Frankie’s eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness of the car trunk. She had bundled the towel as a pillow beneath her head to soften the impact of sudden halts and bumpy roads, but now the car was still, the engine turned off.
When she had first landed in the trunk, she actually found herself hoping that the car would drive from the beach immediately. That would mean that her abductor had left her broken bracelet on the ground. She prayed that Laurie would get her voicemail message, go looking for her, and understand that she intended the jewelry as a clue.
But she had waited in the dark car trunk, seconds and then minutes passing. Whoever grabbed her had grunted in frustration when she broke the pearl bracelet so they must have understood its importance—proof that Betsy had been at the house when Frankie’s parents were killed.
Betsy, the one who had taken her in when she’d suddenly become an orphan.
Why? Why would Betsy hurt her parents? She replayed that voice on the beach. Get up or I’ll shoot you. The person was obviously disguising their voice. But Betsy, grabbing her and shoving her in a car trunk? No. She couldn’t believe it.
She had no way of tracking time, but her best guess was that the drive lasted fifteen minutes before coming to a stop. The engine turned off, and she heard the driver’s door open and shut, but no one had come for her yet. How long had it been? Another fifteen minutes?
Is anyone even looking for me?
Exploring the area within her reach, she felt a netting-like material lining the side of the trunk. Pulling at it with her fingertips, she realized the netting stretched. It was a storage space.
She found the opening and reached inside. She pulled out a plastic box the size of an old-time videocassette. When she snapped it open, the contents spilled onto her chest. She picked up what seemed like a small piece of paper. Holding it up, she made out the shape of a Band-Aid. It was a first aid kit. Useless.
She reached into the storage cubby again and this time pulled out some type of can. It was cool to the touch. She found a button on the top and pressed it. She immediately recognized the smell of bug spray. She held her breath and pressed her eyes shut to protect against the fumes. If he ever opened the trunk, she could go for his eyes and make a run for it if that was her only chance.
She reached in again and felt something else tube-shaped. Not a can. This was heavier. Much heavier. Fumbling with it, she found a switch. The trunk was suddenly bathed in light. She squinted, quickly turning it back off. She tapped the flashlight against the palm of her left hand and began to make a plan.