Dead Right (Stillwater Trilogy #3)(92)
Author: Brenda Novak

She’d have to be very careful to keep her bearings. This far from the lights of the city, the night was far blacker than any she’d ever known. She needed to make her way as unerringly as possible straight to the front door. Then, maybe she could find a neighboring cabin or a road where someone might drive by and see her. She wouldn’t last long out in the cold, but she preferred to take her chances there rather than face what awaited her here.

Fortunately, she recalled the basic layout of the cabin. She thought about trying to stand, but knew she’d never be able to remain upright. Ray had tied the ropes so tightly she could no longer feel her feet. They were so numb and swollen that, had they not started hurting again, they wouldn’t have felt like part of her body anymore.

Come on. She couldn’t get up and she couldn’t crawl. Her only option was to use her head, shoulder and left hip to scoot across the floor. But she didn’t make it far before she banged into the closed door of the bedroom.

With a silent groan, she rested her head on the floor and concentrated on breathing. The exertion made it that much more difficult. And now this. Why couldn’t the sheriff’s men have left the door open?

Don’t cry. Don’t get upset. She needed her energy, and her air, for more constructive endeavors. Maybe the police hadn’t even come. Maybe it had all been a dream. She’d originally thought she’d been entombed with her father, hadn’t she? There were so many echoes in her head right now she couldn’t decide what she’d heard and what she hadn’t. But, either way, the door was closed—that was real enough—and she didn’t know how to open it.

The only way was to get to her feet and to stay there long enough, with her back to the door, and use those thick, unwieldy things currently tied behind her back. Those things she’d once called hands…

Taking as much of a breath as her gag and collar would allow, she slid up the wall. The pain in her feet made her head swim. She fell twice. But, determined, she eventually succeeded in standing.

“I did it,” she breathed, but it came out as a low, guttural moan. She couldn’t form words with that gag in her mouth. She’d managed the first step toward escape. That was good. She had to think in terms of small victories, couldn’t consider the whole situation at once, or she’d give up before she got anywhere.

Now for Step Two. She closed her eyes, trying to remind herself what it was. For a few seconds, she lost touch with reality, seemed to float through the air, to dip and twirl.

Think. Focus. She needed to open the door. That was it. But she had a problem. She was leaning against it and didn’t want to fall again or she’d lose the progress she’d gained.

You won’t fall. Not if you’re careful. Slide over. Inch by inch. That’s it.

She edged to the left until she could feel the doorjamb against the ridge of her spine. The handle was where she could reach it with her bound hands, but she knew she’d probably fall when she opened it. There wasn’t enough room for her on the left side of the door because of some bureau she wasn’t strong enough to move, and she couldn’t slide back to the right or she’d be in the path of the door again. To get any momentum at all, she’d have to hop out away from the wall after she turned the knob—yet she still couldn’t support her own weight. Even if her feet were free, she doubted she’d have the balance. The drug Ray had given her had left her nauseous and dizzy.

She had to try.

Be careful. You only have one chance, she told herself and turned the knob.

Now! Hopping forward, she tried to fling the door open with her wrist while she fell. The metal of the bed frame scratched her back as she crumpled to the floor, but she was pretty sure she’d managed to stayed out of the door’s path. It didn’t slam against the opposite wall but, judging by the ascending pitch of the noise, it drifted open.

A sudden creak terrified Madeline. Was Ray there, sleeping on the couch? If so, he would’ve heard all the bumping and scraping. And she couldn’t think of anything more frightening than what would happen if he caught her trying to escape.

The house remained dark and quiet.

He’s gone. I’m okay.

Okay had never seemed a more relative concept than when she scooted into the wooden hallway on her left. Moving like this was a painstaking process, but she couldn’t risk hopping around the cabin in the dark. She needed to chart her way carefully, to do everything she could to keep her head clear. Too much hurry, too much panic, could get her hurt—or worse.

The kitchen seemed a mile away. Hoping there might be other people, possibly in a neighboring cabin or driving along a nearby road, Madeline strained to hear every noise. There was nothing but the wind, whipping under the eaves.

A little more. Not far now. You’re doing fine. You can do it.

God, she couldn’t even breathe. She had to pause every few seconds just to recover. But it was the only way she could keep going. Whatever he’d given her made her feel as if she weighed three times her normal weight, and she was so restricted that any movement required great effort and concentration.

Frustration threatened to immobilize her. But fear, the cold underlying fear of knowing her life depended on what she did in the next few minutes, kept her moving.

That’s it. There you go.

The kitchen had linoleum on the floor. Madeline felt the difference in textures the moment she reached it and nearly cried in relief. She spent considerable time—too much time—feeling her way around, searching the drawers and cupboards for a knife or a pair of scissors. But the kitchen wasn’t stocked. There were no implements at all.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she sagged onto the floor and gasped for breath. If only she could move. If only she could run.

But she couldn’t. She was completely helpless. And then she heard it. The sound of a car engine, coming toward the cabin.

Clay’s cell phone rang just before he went out of range. He knew he wouldn’t have reception much longer. They were entering the Great Smoky Mountains.

“Have you found her?” Allie asked as soon as he answered.

He’d tried to call her, had left a message when she didn’t pick up. Grace must’ve filled her in. “Not yet.”

“What do you think’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” He wasn’t a superstitious man, but acknowledging what he thought could be happening seemed to increase the chances that it actually was. And his heart rebelled at the images bombarding his mind—images like the ones he’d seen of Katie and Rose Lee in those pictures with Barker. Madeline was his sister just as much as Grace or Molly. When he learned what Barker had been doing to Grace, he’d promised himself it’d never happen again, that he’d protect them all.