Seconds to Live
Chapter One
Saturday, June 18, five p.m.
“Please let me go.” Missy spoke to the tiny green LED light in the corner of the ceiling. The light blinked like a buoy beacon in the darkness, letting her know that the camera was working.
That he was watching.
The only other light in the room was a red LED mounted by the door. A bottle of water sat on the cement next to it. The light’s reflection glowed red on the clear plastic. As thirsty as she was, she couldn’t drink that water. After all, that must have been how he’d abducted her. He must have slipped something into her coffee. Not that she remembered.
Licking her dry lips, she shifted her position, drawing her knees up and hugging her legs. In the corner of her cell, water puddled on the concrete, and the cinder block walls dripped. Her body ached from sitting on damp cement—and from what he’d done to her.
How long would it take for her to die of dehydration? Though Scarlet Falls was in the middle of a heat wave, her prison was cool. The darkness, the damp, and the misery in her bones suggested she was below ground.
She could possibly survive for a few days without water.
A few days . . .
How would she bear it?
“You have a choice to make.” The disembodied voice sounded from a speaker mounted next to the camera.
He’d made her an offer. This whole ordeal could be over quickly. There would be no more pain. The thought of ending her nightmare sounded as peaceful as sunlight on her skin.
She wasn’t even sure how long she’d been there. What seemed like forever was probably a couple of days. What was he planning next?
Fear drove her to her feet. The cement scraped under her shoes. She stretched her arms over her head, her fingertips just brushing the heavy wooden beams of the ceiling. She paced the length of her prison, five strides forward, five strides back. She reached her hands out at her sides, and her fingertips brushed the rough cinder blocks on both sides.
At the end of her cell, she stopped and flattened her palms against the wooden door. She knew from experience that it was heavy and thick. It would not give to her pushes or kicks, not that she had any energy left for such efforts.
The camera blinked. Watching. Always watching.
So far, he’d been true to his word. He’d kept every promise he’d made. The first thing he’d said to her was that if she resisted, he would hurt her. And so he had. The memory sent a chill straight through her bowels. A sob rose into her throat and bubbled from her mouth. Her bones trembled.
Sinking back to the concrete, she crossed her legs and breathed, seeking calm, but it was no use. Her skin itched with the need to escape.
No matter what it cost.
This could all be over. Release was just a word away.
Hope died inside her. She had no illusions. She would never return to the life she’d worked so hard to rebuild. But in a way, knowing that there would be no more struggle, no more resisting temptation every single moment of every single day, was liberating.
Freeing.
Just as he’d promised.
She was tired of fighting. Even before this, every day had been a battle. He’d made her see that so clearly. But it could end here and now. Could she finally find real peace?
I always keep my promises.
She swallowed, her throat raw from unanswered screams. The hours of darkness were more than she could bear. Her willpower was ebbing, seeping from her pores like sweat.
Her mother would be devastated, but Mom’s happiness wasn’t enough. Missy was a coward. Selfish. Only concerned with herself. He was right. She didn’t deserve forgiveness or redemption. Silence pressed in on her, blanketing her with fear of the darkness. Of the sound of the door unlocking. Of the terror of what might happen. Of the horror of what had already happened.
But once she answered, there would be no going back. Her escape would be a one-way journey. Who was she kidding? She’d gone to a place from which there was no return. She might as well finish it.
Nausea rose. She bent forward, her body folding at the waist. She rested her forehead against the cold, hard floor. She was done.
Her neck muscles ached as she lifted her head. Her voice sounded raspy, foreign as she said, “Yes.”
“I didn’t hear you. Have you decided?” the voice asked.
“Yes!” she shouted, weeping.
“All right.” The sadness, the sheer disappointment that emanated from the speaker, surprised her.
“I thought this was what you wanted,” she said.
“It’s not about what I want,” he answered. “You need to be sure. No mulligans.”
Anger and hopelessness swamped her fear. After all he’d done to her . . .
“What do you want from me?” she screamed. Then her voice dropped to a frightened whimper. “I can’t take any more. I’ll do whatever you want. I just want it to be over.”
