Rescue At Cedar Lake. Maggie K. Black

Then Theresa’s head hit the ground. A gloved hand pushed her against the floor.

      Theresa’s panicked face filled the screen. Her terrified eyes met his.

      * * *

      Theresa’s lungs ached with every breath. A hand gripped the back of her head pushing the side of her face into the floor. A knee pressed hard into the small of her back.

      Alex’s eyes met hers through the screen of the fallen laptop. She could hear the men searching the cottage. Things were being tossed off shelves. Furniture clattered and fell. Male voices shouted and swore. She kept her eyes locked on Alex like a lifeline. Alex leaped to his feet, still holding the laptop in one hand while he dialed his cell phone with the other.

      “Stay strong, Theresa,” his voice filtered faintly through the speakers. Fear filled his blue eyes, making something inside her own chest ache in pain. “I’m coming for you. I promise.”

      A boot landed hard on the laptop, stomping it over and over again until the screen died. Alex’s face disappeared. She was alone. Theresa closed her eyes and prayed. Lord, help me. Please. Whatever this is, please keep Zoe and Mandy safe from it. Thank You that Alex knows I’m in trouble. But please, keep him out of danger.

      His cottage was a good forty-five minutes’ drive from here. The nearest police station was more than an hour and a half away. Even if Alex came for her, would she even be here when he arrived? Would she even still be alive? Panic filled her throat pushing tears to her eyes.

      Mandy had seemed so anxious and distracted about something. Did it have something to do with these men? If so, how had Theresa missed it? Dealing with victims of violent crime was a huge part of her work and yet she’d never imagined Mandy could be linked to something like this.

      “Castor!” A voice filtered down from the second floor landing. “It’s not here!”

      “Well it’s somewhere!” The man pinning her down shouted loudly. “Tear the place apart if you have to!” His hand jabbed in the direction of a small, wooden hatch, barely visible in the floor near the kitchen’s old-fashioned wood-burning stove. “Check the cold cellar. Check everywhere. If they’ve got it, they’ll have brought it here.”

      A heavy man in a red ski mask yanked the hatch open. “There’s nothing down there. Just wood and kindling.”

      “Then check upstairs.” Her captor growled in frustration. Then he yanked her head back. His low, menacing voice filled her ear. “Where’s the trunk?”

      “What trunk?” She tried to turn her head toward him but his grip held her tight. “Look, this isn’t my cottage. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “We’re looking for a trunk!” Castor shouted, so loudly her ears rang. His mouth grew even closer to her face. The stench of stale coffee and cigars grew stronger as he leaned toward her, shifting his weight deeper onto her torso. “You know, a large, heavy, old-fashioned luggage trunk. Something big enough to hide a body in.”

      Snickering came from the other side of the room.

      “Again, this isn’t my cottage!” She could almost feel the defiance rising in her voice, battling back against the fear as her breath pushed its way out of her aching lungs. “I just got here this morning. I haven’t seen a trunk.”

      Castor sat back, relieving just enough of the pressure on her torso to let her gasp a deeper breath. He turned and shouted more frustrated profanities at his two henchmen. For a moment, she was ignored again as they ransacked Mandy’s family cottage. She closed her eyes, prayers filling her heart as she listened and tried to focus on any tiny sliver of information she could glean. Castor called the other two Brick and Howler. Brick sounded angry and frustrated by the futility of the search. Howler barely spoke.

      “Where’s Mandy Rhodes?” All too soon Castor was back barking in her ear again. “And that other woman she drove up with?”

      A shiver of fear ran through her heart. How did he know who they were? Had they been watching them?

      Lord, please keep Zoe and Mandy far, far away from here.

      “I don’t know where they are. They went for a drive.”

      “Where did they go?” Castor’s grip tightened. “When are they getting back?”

      “I don’t know! They didn’t tell me!”

      Her hands were yanked back. She heard the rip of duct tape tearing. Then she felt him bind her wrists together behind her. Castor stood and pulled her to her feet. She looked up at the tall, heavyset man, whose sneering mouth and dangerous eyes seemed to float unmoored through the holes of a ski mask. “You’d better not be lying to me.”

      “I’m not. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

      Castor leaned in so close that his face was inches from her, making it difficult not to turn away from the stench of his hot breath. “What if I threaten to kill you, slowly and painfully? Would that help you remember?”

      No. But it would make her even more determined to not go down without a fight. She head butted him, as hard as she could. His head snapped back as her forehead cracked hard against his jaw. He let go of her. She turned and sprinted across the wooden floor toward the shattered remains of the doorway. Melting puddles of snow seeped into her socks. A bracing winter wind brushed her face. A sharp pain filled her skull as Castor’s rough hands grabbed her hair and snapped her backward. “Now I’m really going to make you hurt.”

      Lord, please. I need You now...

      “Come on, dude! This is a waste of time!” The rail-thin masked man the others called Howler snorted loudly from the corner of the room. The sound that was halfway between a laugh and a snarl. He waved his shotgun in their direction. “This wasn’t the job I signed up for. You want her dead? I’ll kill her. Bang. Right now. No problem. Or if you can, kill her quick so we can move on. Whatever. You said we’ve got a trunk to find. All I care about is getting my cut of the money. And I don’t wanna not get my money just because we’re stuck here waiting while you punish that finicky little princess chick for not telling you what you want to know!”

      Finicky little princess? Theresa blinked as the words clanged like old bells at the corner of her mind. But before she could decipher the ringing, Castor shoved her across the room. He pushed her into the broom closet. She fell, landing hard on her knees among the mops and cleaning supplies. Castor stood over her. Blood seeped through the mouth of the mask. Her head butt had split his lip. “Fine. We’ll go find the trunk. But then I’m coming back and dealing with her when we’re done. She knows something. I’m sure of it. It’s in her memory somewhere. Even if she’s too useless to remember it.”

      “Whatever,” Howler said. “Do whatever you want to do. Just after I get my money.”

      The closet door slammed shut. Darkness fell. She heard a chair being scraped against the door.

      “Brick!” Castor snapped. “Sit here. Watch the door. Shoot her if she tries to escape. But don’t kill her. I might need her later.”

      There was a muffled argument and some more swearing that ended when Castor snapped that Brick would get an extra cut of payment at the end if he stayed behind to watch her, and a shotgun slug in the head if he didn’t. Then there was the thud of a body landing in a chair against the door. Castor and Howler’s voices faded away.

      Theresa pulled herself into a seated position, slid a metal bucket behind her and scraped the duct tape binding her hands against the spout. It loosened slowly. Her socks were so wet and cold her feet stung. Theresa prayed hard, begging God to save her life and to protect Mandy, Zoe and Alex from danger. Then she took a deep breath and focused her mind on the criminals, pulling together the scraps of what she knew as if this was a file that she’d gotten through Victim Services.

      These men were thieves. That much she knew. Castor and his lackeys were looking to steal some kind of trunk that he seemed to think she’d know about. But why? What could