Secure Location - By Beverly Long Page 0,68

was of your mom and you sitting on your front porch. Remember when you used to do that?”

He didn’t answer. Sweat was running down his face. Without saying another word, he picked up his phone. He pushed a button, putting it on speaker. Then he connected to directory assistance. “Fillmore Federal in San Antonio,” he said. While the operator was connecting the call, he pointed a finger at her. “Get them to verify that you’ve got a safe deposit box there or you’ll be dead before they hang up the phone.”

Meg swallowed hard. When the bank answered, she asked to be transferred to the safe deposit department.

“Hi,” she said. “This is Margaret Montoya calling. I’m a little embarrassed to be making this call but I relocated to San Antonio within the last year and opened accounts at two different banks. I also opened a safe deposit box at one bank but I can’t quite remember which bank.” She laughed nervously. “Would you be able to tell me if I have a safe deposit box at your bank?”

The woman at the other end chuckled. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who forgets things.” There was a pause. “Yes, Ms. Montoya. Your safe deposit box is with us.”

Meg looked at T.J. He was breathing so hard that it almost seemed as if he was panting. “Thank you so much,” Meg said. “What are your hours today?”

“We’re open until four,” the woman said.

“Thanks again,” Meg said, and hung up. Four. They closed in less than fifteen minutes. The ride from the hotel to the apartment had taken at least that. There was no time to get it today.

“We need that key. Damn it,” he added, as he slammed his fist into the wall. Meg tried not to flinch. She’d managed to get a tiny bit of leverage. She didn’t want him to realize that she was so frightened that she could barely breathe.

“We’re going back to the hotel tonight. And you’re going to get your safe deposit key,” he said. “Then tomorrow, we’re going to the bank. If you do anything stupid, a lot of people will die.”

There would be multiple opportunities for escape. She would find one and end this, before anyone got hurt because of her. She could not live with that again.

“Sit there,” he said, motioning for her to move from her chair to the couch.

She shook her head. “I can sit here,” she said.

“Move, damn it,” he yelled and he pointed his gun at her.

She got up. She would survive this. She would have to. Her baby’s life depended upon it.

She sat on the couch, near the armrest, and he crouched next to her. The next thing happened so fast, so unexpectedly, that she yelped when a cold, black steel manacle snapped around her wrist.

She looked down. Anchoring her in place was a thick metal chain connected to a bolt that was drilled into the old wood floor. She was trapped, like an animal in a cage.

Chapter Twenty-One

Meg bit her lip. She would not beg or cry. She would not give him the satisfaction. She would simply endure.

He surprised her when he backed away and pulled out the lone metal chair that sat at one end of the narrow table. He sat, his left side toward her. She watched as he picked up a gun, cradled it in one hand and gently rubbed it with a rag.

He didn’t say another word to her. Sometime later, maybe forty minutes or so, she saw one of his hands drift down below the table and he stroked himself through his pants. Her breath caught in her chest. She wanted to look away but she was frozen.

It went on for some minutes before he pushed back his chair and walked into the small bathroom. He shut the door but the wood was thin and the gap between the door and the floor significant. The sounds from the small room told the story.

A minute after he finished, the door opened. He didn’t look at her. He picked up the sleeping bag that hung on the back of the door, untied the strings, unrolled it onto the dirty carpet and lay down. He was asleep in minutes.

She had to pee but even if she could have gotten up, she didn’t think she would ever ask to use that bathroom. She would hold it until she exploded.

She couldn’t sleep. Not after what T.J. had told her. Everything she believed for years had changed and her