Page 1 of Confined Space

Prologue

Coldness seeps into my body, and I shiver as I open my eyes to complete darkness. I blink several times, trying to figure out why the house is so dark. The only thing I can think of is the power must be out, but then the memories of leaving work and walking to my car come back to me. My head hurts, and a whiff of something bittersweet invades my senses. The scent is so strong I almost taste it on my tongue. I move my arms and legs to stand up but find my movements restricted by a hard surface above me, below, and to my sides. Raising my hands, I brush them against smooth wood. Oh God! Panic sets in as realization comes to me.

I’m in a box.

I scream and pound on the wood above me until what sounds like gravel rains down outside of the container I’m trapped in. I still while my mind races. Am I beneath ground? Oh God, no. No. No. No. My voice cracks as tears roll down my face.

I'm going to die, and Rowdy won't know where I am.

And my baby…

Tears flow from my eyes harder. I'll never see my son again. He’s too young to remember me when he grows up. I cry out and cover my face with my hands, trying to hide from the truth. Rowdy doesn't even know I love him because I was too scared to say the words. At least I know he'll raise my son and give him a good life. My son will be surrounded by people who love him and will try to keep my memory alive for him.

The cold seeps further into my bones and I start to shiver. I don't know how long I’ve been here. How much air I have left. The urge to scream and fight is so great, but I need to conserve my oxygen as much as I can and pray Rowdy is looking for me. I was on the phone with him when I left the hospital.

Did he hear what happened? Is he looking for me now?

"Shallow breaths, Coral. You will die down there." A voice I know and fear comes from behind my head. I tip my head back and feel around until I make out a small box in the corner. He’s listening to me.

"Why?"

"Because I can't have anyone know about you. I'm going after your baby next," he says, and I start screaming. "Remember your oxygen, Coral."

"Please no," I cry out. The pain in my chest is almost too much to bear.

"Goodbye, Coral." A click sounds from the speaker, and I realize he's gone.

Please, please, please, God, don't let him hurt my son. I pray out to the universe. To a spiritual entity I haven't believed in for a very long time.

Chapter One

3 MONTHS AND 1 WEEK EARLIER

CORAL

I smile as my current theme song plays from the car stereo. I've been listening to Jo Dee Messina’s “Heads Carolina, Tails California” for weeks. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders as I take a huge step toward our future. I glance in the rearview mirror into the baby mirror in the back so I can see my son in his rear-facing car seat. His small head is tipped to the side as he sleeps. The littlest pillow in the newborn set looks large against his little preemie head. He's already starting to chunk up, especially in his cheeks. They make you want to kiss and pinch them. His little blue eyes, so like mine, are behind his closed lids. His tiny gray hat sits on his head, and he's in a matching gray sleeper with a blanket tucked around his body. His pacifier and buddy are lying next to his little body. I look back to the road as I exit the highway and head into the new town. Thanks to traffic, the drive has taken over ten hours and has worn on mine and Archer’s nerves. I also stopped a couple of times to nurse Archer.

Leaving Los Angeles after living there for almost three years was hard. It’s the only place I’ve lived other than home in Alabama. I never thought I could really like living in LA, but I was getting there. I loved the excitement of all the people and the chance you could run into movie stars. You could be anonymous in all the chaos. Then Archer was born.

Moving from Alabama to California to attend UCLA’s nursing school was my biggest dream, but when I got pregnant, I had to make a choice. Did I stay in a place where I would be working so much to pay for rent that I’d never see my son, or did I look for a cheaper and safer place to raise my child?

In the end, there wasn't a choice. I had Archer to think about. A cheaper and safer place were a must. So here we are, moving to Prominence Point, Arizona. It’s a nice town in northern Arizona between Flagstaff and Sedona. It isn't as small as my hometown of Moorseville, Alabama, but still smaller than LA. Because it’s in the north, it will be cooler, and I’ll get to see snow. I'm thrilled to start my new job as an emergency room technician at the community hospital.

Maybe when Archer is older I'll be able to go back to school and finish my nursing degree, but he is my priority now. He has to be. He didn’t ask to come into this world and my life at this point, but I’m going to give him the best I can. He’s the center of my world.

I've already secured a small single-bedroom apartment in a decent complex. There’s even a laundry facility on the premises. My last apartment didn't have on-site laundry facilities and I had to go to the laundromat, which was hard when I was far into my pregnancy. I ended up having to move from the dorm housing when I dropped out of school in December. I spent my last trimester working at a grocery store as a checker until I delivered Archer four weeks premature. Now I’m taking the chance and moving us out of LA and hopefully to a safer environment for both of us.

The hospital I’ll be working at has a daycare nearby, so I'll be able to continue to nurse Archer while I work. But I'm going to have to find him a babysitter or evening care for the nights when I have to work. I know that being low man on the totem pole means I’ll have crappy shifts in the beginning. I'm hoping I can find him a babysitter in the next couple of weeks while I'm still in orientation and training.

I have no friends or family to count on to help me with my son. It's just Archer and me. It’s been like that since I found out I was pregnant. I've got a bit of money left in the trust fund my grandmother set up for me before she died. It was meant to be used for school, but I know she would be okay with me using it for Archer's care after everything that happened with my parents. I still need to get so much furniture for him, but it's something I knew I'd have time to do after we were discharged from the hospital.

Because Archer was a preemie, he had to stay in the hospital an additional week after his birth. His lungs are good, and he's starting to gain weight close to where he needs to be. The pediatrician said he was progressing well for his age, and he shouldn't have any lasting effects from being born premature. He was close to five pounds at birth, and in just about eight weeks, he's almost eight pounds. I can feel my breasts getting full and hope we find our place soon so I can feed him. He doesn't like to wait for his food; he's my hearty little eater. I smile at the thought. He's been such a blessing so far. I don’t care what others have said, he's the best thing to happen to my life.

Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to the complex. I glance around the neighborhood and see it's not in a bad area. The images online were true and accurate. But I know in the future, I'll get us a better place. I park in front of the main office and slip out of the car. After sitting for so long, I need to stretch my back. The heat hits me immediately. June in northern Arizona is hotter than back in LA, but thank goodness it’s not humid like in Alabama.

I bend over, stretching my back, and then flex my feet. Finally, I turn to open the back door and unhook Archer's car seat from the base. I step onto the sidewalk and move toward the office. The sound of kids laughing at the nearby park carries in the air. My Harry Potter backpack that doubles as a diaper bag and purse is slung over my shoulder. When I step into the office, the woman behind the counter takes one look at me and then behind me as if expecting someone else to join us.

I get it. I'm tiny. I look younger than I am. People do a double take when they see me with Archer. I look like a teenager who had a baby way too young, or a big sister taking care of her baby brother. But nope, I'm a mother, and I'm twenty-one, people. Because I’m short and have a rounder face with wide, deep-set eyes, people assume I’m a kid.

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