Every Second

49

Somewhere in New York State

Warm tears rolled down Lori’s cheeks.

Several long moments passed before they dried. She could no longer hope and pray for the best; she accepted what she now believed to be true.

They’ve killed Dan and they’re going to kill us. They’re just waiting for the others to bring the money.

The red light on the battery pack of her suicide vest continued flashing.

No one was coming. No one would save them.

It’s just me.

Drawing on her counseling experience, Lori took deep breaths. She couldn’t lose to hysteria. No matter the odds, she couldn’t give in. She needed to turn her fear into action. She’d been a cop, a good street cop. She needed to use her training. To think. Take stock. Assess options.

I won’t let Billy die here.

Lori looked at Cutty, who’d seemed indifferent the whole time she and Jerricko spoke, immersed in the chiming of the video games he was playing on his phone. Jerricko had returned to the table and was working on his computer.

The swish of bottled water meant Billy was awake, taking a drink.

She glanced at the persistent blinking light on his vest, then caressed him while cooing soft words of encouragement and love.

“Do you think Dad’s coming with the police to get us?” he whispered in her ear.

“I do, sweetheart.”

“Maybe he’ll bring Sam?”

“Maybe.” Lori smiled, holding him close, feeling his skin next to hers, inhaling his scent, fortifying her resolve as she began forging a plan.

Again, she took stock of the cabin-the beds, the bags, the kitchen area, the table with the backpack and laptop. Then she considered the duct tape wrapped around their wrists over the plastic cuffs, the metal handcuff around their ankles, secured to the long chains. The video camera in the corner mounted on the tripod.

The knife.

Lori searched for potential gaps and weaknesses but there was nothing.

Except the obvious.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said.

“You just went,” Cutty said.

“The sandwich didn’t…agree with me. I need to go.”

Cutty muttered, tucked his phone in his pocket, grabbed his rifle, then got the handcuff keys and used them to release her. Then he tossed the keys back on the table next to Jerricko.

“If the kid has to go, you’re taking him. It’s your turn,” Cutty said, then raked the muzzle of his gun at Lori to the back door. “Let’s go.”

With her wrists bound in front of her, she stepped carefully to keep her balance while walking along the twisting, narrow trail to the outhouse. The low sun cast long shadows, but she drew upon all of her concentration to analyze the surrounding geography, searching for neighboring cabins, cars, people, any signs of life she could use to her advantage.

There was the van, but Lori didn’t know who had the keys and was not confident in her ability to hotwire it, even if she had the chance.

At the outhouse she again endured the humiliation of being forced to keep the door open. She watched Cutty test his phone for a signal. By the face he made, it appeared to her that service didn’t cover this area, something she noted as Cutty resumed playing his games on his phone.

When they walked back, Lori studied every aspect of the trail at every step. There was nothing. Nothing she could see that would help.

Time was running out, and hope, like the day, was fading fast.

Panic was churning in the pit of her gut as they neared the cabin, when a sudden bang stopped them in their tracks.

The sound echoed over the hills.