Page 117 of Finding Amanda

"You might be right. Maybe I am crazy. But listen, I might be right, too. Did he talk to my husband about this, to my family? What right does he have to kidnap me without my permission? Without my family's consent?"

Alan's head tilted to the side. "I don't?—"

"He has no right to take me against my will, even if I am delusional."

"But it's for your own good."

Amanda needed to sound reasonable and sane. "Maybe you're right. Either way, Mark is worried about me. He has a right to know where I am. If you'll just give me my phone?—"

"No. No. Dr. Sheppard was explicit. I had to take your phone. No calls. It's part of the process."

She resisted the urge to scream at him, to smack him. Instead, she nodded. "That makes sense. So could you call him for me?"

His eyes widened with what looked like fear.

"He'll be so happy to know where I am," she soothed. "I promise, he won't be angry with you. If you just call him and tell him exactly where I am, he'll be thankful?—"

Gabriel pounded on the window. "Open the door, Alan."

Like a trained dog, Alan reached across her and flicked the lock. "Trust me. You'll feel so much better when it's over."

She whispered frantically. "Call him. You have my phone. His number's on there. Please!"

Gabriel yanked the door open and grabbed her left hand. He held it against the handle on her door frame. She tried topull away, but she was no match for his strength. She saw a flash of metal, felt the icy chill. She looked in time to see him tighten the handcuff on her wrist. He fastened the other cuff to the door.

His gaze shifted to Alan, and hers did too.

"You remember how I had to restrain you when you were first hospitalized?"

Alan's look of shock faded to a resigned frown. "Yes."

"That's all I'm doing—restraining her so we can talk. You understand."

Alan's face relaxed, smiled. "Of course."

"You can go now, Alan. I'll take it from here."

Amanda grabbed Alan's arm. "Don't leave me. He's going to kill me."

Alan smiled kindly, nodded to Gabriel, and opened his car door.

She squeezed the hem of his jacket in her fist.

He turned, gently removed her hand with clammy fingers, and stepped outside the car. He bent down and looked inside. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Please, Alan."

Alan squinted, nodded once, and slammed the door.

Mark lookedaround the parking lot of the bookstore one last time before giving up and walking to his car, calling Chris on his way. When his friend answered, Mark said, “They left.”

“She’s gone?”

“Tell me. Please, tell me you have an idea where he might have taken her."

Silence filled the space between them before Chris said, "I'm sorry. I haveno idea."

Mark raked his fingers through his hair. There was nothing else.

---