Chapter Four
It didn’t take long for Jake and Vicki to set up their tent. Hope offered to help and Vicki took her up on it. She’d decided
she wouldn’t try escaping yet. She had to get them to trust her first.
After the tent was set up, Vicki stared at her. “You gonna behave?”
“Yeah,” Hope said, shrugging.
“We’ll only tie your hands then. Turn around. When I get done you get in the back and don’t say a word. Got it?”
Hope followed instructions. Only tying her hands was good. She might be able to slip out of the rope. Vicki didn’t make the
knots as tight as Jake.
Vicki signaled to Hope to turn around and put her hands behind her like she was getting handcuffed. Hope thought about taking
off right then, but as if he read her thoughts, Jake came up and stood in front of her.
“Don’t think about doing anything stupid,” he said. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Whatever,” Hope said. She didn’t believe them.
Maybe they weren’t going to hurt her, but whoever they’d been chatting with on the burner phone seemed to want something with her.
What she didn’t know. And anyone who took a kid, drugged them to keep them quiet and then hid out in the mountains couldn’t be trusted.
She didn’t need to finish summer school to know that.
Vicki finished the knot and Hope climbed inside. They left the back doors open and she leaned up against the hard metal side
that was warm from the hot day. Would they start drinking now?
As if he were answering her thought, Jake said, “It wouldn’t hurt to have a nip of something to relax, would it?”
“Nah,” Vicki answered, and then nodded toward Hope. “She’s good for now. I’ll be glad when this is all over.”
“Me too. After this, our debt is paid.” Jake went to the driver’s side door, opened it and grabbed a large plastic bottle
of vodka.
“It better be,” Vicki said.
Hope crossed her fingers that they would have more than a nip as they liked to call it. She started messing with the ropes.
Vicki had done a better job this time, but Hope kept working on freeing herself. Jake and Vicki sat on a log with their backs
to her, passing the bottle back and forth.
It took Hope some time, but she finally was able to get slack in the rope and slip one of her hands out. The couple was still
drinking, but their words were starting to slur. She just had to wait. Be patient. Like her uncle said, let them get comfortable.
After what seemed like forever, she noticed Jake nodding off, almost falling off the log. Vicki stumbled to the tent to lie
down. Hope figured this was her chance. She crawled on her hands and knees, staying as quiet as possible to the front of the
van where she’d learned there were several cell phones stashed. Probably all burners like her uncle talked about.
Carefully opening the center console, Hope saw the phones. She grabbed one and stuffed it in her pocket. Then she crawled
back to the open doors. The sound of snores came from the tent. Should she wait? The thing was, she’d noticed that even when
they were drunk and seemed passed out, Jake and Vicki could wake up quick and function pretty well.
She had to be careful.
Hope was grateful that she’d acquired the skill to stay quiet as she snuck out of the van. She’d practiced it lately at home
when she slipped out at night and had to go by her mom’s room to get to the back door.
She tiptoed around the van, checking on Jake, who was more awake than she thought. He was taking another swig of vodka.
Hope knew Jake and Vicki had talked about a campground not far from here.
Hope slid around the side of the van where she would be out of sight if Jake and Vicki happened to look over their shoulders.
The vehicle was parked on a small pad of gravel, turned around and ready to leave again.
Straight in front of Hope was a trail through some thick evergreen trees.
If she could get on the other side of those trees without being seen, then she could take the trail and see where it went.
With any luck, it would go to the main campground.
They’d come to this spot because no one else was there and the van could make it up the bumpy road.
The trail could lead her to either a parking lot or campground—both might have people who could help her.
Once she was about twenty feet away from the van, Hope started to sprint. At some point Jake and Vicki would realize she was
missing. Even though Hope was in decent shape, she started breathing hard. Maybe her mom and uncle were right, she needed
to spend less time vaping.
The trail wound through a grove of aspen trees and then down a slight hill. There were rocks along the path that she picked
her way around. The last thing she needed was a twisted ankle. Hope thought she heard voices behind her and stopped for just
a moment to listen. Nothing. It must have been her imagination.
Hope continued down the trail and some outhouses came into view. The campground might be nearby. Or a road or somewhere she
could get to where there were people. She came up to the bathroom and flipped open the phone. There was one bar. Maybe she
could get a text message out. She probably wouldn’t be able to call anyone. Hope typed in her uncle’s number and then started
a message.
Help me Uncle Nick. I didn’t run away. I was taken. I think I’m in Colorado.
What did someone say to their uncle when they’d been kidnapped?
He’d tell her to call 9-1-1. She gave it a try, but the call wouldn’t go through.
Hope turned to continue down another path past the bathrooms that might lead to the campground.
No one seemed to be around and that scared her.
She needed to find someone to help her. Just as she started down the trail, she heard voices.
Crap. It was Jake and Vicki.
She slipped into the bathroom and locked the door. Good God it stunk in here, but maybe she could wait them out. It would
be worth standing in this stench if it meant getting away.
