Page 118 of Valor

“I am so sorry, Ruth,” she says, tears in her eyes as she sets the dish down and rushes over to embrace Lani’s mom.

Ruth hugs her back and begins to cry, her shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe someone would do this to her.”

“Gibson will find her,” my mother says. “You just stay strong.”

“I’m trying. But—” She begins to cry again.

“I know, honey.” She pulls away and looks between Ruth and Tommy. “I’m here now, so tell me what I can do. Need me to clean? Cook? I brought dinner, but if you’re not in the mood for it, I can put it away for now.”

Ruth sniffles and smiles. “Thank you, Debbie.”

“Anything. You know that.” She turns to me. “Have you eaten?”

“I—” I start to lie, but guilt shuts me up. “No.”

“Not at all today?” Ruth asks, turning toward me.

“There hasn’t been time. And frankly, I haven’t been hungry.”

Ruth turns to my mother. “Looks like we’re eating now. Tommy, you haven’t eaten since breakfast. Get over here and get a plate.”

He hesitates.

“Lani wouldn’t want you starving yourself on her behalf. She would be downright angry with the both of you for missing a meal. Get over here and eat. It’ll take half an hour.”

What if she doesn’t have that long?is all I want to ask. But I don’t. Instead, I cross over and take the offered plate, let my mom pile food on it, then take a seat at the table. Unable to help myself, I turn to the left, and my heart aches at the sight of the empty chair where Lani ate tacos just a couple of days ago.

God, help me. Please. Guide me so I can bring her home.

LANI

“‘Who will protectme from the wicked?’” I whisper, reciting Psalm 94. “‘Who will stand up for me against evildoers?’” My words are labored, my breathing ragged. The darkness closes in around me, and my heart pounds in my chest. It’s hammering against my ribs so hard, I’m honestly worried it’ll pop right out of my body. Of course, I know that’s physically impossible, but the feeling remains.

The heaviness.

The tightness in my chest.

“‘Unless the Lord had helped me, I would soon have settled in the silence of the grave.’”

My stomach churns, and I close my eyes, trying to breathe through the panic setting in. It’s so dark. So small. Even though I can’t see anything, I know it’s small. I saw it the last time my abductor came in and drugged me.

And more than seeing, it’s a feeling. Iknowit’s small.

Claustrophobia has been attacking me for I don’t even know how long—since I came out of the last haze. Sweat slicks my skin, saturating the sheet I’m lying on. “Help!” I scream. My voice is hoarse, my throat raw. But I won’t quit. Not until I’m free and whoever did this is behind bars.

“‘I cried out, “I am slipping!” but your unfailing love, O Lord, supported me.’” I whimper as tears stream down my cheeks.

It’s so hot.

Why is it so hot?

“Help!” I call out again. It’s hoarse, barely audible. But I have to believe someone will hear me. Someone has to come. My brothers are out of the country, but Gibson will be looking for me. I know he will. And my parents. Will someone have called Bradyn’s satellite phone? Would he have answered?

God, please let someone come. Please let them come for me.

“‘When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer.’” I choke on a sob. How long will I suffer here? How long will I be trapped?

“‘Can unjust leaders claim that God is on their side—leaders whose decrees permit injustice?’” I sniffle and tug at the restraints again. “‘They gang up against the righteous and condemn the innocent to death.’”Will I die here? Is this my fate?

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