Page 82 of Jessica's Hero
No. I jerk my mind back on track again. It doesn’t matter who it is. All that matters is getting out of here.
But how?
Then I remember. My necklace. The one Kane gave me with a tracker in it. He could find me, if he knows I’m in trouble. But how can I trigger the little alert button on the back if my hands are tied behind me? Could I somehow roll over and squish it against the floor of the trunk?
Or… Could I grab hold of the trunk release—now I know that’s what it is—to attract the attention of other drivers? I wouldn’t try to jump out, not with my arms and legs tied behind me, but if I could sit up, get someone to notice me…
Then the car slows and takes a sharp turn to the right,the movement sliding me across the trunk and slamming my head into the side of it.
All my plans fade as dizziness takes over. As darkness threatens to engulf me again.
The next thing I know, the car isn’t moving anymore.
The thud of heavy footsteps approaches the trunk.
My lungs seize.
Oh. No.
I want Kane. Oh, I want Kane.
Hot tears leak down my cheeks, scalding my skin.
How can he find me if he doesn’t know I’m missing?
What if I never see him again?
Then the trunk springs open, and all my frantic questions disappear. All that remains is the face of the man looming over me.
Not just any man. But one I never, ever would have expected.
Adam. My neighbor. The quiet guy who always greeted me with a friendly wave or a smile. Who brought over flowers and a card after my mom passed away. Who I thought was a little obsessive about his property maintenance—sweeping away the snow, leaf blowing every day, meticulously cleaning his gutters every week—but generally a good person.
How?
Why?
He grins at me, but it’s not a friendly one this time. It’s filled with malice. Satisfaction. His eyes light with gleeful anticipation as he looks at me. “Ah, Jessica. So you’re awake. Good.”
Behind him, a thick swathe of trees awaits. Nothingelse. No houses or landmarks to give me a clue where I am.
But ofcoursewe’re in the middle of nowhere. As if he’d take me to Rockefeller Park in the middle of the day to do whatever he’s planning?
I try to speak, to ask him why he’s doing this, to plead with him to let me go, but the fabric wadded in my mouth prevents me.
“I was a little worried,” he continues in an oddly calm tone, “that you might die in the trunk. It wouldn’t matter in the long run, really, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun that way.”
What?
He’s going to kill me?
Why? What did I ever do to him?
Adam reaches into the trunk and hoists me out, then slings me over his shoulder. With his free hand, he slams the trunk shut. Then he makes an abrupt turn and heads off at a brisk pace towards the woods.
My breath comes in frantic whistles through my stuffed up nose, and though I try to spit out the fabric in my mouth, I can’t. Rationally, I know I’m on the verge of hyperventilating, but I can’t calm myself down. The fear is just too great.
Kane!