Saturday, June 18, five p.m.
“Please let me go.” Missy spoke to the tiny green LED light in the corner of the ceiling. The light blinked like a buoy beacon in the darkness, letting her know that the camera was working.
That he was watching.
The only other light in the room was a red LED mounted by the door. A bottle of water sat on the cement next to it. The light’s reflection glowed red on the clear plastic. As thirsty as she was, she couldn’t drink that water. After all, that must have been how he’d abducted her. He must have slipped something into her coffee. Not that she remembered.
Licking her dry lips, she shifted her position, drawing her knees up and hugging her legs. In the corner of her cell, water puddled on the concrete, and the cinder block walls dripped. Her body ached from sitting on damp cement—and from what he’d done to her.
How long would it take for her to die of dehydration? Though Scarlet Falls was in the middle of a heat wave, her prison was cool. The darkness, the damp, and the misery in her bones suggested she was below ground.
She could possibly survive for a few days without water.
A few days . . .
How would she bear it?
“You have a choice to make.” The disembodied voice sounded from a speaker mounted next to the camera.
He’d made her an offer. This whole ordeal could be over quickly. There would be no more pain. The thought of ending her nightmare sounded as peaceful as sunlight on her skin.
She wasn’t even sure how long she’d been there. What seemed like forever was probably a couple of days. What was he planning next?
Fear drove her to her feet. The cement scraped under her shoes. She stretched her arms over her head, her fingertips just brushing the heavy wooden beams of the ceiling. She paced the length of her prison, five strides forward, five strides back. She reached her hands out at her sides, and her fingertips brushed the rough cinder blocks on both sides.
At the end of her cell, she stopped and flattened her palms against the wooden door. She knew from experience that it was heavy and thick. It would not give to her pushes or kicks, not that she had any energy left for such efforts.
The camera blinked. Watching. Always watching.
So far, he’d been true to his word. He’d kept every promise he’d made. The first thing he’d said to her was that if she resisted, he would hurt her. And so he had. The memory sent a chill straight through her bowels. A sob rose into her throat and bubbled from her mouth. Her bones trembled.
Sinking back to the concrete, she crossed her legs and breathed, seeking calm, but it was no use. Her skin itched with the need to escape.
No matter what it cost.
This could all be over. Release was just a word away.
Hope died inside her. She had no illusions. She would never return to the life she’d worked so hard to rebuild. But in a way, knowing that there would be no more struggle, no more resisting temptation every single moment of every single day, was liberating.
Freeing.
Just as he’d promised.
She was tired of fighting. Even before this, every day had been a battle. He’d made her see that so clearly. But it could end here and now. Could she finally find real peace?
I always keep my promises.
She swallowed, her throat raw from unanswered screams. The hours of darkness were more than she could bear. Her willpower was ebbing, seeping from her pores like sweat.
Her mother would be devastated, but Mom’s happiness wasn’t enough. Missy was a coward. Selfish. Only concerned with herself. He was right. She didn’t deserve forgiveness or redemption. Silence pressed in on her, blanketing her with fear of the darkness. Of the sound of the door unlocking. Of the terror of what might happen. Of the horror of what had already happened.
But once she answered, there would be no going back. Her escape would be a one-way journey. Who was she kidding? She’d gone to a place from which there was no return. She might as well finish it.
Nausea rose. She bent forward, her body folding at the waist. She rested her forehead against the cold, hard floor. She was done.
Her neck muscles ached as she lifted her head. Her voice sounded raspy, foreign as she said, “Yes.”
“I didn’t hear you. Have you decided?” the voice asked.
“Yes!” she shouted, weeping.
“All right.” The sadness, the sheer disappointment that emanated from the speaker, surprised her.
“I thought this was what you wanted,” she said.
“It’s not about what I want,” he answered. “You need to be sure. No mulligans.”
Anger and hopelessness swamped her fear. After all he’d done to her . . .
“What do you want from me?” she screamed. Then her voice dropped to a frightened whimper. “I can’t take any more. I’ll do whatever you want. I just want it to be over.”