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Her phone buzzed in her pocket and Eden pulled it out to check the screen. The number wasn’t one she recognized and wasn’t in her contact list, but with everything topsy-turvy at the salon after the fire, maybe it was a new client with questions or someone needing to reschedule. She tried to answer in the hallway, but the reception was crap.
Chandler was still talking to Marlow, so she tapped his shoulder, pointing at her phone. “I have a call I need to take. I’m going to walk over toward the stairs for better reception,” she pointed about thirty feet away before saying, “Be right back.”
Chandler started to follow her, but a man stepped into his path. As Eden started to walk away, she could hear the man’s frantic voice.
“I need to get to Interstate 64 from here,” the guy said. “Can you help me, please? My mom’s had a stroke and she’s in Virginia Beach and—”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you there. I’m very familiar with the Virginia Beach area. Which hospital is she in?” Chandler looked as calm as ever when she glanced back and gave him a little wave.
Eden wove around a group of people, but when she reached the stairs, she frowned down at her screen. The caller had hung up. For a moment, she stood there, wondering whether she should try to call the person back or just let it drop. It could be a telemarketer or even someone who realized they’d misdialed.
But if it was a customer…Eden really needed to do everything she could to hold on to her clientele right now. She went down one step to get the most bars and hit redial on the number. And waited. After six rings, no one had answered. That was weird.
Well. Whatever. She lifted her foot to go back up the step when something hard and ominous pressed against her lower back. She froze, panic rising in her.
“Don’t make a sound,” a low voice whispered near her ear. A voice Eden had last heard barking at her over the phone, talking about how his dog had gotten covered in paint. It was Terry Ross’s voice. She’d know his brutal tones anywhere. Eden’s heart went into freefall. “And don’t even think about signaling your boyfriend over there either. Come with me now—and keep your damn mouth shut—and no one will get hurt.”
Eden’s gaze darted around the faces close by. So many people. So many potential targets if he wanted to cause someone harm besides her. Old men, young women. A mother with a small girl around four or five beside her. The little girl looked up at Eden just then, her big blue eyes almost the same color as the tiny stuffed elephant she carried with her.
Oh God.
It felt unreal, like a nightmare. But the nudge of the weapon into her spine said it was really happening. Her low plea came out in a tumble of terror. “Please don’t hurt anyone.”
Terry chuckled, pushing her to continue down the stairs and standing far too close for comfort behind her. “Get moving. We’re going on a little ride.”
She had no choice but to do as he asked, stumbling slightly before regaining her balance. Eden prayed Chandler would see her and stop this. She caught one last quick glance of him, but he was still involved with the guy needing directions.
Fuck.
Please, God. Please help me.
They moved slowly and steadily downstairs until they reached a side exit to the building. She was too afraid to attempt signaling someone that she was in danger, so she complied with her kidnapper’s commands to leave the building. She had to put her faith in Chandler. If anyone could rescue her, she knew it was him. He was her last hope.
Once outside, Terry led her to a nondescript sedan parked in a deserted alleyway beside the courthouse and popped the trunk. He stayed behind her so she couldn’t see his face, just hear his awful voice as he ordered, “Get in.”
She wasn’t claustrophobic by nature, but she’d seen enough true crime shows to know this wouldn’t end well. Panic seized her like iron shackles, making her knees shake and her resolve crumble, and she begged. “Please. Please don’t make me get in there. I’ll do whatever you want.”
In answer, he shifted the weapon up from her back to the base of her skull. “Get in now or I blow your brains out. Your choice, bitch.”
Hot bile stung her throat, and she swallowed it down hard. The only thing worse than riding in a dark, dank trunk would be doing so while lying in your own vomit. After one last glance at the courthouse, Eden climbed into the trunk, wincing as Terry slammed it closed, taking the last of the light, and her hope, with it. Disoriented and scared, all she could do now was pray Chandler would find her, somehow, some way.
