“They’re gone! Ha!” Mary heard herself laugh with nervous relief. She turned and double-checked, but the purplish headlights of the Mercedes were pinpoints. She exhaled, finally. The car could have been nothing, but she wasn’t taking chances. It could have happened the way she thought, but it hadn’t. Not this time, at least. She was safe again. The Lexus slowed, bringing its speed nearer the limit.
“What was that all about?” Gary asked her, almost laughing. “Are you crazy or what?”
“It’s a long story.” Mary looked over, and his dark eyes shone with that excitement men get from high speeds and St. Pauli Girl. Another disastrous blind date, but he might call her back. Guys love crazy chicks.
“Tell it, for Christ’s sake! This I’d love to hear.”
Mary sank into her seat, her adrenaline buzzing in her ears. Her heartbeat returned to normal, her mouth felt less dry. She tried to process what had just happened. How could she explain it? Should she explain it? And could she swear Gary to secrecy, or would he run back to Bennie and get her fired? He hadn’t come down yet, from his excitement.
“Hell, Bennie didn’t tell me you were nuts! He told me you were a nice, quiet girl!”
He? Mary must not have heard him right. “What did you say?”
“I said, Bennie never told me you were so wild! Wait’ll I get my hands on him!”
Her, Mary was about to correct him, then froze. He? Him? It was a natural mistake, but it would never have been made by a friend of Bennie’s. It would never have been made by anyone who had even met her. Mary’s thoughts jumped back in time. A regular lawyer? No dog hair in the car? Suddenly it all fit together. This man wasn’t Gary Haddon. This man worked for the Saracones. He must have followed her to the restaurant, then stationed himself at the bar. And she was in a speeding car with him, alone. She had to stay calm, and play along.
“He didn’t tell you that, did he?” Mary asked, but even she heard a new fear in her voice. It made the man look over, and his smile faded. They locked eyes and in one glance, he knew. She couldn’t pull it off. Oh my God, no. “Help!” Mary screamed and lunged for the door lock, but her injured hand couldn’t hold her grip.
“NO!” the man yelled.
“HELP! PLEASE!” Suddenly all hell broke loose in the car. Mary was yanked backward by her hair. Her neck almost broke. Her scalp exploded in pain.
“HELP!” Mary kept screaming, trying to pull him off. Her cell phone fell from her hand. The Lexus careened into the next lane. There was no other traffic. No one to see the struggle. It was too dark.
“HELP!” She struggled to free herself. Reach the door. The window. Anything. “HELP!”
The next thing Mary knew, her face was pushed into the car window with the impact of a head-on collision.
One that happened again and again and again.
Forty-Three
Mary woke up in darkness, lying down on her side. Something heavy covered her completely, like the biggest blanket in the world. It made it hard to breathe. Hot. Sticky. Her head was killing her. Her thoughts were cloudy. Confused. Pain seared into her brain from her forehead and her right eye.
god my head my head hurts so much
She reached up to touch the spot, but she couldn’t move her hand. She tried to move it again, but it wouldn’t budge. It was behind her back. She pulled harder, hurting her shoulder, but it still didn’t move. Something was binding her wrists. Both wrists. She could feel the pulling. The same thing with her legs. They were stuck together, one on top of the other. She couldn’t separate them. They were bound at the ankle.
Mary couldn’t see anything. It was the blanket, on top of her. Wetness poured from somewhere into her eyes, warm. She blinked and blinked but she couldn’t clear her eyes. They stung, drowning in the liquid. Her forehead burned. It felt like her hair was on fire. She tried to speak, she couldn’t open her mouth. She couldn’t move her lips. Something tight was covering them. It cut into her nostrils. It was so hard to breathe. She could feel moisture under her nose, she was leaking, warm and wet. Then she remembered.
The Lexus. The man. The car window. Her gut twisted at the memory. And the realization: her hands were tied behind her back. Her mouth was taped. Her head was probably bleeding. It was dark. Justin. In the next second, whatever she was in lurched forward, jostling her. She heard a powerful car engine. She smelled exhaust. Moving now.
She was in the trunk of a car. The Lexus? The Mercedes? Were both drivers in it together? Did it matter? Mary felt herself surrender to panic. Her heart thundered. She screamed, emitting only a muffled mmmm, a cry that began and ended in her throat. Terror rose in her chest. She couldn’t breathe.
MMMMMMM! MMMMMM! MMMMMM!
Mary told herself not to panic. Think. Plan. Figure it out. Be brave. No, be determined. She was determined to live. The Lexus picked up speed. The jostling was almost constant now. She could hear road noise. Other cars. She was lying on her right side. Judging from the pull, she was facing the front of the car. Her hands were tied at the back. She forced herself to think. Assess the situation.
Okay, okay, in a car trunk, going somewhere fast. Legs, mouth, and hands taped. Cell phone? Lost in the fight in the car. No one knew where she was, not even Bennie. Bennie thought she was with her friend Gary Haddon.
Mary tried to move her hands. Feel for a latch. Find the trunk lock. She wrenched her hands apart but they wouldn’t come undone. Duct tape, there, too. She could feel it up her arms, wrenching her shoulders almost out of their sockets. She ignored the stabbing in her forehead. Blinked blood from her eyes. She pulled and pulled, yanking her wrists apart with all her might. Nothing.
She raised her hands bound together, trying to feel for the latch. The lock. A wire. Anything. The blanket kept getting in the way, wrapping her up. Stiff and scratchy, a tarp. It smelled of garbage and motor oil. Wet splotches around her face. Her blood. Mary tried throwing off the tarp but couldn’t. There were yards and yards of it. Every time she moved, weight shifted on top. Clink. Clink. It made a clinking sound when it moved. He had weighted the tarp down with things. Tools. A shovel?
She kept moving her hands, scratching frantically around for a latch. All she could feel was the tarp. The car roared forward, with no turns in the road. The expressway. He had it planned all along. Out toward the airport, away from the city. There were warehouses. Industry. Distribution centers. The shipyard. The piers. Long stretches of roads, desolate after business hours. Then Chester, Delaware. Farther south. Or north.
No! She wriggled, trying to roll herself over, twisting this way and that, feeling frantically for any kind of latch. Her eyes filled with tears but she squeezed them shut. She thought of Mrs. Nyquist, riding bucking broncos. Bennie, rowing hard on the river. Judy, climbing huge rocks. Mary could never do stuff like that. She could never do it their way. She had to do it herself. Her way.
What can I do? Make funny noises or wiggle. What can’t I do? Move, scream, or save my own life. Guess what? My way sucks.
Mary had to do something. This man was taking her somewhere to kill her. The secondary location. Huh? Where had she heard that term? Not in law school. How did she know that term? Where else? She didn’t do anything anymore. Or go anywhere. Since Mike, all she did was work and watch TV.
TV! That was it! The Lifetime Channel! That was where she had heard it, on some show on Lifetime. Television for Women. The secondary location was where the bad guy took you when he wanted to kill you. The secondary location was the place you were never supposed to go.