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NASH WOKE, SHIVERING. He grabbed the blankets he’d tossed to the floor. Hot, cold, hot, cold. Had Danika come home? He’d have heard her car. Seen the security lights.
He searched for his phone. Not in his pocket, not on the end table, not on the coffee table. On the floor. He grabbed it, his head throbbing as he bent over. He checked for missed calls, messages, and voicemails. Nothing.
Another bout of coughing sent Nash staggering to the kitchen for a new bottle of water. Danika should be home by now, shouldn’t she? He hadn’t imagined her texts in his fevered dreams, had he?
He’d been awake and coherent when he’d texted her. He checked the phone to make sure. Her last response had come nearly two hours ago. How long had he been asleep? When had it started snowing? He stepped to the front porch, eased the door open. Close to three inches had fallen. It hadn’t been snowing when he’d last fallen asleep, he remembered that much.
Had she decided to wait out the snow? She’d have let him know. Had she been in an accident? People who didn’t know how to drive in the snow got into accidents. Even if Danika had been driving carefully, a nutjob who figured if the speed limit said fifty, he should go fifty regardless of the conditions could have crashed into her. Or caused an accident that shut the roads down.
Crowds at the store? Long checkout lines? Possible. Or had she decided to ditch him?
She was coming back. He looked in her bedroom, her bathroom. All her things were there.
He checked the time of the text again. No mistake. It didn’t take two hours to get here from Deer Ridge, even allowing for a stop at the grocery store. Even if you were a woman shopper.
The chill racing down his spine wasn’t a result of the fever. It didn’t matter that there were at least a dozen logical reasons she hadn’t made it back yet. His gut said something was wrong. Bad wrong.
Most days he trusted his gut more than logic.
He called Grinch.
“Whoa, you sound awful.”
“Which is how I feel. Danika’s gone.”
“She left?” Kid chatter and laughter in the background. “Hang on. Let me go someplace less noisy.”
Nash sat on the couch. Too shaky to pace, he tapped a foot.
Grinch returned to the line. “Okay, what do you mean Danika’s gone?”
“She went with a tow truck guy—Fred’s Towing—to get new tires. Then she said she was picking up things at the store. That was two hours ago, and she hasn’t come back.”
“Not to belittle your concern, but it hasn’t been very long. Lots of reasons for delays.”
“I know. In my head. But—”
“But inside, it’s a different story. I know the feeling. Did you talk to her? How did she sound? Like someone was forcing her to follow commands?”
Drawing a breath had become a battle between iron bands around his chest and coughing. He sipped his water, took a shallow breath. “Texts. Not voice.”
A pause. “So all you know is someone was using her phone.”
Nash cursed to himself for not thinking of it. “Brain’s not functioning at full power. What can I do?”
“Sounds like you should be in bed, not doing anything.” Grinch’s voice had that parental air. He might be raising two kids, but Nash wasn’t one of them.
“I’ve slept half the day away. If I’d been more alert, I’d have started worrying sooner.”
“Got it that bad, do you?”
Maybe he did, but his feelings for Danika weren’t the issue now. Nash dragged his fingers through his damp hair. “I promised to keep her safe.”
“Let me make some calls. I’ll get back to you. You said new tires and Fred’s Towing, right?”
“Affirmative.”
Grinch hung up and Nash cursed. Out loud this time, which set off another coughing fit. Seemed like everyone was making calls. No one was getting calls.
Grinch called minutes later. “Fred’s driver dropped her off at Ridge Automotive. They put on four new tires and she left, in fine condition, two hours ago. She said store after that? Not which one?”
Nash read Danika’s text to Grinch.
“Closest store to Ridge Automotive is City Market. Walmart is at the other end of town.”
Nash tried to remember the lay of the land from the time they’d been to City Market. “Shopping center. Hardware store, couple of restaurants, bunch of small shops.”
“Right.”
“Security cameras?” Nash croaked out.
“Tricky,” Grinch said. “Depending on where she parked, we might have to schmooze half a dozen stores to see if we can look at their footage.”
“So we schmooze,” Nash said.
“Let me ask Elizabeth. She’s shopping in town and knows the managerial staff at City Market. She shops there for the café. They might let her have a peek. With Danika not really missing, just late, you’ll never get the cops to act, and if you show up sounding like you do, you’ll have everyone running for cover.”
Better than nothing. “Thanks.”
Nash gave Grinch the particulars of Danika’s car.
“On it.” Grinch disconnected.
Nash stared at his phone. This wasn’t like a Blackthorne op, waiting for the Go signal, or waiting for the bad guys to show up. At least then you knew bad guys were going to show up. This was What if and Maybe land. Not his favorite place to be.
He was still in chills mode, and his shaking fingers were useless on his tablet.
Could be worse. Could be a stomach or intestinal bug. Or both. As long as he didn’t have to operate in stealth mode with his coughing, he would manage.
He kept his phone open to the surveillance app, hoping to see Danika’s car rolling down the drive.
The phone rang and vibrated, and he nearly dropped it. Grinch. Fumbling fingers swiped to take the call. “You have something.”
“Good news, not so good news,” Grinch said. “Elizabeth was at the market when I called, and the manager let her see the video footage. Someone abducted Danika.”
*****
DANIKA STRUGGLED AGAINST her assailant, but he’d caught her by surprise and had her restrained too effectively. Her attempts to escape his grasp did nothing but cause more pain at her neck. A knife?
