Right to Life Read Free Page B

seemed to him a crawl when what he wanted to do was run, look everywhere at once. Police in his life all of a sudden while he'd never had pvious occasion to say ten words to a cop. And this cop, this brisk and nonsense young woman like a lifeline to him now, his only potential link to Sara. He felt a sudden incredible dependency, as though his life had just spun out of his hands and landed into hers, a stranger's.
        His heart was pounding.
        People don't just vanish. Not unless they want to. Or unless somebody helps them.
        Whether they wanted to or not.
        

TWO
        
         Sussex, New Jersey
         12:30 p.m.
        She woke in dark and panic.
        Her first thought was that they had buried her alive.
        That she was in a coffin.
        She was lying on her back against rough unfinished wood, thick wood planks to the left of her, to the right of her, so close that she could barely raise her arms to feel that - yes, there was more rough wood above, she could smell it. Pine. There was a pillow beneath her head and that was all. Panic raced through her like a breath of fire. She had never been aware of being afraid of tight spaces but she was very afraid of this one.
        She balled her hands into fists and pounded. She heard the pounding echo and knew she was in a room then, in some kind of box, some kind of room and not underground - at least not buried underground thank god - because there would be no echo if that were so but the panic didn't recede any. She could hear her own fear in the wildness of her heartbeat. She screamed for help. She pounded and kicked at the lid of the thing and side to side at firm unyielding wood and it hurt, they'd removed her shoes and stockings, she was barefoot and it was only then that she realized that her skirt and blouse were gone too, she was wearing only her slip and panties. And that fact too was terrifying.
         Why? she thought. What am I doing here?
         What do they want with me?
        It was cold.
        She was not underground but it must have been some kind of basement she was in because it was summer, the day was warm and yet in here it was cold.
        Where was she?
        She was crying. The tears went cold on her face the moment she shed them. Gooseflesh all over her body.
        She kicked harder. Kicked until her feet were sore and maybe bleeding and then kicked and pounded again. Her breath came in gasps through the sobbing.
         Calm down, she thought. This isn't doing any good. Think. Control yourself, dammit. Concentrate.
         Look for weaknesses.
        She had maybe two feet between her chest and the lid above. Maybe she could press the lid off. She raised her arms, took a deep breath and pushed with all her might until her neck was straining, the muscles of her arms and shoulders spasming.
        It didn't budge.
        She let go of the breath and rested. Then took another and tried again.
        She brought her knees up under her as best she could until they pressed tight against the lid, trying to get more leverage, took a third deep breath and pushed until finally all her strength leeched out of her. She lay back, exhausted.
        The footboard and headboard, she thought. Maybe there. She slid down until the soles of her feet touched wood, the slip riding up her thighs and then drew her arms up over her head, the palms of her hands against the headboard. She was sweating now despite the cold, as in clammy film, all over her. She pushed and felt the headboard give a quarter inch and then stop. She relaxed immediately and used her fingers to explore it on either side.
        She touched metal. The headboard was hinged to the left. That meant there was probably some kind of lock on the outside. Which also meant the headboard was the entrance. How had they gotten her in here?
        She lowered her arms and felt around the base of the box opposite her thighs and