Chances Are - By Christy Reece Page 0,60
she expected the woman to say, it wasn’t, “Oh please, get your knee out of my stomach.”
“Sorry,” Angela mumbled.
Focusing with all her might, she told her leg to shift and figured she had been successful when the woman blew out a relieved sigh, which turned into a rush of words. “My name is Clarissa Eaton. Who are you? Why has he taken us? What’s he going to do? Who is he? Why did—”
“Hold on.” Angela swallowed. The drug clawed at her mind, pulling her deeper and deeper into a sluggish daze. Her tongue thick and dry, she swallowed again and said slowly, thickly, “My name is Angela. I work for…” Ah, dammit, who did she work for? Squeezing her eyes tight, she said, “I work for a company…we’ll help you.”
“A company? What do you mean?”
Shit. She had to get her focus back. Biting her lip till she tasted blood, the pain jerked her into reality once more. “My name is Angela Delvecchio. I work for Last Chance Rescue. We’re not alone.”
There, she’d said it. For some reason, the woman stayed frozen. Why wasn’t she reassured by her declaration?
Angela tried again. “Jake, my lover.” She shook her head. “I mean my partner…is tracking us.”
“I don’t understand. Why is your lover tracking you?”
With all of her faculties in tact, explaining her complicated relationship with Jake would be difficult. Drugged and jammed into a compartment barely large enough for one person, much less two, Angela knew a lucid, succinct response was impossible. She settled for “Forget the other stuff. Bottom-line, help is on the way.”
“Who is this man that’s taken us? Do you know?”
“Don’t know his name. He’s been killing women in London.”
“What?” Clarissa screeched.
“Shh. Keep your voice down.” Being blunt was probably a side effect of the drug. Any other time, Angela was almost sure she would have broken the news that they had been abducted by a serial killer in a more tactful way.
Soft sobs of despair came from Clarissa.
Grinding her teeth together to keep from falling into a drugged abyss, Angela said carefully, slowly, “We will escape. Promise. Keep calm. K?”
“Yes…all right.”
“Can you tell me where you’ve been…what’s happened since he took you?”
“Some things are hazy. I remember a policeman came to my house and told me an emergency call had come from my residence. I had my television up too loud and I went to turn it off so I could explain that the call hadn’t come from me. I turned around and there he was, behind me. I don’t remember much after that…he must have drugged me.
“When I came to, I was lying on some kind of table. He removed my clothes. He kept saying the reason he took me would soon be revealed. Since then, I think he’s transported me to various places. I remember the sound of an engine and the feeling of movement beneath me.”
“What about water…food? Has he allowed you either?”
“A little water, almost no food. He’s taken me to the bathroom twice a day and holds me while I go.”
She whispered the last sentence as though embarrassed.
“His shame…not yours.”
“What are we going to do?”
“My hands and legs are free. He lets us out…I’ll take care of him. Stay out of the way.”
“All right,” Clarissa whispered. “Thank you.”
Angela spoke with more confidence than she felt. Whatever the maniac had given her continued to play havoc with her thinking. And just from the small movements she’d managed to make inside the compartment, she doubted that her limbs would be cooperative when he released them from the box. Yet she had no choice, Clarissa was counting on her.
Without warning, the drug slammed through her with the force of an avalanche and she plunged into another world. Reality ceased to exist. Time stopped. Dramatic but realistic hallucinations took control as one by one, her entire family came for a visit. They sat down and chatted with her. Simple, innocuous conversations but so unbelievably, wonderfully real.
A continuous, softly spoken voice in her head told her it wasn’t real but she pushed it aside as she drifted in a euphoric, comforting haze, chatting with the loved ones she missed so much.
Minutes or hours later, she opened her eyes to see her mother across from her again. A small part of her mind whispered that the conversation wasn’t possible, but it felt so wonderful and natural, she went with the delusion.
No, no. She had to stop. Something was wrong. Gathering up enough comprehension to remember she was in trouble, she