Resisting the urge to shake her, instead he asked, “Do you know who he is, Ruth?”
Tears rolled down her pale cheeks and she nodded.
Relief swamped him. “Who is he?”
Shock glazed her eyes as her hands clawed at his sweater. “It’s my father.”
* * * * *
12:34 P.M.
Naomi heard someone call her name.
It was Sam.
He’d come for her.
For a moment she let herself believe that he was going to get to her in time, but she knew he wasn't.
The blow to her head hadn’t knocked her out, but it had stunned her enough that she had sunk to the ground and left her unable to coordinate her movements enough to do anything more than lie there and attempt to breathe through the swirling pain and dizziness.
She had lost sight of Ruth, but she knew her stalker had removed her from the trunk.
She knew this because she had been thrown inside it.
Her hands had been secured behind her back, her ankles had been tied together, and a piece of tape had been slapped over her mouth.
The thunk with which the lid had closed had a scary air of finality.
It was dark in there, and restrained as she was, Naomi has started to panic. She needed to move, to walk, to run, to do anything, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything but lie here, cramped and in pain, struggling to calm her breathing before she hyperventilated.
When Sam had screamed her name, the tires had screeched as he sped off.
Taking her away from everything she loved. Taking her away and she didn’t know if she would ever return.
Still, Naomi didn’t regret her decision. She wasn't sure whether Ruth was still alive or not, but at least she had given her sister a chance. For that she would have done almost anything.
As the car twisted and turned around corners, Naomi was thrown about, the motion adding to the dizziness in her head. It had only been five days since she’d received her third concussion in twelve months, another head injury was the last thing she needed. Her brain wanted to shut down, to just close off and let her fade away, but she was fighting it with every fiber or her being. She knew that if she lost consciousness she was never walking away from this alive.
She had to fight.
If nothing else, she was a fighter.
Shenevergave up. Ever. And she wasn't giving up now.
She just needed to find something to give her an advantage.
She still hadn’t seen the stalker, so she still had no idea who he was, but he had been planning this for a long time, he no doubt had a secure location to take her to. She wasn't sure whether talking her way out of this was an option but given the lengths he had gone to to get her she highly doubted it.
That meant that she was going to need to find a way to escape.
Sam may or may not be able to find her, but she couldn’t count on that. She had to rely on herself.
With her hands behind her, she had extremely limited movement but that didn’t stop her. Twisting herself around she began to feel over every inch of the trunk. Trying to reach every corner and crevice nearly popped her shoulders out of their sockets, but she wouldn’t give up. Her life depended on her finding something that would help her. She had to get out of this alive, she had so much to live for, she couldn’t accept that she would die here.
Just when she thought she couldn’t bear the pain in her joints a second longer, her fingertips brushed against something. Something long and thin, it felt like the ink refill of a pen. She may be able to use that to try and lift the locking bar so she could get out of the zip ties.
Her hand closed over it just as the car rolled to a stop.