Chapter One Hundred Two Kiersten
Chapter One Hundred Two
Kiersten
Kiersten stopped the record button on her phone and played the conversation back.
Elation surged through her body as Dickie’s voice filled the room again. It worked. Then she looked up at the ceiling, and despair displaced this temporary rush of hope.
A recording was useless if no one ever heard it.
Frantically, she pulled the cot over to the corner of the room and did exactly what Dottie had done. Her fingers shook as she stuffed the wool blanket into the end of the hose protruding from the ceiling.
The person on the other end simply hauled the tube up through the hole and removed the blanket.
She had nothing left except her clothes, and there was no point in sacrificing those. Trey and Chip would just pull the tube up again, remove the blockage, and shove it back through.
She may as well remain fully clothed and die with dignity. She sat down on the cot and buried her face in her hands.
This was it.
The air around her took on a blue quality, and her head began to throb.
Don’t fall asleep. She began to bargain with her mind and body. Don’t fall asleep.
Someone would come. Piper would come. She’d be suspicious when she saw the purse sitting on the passenger seat of the empty car that had never made it to Costco . . . because Piper was suspicious of everything. And that was smart.
She still believed most people were good . . . she’d just chosen to trust the bad ones . . . and that was stupid.
And now she would die because of that stupidity.
She lay down on the cot and closed her eyes . . . just for a minute . . . as images floated through her mind. Garrett smiling . . . the ripple of yellow wheat under a vast cerulean sky . . . the face of each son . . . smiling . . . running into the light . . .