When Darkness Ends (Moments in Boston #3) - Marni Mann Page 0,90

get in; fortunately, I knew where they hid a spare key, so I could keep this visit a surprise.

That thought brought a smile to my face, knowing how happy he would be when I woke him with a kiss.

I picked up my speed a little and was just adjusting the strap of my bag, the duffel incredibly heavy on my shoulder, when I heard my name spoken from somewhere close to the street.

I was sure it had been in my head. I saw no movement, and there was no other sound.

I ignored it and kept going until I heard it again, a tone that was deep, gritty, immediately slicing through my thoughts.

My feet halted as a man stepped onto the sidewalk, through the darkness of two vehicles parked along the curb.

“You are Pearl Daniels, aren’t you?” A tool belt hung from his waist, the van behind him telling me he was here to repair something in one of the buildings.

“Yes,” I answered. “How do you know that?”

His arms crossed, and his back leaned into the van. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t startle you. I just went to your play a few weeks ago, and when I saw you under that light”—he pointed at the streetlamp behind me—“I instantly recognized you.” He pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “You are the lead actress for BU, aren’t you?” When I nodded, he grinned and scratched his bald head. “That’s what I thought. My wife and I are huge fans. We’ve seen every performance you’ve been in for the last couple of years.”

“Wow.” The wind was whipping even harder, and I pulled my jacket closed, shifting the strap of the bag to a spot that didn’t ache. “Thank you … I’m flattered.”

“No, I should be thanking you.” He unbuttoned the wrist of his long-sleeved flannel, rolling the cuff up to his elbow. “It’s quite an honor to have someone from my hometown be as talented as you. You’re going to make it on the big screen someday soon—I feel it.”

I smiled and waved, my time extremely limited; therefore, I kept walking and said over my shoulder, “I sure do hope so.”

I wasn’t more than a few paces away when I heard, “Can I get you to sign something for my daughter?” I turned around as he opened the door to the van, where he pulled out a notebook and pen. “She’s seven, and she’s been coming with us to your plays.” Now that I’d stopped, he closed the gap between us, reaching forward to give them to me. “She would be so grateful. Hell, it’ll make her whole year when I tell her I ran into you.”

I’d been asked for my signature a few times, each instance from a kid who had come to see one of our performances. It was a humbling experience, and this was no different. “Of course.” I took the pen and paper into my hand. “What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Dolly.” He gave me a crooked smile, rolling up his other sleeve. “I call her Doll for short.”

“That’s cute.”

I thought of the name Gran called me as I wrote Dolly across the top, telling his little girl to always reach for her dreams, and signed my name below before I handed it back to him.

“That’s real nice of you, Pearl.” He read my note. “She’ll be so pleased.”

“Happy to do it.” I waved again. “Have a good day.”

I was headed toward the train station again, my smile still so wide, wondering if running into that man was a sign. Maybe of good things to come, like the auditions I had tomorrow morning. The thought of that, of reading lines in front of a room full of people, made me so nervous. But visualizing that man telling his daughter about me, how he’d seen me on the street, could definitely shake some of my anxious energy.

A moment from a monumental day, and that was what I would concentrate on instead of the anxiety in my chest.

But those plans were quickly interrupted when a hand slapped over my lips. There was something on the inside of his palm that he shoved into my mouth, holding it between my teeth, that stopped me from screaming. A blindfold was then tied over my eyes. The bag dropped from my arm, and he pulled my hands behind my back, shackling my wrists with rope.

I couldn’t use them.

I couldn’t …

“You’re coming home with me.” His laugh was more like a cackle. “Won’t my dolls be