Page 57 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

Go at it again.

Faster and faster.

Twisting, turning.

Back and forth.

Suddenly the plastic begins to click as I twist.

Yes!

My hands are sweaty.

My fingers are cramping.

I stick with it.

Ignore the pain.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

You can do this! Don’t give up.

“Come on.”

Snap!

Suddenly the small plate breaks apart, now in two pieces.

Each with a paper-thin edge.

I can’t help but smile and let out a whoop of triumph.

I know where to start. Not here in the living area, where everything is visible, but in the bathroom. I hurry to the small, closet-like room and open the cupboard door under the bathroom sink. It is small, but screwed tight to the back of the door is a slim bar with hooks on it, to be used to hang a washcloth or small towel. Not much of a weapon, but one that can be easily hidden. Now, if I can just unscrew it.

Carefully, holding my breath, I force the piece of plastic into one of the screws and try to twist, to turn the damned thing.

Nothing.

Not the smallest budge.

Damn!

“Oh . . . no, no, no! This is not going to happen,” I say aloud and despite a new sense of despair I keep at it, banging my knuckles.

Cursing.

Sweating.

And yes, even praying.

I have to make this work!

I have to save myself!

Because, like it or not, no one else will.

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