With the pain meds nearly out of her system, Jess lay flat on her back staring at the ceiling of her dimly lit hospital room, never feeling so useless. Her body ached and her head throbbed, but at least the pain made her feel like she was doing something. She hoped they would release her today, even though her brain felt like mush.
Unable to sleep, she flicked on a small light over her bed and pulled out the pages she’d taken from the textile factory, squinting as the light reflected off the white paper. Whenever she tried to study them, her eyes blurred, which brought on a lingering headache. So while out of commission, she’d made sure that Seth received a copy of the pages. A set was personally delivered to him by Sam. Seth had told her on the phone that at first glance the numeric sequences didn’t make sense to him either, but he was willing to look for any obvious patterns in the code. At least she felt that his effort would be something, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Not for her.
Yet staring at the ceiling for hours had served one purpose.
The face of the mystery blond woman came into better focus—bits of memory at a time, like kaleidoscope pieces locking into place. And she was able to sift through her recollections and know these images were not from her distant past. They were more current, from the time of the explosion. If the woman walked up to her on the street in broad daylight, she wasn’t sure she would recognize her. But with each passing hour, her mind had cleared away the fog, leaving her with one desperate thought.
If the blond woman had indeed helped her, then she might have done the same for Payton’s niece. If so, Nikki could still be out there and in the hands of the Russian. The thought made her stomach gnarl into knots. She had to do something, and lying in a hospital bed wouldn’t cut it.
When would she tell Payton the truth about what she suspected? And if she did, would he even believe her?
Once again during the night, the helicopters had traveled for hours with only one brief stop to refuel. They landed in a grassy open field where a fuel truck was awaiting their arrival. Every aspect of their departure from Chicago had been planned and coordinated in secrecy. This time, once they touched down, armed men ordered Nikki and the others out of the passenger compartment and into the grass.
When she saw what was happening, panic gripped her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her legs felt weak and unable to move. A man shoved her behind the others. Every girl was forced into the scrub brush at gunpoint. This was it. Nikki believed they’d all be killed—coerced to their knees and shot in the head in mass execution.
“Oh, God…please no,” she pleaded under her breath.
Terrifying mental pictures flashed across her mind, each worse than the last. But once Nikki saw they were being forced to relieve themselves, she breathed a sigh of relief. Men holding flashlights kept track of the girls as they squatted, giving them no privacy as they watched. What Nikki had imagined had been far worse, so she suffered through the indignity when it came to her turn.
After they got back into the helicopters and took off, Nikki had huddled with the rest and kept an eye out the window to look for city lights or distinguishing landmarks. But it never got light enough for her to see much. She had no doubt their escape had been well planned. They flew by night and through remote areas, making it harder for anyone to track their flight. And with each well-orchestrated move by her captors, she grew more depressed. These men had thought of everything, leaving her without hope of ever being rescued.
At dawn, they landed in another open field, with a shack on the property, a corrugated metal Quonset hut amidst rolling mountains that encircled a clearing. No power lines. No real roads. Only rutted dirt tracks. Nikki didn’t recognize any of it. She had no idea if they were even in the United States anymore. And with the noticeable temperature drop, she caught a chill as she followed the others to the only shelter within miles.
“Get them inside,” she heard the Russian tell one of the men. “Chain them together, except for the three. I want them on a separate leash.”
“We shouldn’t stay here long,” the second man cautioned, looking over his shoulder and along the horizon.
“Not planning on it, but we may be here for a day or two. I’m waiting for clearance for our next stops,” the Russian ordered. “Make sure they…”
Nikki didn’t hear anything else the Russian said. She got shoved inside with the others, and started to look for the darkest corner she could find. A moldy stench made it nearly impossible to breathe. And their movements echoed in the tin structure as the girls cowered together in smaller packs. Someone struck a match and lit a lamp, casting shadows and the smell of kerosene into the dank space. One man threw dusty, scratchy blankets at them, and some of the girls had begun to cough from the filth floating in the stale air.
But as Nikki found a spot to sit, one of her abductors grabbed her arm and hauled her to another corner, away from the others. She was handcuffed and chained to two other girls and given half a bottle of water to share. The others across the room got nothing.
She handed the water bottle to the girls chained beside her, allowing them to drink first. When it was Nikki’s turn, the youngest kid handed her the water and whispered, a girl by the name of Britney Webber who had a small heart-shaped birthmark on her chin.
“What’s happening? Why did they separate us?” Britney’s eyes glistened with tears in the dimly lit room.
Nikki shook her head in reply, too scared to speculate. Her lips quivered and the water bottle trembled in her hand as she drank. She’d been culled out with two others for a reason, a purpose she didn’t want to think about. She had hoped to get some sleep, but closing her eyes now was out of the question. After her failed attempt to escape with Jessica, she felt certain the Russian’s decision to isolate her had more to do with retribution than any treatment for good behavior.
The man had plans for her—something real special. And no amount of speculation would prepare her. No matter what she imagined, the Russian could conjure something much worse.
Nikki fought to keep from heaving the contents of her stomach. She shut her eyes tight and imagined hiding in the darkest corner of her closet back home. As she slowed her breathing, she almost smelled the light fragrance of her favorite perfume, and fought back tears with the memory. And she pretended to listen for the sounds of her mother’s footsteps up the stairs. In the not so distant past—a lifetime ago—having her mom outside her closed bedroom door would have angered her. But now she would give anything for such an intrusion. Thinking of her mom brought an undeniable lump to her throat.
And hearing Uncle Payton’s soft laughter would have warmed her heart—making her feel safe—until she realized that she’d never hear his voice again. That’s when she pictured him dying in the explosion, and the frightening images sent her over the edge. This time she didn’t hold back her tears. She couldn’t, even if she tried.
“Thanks for everything, Joe. I wish…” Payton stood at the doorway to his friend’s hospital room, searching for words that wouldn’t come. He finally settled on, “Sorry you got hurt.”
“Are you kidding me? When I get home, I’m gonna milk this bum leg for all it’s worth.” Joe grinned between grimaces as a male nurse named Julio slowly helped him into a wheelchair. But his smile quickly faded when he changed the subject. “I know you were out at the site this morning. Anything new?”
“No. Just a whole lot of nothing.” Payton shook his head and stared down the hall at nothing in particular, his mind filled with images of the last forty-eight hours.
Hours had blurred into days with nothing accomplished—one big lesson in futility.
Recovery crews had painstakingly sifted through the sparse remnants of the destroyed factory, looking for bodies with cadaver dogs and using other means, without results. He could only watch from a distance behind the police barrier. Sam had warned him that he’d be unable to get closer, but he had to be there when they found Nikki.
It didn’t feel right to leave her in the hands of strangers, even well-meaning ones. Payton supposed no news was good news, and a part of him wanted to find hope in that. But being more pragmatic, he had grown to believe no news only delayed the inevitable of knowing what had actually happened to Nikki.
“How’s Susannah?” Joe asked as Julio retrieved his overnight bag and packed his personal stuff.
Payton knew that for every hour of not knowing, Susannah paid an undeniable price. And by the grim look on Joe’s face, his friend knew it too.
“Not good.” Payton gritted his teeth, fending off the tension headache brewing behind his eyes. “I’m glad you’ll be there. She could use a friend.”
Susannah’s voice had sounded rough on the phone. With every call, Payton had found her more and more on edge as time dragged on without any news. At times, her words slurred and he knew she’d been drinking, but who was he to ask her to quit? She was alone. And with every stone turned aside in that pile of rubble, his sister came
