Out of Turn

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

What the hell are you doing?” Blane snapped at Kade. “After what she went through last night, you’re fucking yelling at her this morning?”

“Oh, excuse me, am I supposed to be taking advice on how to treat her from you?” Kade shot back. “In that case, let me crush her dreams and publicly humiliate and betray her. Am I missing anything?”

“At least I make my intentions clear. I want her back. You just screw with her head and put her in danger.”

“You mean like Gage trying to kill her? Or you holding sleazy Uncle Bob in higher esteem than your own fiancée?” Kade accused, his voice laced with contempt. “How many women, besides Kandi of course, have you slept with over the past three months? I’m sure Kathleen would love to know where your dick’s been.”

Blane grabbed Kade by the shirt and slammed him against the wall. “You were just waiting, weren’t you,” he snarled. “You think I didn’t know that the moment I was out of the picture, you’d try to fuck her?”

“Who said anything about try?”

Kade moved, so fast I couldn’t see what he did, but he was out of Blane’s hold now, his back no longer to the wall.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Blane asked. “Are you still so angry that I took too long to come get you? For all you went through? Are you trying to get back at me?”

“Give me a fucking break,” Kade scoffed. “Don’t try and blame this on some psychobabble bullshit about my childhood.”

“Then why?”

Silence from Kade as they glared at each other.

“Tell me why!” Blane shouted, making me jump.

“Because I love her!”

The silence in the wake of Kade’s outburst was deafening. Blane looked how I felt—stunned.

“I love her, too,” Blane finally said, his voice much quieter.

“I know,” Kade replied, the defeat in his voice painful to hear. “And she loves you. Not me. Congratulations. You win.”

He turned then, and our eyes met. Blane looked over at me as well. I stood, frozen, under their steady gazes. I imagined they were accusing me.

I swallowed. “This has to stop,” I managed to force out. “You’re tearing each other apart and I’m to blame. It never should have gotten this far.” And I didn’t know if I was referring to myself and Blane, or me and Kade.

The sound of the doorbell precluded anything they might have said. I took it as my opportunity to escape and hurried to look out the window in my bedroom. When I saw who was parked outside, my heart jumped into my throat.

“It’s the police,” I called out, heading back to where Blane and Kade still stood in the hall. “Two patrol cars and an unmarked car.” There was no way they were sending that much manpower without a good reason, a reason I was afraid I already knew.

“I’ll go down,” Blane said.

“I’ll come with you,” I added.

“You should stay up here,” he said with a frown.

I shook my head. “No way. And don’t even think about locking me up again.”

The ghost of a smile crossed Blane’s lips and was gone. He took my hand and turned to Kade. “Don’t you dare come downstairs,” he said. “I don’t need the cops sniffing around you.”

Kade’s lips were pressed in a thin line. “Like I give a shit,” he scoffed. “I’m not letting them take you.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” Blane said. “And you’ll only get yourself hurt or arrested if you try. I won’t have it.” His tone said he was not to be argued with.

Kade’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. “Still under the delusion that you can tell me what to do?”

Blane grasped Kade’s shoulder in a firm grip. “I’m still protecting my little brother. Nothing’s ever going to change that. So stay out of it and keep your ass hidden, or you’re going to be in deep shit with me.”

Kade didn’t say anything, his eyes on us as Blane led me downstairs.

He held my hand tightly as we walked to the front door, and I had the sense we were walking to our doom. Blane put his hand on the knob, then took a deep breath before he opened the door, schooling his face into a polite mask of indifference.

A plainclothes cop was standing there along with two uniformed men. He flashed his badge and ID, which proclaimed him to be Detective Walker. “Blane Kirk?”

“Yes.”

The cop’s eyes flashed to me. “Kathleen Turner?”

I swallowed. “Yes,” I confirmed, but my voice was thready. I tried again. “Yes.”

“Ma’am, we’d like to take you downtown for questioning in the murder of Kandi Miller.”

My jaw fell open and the blood rushed from my head so fast I saw spots dance before my eyes. Blane’s grip on my waist tightened. “Wh-what?” I stammered in disbelief.

“Why do you need to talk to Miss Turner?” Blane asked, his voice curt as he slipped into lawyer mode.

“We have reason to believe Miss Turner had motive and opportunity,” Walker said. “That’s all we need.” His gaze didn’t falter as he looked at Blane. “You of all people should know that, Mr. Kirk.”

