Chapter 28
Tessa
The zip ties bite into my wrists as I continue trying to work myself free from the bindings.
I’ve seen countless videos of people escaping them, but I’m definitely not having the luck they did.
Even still, I won’t quit. I twist my wrists, moving them opposite each other in an attempt to find some leverage so I can get free.
Warm blood trickles from the wounds, but I’m hoping it’ll help me slip free. If I can, then I can get help. Maybe I can call Zane and—my throat constricts. And what? If they’re right and he’s buried in that rubble…I shove it aside, redirecting my thoughts to the things I can control.
I have to get to a phone. Then I can call the police.
You’ve got this, Tessa. So instead of focusing on the pain in my heart over all I might have lost, I focus only on getting free.
Pain shoots up through my right arm when I accidentally tweak it, and I hiss through clenched teeth.
Lord, please. Please help me.
I’ve been praying all night, leaning on Him, trying to drown out the voices telling me that I’m all alone. That, if God loved me, then I wouldn’t be here right now. But I know that’s not true. I know now that God may not deliver us from our pain, but He will always bring us through it.
I don’t just know it, either.
I believe it.
Because otherwise, I’d have been dead a long time ago.
The sand dollar pops into my mind. Those five beautiful doves born of death and brokenness. I’m not alone. Closing my eyes, I pause, trying to escape for a moment and just listen to the silence of the room.
I sit in this space, and as the anxiety closes in, I send up a thank you.
Thank You, Lord, for bringing me back to Zane.
Thank You for giving us the time we had.
If this is the end, I still thank You. Because You’ve been with me my entire life, even on the days where the darkness was so thick I couldn’t see You. I pray these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Opening my eyes, I’m filled with an unexplainable peace.
No matter how this plays out, I’ll keep my eyes focused on Him.
I won’t turn away again.
“You say that you feel like you can’t stay on your feet? Then remain on your knees, Tessa, and pray.” Pastor Reeves’ words have come to me more than once over the past few hours. They’ve been my comfort while I’ve been trying to escape, my hope when everything feels so completely hopeless.
Faith is strength.
And for the first time in my life, I’m jumping into it without hesitation. Without doubt. I know my God is there. I know He loves me.
My wrist slips free with such force that I nearly topple out of my chair. I stare at my bloodied hand, momentarily shocked. Thank You, God!
Without wasting another moment, I tug my other hand free, then get to my feet. Heart racing, I peek out through the small sliver window in the office door. When I don’t see anyone, I check the handle. Unlocked. Yes!
Adrenaline surging through my veins, I step out into the hall. My bare feet move soundlessly on the thin carpet, and I continue forward as quickly as I can while also paying attention to any noises.
A room to my right is partially open, so I peer inside. It’s empty.
I continue down the hall until I reach a stairwell. After opening the doorway slowly, I descend the stairs until I reach the first floor. Pulling the door open, I peer outside into the empty office space. There are cubicles and a secretary’s desk, but it’s otherwise empty.
However, I know exactly where I am.
Back at the beginning.
Southeast Environmental Commission.
I rush out of the staircase and sprint toward the nearest cubicle. Every one of them had an office line and a computer. If I can reach someone, then I can hide until I get help.
Hope surges through my system when I see the phone sitting there. I kneel down, trying to keep my head below the top of the cubicle divider, then hover a hand over the top of the phone. Lord, please let there be a dial tone.
After taking a deep breath, I lift the phone and nearly weep with relief when I hear the familiar tone.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Help. I’m being held against my will at the Southeast Environmental Commission.”
“Can you give me your name?”
“Tessa Lane. Please, they—”
A door slams, and tears spring to my eyes. I take the phone and pull it beneath the desk as footsteps echo through the empty room.
“Ma’am, are you still there?”
“Send help, please,” I whisper. “Zane Knox. Stormwatch Landing, South Carolina.” And then, because I’m not sure he can come, I add, “Or Agent Jack Weathers with the FBI. They’ll know what to—” The line goes dead. “Hello?” No, please, no. Risking being seen, I sit up and check the dial tone.
“She’s around here somewhere,” someone says. The voice is deep and masculine, and I recall it instantly. “Keep coming and I’ll pull the trigger.” He’d held a gun to my head as Garrison tried to save me.
It all comes flooding back to me, the sight of him killing that first man.
Of the blade being driven into his body.
Of him falling.
Of the blood pouring from his wound.
No. I won’t focus on that now. I shove those thoughts aside, wishing more than anything that I’d memorized any scripture at all for this moment. Something to give me strength.
Something I plan to remedy the moment I’m safe.
Quickly, I replace the phone and use the bottom of my shirt to clean the blood as best I can. Then I crawl out and move to another cubicle. Making myself as small as I can, I close my eyes and wait for them to leave so I can find somewhere else to hide until help arrives.
That is, if help is coming at all.
“What do you mean you lost her?” Brenda demands as she enters the room. From the volume of her voice, she’s not too far from me, and that thought sends my pulse skyrocketing.
“We cut all the phone lines just in case she tries to make a call. We’ll find her.”
“You’d better, Markson. I’m going to do what I can to head this off, but we have forty-eight hours to pull this off. Find her. Get her under control.”
A door closes, and I close my eyes.
Markson. As in Cal Markson? The guy she sent Zane after? Anger burns hot in my veins, momentarily obliterating the fear. Brenda will pay for her part in this. Somehow, someway, I will make sure of it.
