supernatural strength helped me lift my hand over the driver’s seat and touch his arm, which seemed to calm him.

He relaxed and slowed the car again.

“Are we close to a bathroom?” I really needed to go now.

Brown—I couldn’t think of him as my father—didn’t answer. His shoulders slumped and his eyelids drooped a little. He took a breath as though about to speak, but his eyes darted to the rear view mirror. His posture shot to attention.

Sirens and flashing lights passed us and faded.

Tears welled as nausea sent my free hand to my mouth. This couldn’t be happening. The babies rolled across my stomach, as though stretching out for a nap. Yes, sleep little ones, I’ll get you out of this, I promise.

Hidden in the shelter of My wings. All three of you.

Awed at the sudden calm and sense of God’s presence, I relaxed, and the nausea subsided. I noticed that Brown’s attitude mirrored mine. I must remain calm.

The turn signal clicking, followed by the grinding of tires on gravel, gave me hope of a stop. Could I gather enough adrenaline to make a getaway?

His car door opened, and he pulled down his seat-back and stood before me. “Sit up, but don’t move.”

His red eyes and shaking hands alarmed me. If he was losing it, he might do something rash, like shoot me.

We were parked behind an abandoned gas station off an equally abandoned exit. He unlocked a garage door, raised it, and then disappeared inside.

Cars whooshed by on the highway. I slid out of the car determined to make my way around the corner of the station and flag someone down. Dizziness weakened me as I stood on my feet, but I pushed ahead.

Brown backed out of the garage in a white, older model sedan. He exited the white car, grabbed me by the wrist and pushed me into its back seat, gun pointing at my head.

“Please, I really need to go the bathroom. I can’t go any farther without a bathroom break.”

He pulled me back out of the car then kicked open another door revealing a nasty bathroom. He pushed me in and closed the door. At first I could see his back through the hole where the doorknob should have been; then he was gone. The sickening smell of that bathroom, obviously used and no water turned on to flush, almost made me succumb to throwing up. I wanted out of there fast, but I also needed another minute to myself.

Where was he? The roar of a car engine, then grinding gravel, sent hope into my heart. He was leaving me here! Yes, perfect. He’d come to his senses. I’d wave down a passing car and be home in no time. The slow moving car stopped so I stepped outside.

He’d driven the black car into the garage.

Could I reach the garage door and pull it down, trapping him inside? Make my way up to the highway? No dice.

I’d barely taken two steps before he’d run out of the garage, slammed the door down and concealed the other car. He shoved me again into the back seat of the white car.

“Lay down!” he barked.

I checked out this new prison for weapons, anything. Clean as a whistle. The babies jostled for position. Protect them, Father. Surely the stress I felt affected their peace. Show me what to do. The damp fabric covering the car seat smelled musty, but I had to lay down my head.

My heart sank as I realized that even if someone had seen the black car tearing out of Exit 477, we were in a different vehicle. No one would be looking for a white car. Where would he take me? This changed everything. He’d planned this. He was in worse shape than I’d imagined. More than anger. Desperate derangement.

I closed my eyes. Father, please. I reached and held onto my gold cross necklace. A thought jumped forward. I yanked it off my neck and tossed it out, just as he raised the electric windows. Had he seen it fly?

He tore back onto the highway without another word. At least I’d been able to leave one clue. Would anyone find it? I couldn’t imagine, but nothing was impossible with God.