Page 83 of Unforgotten

“Nope. It would just snap.”

She swallowed her disappointment. “Oh. Don’t worry, though. We’ll find it.”

“I know. We just have to stay patient.”

“Jah. Patience is the key.”

And ... that’s what they kept telling each other. They’d find it. They would find that nail, somehow use it to tear through the rope’s fibers, and then—with free hands at last—push their way out the locked door and make it to safety.

It was a nice thought, but in reality it was as far-fetched asbeing sure the police or a forest ranger or one of their fathers would suddenly realize where they were and rescue them.

Searching for the lost nail was harder than Bethanne had thought it would be. And she’d been sure it would be pretty darn hard, given that her hands were still tied behind her back. But they didn’t have any other choice. Time was ticking by. The sun was up, and no doubt Scott would return soon.

It was inevitable.

Forcing herself to only concentrate on the task at hand, she grabbed as much of her dress’s fabric as she could. Somehow she gathered enough fabric so that her dress no longer brushed against the ground. She was able to move her toe more easily along the floor’s surface. She uncovered a gum wrapper and a dead spider. Yet another one. Nothing of use.

She was sure that dirt and grime were embedded in the cuts on her fingers. She felt dirty and sore. Exhausted. Tears pricked her eyes but she ignored them. Crying wouldn’t help. All it would do is blur her eyesight and make this herculean task even harder than it was. Turning a few inches to the right, she combed the ground. Shifted and did the same thing. Then did it again.

Five more minutes passed. Or maybe it was ten? She had no idea. All that mattered was finding that nail—or something that would free them.

And then she did.

“I got it,” she said quietly. Sure that she now held the piece of metal in her left hand, she waited for some sense of relief or accomplishment.

Nothing came.

All she felt was empty.

“Bethy, you are the best.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said with a small laugh. “Because, to be honest, I have no earthly idea how we’re going to use it to loosen our bindings.”

Sounding more energized, Candace said, “I do. I’m going to get it from you, then I’ll start trying to wear down the rope around your wrists.”

“All right.”

“Um, I have a feeling I might end up scratching you with it. If I do, I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“As long as we get free, right?”

“Jah.” Bethanne knew she sounded as doubtful as she felt, but what could she do? This idea was a long shot, and that was putting it mildly.

Once again, they shifted so their backs were together. Very carefully she handed over the nail to Candace.

“I got it.” Candace sounded elated. Hopeful.

Bethanne’s spirits, on the other hand, plummeted. But she kept her mouth shut. She had to. No good would come out of her citing the obvious—that all they were really doing was pretending that things were going to get better and they were going to get free.

“Lift your hands a bit.”

After Bethanne did so, she felt Candace’s fingers grab at the rope and pull. “That’s too hard,” she called out.

“I know it’s uncomfortable, but it feels like there’s an especially weak part,” Candace said in a strained tone. “Hold still. I’m going to—” Candace paused again as she poked at the rope. Then poked at it again. “I think that helped. Turn this way a little so I can see.”

Doing as she asked, Bethanne held her tongue. But really, she was so tired. And thirsty. She was starting to think they would be better off trying to sleep a little bit and regaintheir energy instead of poking at each other’s ropes. “What do you see?”

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