Pounding on the door made her jump.
“We know you’re in there. Come out now.”
Vicki. She sounded seriously pissed.
Hope tried the phone again, but there were no bars in the outhouse. What if she could leave some sort of message? She didn’t
have a pen or paper or anything else to write with. She’d watched a movie once where someone wrote in their own blood on the
wall. How could she cut herself?
There didn’t seem to be anything sharp. Maybe the toilet paper holder. She went over and worked her fingers around the edges,
trying to find something rough to cut one finger. Vicki continued banging on the door yelling at her about how she had better
come out. Jake was going to break the lock. Panic flowed through Hope, but she controlled her breathing to stay calm. Her
uncle always told her that in tight situations, it was panic that got you into trouble.
Her finger found a jagged edge on the toilet paper holder.
Perfect. She slid it across until she felt a prick.
A small bead of blood popped up. Would that be enough?
She had to give it a try. Hope took her finger and wrote he above the toilet paper holder.
The blood stopped. There was no way she was going to get the full message written without
a bigger cut. She worked on slicing her finger some more on the sharp edge. When blood appeared, she managed to get an l and p to finish her message. She’d love to write more, but that was about all she was going to squeeze out of her finger.
The screaming outside continued, but Hope didn’t do anything. Maybe the commotion would get someone’s attention and they would
call 9-1-1. Feeling smug, Hope crossed her arms and waited. She thought she could still smell smoke, but it was hard to tell
over the gross scent of the bathroom. If there was a forest fire, that was good and bad. Good because there would be firefighters
somewhere, but bad because that meant the campgrounds would be closed and there would be less people around.
The sound of something scraping against the lock latch interrupted her thoughts. What? No. There were more scratching sounds.
She went back into the corner as Jake flung open the door and, spotting her in the corner, came over and grabbed her by the
arm. His fingers dug in hard and he had a knife—probably what he’d used to force open the door. Hope tried to pull away, but
Vicki stepped in and slapped her across the face. Then Jake dragged her out of the bathroom.
“You listen here, you little shit . . .” Jake started in.
Hope wanted to scream, but fear overtook her and nothing came out but a squeak.
“Is everything okay here?”
Another man and woman had come up the trail and were standing with unsure looks on their faces.
“Yeah,” Jake said, smiling. “My daughter. She’s a teenager and you know how they are. Willful and difficult. She’s been texting
her boyfriend while we were on vacation. Told her not to and she took off and did it anyway.”
“Being a parent is tough,” the man said. “Are you staying in the campground? We haven’t seen you.”
Jake’s face flushed red. “No, we wanted the real mountain experience, ya know? We’re camping out in the woods.”
The man glanced at Hope.
“I need . . .” she started to say.
But before she could finish and say help, Jake’s fingers dug in harder on her bicep. Hope tried to pull away, but his grasp
was too strong. She was blocking the view of Jake’s other hand with the knife. The couple couldn’t see it. He leaned over,
pressed the tip into her rib cage making her wince and whispered in her ear, “Tell them you’re fine or I’ll kill them. I’ll
slit their throats.”
He said it so quietly that Hope could barely hear him. Hope had also seen a gun in the van and she didn’t know if they had
it with them.
The man reached for his cell phone.
Hope couldn’t let them kill two people because of her. Jake’s grip was strong and would probably leave bruises. Through her
peripheral vision, Hope saw Vicki reaching behind her. Did she have the gun?
“I’m sorry I took off,” Hope said, staring at the couple. Maybe they would still call someone. “It’s just that they’re not my parents.”
Jake dug the knife in harder, making Hope squirm and let out a little yelp.
“She’s right. She’s not ours. We’re her foster parents,” Jake said.
The couple glanced at each other. Would they believe Jake? Foster parents shouldn’t be leaving bruises on a kid. Please don’t
believe him, Hope thought.
“Sorry for the scene. We’ll get going now. You folks have a good day,” Jake said, dragging Hope by the arm.
She peered back over her shoulder mouthing the word “help,” but the couple just stood there watching. Maybe they’d find her
message in the bathroom. She should have left more than “help,” but writing in blood was harder than she thought it would
be.
Once they were out of sight of the couple, Jake stopped and held out a hand. “Give it to me.”
“What?” Hope asked.
“You know what, you little brat.”
Hope stared him down, trying to be brave, but not succeeding. The phone. He had to be talking about that. She slid her hand
in her pant pocket and gave it to him, her message still unsent. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she did her best not to
cry. She didn’t want to show any signs of weakness.
Jake handed the phone to Vicki. She dropped it on the ground and stomped it with her foot, the glass shattering. Then she
snatched it up and tossed it in the bushes.
Jake put his face close to Hope’s. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and the nasty body odor. She turned her head away, but he grabbed her chin.
“We’re going back to the van and you’re getting tied up real well. You better behave, hear me?”
Hope nodded, still fighting the tears back. A few escaped and rolled down her cheek. This was her chance to get away and she’d
blown it.