another hour. It’s hard to say how long. I lost track of time, but I eventually felt a change as the van went from the highway to some kind of lower-speed roads with several turns. After that, the hum of concrete disappeared completely and the bumps came harder and faster.
It was all the worst possible news. We had to be well outside the city by then. I had no idea what kind of weapons they might be carrying, or even how many people were in the front of that van.
Finally, we came to a stop. I heard movement on the other side of the front wall for the first time. One door opened, then the other, followed by two slams. Then voices, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Eve was still out. I’d left her bound up, since the alternative had been to have her rolling around unconscious inside that moving van. It had been hard enough for me to manage myself, holding on and gritting my teeth against the nonstop throbbing in my leg.
This was all on me. I had to do whatever I could. The knife in my hand was my life now. Eve’s life. Marlena’s future. I tried to breathe slowly as I waited to see what would happen next.
More footsteps told me that one of them had come around the back. I heard a jingle of keys. Then the sound of one key snugging into a lock.
One chance. That’s all I’d have. I positioned myself against the side wall of the van where they’d left me and arranged the straps as best I could to keep up some appearance that I was still tied. The knife was in my right hand, tucked behind my back, out of sight but ready to swing.
As the door opened, I dropped my chin and rested it against my chest, my eyes closed. I felt a flashlight play over my face.
“She still out?” a voice said.
“Looks that way,” said another.
The second voice was the familiar one. I recognized it from our run-in at the coffee shop. It was the Brit—or whoever he was. The voice was the same, but the accent was gone. The whole thing had been some kind of charade within a charade.
I heard one of them climb into the van. It was almost impossible to keep my eyes closed. I had to work by sense here. And pray for luck.
“I’m going to wake her up,” the familiar voice said. He was almost close enough to reach with my knife.
I held my breath and waited another beat, until he was bent over me. That’s when he seemed to notice that something was wrong.
“What the—?” he said. And I moved.
My eyes popped open. My right hand came up fast, aiming the tip of the knife for the shadow of him. For the very center.
Let it find his heart, I thought in that flash of a moment.
He moved fast, too, and deflected my swing with his arm. For a second, I thought I had him, but all I caught was the fabric of his sleeve. I heard a ripping sound, and he jumped back, stumbling over Eve’s legs. There was no room to maneuver in there.
The knife jerked in my hand, its bent blade caught on the cloth, but then it tore free. I lunged toward him and swung again. He was ready for me this time and took a swing of his own. His fist knocked the knife right out of my grip, and I heard it skitter across the metal floor of the van, toward the back.
I had no choice but to keep trying. I dove after it. The blade glinted in the beam of the flashlight, and I half-expected him to get there first.
Instead, he reversed his tactic. He moved in the opposite direction, away from me. At the same moment that I got a grip on the knife again, I felt his hands on my ankles from behind. Before anything else could happen, he was dragging me straight out of the van, past Eve, arms trailing.
He pulled me all the way out. I fell onto the ground on my stomach. By the time I’d flipped over, he already had a foot on my chest, pinning me to the dirt. I could just make out his stance against the last of the twilight and what looked like the gun he now had pointed at my face.
“Hello, Angela. Have a nice nap?” he asked. “Actually, don’t answer that.