My father had insisted I go to college to make something better of myself. I’d followed along, taking classes that didn’t interest me simply to counter his constant nagging. At least that had gotten me out of the house and into the dorms. He’d never believed in me, just like he’d continuously criticized Brooke about her choice in professions.
Now I was questioning everything, as if he knew one day the secret would be uncovered. He’d tried to prepare me and I’d fought him the entire time. All the while he’d purposely kept Brooke in the dark. She’d been so young when Mama had died. She had no knowledge of our former life and Dad had insisted it stay that way.
My dad had also insisted along with taking painting and piano lessons that I be involved in sports and taekwondo. Then karate, where I’d earned a black belt.
He’d appreciated the culture even if he’d all but begged me to study something where I could make a decent living.
At least I had a better understanding of why he’d pushed me so hard. Brooke had also been too sick early in her life to participate in as many activities as I’d been forced to endure. That’s what I’d thought about all the lessons. He’d even provided tutelage in the art of becoming a hostage. That had seemed like a fun game as a child. Little did I know he’d been preparing me in case I’d beenabducted. Brooke hadn’t been provided with the same benefit. Everything was starting to make ugly sense.
The reason my grandparents had rarely been mentioned or why we didn’t have any cousins. Why even during the lean years he’d purchased a security system. Or why I’d found a weapon locked in his desk drawer. I’d been a nosy kid, living in my imagination since he also hadn’t allowed either my sister or me to go on school trips or even stay a night with friends.
I’d always thought it was because he still mourned our mother. Maybe that was true, but he’d also been terrified our new life would be shattered just like our old one had been.
I’d never understood why Dad had been so dead set on keeping the past stories in the past. I’d both hated and respected him for his silence more than anything. Yet he was my father, the only parent I had left. At least his constant pushing had fueled my art as much as Navarro was fueling my anger.
After taking a deep breath, I stopped pacing long enough to shove aside the familiar angst and anxiety and scanned the room again. Maybe I was hoping for a miracle. I’d already searched every drawer in the bathroom in hopes of finding something that would allow me to escape the four walls.
I’d found nothing but a bar of soap, a washcloth, and a towel. There was no razor, no nail file. Nothing that could be used as a weapon.
The drawer in the nightstand was also empty. The single window was locked and I could tell the pane of glass was thick, maybe bulletproof.
I’d resisted pounding on the door. The estate was huge and even if someone heard me, no one would dare cross Navarro. So muchof me wanted to place my trust in him, but he was supposed to be the enemy. How could I simply abandon the thought because we’d… engaged in something carnal? Oh, my head was killing me.
I needed to think clearly. I had to find Brooke.
No one was coming to save me.
I thought about Brooke, saying another silent prayer she was still alive.
My impetuous act had fallen short of sanity if nothing else. Groaning, I closed my eyes briefly and tossed my head toward the ceiling. All I could do was sit and wait. As I opened my eyes, I studied the wall.
Suddenly, something dark, much more sinister entered my mind as soon as I glanced up at the ceiling.
A heating vent. An oversized grate.
Hmmm…
I walked closer, standing on my tiptoes and reaching up toward the white vent. My fingers almost touched the edge. A thought entered my mind. While what I was contemplating might be ridiculous, I had nothing to lose if I failed.
Unless my ugly luck held out and I managed to get stuck inside.
With a quick glance over my shoulder, I pulled the lamp off the nightstand and dragged the cheap wooden piece of furniture directly underneath the vent. Thankfully, there didn’t appear to be any bolts holding the metal against the wall. What was behind would gauge whether or not I’d try something so crazy.
There was only one way to find out.
I climbed on top, balancing myself as I grasped the edge of the vent. Thank God the room hadn’t been painted recently. With a single hard yank, I managed to jerk the vent free. A sickening feeling pooled in my stomach as I peered inside.
Maybe I was expecting a swarm of rats or cockroaches. With no flashlight, I’d be forced to go on blind faith I’d manage to find a connection to another room. With another glance at the door, I fought nerves and the madness encroaching on my rational mind and tried to hoist myself into the enclosure.
The first time I failed miserably, almost tumbling to the floor.
The second time I almost succeeded, hindered only by my fear of creepy-crawlies.
The third time I thought about Brooke and sucked in my breath. When I landed inside with my legs dangling below, I thought of a movie I’d seen years before with Bruce Willis crawling through a venting unit.
Only I didn’t have a lighter, and the darkness was suffocating.
At this point, I refused to turn back. Using my hands, I pulled myself forward, almost instantly overcome by extreme heat. Within seconds, I was sweating. Not perspiring, but sweating like a pig in heat.
