Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
When the car pulled to the side of the road and the music stopped, Dana screamed, “Let me out of here right now!”
She heard the car door open and the sounds of someone walking on gravel. From the heaviness of the footsteps, it was a man. Presumably, the guy who’d yelled at her to shut up. When the steps halted outside the trunk, she called out, “I demand you release me immediately!” It didn’t escape her that the words sounded like dialogue from a Dana Broderick novel.
“Shut up!” He slammed his fist against the top of the trunk. “No one can hear you, so you might as well save it.” Under his breath, he muttered an obscene word.
Still thinking like Rebecca Cavanaugh, she went over the clues found in this bit of dialogue. If no one could hear her, they were in a remote location, which tracked since she hadn’t heard any other cars go by. She fished for more information, asking loudly, “What’s going on? Is this a kidnapping?”
No response. He just walked away.
Dana kept going. “If it’s money, I can pay you!”
“You’ll be paying all right.” He laughed.
She heard the sound of the car door slamming shut and then the music cranked to an obnoxiously high decibel. The vehicle took off at breakneck speed, the tires screeching as it veered onto the road.
“Let me out!” she yelled one more time, then kicked at the edge of the trunk and let out a high-pitched scream, not that it did any good.
So much of this resembled a plot from one of her novels that one might suspect she’d manifested it. To get her mind off her current situation, Dana envisioned her return home.
She thought through all the positives.
For one, a ton of attention on her and her books. The right kind too. World-renowned thriller novelist battles kidnappers! There weren’t enough marketing dollars in the world to buy that kind of promotion.
Also, once she was back, her family would finally pay attention to her. They’d been taking her for granted lately. Ian, so needy, wanted continuous praise for his work negotiating the best terms for her contracts. His most recent point of pride was getting her twice the royalty rate for her next set of contracted audiobooks. “Twice!” he’d told her, his eyes wide. “Believe me, no one is getting this percentage. They told me the low amount was their final offer, but I tossed it right back and told them it wasn’t acceptable. I played hard ball, and you’re going to come out ahead in a big way.”
She’d thanked him, of course, but it hadn’t seemed enough. Finally, she’d reminded him that this was his job and that he was getting a healthy percentage. Thankfully, that shut him up. Now that she’d been kidnapped, Ian’s focus would be on her.
Antonio was a fun distraction, but everything was always about him and his body. Initially, she’d been about that too (his arms alone had made her weak in the knees), but lately she found him a bore. If she had to hear him talk about protein powder and the importance of staying hydrated one more time , she would lose her mind. His appeal had worn thin a long time ago.
Her sister-in-law, Kristy, who’d once been grateful to live in a wing of the big house, now was completely blasé about the privilege. She didn’t even have a job but seemed to think she deserved a life of luxury. Well, let’s see how she felt about having her meal ticket get snatched in broad daylight.
Martha and Ronald did their jobs more than satisfactorily. In fact, they fawned a bit too much. They fussed over her, making her favorite foods and constantly checking to see if their work was to her liking. It was clear they idolized her. She imagined that they’d be devastated at her absence, not that it mattered. They were only employees. There wasn’t much they could do in the face of her sudden disappearance. When she returned, though, that was their opportunity to shine. Dana could only imagine their joy when she arrived back home.
Brayden was another matter. He was a sweetheart and they’d had a lot of laughs, but he’d just turned eighteen, and as such, he was unlikely to give her the kind of extended attention she’d crave upon her return. Still, she knew he’d miss her.
One thing she knew for certain, at this very moment Courtney was frantically worried about her. Yes, Courtney was predictable. Without her loyal assistant, there’d be no bestselling author Dana Broderick. It was in her best interest for Dana to come home all in one piece, and it was a safe bet that Courtney wouldn’t rest until that happened.
When the car and the infernal music stopped, Dana held her breath, listening, but her captors didn’t speak a word. She heard car doors open and close and the muffled sounds of conversation. Three different voices or two? It was hard to say. They were arguing. She caught the words, “I didn’t think you were serious,” but after that came some shushing and they lowered their voices. Back and forth the conversation went, one guy’s tone disapproving, the other’s insistent. At one point, she caught them saying something about her purse and cell phone.
Her muscles were cramping, and she was on the verge of hyperventilating. She gave them another minute, then slammed her heel against the inside of the trunk and screamed, “Please, please! Someone get me out of here!”
A minute later, the trunk popped open, making her blink in the light. As her eyes adjusted, she made out a figure in a dark ski mask. “Relax,” he said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She could tell by the voice that this was not the one who’d told her to shut up. This guy was the one who’d said he hadn’t thought the other one was serious. Now, talking to Dana, he sounded almost apologetic. Could it be a third man?
