Page 21 of Handling Harley Ann
She drew in a breath, deep down, as far as she could get air into her lungs. Unfortunately, at this point, it wasn’t very far. She refused to let him see that though. “I told you I don’t have it.” She said in a quiet, steady voice. “Ineverhad it. You’re buddy, Calvin, took it and I never saw it again.”
“Liar!” David snarled, fondling the belt again. “I beat him just like I’m beating you. He denied having the jewelry all the way to his death. So, youmusthave it. There’s no one else.”
She’d known Calvin wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree the first time she met him. But letting someone beat him to death took it way over the top. And put her in this position now. She wished he’d given up the location of the jewelry before he’d died. But, like Miss Edna was fond of saying, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
“Then you’ll beat me to death, too.” She told David through gritted teeth. “And still not have the jewelry. I. Don’t. Know. Where. It. Is.”
The belt whistled through the air and slapped dust from the floor next to her feet. David laughed as she flinched.
Despair threatened to overtake her resolve to get through this alive. Any way she could. What did you do when someone refused to believe the truth? She wiggled her hands one more time, hoping sweat, blood or a combination of the two would enable her to pull them from the baling twine, but no such luck.
David’s eyes sharpened as he took in the movement, but she was beyond caring that he saw her attempt. Something had to happen soon or she really would die in this rundown shack in the woods.
To hell with thisshe thought.I’m not the silly girl that listened to everything he said as gospel in the past.And I’m not going down without a fight.
Instead of subtly trying to loosen her hand and ankle restraints so that she could take David by surprise when she got free, she rocked her chair from side to side, trying to work her ankles loose at the same time she yanked her hands against the baling twine binding them behind the chair. The chair flipped over onto its side.
David laughed.
“You’re making this fun for me. Keep on struggling. You’ll never get loose. At least you have some gumption in you after all. I thought you’d be a sitting duck.”
Ignoring his remarks, she tried to shimmy the chair closer to the wall. Through the dust and grit and who knew what else coating the floor. Toward what might be her salvation.
The window on this side of the house went almost to the floor. And, tucked tightly against the bottom of the windowsill, was a thin knife blade she hadn’t been able to see when sitting up.
She didn’t waste any energy wondering why it was there.
Awkwardly, like some malformed snake, she inched her way toward the wall. Scrapes burned along her the skin of her body and face. Her head ached from inadvertently banging it against the floor. If she could somehow get herself over to it, she might be able to figure out a way to get it into her hands and use it to cut the baling twine.
David stood watching her out of cold, cold eyes. Arms crossed, toe tapping against the floor. He made no move to stop her. Until she had nearly reached the wall.
“No, you don’t” He barked, grabbing her ankles and dragging her across the floor. Back to the middle of the room. Back to torture.
“You thought you’d get out that window?” He spit on the floor next to her face. “How were you gonna pull that off tied up to the chair like you are?”
She took a deep breath and held it. Struggling not to cough against the dust she’d inhaled. Once she felt centered again, she let the breath out slowly. She couldn’t afford to let him get the best of her. She had to stay alert. To watch for any small mistake on his part that would allow her to get out of this alive.
“Hey! I’m talking to you. Pay attention.”
His booted foot crashed against her ribs. As she fought not to scream, she vowed to kill him if she could.
“Go to hell, asshole.” She shouted.
Chapter 15
Jesse heardHarley Ann’s voice inside the house and relief flooded through him. He’d found her in time.
His ranger skills had stood him in good stead as he’d made his slow, deliberate way to this location. He’d wanted to rush. He’d wanted to save her from every ounce of pain he possibly could. But a mistake in tracking could lead him in the wrong direction with a dire result.
So, he’d put his personal feelings for the victim aside. Yes, victim. He’d had to think of her in abstract terms in order to use every ounce of concentration, every trick in his book and every minute of precious time to make the right decisions.
Combining excruciating patience with his innate skill, he’d read every wilted leaf. Every tiny indention on the ground. Inch by inch, step-by-step, clue by tiny clue he’d made his way along the nearly invisible trail.
Two miles into the woods, on an easterly course, he’d finally come to more visible signs that someone had passed this way. There had been a struggle judging by the scuffed up leaves and dirt. Torn branches of low-lying bushes gave testament to someone running. Flattened vines showed where someone had been on the ground.
Remembering the shovel lying in the flower garden he’d surmised that Green must have knocked Harley Ann out in the backyard and carried her off. And that she’d come to along the way and fought. Good girl.
His tracking went faster after that, and then petered out again. He’d momentarily thought he’d lost the trail, but then located a big stick with blood on it. Green must have managed to knock Harley Ann out again.
