Page 7 of Halfway to Hell
She climbed inside, curling up among quilts and pillows. She’d hidden there before. Pulling blankets over her, she concealed herself beneath the hanging clothes, completely covered, trying to still her trembling as she waited.
There was no way she could leave now, not until Dalton and whoever was with him left again. What the hell had she been thinking; coming back here?
Leaning against the stack of pillows and blankets, Sunday let her thoughts drift to how she’d ended up trapped in this nightmare. She had trusted him—believed in him—and that had been her greatest mistake.
The hardest truth to swallow was how completely Dalton had fooled her. She hadn’t seen it coming. What did that say about her? She’d always thought she could spot a liar from a mile away—just not this time.
Sooner or later, Dalton would get what was coming to him. Sunday hoped she’d hear about it.
With nothing left to do but wait, she closed her eyes and steeled herself for the long hours until they left again.
Voices pulled Sunday from her restless sleep. For a moment, panic surged through her until she remembered where she was.
She was about to push open the armoire door when a faint light slipped in through the keyhole.
Holding her breath, she stayed perfectly still, straining to catch any sound from the garage.
Then, she heard it, Dalton’s voice.
“Just dump all that bitch’s shit in here. I’ll haul it out with the trash in a few days.”
“What about the cops, man?”
“They’ve already been here. Told them I hadn’t seen Sunday in over a month. Said she bailed on me with some meth-head from up north.”
“This shit better not come back on us.”
“You keep your mouth shut, Roach, or you’ll be the one doped with ecstasy and gang banged.”
“Screw you, Dalton. I’m no fucking rat.”
“She’s not gonna get far. We’ll hit all the shelters and homeless spots tomorrow.”
“What about hotels?”
“She doesn’t have any money, idiot.”
“So, she can’t get out of town either?”
“How would she? Call a friend? I made damn sure she cut all ties—with friends and family. She’ll be easy to find.”
Sunday’s stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising as she pieced together what must have happened to her. She fought back tears, telling herself crying wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Dalton was sure to catch her eventually. But when that day came, she vowed she’d do whatever it took to make sure it never happened again. Even if she had to kill him with her bare hands.
The light clicked off, plunging the garage back into darkness. Sunday stayed curled up in the armoire for what felt like hours before finally risking a quiet climb out.
Her eyes adjusted slowly as she scanned the dim room, then she made her way toward the small door at the front of the garage.The glass was covered with cardboard, but through a tiny tear she’d made months ago, she peered out into the night.
The outside light spilled across the front yard and house. No cars sat in the driveway. This was her chance.
Moving as fast as she dared, Sunday located the garbage bags stuffed with her things. The faint glow from the windows guided her hands as she found a worn backpack and packed in as much as she could carry. She rolled up what felt like a pair of jeans, leggings, a few tops. Her hands moved over items as her eyes struggled to see. She found a toiletry bag and shoved it inside, then zipped the bag up tight.
Standing up she slung the backpack over her shoulder.
Just as she reached the door, a sudden thought stopped her. The stash of money she’d hidden away for a rainy day.
She was about to give up when her fingers brushed something beneath a stack of books. Lifting them carefully, she pulled out the envelope. With steady hands, she set everything back exactly as it had been, leaving no sign that anything had been disturbed.