In Rebecca Cavanaugh mode, she took in the surrounding area behind his head, trying to identify landmarks or buildings, but all she saw was greenery, nothing but trees and sky. It occurred to her that she could scramble out of the trunk and make a run for it, but her legs felt cramped and she couldn’t quite muster the strength. He lifted her head and hesitantly pulled a cloth bag all the way down to her neck, but not before she noted his blue eyes. Inky blue, tinged with violet. If she were putting it in a book, she’d describe them as indigo. Very unusual.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, hoping this would start a discussion, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he scooped her up and lifted her out of the trunk like one would a small child. Pressed against his chest, she got a whiff of musky cologne, a very masculine scent. Off in the distance she heard the cawing of birds.
“Not too much longer,” he murmured, lowering her to her feet and taking her arm to guide her forward.
Hopefully, they’d already contacted her family and the ransom was on its way. Right now this was awful, but in the future it would be an exciting memory, one she could tell at all of her upcoming events. Her fans were going to love this.
She took baby steps, trying not to trip, and the man she was starting to think of as her kindly captor didn’t hurry her, just continued gently steering her. She heard other footsteps ahead and the opening and shutting of what sounded like a screen door.
“Up one step,” he said, and she obediently raised her foot. The step was shorter than a traditional stair tread, but she didn’t have time to think about it because the next thing she knew he’d taken her through a doorway. She sensed that they were now inside. The air was cooler and the bird sounds in the background were muffled. He had her turn around and step backward, then said, “Sit down.”
The backs of her legs hit up against something solid, and she obediently bent her knees and took a seat. Dana guessed it was a bed, judging by the give, but not a very comfortable one. “Can I ask what you want from me?”
He said, “Once you hear me leave, I want you to count to thirty before you take off the hood.” His voice was gentle.
“I’ve got a thought—why don’t you let me go?” Her tone was deliberately confident. “It’s not too late. I won’t even press charges. We can just chalk it up to a joke gone wrong. I can keep a secret.” When he didn’t answer, she said, “Or we can go out to dinner and talk about it. A bottle of wine and a nice porterhouse and we’ll get this whole misunderstanding sorted out. I’ll even buy.” She laughed.
“Where’s your cell phone?” he asked.
“In my purse?”
“They said it’s not there.” His voice was more intense now.
“Then I don’t know. I always keep it on me.” Dana thought back to the last time she’d gotten a call or texted and drew a blank. She patted her sides. “I don’t have any pockets. I might have left it at the bookstore.”
“Wait until I’m gone and count to thirty,” he repeated.
After she heard the door shut behind him, she began to count. Aloud, in case they were listening to her. When she was finished, she lifted off the head covering to find herself sitting in a seedy motel room. After she checked the door and found it locked, she took note of her surroundings.
The lamps on the nightstands on either side of the bed were on, as was the one on the desk near the door. On the opposite side, a café table with two chairs stood in front of a small row of cabinets with a sink, a stovetop, and a small refrigerator. Getting up and looking inside the fridge, she saw American cheese, butter, milk, bread, lunch meat, yogurt, bottled water, and apples. In the cabinets she found eating utensils, along with crackers, cookies, and breakfast cereal.
In the words of the immortal Rebecca Cavanaugh: Not good enough. She sighed.
An ancient TV on a wheeled stand stood next to an open doorway that led into a bathroom. If she turned off the lamps, the room would be as dark as night because the one window had security bars mounted on the inside, while the glass was covered with plywood on the other side.
Dana walked around the room, taking in the enormous print above the bed, a picture of a barn in the countryside. The shoddily produced picture had no decorative frame but was just canvas stapled to wood. Cheap.
In the bathroom she found another window. Good-sized, but also barred inside and boarded up on the outside. There was a sink, toilet, and tub. On the floor behind the toilet, she spotted a seemingly random paper clip and a pen. She left them there and opened the medicine cabinet, where she found sample sizes of shampoo and conditioner and a stick of deodorant. All low-quality brands. Nothing she’d ever use. The bathroom’s small linen closet held more towels and two sets of scrubs, the kind worn by nurses.
Even though she was alone, she closed the bathroom door and covered her lap with a towel before using the toilet, just in case.
Staying calm was always the best strategy. Courtney always said that, unlike most people, Dana’s outlook was that good things were supposed to come her way, but that wasn’t quite right. Dana expected the best of everything and everyone, and so far her mindset had given her everything she’d ever wanted. Most of the time, it also gave her a sense of being impervious to danger.
These people thought they had the upper hand. They didn’t know it was a mistake to underestimate Dana Broderick. She was up to any challenge.