(To read from the beginning go Here.)
What would Lacey Carew, daring girl detective, do? She ought to have worked harder on getting the manuscript written so that she would have some fresh ideas for foiling thugs and henchmen. Anne clasped her handbag closer. Maybe she could wrench free and rally help before he could do anything about it.
But then who would help Jilly?
The man loomed closer. His grip on her arm tightened. He might as well have had hold of her neck. There was no way she was going to get free without a struggle.
As bidden, Anne lifted her lips in a semblance of a smile. Nothing to see here folks, everything was just fine and dandy.
The thug pushed her forward the instant the train came to its juddering halt. In a moment they were on the sidewalk and he was hustling her into a waiting car. He climbed in beside her. The door hadn’t even closed behind him when the driver accelerated away from the curb.
Anne tried to steal a glance at the man’s features, but between the scanty lighting, the brim of his hat, and the up-turned collar of his coat, she got only an impression of a narrow nose and wide set eyes.
The driver tossed a handkerchief over his shoulder without turning around. “Blindfold her.”
Anne opened her mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. If they wanted to go to the trouble of blindfolding her so she couldn’t see their destination, maybe they didn’t mean to kill her.
She swallowed back the words and submitted to the handkerchief as it was bound about her eyes.
If she were like the dames in the movies she would have been able to think up a wisecrack or two to let these goons know she wasn’t scared of them. She wracked her mind, but couldn’t cook up a single witticism. Probably because she was scared. Where were nerves of steel when you needed them?
Saliva flooded her mouth. She pressed her back into the seat. Lord, please don’t let me be carsick. If only she could see a little bit so that she would be ready for the turns and twists, but with no frame of reference. She clenched her teeth against the rising bile and scooted closer to the door.
“Where you goin’?”
She ignored the query.
Feet planted hard against the floor, she wedged herself in the corner of the seat. This wasn’t helping. She leaned her head back against the seat. Sweat broke out on her forehead.
“Hey, I think she’s gonna be sick.”
The car slowed.
“You get car sick, sister?”
Anne nodded. She could not open her mouth.
“Just my luck,” the man beside her said under his breath.
“Don’t sweat it, we’re here.” The driver said.
At last the car ceased its motion. Anne sat for a moment breathing through her nose. The whirling in her head and stomach settled.
“Come on, kid.” The man beside her took her arm again, but more gently this time.Anne scooched toward him. The fresh night breeze brushed her cheek, wiping away the remnants of her motion sickness. This was her chance. If she was going to make a break for it, now was the moment.