Thinking about a knife at her neck sharpened her sensations. Hot and wet. Sticky. He’d cut her.
“I said, don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”
Weren’t there people around? How could she be grabbed in broad daylight?
Because it’s not broad daylight. It’s half-dark, it’s snowing, and people aren’t looking around, they’re either waiting inside or hurrying to their own cars. They’re huddled into hats and hoods, watching their feet, looking out for icy spots. He’s got you hidden between his car and his body. His large, strong body.
Her captor popped the trunk of the Taurus. “Get in.”
He had to be kidding. She tried to use a self-defense move she’d learned, but between the knife, his size, and the way he had her restrained, her attempt was futile.
A sharp pain at the side of her head sent stars dancing behind her eyes. She crumpled.
When she got her bearings, she was lying on her side in a dark, cramped space. Memories wound their way to her consciousness. Shopping. Someone grabbing her. Pain.
Her head throbbed. Blood pounded in her ears. Her heart rammed against her ribcage. She fought the rising panic.
Deep breaths. Slow down. Think.
Where was she? The man had wanted her to climb into the trunk of his car. She’d refused. Obviously, it hadn’t mattered. From the bouncing and engine noises, that’s where she was.
She tried to shout, but only a muffled sound escaped. Something over her mouth. She explored, tentatively, with her tongue. Tape.
Her hands were secured behind her. Something hard and sharp cut against her wrists when she tried to move them. Her feet were secured, too.
Who was he and where was he taking her?
She tried to remember safety features built into newer cars from another article she’d written.
Release latches. The lever glowed in the darkness. It only worked if you had your hands free to pull on it.
Could she dislodge a tail light? She might be able to shift herself around enough to kick at the tail lights. She remembered her article. If the tail lights are covered by the trunk’s carpet, yank on it to remove it. Another task that required hands.
Besides, she told herself, removing a tail light only gave you a way to wave at people to attract their attention. If it was snowing the way it had been, nobody would notice. The cops could pull someone over for a missing tail light, but she couldn’t count on that happening. Not in snowy weather, where Danika was sure they’d have their hands full.
Kick the backseat in and climb over was another option. No, that was for being abandoned in the car, not while someone was driving it.
Wouldn’t it be ironic if the jerk who had captured her had read her article and made sure he’d counteracted all the escape measures?
Would Nash be wondering why she wasn’t home yet? She had no idea what time it was. How long since the guy had grabbed her. Once Nash figured out she was missing, not delayed, he’d tell Grinch, wouldn’t he? Or even go straight to Blackthorne.
Who knew how long that would take. Maybe his fever had gotten worse, and he’d gone to bed.
This was not the time to lie around and wait to be rescued.
Her neck stung. She remembered the knife. She couldn’t feel any dripping, so he hadn’t cut her too badly. Nice to know she wasn’t likely to bleed to death.
Blood. DNA. She could leave evidence all over the trunk of his car. Skin cells, everything she touched would leave proof she’d been in here.
She twisted her wrists, jerked at her restraints. Plastic ties, she thought. Pain stabbed her wrists as she struggled, but she ignored it. Another blood source.
Nerves had made her sweat. Sweat carried DNA. So did saliva. Could she loosen the tape over her mouth? Spit all over his car?
She rubbed her face back and forth on the carpet flooring of the trunk. Double duty. She’d have carpet fibers on her, and she’d leave her DNA on the carpet.
The car made a sharp turn, and she rolled like one of the soup cans she’d been trying to rescue when she was captured. Her car. It would be in the parking lot. Eventually, after all the businesses closed, someone would notice it. She wondered if it would be towed away. Where they’d take it. If they’d try to reach her.
Wouldn’t do any good. She’d left her old cell phone with the rest of her stuff, carrying her new disposable instead. She moved her legs, trying to take assessment of what was in the trunk. Where was her purse? Was it in the shopping cart? Did her captor have it up front with him? Or had he ditched it somewhere?
The car bumped along, each bounce accompanied by another wave of pain. What had he hit her with? Wet, crunchy sounds said they were driving through slush, but there was a different feel. Not like the highway. Danika pictured a dirt road. Someplace rural? Would that make it harder to find her?
She rubbed against the carpet again. Was a corner of the tape loosening? Could she dislodge it with her tongue?
Not yet. She kept working. Rub, lick. Rub, lick. Wriggle her mouth. Rub. Lick. Wriggle. If nothing else, it gave her something to do besides panic. A busy brain keeps the panic away.
Could she turn this into another article? She could see the headlines. Article About Escaping from Trunk Proves Useless to Reporter. Or, Reporter Kidnapped for Knowing Too Much. Of course, she had no idea what she knew, but this kidnapping had to be related to her job.
She let her mind go there as she worked on her restraints. The scammer article? That had been her best lead so far. She’d forwarded what she had to Grinch. What about another story? She hadn’t dug deeper into her other two ethnic groups yet. The Russians and the Scandinavians. The Scandinavians got together to celebrate holidays in their cultural traditions. All happy and friendly, and they’d seemed delighted to have the chance to share.
The Russians? A lot of negativity from the public, which is why she wanted to showcase their group in her article. Focus on them as individuals with the same wants and needs as everyone else. Prove they weren’t all corrupt or evil spies.
The car stopped. The engine shut off. Danika braced herself.