(To read from the beginning go Here.)
Drawing in a deep breath, Anne looked away from the beckoning light of the diner. It would be cutting it too close to try to track Erik down. He would keep her on the phone trying to convince her not to go to the kidnappers.
With the way her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and her hands trembled, he might just succeed. But she couldn’t. She’d gotten Jilly into this pickle, and she’d get her out. Shoulders square, Anne marched back to the subway station.
At Grand Central, she caught the last train to East Orange. Her mind spun, refusing to settle on any one subject. Her fingers began to ache, and she loosened her hold on her handbag—slightly.
The train huffed into the station and she stood before it had even ground to a halt. Would there be a car waiting for her? Would they call the station and give her new directions?
A hand gripped her elbow.
She gasped and her head spun to see who had accosted her.
“No. Don’t turn around.” His face was nestled against her ear. His breath hot and foul.
Anne fought to breathe. Her knees seemed to have melted. “Who are you?”
“That don’t matter. What matters is that you’re gonna do what I tell you and no one will get hurt.”