Page 16 of Santa Daddy
Where's the phone? Where would he?—
There.
On the dresser. Black. Expensive. Face-down like he tossed it there without thinking.
I crossed the room on silent feet, my pulse so loud in my ears I was sure he could hear it over the water.
I grabbed the phone.
The screen lit up when I flipped it over.
Unlocked.
You stupid, arrogant?—
I didn't waste time being grateful for his overconfidence.
Just pulled up the dial pad with trembling fingers.
Who do you call? Who would actually help?
I typed the numbers.
My thumb hovered over the call button.
Do it. Just do it. They'll trace the call. They'll find you.
I pressed it.
The water kept running. He was still in there.
Hurry. Hurry.
One ring.
My breath came in short gasps.
Two rings.
The bathroom was still billowing steam. He hadn't heard.
Three—
"911, what's your emergency?"
Professional. Calm. The voice of someone who saves people.
Tell her. Tell her everything.
"I—" My voice came out as a whisper. I cleared my throat. Tried again. "I've been kidnapped. I'm being held?—"
Heat.
Sudden and overwhelming.
Behind me.
So close I could feel it against my back like standing too near a fire.
