14

The shadow moved inside the room, then shut the door. The figure turned towards Paul.

The doorbell. Opening the door. The woman at the door. Inside his house. Turning his back to…to do something…to pick up his phone. His phone to call someone. And then pain…electrifying pain. A stun gun.

She walked closer. Her eyes widened when she noticed him looking at her. “Oh, so you’re awake this time. Well, I knew it had to happen sooner or later.”

Too shocked to say anything, Paul simply stared.

Using her foot, she nudged the overturned water still on the floor. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue, Paul? Well, you’ll drink when you get thirsty enough.” She tossed him a slice of bread and placed another cup on the crate.

His mouth salivated at the sight, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of acting as if he was starving—even though he was. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why are you doing this?” She mimicked his words. “Does it really matter why? All that matters is that I am. And you can’t do anything about it.” She turned and left.

Silence filled the room as he stared at the closed door. He’d wanted to know who was behind this and now he did. But…but it was so unbelievable.

His gazed moved back up to the keys. Now he knew they’d definitely been put there to taunt him. But why? What had he done to make her do this to him?

He didn’t have an answer. Only ten or twelve feet separated him from freedom. But he couldn’t get to the keys. Not with the chains on. Paul tried to stand. The chain around his wrist had been looped through the other so he couldn’t stand up. His knees smashed into the concrete floor. Crawling, he moved to the wall as far as he could go. He looked back at his corner. Six feet, give or take. About halfway to the door and the keys. The milk cooler stood between him and the door. Maybe he could lift the cooler and remove the chain. Then maybe he could reach the keys. He tried to lift the cooler, but it was too heavy.

When he was exhausted, he crawled back to the corner and sat down on the straw. Tired from his efforts, Paul closed his eyes. A picture of Maven floated before him. Oh, dear, sweet Maven. Had she figured out something was wrong yet?

Tears sprang to his eyes as he imagined her at the church. It had taken her so long to trust him and then to love him.

Surely, by now, someone had to be searching for him.

His gaze landed on the bread. He picked it up. Forcing himself not to gobble it all down at once, he savored each bite. Thank You, God, for this food. May it nourish my body.

God was in control—as always.

When the food was gone, Paul stared at the water. His mouth was dry from the bread. He could wait no longer. He picked up the water bottle.