“What’s going on? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I think.” Now her voice shook. “I saw something today.”

“What did you see?”

“I don’t want to talk about it over the phone.”

“Can’t you talk to Talon and Ryan?”

“Ryan’s too busy to get away, with all the winemaking. I can’t ask him. And Talon… No, I can’t talk to Talon. Not now. Not…yet.”

“Where’s Jade?”

“She’s at work.”

“I’m in the city, Marj. Bryce and I are—”

“Oh, God. Bryce…”

“What? Bryce is here. He’s fine.”

“He’s with you?”

“Yeah, right here. We’re having a drink.”

“Then where’s Henry?”

“Probably with his parents.”

“Oh, God…”

“Marj, tell me what’s going on.”

“Ask Bryce if his mother has the baby. Now.”

“Marj—”

“Now. Please.”

I looked at my friend. “Henry’s with your mom, right?”

Bryce nodded. “Yeah.”

I got back on the phone. “Henry’s with Evelyn. He’s fine.”

A heavy sigh met my ears through the phone. “Thank God…”

“Marj, what the hell is going on?”

“Just come home. I’ll be waiting for you at your house.”

This didn’t sound good. And the fact that she was concerned about Henry… It could only mean one thing.

I ended the call, downed the rest of my martini in one swallow, and turned to Bryce. “I need to get home.”

Chapter Four

Melanie

A piece of white PVC pipe was lodged between the bottom of the shelving and the wall. If it was hollow—and pipe usually was—and if I could find a tiny crack somewhere in this seemingly impenetrable garage, I could breathe through the pipe and live. Better yet, I could use the pipe to break the car window and turn off the ignition. An older-model car like this one probably didn’t have shatterproof glass. At least I hoped not.

The problem was unwedging the piece of pipe. All I could do right now was hop around with one foot pulsing with pain, and I had to use my hands.

My adrenaline was pumping, and energy surged through me. I was scared, as scared as I’d ever been, but I needed to act quickly. I hopped along one side of the garage, examining the walls as closely as I could, inspecting every crevice. I needed something—anything—that I might be able to use to unbind myself. Searching like a hawk, I looked for any type of hole in the structure where I could breathe in fresh air. When I got to the back wall, I examined the door to the outside. It was solid wood, as far as I could tell, with no windows, and locked, of course. No chance of escape there unless I had an ax, and free hands to use it.

I hopped next to the side of the garage that contained the door that led into the house. I knew that was locked. I couldn’t try the knob anyway, with no hands. I scanned the wall as high as I could go. Something had to be there. Something had to give me a way to escape.

Still nothing.

I hopped to the front where the garage door was. It was painted white, and it looked solid. From what I’d been able to gather, this was an older home. The garage door was probably wood instead of aluminum. At least that’s what it looked like from this side. I eyed it from all angles as best I could, looking for any deterioration, any crack that I could possibly get oxygen through. Any small crevice in the structure.

The weather stripping attached to the bottom of the garage door was a possibility. If I could pull it off, the seal would no longer be airtight. But I had no hands. I slid down to the floor, my back to the garage door, and tried to grasp the stripping.

Damn!

I’d need my hands free.

I gazed back at the garage door. Something was off. Three-quarters of the way up the door the color changed slightly from white to an even starker white. A closer look, and—

Glass! The entire inside of the door had been painted white to throw me off, but this wooden garage door had glass windows.

Glass that I could break to let in fresh air! My head was already starting to ache. Dizziness and nausea would come next, followed by confusion and drowsiness, and…

There had to be a way.

My adrenaline still pumping, I willed my mind to churn, my synapses to fire. How could I get free and break this glass?

I hopped back around to the other wall and leaned against it.

Something poked into my lower arm.

What the hell? I turned, and—

A nail, no more than a quarter of an inch shooting out. Painted over, and nearly invisible to the naked eye. Whoever had gone through this garage had missed it. So had I, upon first look, and I would’ve missed it again if I hadn’t leaned at exactly the right spot and felt it on my arm.

Quickly I turned around and started rubbing my duct-taped wrists against the nail. If only the sharp end was pointing out, but that would have been unlikely. Who would hammer a nail into the wrong side of the wall?

What a silly thought. My head was beginning to feel fuzzy.

The duct tape was thick, and nothing much happened except that I poked my wrists.

Damn.

I turned to the shelving next to me. It was old, cheap metal shelving, and upon closer look, it would never hold my weight, even if I were capable of climbing on it.

I slumped my shoulders. What had I been thinking?

I’d never get out of here alive.

I’d never be able to tell Jonah how much I loved him, how much he meant to me.

Numbness swept through me. I slid down to the floor, needles piercing my sore ankle, until—

“Ouch!”

Something bit through the gray fleece on my upper arm. I turned to the shelving once more. A jagged edge had poked me, enough to tear into the fabric.

If it could tear through fabric…

I stood, ignoring the pain in my ankle, and turned, my back toward the sharp edge. I rubbed the duct tape against it hurriedly. Nothing much happened except several gashes to my hands. But I felt no pain in my quest for freedom. Thank God for adrenaline.

I pushed my bound wrists against the edge and punctured a hole through the duct tape. Yes! I could pop it through and make little holes one after the other, cutting the tape.