That’s what I’m worried about.
I try not to cringe as he touches me. “Have you been here before?” I ask.
“With the guys. We did some fishing.”
Okay, well at least someone might know where we are. Not that the ‘guys’ will come to my rescue here.
“I don’t really want to go out on a boat,” I say, fear gripping me. He could so easily knock me out and toss me over. Bile punches into my throat, as he exits the car, and as he grabs our bags from the back, I reach for my phone. My hands are shaking so bad, I can barely punch in my code.
I jump when I find him standing beside my window. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to call Mom, remember she asked me to.”
He opens my door, takes my phone from me, and puts it in his pocket. “Why don’t we wait on that. Let’s go inside, have a drink.”
“Okay,” I say and step from the car. My shaky legs will barely carry me to the door, and I check for lights on in the other cabins. I spot one three doors down that looks like it could be occupied. If I can make it there…
As though reading my mind, Brad takes hold of my arm and walks me into the cabin. I look around, searching for anything I can use as a weapon if things get ugly, which I’m hoping they don’t, but suspecting they will.
He drops our bags into the bedroom, and comes back into the room as I catalogue it.
“You like it?” he asks.
“Yeah, but I think I should call Mom. I don’t want her to worry.”
“You’re with me, what could she possibly be worried about? They adore me, Gemma. You know that.”
Right now, in this moment, I’m kicking my ass for not letting my parents know what he’s like behind closed doors. Amanda, however, she realized he was controlling, and Callan knows the truth about everything—everything except the baby inside me. My stomach lurches, and I swallow hard.
“Why don’t we run out and get some food,” I suggest. “I’m starving.”
“I thought of that,” he says and goes back outside.
I glance around for a phone, but no such luck, and mine is still in his back pocket. He comes back in with two brown paper bags with food.
“I thought we’d cook together,” he says. “Remember how we used to do that.”
What I remember is him getting annoyed if I got in his way. “Yeah, big fun,” I lie.
He removes the items from the bag and keeps casting glances my way. “What’s the matter, Gemma?”
“Nothing,” I say and try to hide my rising panic. “I just, yesterday I wasn’t feeling well. I think my stomach is still upset.” I jerk my thumb toward the bathroom. “Do you mind if I run in there for a bit.”
He pulls a big knife from the drawer and I try not to react as he slices into an onion. “Yeah, don’t be long.”
“I’ll just freshen up,” I say and reach for my purse.
Before I can get away, he comes to me, opens my purse and looks into it. He pulls out my Tylenol bottle.
“What’s this for.”
“Like I said I wasn’t feeling well yesterday and was a bit feverish. I’m going to take a couple of these.”
He seems satisfied enough with the answer, and gives me my purse back. I hurry to the bathroom. I nearly cry out in relief when I see the window. It’s small but I’m sure I can squeeze through it, and the baby isn’t big enough for me to do any harm. I lock the door, turn on the water and tug on the window. Stupid thing is stuck. I tug some more, and it makes a loud cracking sound. I suck in a breath and go still.
“Gemma, what’s going on in there?”
“I just dropped my medicine bottle. I’m going to gather the spilled pills. I’ll be right out.”
The door knob turns then stops. “Hurry it up.” With my heart racing, I lift myself up, and slide out the small window. I land on the ground with a thud, pick myself up quickly and dash to the cabin, three doors down. I knock quietly and hug myself, expecting Brad to come rushing from the cottage. The door finally opens and a middle-aged man stands there.
“What can I do for you?”
I nearly cry with relief.
“What’s going on, Dennis?” a woman calls out.
“Don’t know,” he says as I hurry inside and close and lock the door behind me.
I take a deep breath and blurt out, “Call 911.”
18
Callan
“Now what?” I ask as Amanda stares at the laptop she’s holding beside me.
“This exit right here,” she says, and I flick on my signal.
I turn off the highway, and we come to a fork in the road. “That way,” she says, checking Gemma’s Find My Phone app on her laptop. For the first time, I’m glad she’s always losing her phone, and installed the app on her devices.
“Where the fuck are we?” I ask, and work to fight down the rising panic.
Amanda glances around. “I don’t know.” Just then Amanda’s phone rings and we exchange a worried glance. She checks it, and says, “It’s Mom. What should I do?”
“You better answer it.”
Amanda hesitates. “I don’t want to worry her, though.”
“But maybe she knows something. Maybe she’s heard from her. You better answer. Put her on speakerphone.”
“Okay,” she says and slides her finger across the screen. “Hey Mom,” she says in her best casual voice.
“Hey Amanda.”
“What’s up?”
“Have you been talking to Gemma?”
“Uh, yeah, I saw her today, actually.” She fusses with the zipper on her purse, likely needing something to do with her hands. “We went shopping.”
“Did you know she was back with Brad?”
My heart jumps. “Fuck,” I