He and Blane were locked in a staring contest, the tension thick between them as the cops hovered in the background. I glanced from one to the other, confused. Was I missing something?

Finally, Blane’s lips curved in a cold smile. “Well played, Detective,” he said calmly. “There’s no need to take Miss Turner in for questioning. As I’m sure you know, she was out of town the night Kandi was killed.”

“Blane!” I exclaimed in dismay. He’d just blown the alibi I’d concocted for him. His hand tightened painfully on mine and I shut up.

“Do you have another witness who can vouch for your whereabouts that night?” Walker said, looking wholly unsurprised by Blane’s confession.

“I do not.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us,” he said, motioning to the two uniformed cops. They moved forward to flank Blane.

I panicked. “No! You can’t arrest him!”

“Give us just a moment, if you would,” Blane said to Walker, who nodded, a flash of sympathy or maybe pity crossing his face as he glanced at me.

Blane took me by the elbow, moving me a few steps away from the door and out of earshot. “It’s okay, Kat,” he said softly. “I knew this was coming.”

“Y-you can’t—they can’t!” I stammered, tears flooding my eyes. “You didn’t kill her!”

“Shhh, Kat, it’s okay,” he said, folding me in his arms. “Be strong. I need you to be strong.”

I swallowed the sob building in my chest, nodding and clutching his shirt. I inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of him, the warmth of his body, the strength in his arms, the press of his lips to the top of my head.

“Stay here,” Blane whispered in my ear. “I can’t think of you anywhere else right now. Promise me.”

I nodded again, unable to speak.

“Kiss me.”

I obediently tipped my face up to his.

Blane’s lips met mine with a sweet tenderness that sent a shaft of pure pain through me. He cupped my jaw, lightly brushing my cheek with his thumb. There was the softest touch of his tongue against mine, then he was pulling back.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

It took every ounce of willpower I had to stand there and do nothing as they cuffed his hands behind his back. Blane never took his eyes off me while Walker read him his rights, as though he were memorizing me the same way I was him. Then they turned him, leading him out the door and into one of the squad cars. I watched, standing silently in the doorway, as they took Blane away.

Hands settled on my shoulders and I turned to lean into Kade, the tears flowing freely now. His arms circled me in a tight embrace.

“What now?” I asked, raising my tearstained face to look at him.

“We need to call that chick, his lawyer,” Kade said, gently brushing the wetness from my cheeks. “And the cop, Jared, who said he’d help Blane.”

I nodded, trying to push away the despair I felt and concentrate on how to best help Blane.

“Did he tell you how to reach that guy?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Go call the lawyer,” Kade said. “Tell her Blane’s been arrested. She needs to get over there ASAP and make sure they keep him in isolation.”

“Why?”

Kade’s face was stark when he answered. “If they put him with other inmates, they’ll kill him.”

I stared at Kade, horrified. “They wouldn’t… he’s running for governor…”

“That won’t matter. I’ll scour the den, find that guy’s number—he may be able to help. Now go.”

“Okay.” I scurried off to the telephone, terrified of what was going to happen to Blane. A few minutes later, I was punching in Charlotte’s phone number. She answered on the second ring.

“Charlotte, it’s Kathleen,” I said. “The cops—Blane’s been arrested.”

It took only a few moments to give the details of how Blane had confessed my fake alibi and the subsequent arrest.

“Kade’s worried Blane may get hurt if they don’t put him in isolation,” I said. “Please, can you get down there?”

“I’ll go right away,” she said, “but I don’t know whether there’s anything I can do if they decide to ‘accidentally’ put him in with other prisoners.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Cops sometimes have their own idea of justice. A murder like Kandi’s—they might put him with other inmates just to teach him a lesson, prod him into confessing.”

Oh God. I felt nausea rise in my throat.

“Do what you can,” I said.

We hung up after she said again that she would go downtown immediately. I went back to the den, where Kade was searching Blane’s desk.

“Did you find it?” I asked.

“Not yet,” he answered, pulling open the desk’s bottom drawer and rifling through it.

My throat had a lump in it that felt the size of a golf ball, but I forced the words out. “Charlotte said she can request isolation but that the cops sometimes will ignore it and put him with other inmates anyway.”

“I know.”

