Page 51 of Save Me
“No one would pay his bail,” she said with a smile. “Maybe it’ll give him a chance to sober up. To be honest, he wasn’t such a bad guy when I first met him.”
“That’s what drugs will do to you,” Beth added. “I remember all my dad went through before he sobered up.”
“What are you guys doing here tonight?” Amber asked.
“Celebrating. Oscar’s won best restaurant in the Keys again this year.” In a quieter voice, she said, “That tidbit of news won’t be released until next week, but we know.” She winked at her. “Go on.” Beth waved at her. “Go sit and enjoy with your family,” she said as the Miller’s name was called for their table.
Brock was carrying Emma and sat her down next to him and started coloring with her while she chatted with his parents.
Kim was filling her in on a few improvements they’d made with the rental and the pool house. She couldn’t wait to get back there to see all the neat things she had described.
She ordered Oscar’s special for the night, as did Brock and Reggie. The fish plate was so delicious, she gobbled it up while Brock helped Emma eat her chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese.
She was roughly halfway through her dinner when her stomach started acting up and her head started spinning. She quietly excused herself and immediately went into the bathroom and got sick. Her palms felt clammy, and her head was spinning. She felt as if she was on the verge of passing out and stumbled from the bathroom, desperate to get to Brock for help.
She didn’t even have time to react when strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her into the darkness.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when she finally woke. Her entire body ached, and she once again emptied the contents of her stomach.
“Well, well, well. Lookie who’s awake early. Oh, don’t worry about getting sick, sweetie, that’s just the drugs wearing off.” The moment she heard the voice, she remembered it. Remembered the pain and suffering that had come next. Her entire body jerked as the urge to flee overcame her. Only she came up short when her hands and legs wouldn’t move.
Tears had blinded her, and she desperately blinked several times to clear her vision.
Standing over her was a teenage boy wearing black pants and a white button-up shirt. He looked like… a waiter.
His sandy-blond hair was short, neatly cut. He looked like the all-American kid. Good-looking but not so good-looking as to get too much attention.
Wherever they were, it was too dark to see much. A thin beam of light was coming from a few feet away, casting just enough light on them so she could see her captor’s expression of glee.
“There she is.” He smiled down at her and then moved closer. “Imagine my luck,” he said, leaning down in front of her. “I’d been wondering how to get to you at that fancy mansion you’ve been staying at. I knew after watching Carl get snatched that it wasn’t safe to get to you there. Too many damned cameras.” He shook his head and made a soft tsking noise. “They’ve been installing even more over the past few days. I was lucky enough to follow that old rich bitch back to where you were staying now.” He smiled. “That place is a fucking fortress. I had to rent a boat just to get a view of it, but even the waters are patrolled around the whole damned island. I tried a few times to trick the guards into letting me through the gates, but no luck.” He shook his head again. “I guess my diligence in sitting and waiting finally paid off tonight when I saw y’all head out and followed you here. I only had to kill one waiter out on a smoke break for these.” He motioned to his shirt. “Still, they’re a pretty good fit.” He laughed. “And I enjoyed the kill.”
She threw up again, this time not turning her head away, so she hit him straight in the face with her bile.
He jerked back and yelled, “You bitch.” Then he fisted his hand and plowed it into the side of her face. Once again, everything went dark.
This time when she woke, it was clear she was in the trunk of a car traveling at high speed. He was taking her away from her family. Away from Emma and Brock.
She fought the restraints on her hands. After last time, she’d studied all the ways to break free from restraints. She was surprised at how quickly and easily they came undone. Since it was too dark to see, she tried to figure out if he’d done that by design or if she’d just gotten lucky.
He’d used zip ties. Thin ones. Could he have really been that careless and stupid? She reached down and struggled a little more with the one’s wrapped around her bare ankles.
She’d worn a simple cotton sundress for the evening dinner and her favorite sandals. She instantly regretted leaving her purse hanging on her chair at the dinner table when she’d rushed to the bathroom. She doubted he’d be dumb enough to bring it with her, but still… She could have… what? Used the pepper spray in it? She hadn’t even fought him off when he’d snagged her. No, she’d just passed out right in his waiting arms.
What had he said? He’d drugged her. Her mind snapped suddenly. It was as if the veil had been lifted. He’d drugged her, which meant he had been their waiter. She remembered him now, serving them all food. When they’d arrived, a dark-haired man had taken their drink orders and delivered her glass of wine. But it had been this guy, the blond-haired one, who had delivered their meals. Oh god. He’d killed their waiter and drugged her dinner.
Had he drugged Brock’s and Reggie’s dinners as well? What about Emma? She tensed at that thought.
How was she going to get out of there? Where was he taking her?
She remembered how Emily and Jamie had escaped the trunk of Daryl Collins’s patrol car. How he’d busted off the emergency latch handle, but Jamie had used her high heels and forced the lid of the trunk open. Then she’d shoved Emily out onto the road while she’d waited and fought with Collins until help had arrived, all thanks to the tracking device Blaine had given her in a necklace.
She didn’t have such a device. She wasn’t even wearing jewelry. Brock wouldn’t be coming for her. He had no clue where she was. Did he even know that she was gone?
She fought back the tears once more and took several cleansing breaths. She was not going to become a victim again, she told herself. She was Amber Oswald not Crissy Talbot.
Searching around with her hands, she found some trash and a duffle bag. Inside the bag was some duct tape and papers. She searched for the trunk’s emergency release but didn’t find any latches.
The car jerked as if it had turned off the highway, but then sped up again. Then loud music started playing, and she could hear him singing along with it.
