“Naomi didn’t say anything either,” Ruth pouted.
Angrier than he had ever been in his life, he was so angry his voice came out coldly furious. “Naomi was traumatized by the fire and the fact that she was being sexually abused and thought that she deserved what was happening to her.” Immediately he regretted blurting that out. He’d promised Naomi he would only tell people what had happened to her if it was absolutely necessary, and while telling about her abuse was, telling that she thought she deserved it was not. “I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t tell her that I told you.”
“I'm sorry.” Ruth began to cry. “I know I should have said something, and I’ve hated myself every day since then that I didn’t. I just didn’t know what to do. Everything was so messed up.”
Sam was having a hard time feeling any sympathy whatsoever for Ruth. “Tell me how your father looked when you saw him, what he said. I need to know every single thing you saw and heard,” he ordered harshly.
“I'm sorry, Sam. I wish I could go back, I wish I had done things differently, I'm so sorry.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Rylla went to comfort her, but Sam stopped her. Ruth didn’t need, or in his opinion deserve, to be coddled right now.
“Ruth, Naomi’s life is hanging in the balance. You didn’t help her then, help her now. Tell me everything you remember.”
Slowly she lifted her tear-stained face. “I was surprised to see him, I thought he was still in prison, but happy too. Until he stepped closer, then he looked different. His eyes, they were so cold, not like the father I remembered. He had a gun, he told me to get into the trunk of his car. I tried to run but I stumbled, fell, and bumped my head. I think he thought I was unconscious because he tossed me into the trunk and tied me up then he just drove off. He was muttering to himself most of the time.”
“Did you hear what he said?” Sam asked almost breathlessly. He had that feeling in his gut that said Naomi needed him.
“He said something about going back to where it all started.”
“Where what all started?” Allina asked. “The affair where Naomi was conceived?”
Ruth shook her head. “I don’t think so because he was talking about Naomi andthat night. At first, I thought he meant the fire, but then he mentioned a car accident.”
Everything suddenly clicked.
“The night Aggie’s mother died. Gene didn’t set the fire that killed his sons, Andrew Candella did. Gene blames Naomi for the deaths of David and Eli because Andrew set the fire because he believed Naomi was responsible for the death of his mother. We need to find out what hotel Sebastian Candella took his daughters to when he had his weekend visitations with them. That’s where Gene took Naomi.”
* * * * *
4:44 P.M.
She was so groggy.
Naomi was finding it increasingly difficult to remain awake.
But she had to. She had to get herself free. Gene had intended to keep her alive for a while so he could torture her, but she could tell he wouldn’t last. He was too angry with her. He blamed her for the fire, and now that she knew the truth about what had happened, she blamed herself too. She had always just blamed herself for not being able to get David and Eli out, but now she knew that the fire itself was all her fault. Because she had been with her father the night his wife died, and Andrew blamed her for his mother’s death.
David and Eli had paid the price.
How could she live with herself knowing that she was the reason her brothers were dead?
Part of her wanted to give up. Let Gene kill her.
Only she couldn’t.
She couldn’t give up because she knew that her death would crush Sam, and that mattered more to her than her own life.
So, she would do everything she could to get herself out of here, and if she couldn’t then to keep herself alive until Sam came.
She knew he would come for her. That was why she had left her phone behind, so he could figure out where her stalker would take her.
Naomi was pretty sure she knew where they were. It made sense that if Andrew blamed her for his mother’s death because his father was with her, then Gene would bring her to the place where it all started. They were in the hotel room where she and her father always spent their fortnightly visitations.
Knowing that help could be just on the other side of the wall was both a relief and a worry. Even if Gene hadn’t taped her mouth, she wouldn’t yell for help. Her stepfather would kill anyone who came to try and help her, and she couldn’t risk another person dying on her behalf.
For now, she was on her own.
Some stroke of luck had had Gene not finding the inside of the pen she had slipped up her sleeve in the trunk of his car. She wasn't sure it was enough to get her free, but she had to try. After all, she had nothing to lose.
She maneuvered the pen to try and lift the locking pin of the zip tie looped around the shower curtain rail. If she could get it undone, she could snap the tie around her wrists. She knew how to do it, she’d practiced it before never thinking she would ever be in a position to use it for real.