“What are we going to do?” My voice was too shrill, but I couldn’t help it.

“One thing at a time,” he said, shoving the drawer shut and yanking open the top drawer. He paused.

“What is it?” I asked, peering over the desk, but I couldn’t see what he was looking at.

Kade pulled out a photograph. Curious, I rounded the desk, then sucked in a breath.

It was one of the photos Keaston had given Blane. Kade and I were at Bar Sinister in Denver, me in my leather prostitute ensemble, standing between his knees as he sat on the barstool. His hands were nearly hidden, they were so far up the back of my skirt.

The obvious heat between us in that photograph made my cheeks burn.

“Where did Blane get this?” Kade asked, and the ice in his voice made me look at him in surprise.

“Keaston,” I said. “That’s what he gave Blane to prove to him that you and me…” I couldn’t finish that sentence.

“Didn’t you wonder how Keaston could possibly have had photos of us in that bar? No one knew we were going there.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed. It had never occurred to me, the circumstances of my and Blane’s breakup overshadowing everything else.

“The only person who knew was Garrett,” Kade continued, “and he never said who he was working for before he died.”

“You don’t think—”

“What other possible explanation could there be?”

“But… he’s your uncle, too,” I spluttered. “Why would he try to kill you?”

“Because he knows I can tie him to Sheffield,” Kade said.

Ron Sheffield. The former CIA agent who’d masqueraded as a Navy JAG officer. He’d threatened and killed witnesses, nearly killed me, all to coerce Blane into losing a trial. “But… you’re family!” I couldn’t comprehend it. Keaston would knowingly send Garrett to kill his own flesh and blood?

“Not to him,” Kade said flatly. “He tolerates me because of Blane. That’s all.”

Kade pulled out a booklet and started flipping through it. “Ah,” he said, “here’s his numbers. Should’ve known. Only Blane would be so cliché as to keep a literal little black book. Here it is.”

Kade pulled out his cell and dialed. After a moment, he said, “Jared—it’s Kade. They’ve arrested Blane. I have evidence I need tested for that DNA match.”

I listened as they arranged when and where they were going to meet. When he hung up, he said, “Get me the DNA you got off James.”

I ran upstairs to Blane’s bedroom, catching sight of the baggie with my bra stuffed inside. I grabbed it, then hurried back to the den and handed it to Kade. He looked at it, then seemed to realize what it was.

“Why is James’s DNA on your bra?” he asked.

“It was all I had at the time,” I answered with a shrug, watching as he pulled the piece of red lingerie out of the bag. He examined the fabric, paying particular attention to where James had cut the elastic.

“He cut it off you.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. I knew that tone of voice, and I could only be grateful that Kade hadn’t been the one to walk in on James and me last night. If he had, James would be dead.

Kade looked at me and our eyes caught. Suddenly, all that had been said upstairs between him, me, and Blane came rushing back.

“Kade,” I began, not even sure what I was going to say, just that I wanted to fix things… somehow. “About earlier—”

He cut me off mid-sentence. “Now’s not the time.” He stuffed the bra back in the baggie.

I persisted. “Just listen to me—”

“I’ve gotta go,” he said, interrupting again. He brushed by me, but I grabbed a handful of his shirt and hung on. He stopped, but the blue of his eyes was cold when he looked down at me, all emotion wiped from his expression.

I hated it when he did that, when I couldn’t read anything from him—when he looked at me the way he had months ago, like he couldn’t stand the sight of me. I instinctively knew it was a defense mechanism, Kade’s way of dealing with his emotions, but I still hated it.

“I want you to know that I never would have done what I did in Vegas if I didn’t care about you,” I said. It had to be said, it was the truth, and Kade deserved that.

“But now that you and Blane are back together, you regret it,” he replied, matter-of-fact.

“Blane and I aren’t back together,” I said. “But regardless, I… I just shouldn’t have done that. You were drunk and I… Well, I have no excuse.” Unless finally giving in to the overwhelming temptation of Kade counted as an excuse.

His steady, penetrating gaze made me nervous and I glanced down, realizing I still had hold of his shirt. I let it go, smoothing the wrinkles I’d made in the fabric.

“We’ll discuss this later,” he said. “I have to go make sure no one kills my brother.”

Anxiety knotted in my stomach. “How can you do that?”

Kade smiled. “I’ve got friends in low places, princess. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” And he was gone.

