In Desperation Read Free Page B

and, using the weight of the chair, kept herself upright. By carefully shuffling her feet with the heavy chair affixed to her back and legs she painfully inched her way across the kitchen like a grotesque snail.
    When Cora reached the drawer where she kept utensils, her heart sank.
    The splayed legs and angle of the chair kept her from reaching the handle with her hands.
    Cora growled into the tape.
    Those motherfuckers better not hurt my baby!
    Don’t give up! You have to do this!
    Carefully contorting her body with strategic leaning, her fingers blindly brushed the handle to the utensil drawer. Her arms, legs, shoulders were ablaze as she forced herself up on her toes and with one great heave got the drawer open. She rattled it until the plastic tray erupted with utensils. Finally the weight against her position demanded she sit.
    She fought the pressure.
    Come on! Come on!
    She shook as her fingers clawed at the disgorged spoons, forks, knives. There! Battling the weight brought waves of pain before she seized as many knives as shecould in one solid grab. Her nostrils flared and her breathing roared as she sat, clenching the knives behind her.
    Eyes on the ceiling, fingers sweating, Cora sorted the knives and ran her thumb along each blade, one by one. The first was a butter knife. So was the second. Damn. Wait! The third had sharp serrated edges.
    A steak knife.
    She dropped the others. Working her fingers down the blade to improve her grip, she delicately sawed at the edges of the tape. The first ripping sound encouraged her to work harder. It was followed by another, then another as she sawed without stopping until the tape gave way.
    Relief flowed into her arms as she brought them forward, pulling the tape from her mouth, gulping air as she yanked the remaining strips of tape from her wrists, massaging them before cutting her chest and ankles free.
    She reached for her kitchen phone, jabbed the button for 9 then 1—
    If you go to the police, your daughter will die.
    Recalling the kidnapper’s warning stopped her cold. She wouldn’t risk Tilly’s life. Cora aborted the call. She had to find Lyle.
    She called his cell phone, got his voice mail and left a message.
    â€œIt’s me! Something bad has happened to Tilly!” Cora broke down. “She’s gone, Lyle! They’re going to kill her! Call me!”
    Then she called his home number, her heart racing as it rang. No answer. She left a message. Then she texted him and urged him to call.
    Cora fumbled through her bag for her notebook, struggling with her composure as she called his hotel in San Diego.
    â€œBlue Sapphire Regency, how may I help you?”
    â€œI have to speak to one of your guests, Lyle Galviera.”
    â€œOne moment please, I’ll connect you—”
    The line clicked with the transfer.
    â€œFront desk? May I be of—”
    â€œI need to speak to one of your guests, Lyle Galviera! It’s urgent!”
    â€œOf course, that last name again?”
    â€œGalviera. G-A-L-V—”
    Rapid typing on a keyboard.
    â€œLyle Galviera of Phoenix?”
    â€œYes, that’s him!”
    â€œI’m sorry. We had a reservation for Mr. Galviera but our records show that he never arrived.”
    Cora hung up, called Lyle’s hotel in Los Angeles and got the same result. What was happening? Where was he? She stood there, her mind racing.
    Do something! Go to the office. Look there!
    She dressed without showering and ran to her car.
    Dawn was breaking and freeway traffic was light as Cora sped west then north toward Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. Quick Draw Courier’s depot, a squat single-story warehouse, was located amid the industrial buildings southwest of the terminals.
    Cora could see the delivery trucks backed to the rear loading bays where the night crew was going full tilt processing orders. She parked out front by the landscaped entrance to the administration office. At the