A flash of metal in Lincoln’s hand warns me he’s armed and dangerous. He’s going to kill me. No matter what happens, no matter what I tell them, my number of heartbeats is limited.
Fear and panic collide inside me, turning me cold.
I’m going to die.
I’m going to die.
I’m going to die.
I jerk my arm from Not-Lincoln’s grip, the action fueled by the knowledge I won’t survive, and I run.
I barely make it more than three steps when he grabs my arm and roughly shakes me. I lose my footing and stumble to regain it.
His grip tightens on my arm to the point where I’m positive my bone is about to snap in half. His other hand raises, and a hard slap stings my cheek. A stunned gasp falls from my lips.
Lincoln steps so close to me, his stale breath blows in my face. “Don’t you fucking try that again,” he growls, the mark the other man left on my cheek no doubt as red as his complexion. “Otherwise, the next time I’ll shoot you.”
My ears ringing, my cheek smarting, I’m half led, half pushed into the building and along a short corridor. Lincoln stops at an empty room that is not much more than four concrete walls and a concrete ceiling and a concrete floor. Thick metal bars cover the windows, and a decrepit toilet sits in the corner. And just like that, I’m back in prison, but I sense this one will be a new kind of hell.
My bound hands itch to grab the doorframe, to keep him from pushing me into the room, but common sense kicks in. It’s not worth getting shot right now. I’ll never have a chance to escape if I’m dead.
A laugh bubbles up inside me. It’s not a happy laugh. It spills past my dry mouth and cracked lips.
Not-Lincoln shoves me into the room. I fall to the cold, hard floor. The door slams shut behind me, and a deadbolt on the other side slides into place.
The resounding boom of confinement echoes in the room. It’s accompanied by the rapidthump-thump-thump-you’re-deadthumping of my heart.
63
TROY
October, Present Day
Maple Ridge
The late afternoonsun casts shadows on the leaf-covered ground as my brothers, the veterans, and I approach the rental vans, our backpacks loaded with camping and climbing gear. Various vibrant shades of gold, red, and orange color the surrounding trees.
The veterans, a group of men and women in their early forties who served together in the Iraq War, are laughing and teasing each other. They’ve been like this all weekend. The weekend and the group have been the perfect distraction now that the festival and the planning for it are over.
My life is now only filled with the Warrior weekends, volunteering at the Veterans Center, working out, and running my company. And that’s giving me too much time to dwell on the one person I don’t want to think about. We only have bookings for a few more weekends, and then things will slow down in the offseason. Soon, I’ll have way too much free time. Free time for my thoughts to easily stray to Jess.
Maybe instead of hiring a new office assistant, I’ll do everything myself. Might as well. I’ve already been doing that since Jess quit. I haven’t gotten around to finding her replacement yet.
I can tell the moment the van I’m driving enters cell-phone range on our way back to town. Everyone’s phones ping with messages. The veterans laugh and joke as they post on social media about their weekend.
“Shit,” Kellan mutters under his breath from the passenger seat next to me, the word a near quiet explosion.
“What?” I keep my voice low, in case he isn’t interested in sharing the news with everyone in the van.
“Jess has gone missing.”
“What do you mean she’s gone missing?” My voice comes out louder this time but still low enough not to snare everyone’s attention. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.
“Exactly that.” Kellan’s phone rings. He answers it. “Yeah. Got the message. I haven’t talked to her since Wednesday.…No.…No.…Nothing.…I’ll ask him. Troy, when was the last time you talked to Jess?”
I keep my eyes on the road. “Last Saturday evening. I took the guys from Pushing Limits to meet her after the festival. The lead singer wanted to talk to her.”
“Did she say anything about going out of town?”