I stood staring at the empty room, feeling like I’d just been hit by a truck. In the span of thirty minutes, Blane had been arrested and was possibly in danger, depending on the whim of the police. Kade had figured out that Senator Keaston had been behind the attempts on his life, and consequently mine, while we were in Denver, and he had also been involved with the intimidation and coercion of Blane during the Waters trial.

Then I realized that Mona and Gerard didn’t know. They didn’t come over on Sundays so had no clue what had happened.

I ran upstairs and slipped on a pair of flip-flops before hurrying outside to their home, which adjoined Blane’s property. It was already over ninety degrees out, even at mid-morning, and as I walked I pulled my hair up to get it off my neck, wishing I’d thought to grab an elastic band to hold it in a ponytail.

Mona and Gerard’s house was a homey white ranch with a deep porch. Two identical Adirondack chairs sat in the shade of the porch and a white hammock hung between two large maples in the yard. Petunias bloomed in a huge flowerpot at the foot of the stairs leading up to the porch. It looked like the home I’d always imagined I’d have when I got married. Someday. Maybe.

I knocked on the front door and after a moment, Gerard answered.

“Kathleen,” he said with a genial smile. “This is a nice surprise. Come in!”

“Hi, Gerard,” I said. “Is Mona around? I need to talk to both of you.”

His smile faded to a look of concern as he took in the tone of my voice. “Of course. Let me go get her.”

The foyer had a hardwood floor and a table held framed photos of Blane and Kade when they were young. I picked one up. It was a candid shot and must have been taken when Blane had returned from a deployment, as he was wearing fatigues. He stood next to Kade, showing him something the camera couldn’t see. The sun was setting behind them, casting a golden glow. Kade wasn’t looking at what Blane was showing him, instead gazing up at him with something close to awe on his face. I tried to guess his age from the picture. Maybe seventeen? Eighteen?

I put the photo back, glancing at the others. There was a posed photo of Blane in his dress uniform that took my breath away. School photos of Kade, culminating in his senior picture. The smirk I’d come to love curved his lips, a knowing glimmer in his blue eyes as he posed, as though he already knew the effect his looks had.

I was still perusing the many photos of Blane and Kade on one wall when Mona appeared, Gerard following her.

“Kathleen,” she said, frowning with worry, “what’s going on? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said before taking a deep breath. “I came to tell you that the police… arrested Blane this morning.” The words were harder to get out than I’d anticipated, nearly choking me.

She stared at me, shock obvious on her face. Gerard put his arm around her shoulders.

“Did you call Charlotte?” he asked.

I nodded. “Kade’s also going to see what he can do.” I decided not to tell them about the danger Blane was in. “I just thought you should know.”

Mona’s eyes grew bright with tears, which made my eyes sting as well. She reached for me and we held each other tight for a moment.

“It’ll be okay,” I found myself comforting her. “He’ll get out of this.”

Gerard patted me on the shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze.

There was a knock at the door. I pulled back from Mona, quickly swiping a hand over my eyes. “I’ll get it,” I said. I headed back to the door, but before I got there, it flew open and I halted in surprise.

A man stood in the doorway, about six feet tall, dressed in dark slacks and a polo shirt. Sunglasses obscured his eyes, but the most important detail was the gun in his hand. When he saw me, he smiled.

“Thought I saw you heading this way.”

I spun around, only to see a second man had entered from the back and now stood behind Mona and Gerard. The gun he held was pointed at Mona.

“I wouldn’t try and make a run for it, if I were you,” he said. “Not unless you want to be responsible for these good people dying.”

I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender, turning sideways so I could see both men. Gerard held tightly to Mona, warily eyeing the man next to them. Mona’s face was tearstained, but she’d stopped crying. Her lips were pressed tightly together.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Why, you, of course,” the man at the door said. “Honestly, I didn’t think it’d be this easy. It seems you’ve a talent for surviving when other people would turn up their toes and die. Now be a good girl and come along.”

“You’re not taking Kathleen,” Gerard said angrily, reaching for me.

The man behind him moved fast, slamming the butt of his gun against the back of Gerard’s head. Mona let out a cry of dismay as he slumped to the floor, falling to her knees next to him.

I took an instinctive step toward them, but was brought up short by a firm hold on my arm. I tried to wrestle my arm away, but couldn’t. The man’s grip tightened on me until it hurt.

