Page 126 of Traces Of You
“Are you going to scream?”
She shook her head no. Big mistake as she gagged.
If she threw up with the rag in her mouth, she’d choke. She could die.
She might die anyway.
Ford would never know she loved him.
He might think she left him again.
No, she had to be positive. He’d find her.
He promised.
He wasn’t twelve anymore.
This time he was the sheriff. He had control, he had power, and he had the will to bring her home.
She clung to that thought like it was the last thread keeping her from tumbling into the abyss. Giving in to full-blown panic wouldn’t help, she knew that much.
The gag, caught in her hair, was pulled down by Randy, yanking some strands. She held back the yelp. She didn’t know what he’d do, but she refused to give him the satisfaction he was causing her more pain.
“Why am I here?” she asked, her mouth dry, her throat raspy. “No way Oliver wants me back.”
Randy’s sinister laugh sent those imaginary bugs crawling over her skin. “He moved on from you weeks ago once he sold your car and possessions.”
“My car?” she asked.
“For parts. Don’t need a title for that. What he didn’t burn of yours, he sold or gave away.”
“He always said he’d come after me,” she said. Had she been so duped and stayed for no reason?
“If you were in town, sure,” Randy said. “That’s ego more than anything else. But once he has to put effort into locating you? Nah. He’s too much of a lazy motherfucker for that. There is always another one out there just like you, which he had no problem finding.”
What a sick thought.
It was hard to comprehend anything with the pain in her head.
“Then why?”
“Because you’ve got something I want,” Randy said, moving back. “Something I need back. You’re a loose end that needs to be snipped either way.”
“I have nothing of yours. I swear. I left with minimal clothing, nothing more. You know that if Oliver sold my stuff.”
He stalked back and shook his finger in front of her face. “I don’t care about your shit. I care about the stuff you stole that didn’t belong to you or Oliver, not even me. I’ve got to return it.”
She couldn’t admit she knew what he was talking about. Then he’d want to know how.
The less she said, the better.
She needed to keep him talking so Ford could find her.
This was her time to put her fears aside and focus on getting out of here.
She’d been able to talk her way out of things in the past and she was going to damn well try again.
“I have nothing. You have to believe me.”
