Page 109 of Buckled in Barbwire

Drowsiness sits heavy on my eyelids. “I thought you said—”

“No time. Let’s go.” She grabs my arm and hauls me down the stairs.

“Jeez, Bee. What’s the rush?”

“I need you to go somewhere with me.” There’s a restless urgency in her tone while she shoves me out the door.

My left boot is barely on and I hop across the porch. “Sure, of course.”

“But you can’t tell Brody. Not until we get back.”

I slam on the brakes. “That’s a no-go, sis. We’re in a really good place now. I won’t jeopardize that by running off again.”

“This is really important, and we need to go.” She motions for me to get moving. “Right now.”

Her insistence raises a red flag, flapping in the early breeze. That’s when I take notice of the scene she’s set. There’s a truck idling in the driveway. She’s backing toward it, beckoning me to follow. A gooseneck trailer is hitched to the bed. Prickles spread across the back of my neck.

I pin her with a stern stare, hands parked on my hips. “What’s going on?”

Tears collect in her unblinking eyes. “I’ll explain on the way. There’s only so much I can share.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No.” But she drops her gaze.

I approach her slowly, gathering her hands in mine. “Spill, Bee. Or I’m not going.”

She’s wringing her hands to the point that her knuckles are white. “I’m afraid you’ll tell Brody, and I was given explicit instructions not to do that.”

My stomach sinks to the concrete. “You’re freaking me out.”

“I’m freaking out! Please,” she begs. “Just do this for me. Brody will forgive you.”

“I’d rather not give him a reason for needing to,” I argue.

Her lips wobble before she traps the bottom one between her teeth. “Text him that we’re leaving. Be super vague.”

“He’ll want to know where we’re going.”

“Good thing you don’t know. That means it’s not lying when you can’t tell him.”

But I still hesitate. “I don’t like this.”

“Too bad.” She opens the passenger side door and sweeps her arm. “Get in.”

My knees lock. “I need more information first.”

“If you care about Echo, you’ll get. In. The. Truck.”

A switch is flipped and I instantly respond. I stumble forward after her punctuated demand. My hands tremble as I fling myself onto the seat and buckle up. Bianca does the same, speeding through the motions. Tense silence smothers us while she slams on the gas.

The farmstead becomes a fading dot behind us.

“Echo has been taken,” she whispers after several minutes.

My heart lurches. “Taken?”

Her nod is a bobble. “Stolen. Held for ransom. Horse-napped.”

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