“Don’t make us do something you’ll regret, sweetheart,” he threatened from behind me.

“Fine, I’ll come!” I snapped. “Just leave these people alone. They have nothing to do with this.”

“Then let’s go.”

I gave Mona one last look, sending up a prayer that Gerard would be okay. Tears stung my eyes. She looked like she was about to start crying again, too.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to say before the guy dragged me from the house.

A sedan was parked out front, and when we got to it, he popped the trunk.

“Get in,” he said, motioning with his gun.

I stared at the trunk’s empty expanse. “It’s nearly a hundred degrees out!” I protested. “I’ll die in there.”

He just smiled. “Let’s hope you’re tougher than you look. Now get in or you’ll be hot and bleeding from a gunshot wound.”

No, didn’t really want that, and I didn’t want them going back inside hurting Mona and Gerard, either, which left me no choice.

The dark metal of the car was already burning hot to the touch as I scrambled inside the trunk. Once I was in, the man with the sunglasses wasted no time in slamming the lid down.

It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness. When they did, I started looking for the usual glow-in-the-dark trunk release. All newer cars had them—surely this one wouldn’t be an exception. I felt the car start and we began moving.

The heat became stifling fast, the air thick, and I felt the familiar panic creep over me that I’d felt in the closet with Blane and Kade. I struggled not to succumb to my memories. If I didn’t keep thinking straight, I had no shot at getting out of this.

It seemed I could almost hear Kade’s voice in my head: Take it easy. Breathe.

I was hyperventilating. I could feel it. I closed my eyes, concentrating on what it had felt like to have Kade’s arms around me, Blane’s body against mine, the two of them surrounding and protecting me. Their strength shoring up mine.

Gradually, my breathing slowed and I opened my eyes. My hand was fisted tightly over the locket around my neck.

Sweat dripped off me and I started looking again for the trunk release. I found it at last, my slick fingers grabbing hold as I waited to see if the car would slow. If I could pop the trunk at a stoplight or something, surely there would be someone nearby who would help a woman climbing out of a car trunk.

The car slowed and then stopped, the engine idling. Figuring this might be my only chance, I pulled the lever.

Nothing happened.

I pulled again. Still nothing. I pulled again and again, not wanting to face the truth.

They’d disabled the release.

The car started moving and I frantically searched in the dark for any kind of cables or lines that connected to the trunk, but I’d never examined the inner workings of a trunk latch before, which left me ill-equipped to figure it out in this situation.

My eyes burned from the sweat dripping in them, my bra and tank now soaked. I’d never been this hot in my life. The car ride seemed to go on and on, though my frame of reference was probably skewed since every moment inside the trunk felt like an eternity.

My hands faltered in their blind search as I struggled to breathe. My thoughts were fuzzy and after a while I realized my arms were still. I had no energy to move them. It felt like I was going to die, locked in a car trunk that was more like an oven. I could hear my own struggling gasps over the sound of the car.

I thought about Blane and prayed he’d be okay, that the evidence we’d collected would be enough to convict James and set Blane free. I thought of Kade and hoped he’d keep trying to turn his life around with the new business he’d started.

I wished I’d gotten to say good-bye, which was my last coherent thought before I sank into darkness.

I didn’t expect to wake up, which is why I was so surprised to open my eyes and find that I was out of the trunk. Unfortunately, my new location wasn’t much better, though at least there was more air.

It seemed I was in some kind of a metal shed and not a very big one at that. The floor wasn’t the usual concrete slab but just hard-packed earth. There were four small, dirty windows, all of them tightly closed.

I sat up with a groan, holding a hand to my aching head, and heard the rattle of a chain. I jerked around, afraid someone was in there with me, but then I realized the chain was attached to a thick metal collar around my neck. My fingers scrabbled at the chain and collar for several minutes before I allowed myself to recognize the futility of trying to remove either of them.

The sun was high in the sky—I could tell by the shadows on the floor—and the inside of the shed wasn’t much cooler than the trunk had been. My hair was matted to my sticky skin.

Getting to my feet, I followed the chain to a metal rod stuck in the ground. The chain was rusty, as was the rod, but both were still heavy and solid. I pulled at the rod in the ground, but it didn’t budge. It looked like it had been in that spot for a very long time. I tried to push and wiggle it, but it held firm against my sweat-slicked grip.