“You heard her. Find the woman.” The door slams again.
With a deep breath, I peek out and start crawling along the carpet as soon as I see that the immediate coast is clear. I need to keep moving. Otherwise, I’ll lose this twisted game of hide and seek.
The pain in my hands and wrists intensifies with every movement, but I breathe through it, shoving the pain into a box in my mind just like I did while growing up. Hide it, and you won’t feel it.
That was my motto. And right now, it may be the only thing that will keep me alive.
I reach the edge of the cubicle row, so I pause to figure out where to go next. I can turn back around and hide or make a run for the kitchen. It’s straight ahead, right on the other side of this big, gaping hallway.
“She’s going to hang us out to dry if we mess this up,” Cal says somewhere behind me. His voice makes my decision for me, so I crouch down and move as fast as I can toward the kitchen. The door is propped open, giving me a chance to get inside without anyone noticing me.
As soon as I’m safely hidden, I straighten and start looking for a weapon. That’s what Zane would do, right? Find a way to protect himself?
As quietly as I can, I open drawer after drawer until I find an old set of steak knives. I palm one, then note the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall. Perfect. Keeping the knife in my hand, I take it off the wall and tuck myself into the small pantry to wait.
If I’m lucky, they’ve already looked here, and help will arrive before they decide to come in again. If I’m not lucky, well, I’m not going down without a fight.
“Did you check in here?” The kitchen door creaks as it’s shoved open the rest of the way. Footsteps have me holding my breath.
Lord, be with me. Please. I need strength. Help me.
A hand closes around the handle of the door, and he pulls it open.
A man I recognize from the mugshot of Cal Markson stands before me.
His eyes widen in shock, but I don’t give him the chance to alert the others before I slam the fire extinguisher into his face.
He stumbles backward, and the kitchen table splinters beneath his weight as he lands on top of it.
I sprint out, extinguisher still in hand.
The second man—a bald man with a terrifying neck tattoo—rushes toward me, a snarl on his lips. I sprint to the side, adrenaline surging through my body as I make a mad dash toward the front of the office building. It’s a busy street, so as long as I can get to the door, I can find help. Right?
A large arm bands around my waist.
I scream and thrash, but the fire extinguisher tumbles from my grip. Armed with just the knife, I stab backward into my attacker. His grip loosens on me, and I manage to slip free, but I don’t look back to see where the blade hit him. It doesn’t matter. Getting free does.
Getting help does.
My entire body goes rigid as sharp, sudden burning shoots through every one of my muscles. I fall forward, hitting the ground with enough force that it knocks the wind from my lungs.
“Keep fighting and I’ll happily tase you again,” Brenda says.
I grunt, the doorway within sight.
Until it’s not.
A hand closes around my ankle and drags me away from the light.
Away from safety.
My arms are tied behind my back again, and I’m pulled up against a hard chest.
“Get her out of sight,” Brenda snarls. “You, deal with him. He knows my face.”
Him? Who’s here?
A piece of duct tape is slapped over my mouth as the man holding me carries me just out of sight of the door. Brenda is with us, a firearm in her hand.
“Can I help you?” I hear a man ask, his tone friendly. Monster. He’s a monster! Help me! I want to kick and scream, but it’s useless.
“Agent Jack Weathers, FBI.” Hope floods my system at the sound of his familiar voice.
“What can I do for you, Agent Weathers?”
“We received a 9-1-1 call from this location. A woman who’s been missing since yesterday identified herself and said she was being held here.”
“Really?” The other man laughs. “There’s no one here,” he assures Jack.
I am! I’m here! Help!
“Do you mind if my team and I take a look around? I’d like to see for myself.”
“Stall for three minutes,” Brenda whispers, likely into an earpiece the guy currently talking to Jack is wearing.
“Agent Weathers, I’m not sure what kind of prankster you’re dealing with, but we’re in the process of clearing things out since we were shut down. I’m sure you heard that our owners were murdered.”
“And see, I’m the one working that case. I actually interviewed everyone who works here, and I don’t recognize you.”
Yes! Because it’s all fake! Help!
I try to scream against the duct tape, but no audible sound comes out as I’m thrown over a shoulder and carted up a set of back stairs.
Brenda moves up behind me. I can’t see her face, but her tall heels click on each step, all while my stomach rolls.
So close. I was so close.
We enter a dark room, and I’m tossed down into the chair. The man secures my wrists, and I glare up at Brenda as she steps into my line of sight.
With sharp, red nails, she reaches up and brushes the hair from my face.
“Did you really think you would get anywhere, Tessa?” she asks.
“If Zane couldn’t escape, what makes you think you could?
” She clicks her tongue. “Less than a day from now, this will all be over, and you’ll be little more than a headline. ”
As she turns away and leaves the room, followed by the guy who brought me here, I’m plunged into complete darkness. There’s not even a sliver of light beneath the doorway to allow me any chance of finding something around me to help. That is, if I could even get up off the chair.
My muscles scream in agony, and my head pounds like an anvil has just been dropped onto it. And as I sit here in the dark, it’s all I can do not to spiral.
So I go to that place in my mind again.
Not the one where I store my pain, but the place where I hide when things get hard.
My happy place.
Sitting with Zane on his dad’s boat, two young teenagers with their entire lives ahead of them.
Here, real life can’t touch me.
Here, I’ll be forever safe.