Page 113 of Corrupting Ivy

Dim night skies invaded the darkness as the trunk popped open, giving me a view of the towering pine trees and a beast of a man standing in front of them.

“Ivy, as God as my witness, if you keep it up, I’ll drop you in the middle of these woods and watch the grizzlies eat you alive.” He placed his hand on my taped mouth and applied pressure, pushing my head hard into the carpeted floor.

We’d seen grizzlies maul hikers all throughout Montana. They’d carve out your insides like a lion while you felt every tooth pierce your body. It was a horrible way to die, and there was no doubt in my mind he’d fulfill that threat in a heartbeat.

“Peter, if you need to piss, do it now,” he said.

“Now be a good girl, and maybe you’ll see your momma again before I bury you in the mines.” He closed the trunk, and I screamed as he tapped the top.

Of course he’d take me home. He had the department and everyone else under his thumb, which was obvious considering he’d dragged a deputy across state lines to kidnap me.

“Come on, Peter, it doesn’t take that long to piss.”

“I’ve been holding it for hours.”

“So have I.”

I kicked the car one more time for good measure. A smooth, hard object brushed against my hands before falling to the trunk floor with a thunk.

What was that?

Oh my God.

My phone.

He didn’t take it? How could he be so stupid?

How could I not remember?

I moved my bound hands around behind me, blindly searching for the phone. My hands sifted through ripe garbage, empty fast food cartons that reeked of old frying oil, and what I could only assume was mail he’d opened or newspapers. My fingers brushed against the hard object as I patted the ground against my butt, then grabbed it. I nearly squealed as I pressed the button on the side, and the screen illuminated the trunk.

If he was dumb enough not to check me for a phone, maybe he was dumb enough to put me in here with a tire iron. I searched using my new light but came up empty. A newspaper from my town lay beside my head with the title ‘Mayor Baker wins the election, uncontested,’ with a date just after I’d fled.

I pulled my hands around and looked at my screen. My service bounced back and forth from two bars to one.

Randall. I couldn’t call him, but I could send him a text and hope it got to him.

Jeremiah fired up the car, and we were moving again. Considering that we’d been on the road for hours, it was safe to say we didn’t have much further to go until we made it to Greenville, which meant my time was dwindling down faster than a tea candle.

I unlocked my phone, and my eyes burned with tears as I saw the dozens of texts and missed calls from Liz and Randall.

I had people who cared about me now, people who were out there searching for me.

Something Jeremiah didn’t think about, I bet. He probably thought I’d be easy to get, bring back home, and no one would care that I went missing. But he’s wrong. He didn’t kill my “boyfriend,” he killed his bodyguard. And if Randall had a purpose for a man of that caliber, then Jeremiah bit off more than he could chew.

I hope.

Tapping on the message button, I put Randall’s name into the recipient section. My stomach bundled in a twisted knot. My first text to him was a desperate plea for help.

Me: Jermih takig hom. Help, plse.

My fingers jumbled the message, making it look like a clusterfuck of letters that would take an expert to decipher.

Three dots bounced on the bottom of the screen, causing my heart to flutter.

A red ‘X’ appeared over the two service bars, and the three dots that promised his response vanished.

No. No. No.

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