The chain’s length allowed me only a few feet of movement and I couldn’t get close enough to the windows to open them. From what I could see through them, I was out in the country somewhere. I didn’t see any other houses around.

The shed itself was nearly empty, with only a couple of workbenches attached to the walls and an old sawhorse. The smell was musty and old, as though it hadn’t been used or opened up for fresh air in a while.

Exploring kept my fear at bay, but as time passed, I couldn’t help but grow more terrified. I was so thirsty, so hot, and the metal on my neck cut into my skin. I went back to working on the steel rod in the ground, though it seemed useless.

The shadows had grown long when the door finally rattled with the sound of a lock being slid back. I braced myself as it opened, revealing the guy with the sunglasses, only he was no longer wearing them and his eyes were cruel and cold. He was carrying two boxes.

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice coming out a rasp.

“I don’t want anything,” he said, setting down the boxes just inside the door. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Which is?”

He smiled. “Torturing and killing you.”

I swallowed, my mouth nearly too dry to make saliva. “I have friends,” I said, “people who would pay you a lot of money to let me go.” And I prayed Kade had whatever it took to make that a true statement.

He laughed. “I’m already being paid a lot of money to make you suffer”—he paused—“and… I enjoy it.”

A cold chill went through me. “Who’s paying you?”

“You already know the answer to that one, I reckon,” he said. “He hired me to make sure it’s done right this time, with a bonus for every day I can drag it out. He really hates you, sweetheart.”

William Gage.

One of the boxes moved, a scratching sound coming from inside. The guy reached for it.

“I felt kind of bad, leaving you all alone out here, so I brought you some company.” He opened the box and dumped it. Two dozen or more rats scurried out, scampering into the shed and toward me.

I screamed, scrambling backward until the chain jerked on my neck.

“Now don’t worry,” the man continued calmly. “We don’t want the rats taking over the place, so I brought them some friends, too.” He opened the next box, then used his foot to carefully tip it over. Horrified, I saw a tangle of reptiles. Two, no, three big snakes slithered out of the box.

“It’s gonna be getting dark soon,” he said, backing out the door. “If I was you, I might try to stay awake. Those rats are hungry, and those snakes’ll probably send them into a bit of a tizzy. But watch yourself. A copperhead bite won’t kill ya”—he smiled—“but I hear they hurt like a sonofabitch. You have a good night now, ya hear? I’ll see you in the morning.” He shut the door and I again heard the slide of the lock. After a moment, there was the distant sound of a car engine, which then faded away.

I stood, shaking, in the center of the shed, my eyes glued to the snakes. The rats had scurried to the shadowy corners of the shed. There were three copperheads, two adults and a young one by the looks of them. You didn’t grow up in Indiana without being able to identify that particular snake. I’d never been bitten by one, but a neighbor kid had when I was about ten. He’d said it had hurt like hell, and by the way he’d yelled, I’d known he hadn’t been exaggerating.

They weren’t aggressive, though, and even as I watched, they slithered into nearby pools of light to sun themselves.

My heart was racing and my palms were slimy with sweat. I tried to think. The rats, I knew, would come around when it got dark. I didn’t think there was reason to fear the snakes, unless I accidentally got too close. Given where the shed seemed to be located, it was going to be pitch-black inside when night fell.

And if I survived the night, he would be back in the morning to finish the job.

I eyed the sawhorse. It stood near a corner but within reach of my leash. Unfortunately, a snake was now curled around one of the legs, basking in the sun.

I took hold of the wood and slowly, very slowly, tipped the sawhorse backward. The snake was only about a foot away from me, and every time it twitched, I froze. It took an eternity, but eventually the leg was free of the snake’s coils. I carefully dragged the sawhorse toward myself inch by inch.

I had two choices. I could try to tear apart the sawhorse so I had some kind of weapon when he came back in the morning, or I could use it to stay up off the floor. Being bitten by rats and snakes held no appeal, but both were survivable. Another encounter with the guy wasn’t.

Decision made.

The sawhorse had seen better days, thank God, but the splinters bit into my hands. After the third splinter and scrape, I pulled off my tank top, using it to cover the wood as I tried to pull it apart. The inside boards at the bottom seemed to be slightly looser than others, so I concentrated my efforts on them.

