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He taps his pen against his pad, studying me for a beat. “Based on your carbon dioxide levels, the doctors estimate you were down there for around four or five hours. Silverwood to Blackburn is a two-hour drive.”
He’s getting to the part I’ve questioned since the doctor told me the same thing. What did he do with me during those five unaccountable hours?
Were they spent digging the grave? Did he take me somewhere else first? He didn’t rape me. Thank God. One of the first things they did when I got here was do a rape kit. I didn’t feel anything down there, but I was still in shock, so I agreed to one. Just in case.
“Whoever did this to you didn’t want you to die quickly. The setup was meticulous. There was an air pump at the end of the box, supplying air.”
My eyes widen as a chill runs down my spine. He purposely kept me alive. Why?
“So, either they intended for you to suffer or just wanted to terrify you for a short while. Because the air supply wasn’t enough to deplete the carbon dioxide, you wouldn’t have lasted forever.”
My gaze flits around the room, my mind struggling to grasp the cruelty. The sick bastard intentionally wanted me to go insane before I died.
Mission almost accomplished.
“Tell me about your life in Blackburn,” he asks.
I delve into my entire history in Blackburn. That includes the mayor and his recent pedophile dreams. Martinez writes everything down and puts a star next to the mayor’s name.
Please. Dig deep on that one.
My voice croaks as I keep talking. I clear my throat but wince at the pain.
Dr. Betty looks at the Ranger. “She needs to take a break.”
He nods in agreement and stands, sliding his notepad into his shirt pocket.
“You’ve been through so much, Kali,” Dr. Betty murmurs, the hum of the hospital’s air conditioning blending with her comforting voice as she sits next to me. That’s putting it lightly. She grabs my water bottle and hands it to me. Drinking hurts the same as talking, but I take a sip to coat the dryness and hand it back to her.
The door swings open with a soft creak, and all eyes shift to the Ranger who left earlier. He flashes a crooked grin as he walks up toward me. “Good news, kid. You’re still a millionaire.”
Without a second thought, I push off the bed, run, and throw myself into his arms. He’s my life raft in this sinking ship. My head tells me to let go of the stranger, but my emotions get the best of me, and I hold on tighter, crying into his chest. “Thank you,” I murmur, my gratitude echoing in the sterile hospital room.
His emotional sigh reverberates through me as his hand pats my back. “You’re welcome, Ms. Stevens. It’s in a lockbox now, safe and sound.”
Oh my god.
My mouth hangs open as I stare at the six o’clock news from my hospital bed in disbelief. It’s about me. A picture of my grave site flashes on the screen, surrounded with yellow tape. I hold my breath, praying they don’t reveal my name. When the next segment comes on without hearing my name, the tension in my shoulders releases. It’ll come out soon enough.
I jump at the sound of a soft knock. When the nurse comes in, her eyes flash from me to the TV. She bites her lip, hesitant about what to do. We stay silent. Is there anything to say?
I swallow back my emotions. “It’s okay. I just didn’t expect to be on the news. Is it time for my vitals again?”
She shakes her head and jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “There’s an Officer Turner here to see you?”
How could I say no to the man who saved me?
“Do you mind muting the TV for me?” It sucks a million times over not being able to use my hands.
When she leaves, I overhear him talking to the officer stationed outside my room, and I quickly adjust my flimsy gown to cover everything.
The officer walks in, his dog trotting faithfully by his side.
“Hey,” he says, sounding unsure about being here.
“Hi.” My voice comes out just as awkward.
The only thing I remember about the duo is the dog. He comes over and sniffs me, laying his head on the bed near my hands. Hey there, hero. The bandages make it an awkward rub, but he doesn’t seem to care.