My stomach growled for about the fiftieth time, which I tried to ignore. I was so hot and thirsty, I decided that if I got out of this, I’d never again take air-conditioning or water for granted. I was getting tired and weak, and had to take frequent breaks. I wished I’d taken the time to put tennis shoes on this morning instead of flip-flops.

The wood finally cracked just as twilight was fading. The copperheads were moving now, sensing prey in the dark corners where I couldn’t see. I heard rustling and scratching and wondered how long it would be before the rats came closer.

I shuddered. I wasn’t afraid of rats, not exactly, but wasn’t real thrilled about being locked up with them all night, either. I picked my way carefully to the closest bench nailed to the wall, but my chain brought me up about six inches short. Damn it.

I made my way back to where the pin rested in the floor. Holding the heavy two-by-four like a bat, I swung, hitting the side of the pin. The blow reverberated up my arms like they were piano strings, but to my relieved amazement, the pin moved just slightly. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and swung again.

Something scurried over my foot and I screamed, jumping back. My scream echoed inside the shed, as if mocking me. I gasped for air, trying to get my breath back, before creeping back toward the pin. I swung the two-by-four again and again, missing it because of the dark as often as I hit it. My hands grew numb and my arms ached, each blow taking more and more effort.

A flurry of squeaking and hissing erupted a few feet away. There was more scurrying and something touched my feet, making me leap back again with a choked sob. It was so dark now, I couldn’t see a thing. I held on to the wood and followed my chain until I came to the pin. Praying I’d touch nothing but metal, I reached down and grasped it, pulling and wriggling it for all I was worth. I was unprepared for it to suddenly fly free from the ground, sending me lurching backward to fall flat on my ass on the floor.

A hiss that was too close for comfort made me freeze in place. I couldn’t tell exactly where the snake was or how near. Too afraid to move, I stayed exactly where I was. I couldn’t track how much time passed, but long enough for my legs to cramp from not moving and for my head to bob from sheer exhaustion. Then something furry brushed against my leg, jerking me awake, and it took everything I had not to move.

The night was the longest night I’d ever endured. Time passed with agonizing slowness. I stayed where I was, not knowing where the snakes were, if they were coming closer or staying put. After the first rat brushed against me, they grew bolder, scampering right up to me. None bit, thank God, but the smell of them, the feel of their sharp little claws as they climbed on me—all while I was unable to see them—combined to keep me in a constant state of terror. Creepy things crawled up my arms and legs, some kind of bugs, maybe spiders, but I dared not move to brush them away. Chills racked my body, but they were from fear, not cold.

I was so tired, so thirsty and dirty. Though the sun had gone down, it was still at least ninety degrees in the shed. I’d stopped sweating, which I took to be a bad sign, and I knew that meant I was extremely dehydrated. Every sound seemed amplified in the pitch-black silence, and every horror movie I’d ever watched came back to replay itself inside my head.

I’d never been as glad to see dawn as I was when morning came at last. The first lightening of the sky had me searching the shed. I caught my breath when I saw a copperhead was only about a foot from me. I was sure that if I’d tried to get up or move at all during the night, it would’ve bitten me.

The rats had disappeared back into the dark recesses of the shed and I couldn’t see the other two snakes. Hoping they weren’t nearby, I inched backward. It wasn’t until the sky had lightened considerably that I felt far enough away from the snake that I could chance getting to my feet.

My legs were practically numb and it was only through sheer will and perseverance that I remained standing. I stumbled to the workbench and climbed up on it, dragging my chain with me.

More than anything, my body begged to lie down. My back was cramped from me sitting all night and my ass was numb. But I didn’t know when the man was coming back. I had to be ready, not sacked out.

I tucked my feet up under me and waited, the two-by-four lying next to me. I worked on the chain, trying to get it off the pin, but it wouldn’t budge.

The sound of someone approaching had me setting the chain aside. My path to the door was clear and I grabbed the two-by-four, holding the chain so it wouldn’t drag, as I took up a position just inside the doorway in the shadows. It was still really early and it surprised me that he’d come back so soon.

My arms shook with fatigue as I held the plank of wood like a baseball bat, ready to swing. My shirt was still wrapped around the base of it so I could get a good grip. I had no doubts that if I missed, I wouldn’t get a second chance.

The bolt slid back and the knob turned.