The Ransom by Chris Taylor Page A

jangle of keys. She groaned at the pain in her arms and wriggled in an effort to get more comfortable. The bindings around her wrists were tight and she’d lost all feeling in her hands. She swallowed a sob and tried to hoist herself upright, using the wall behind her for leverage.
    With a grunt and a hard shove, she managed it. She was left panting from the effort, but at least her head was now off the floor and she was better able to take in her surroundings.
    The single window had been boarded up and only the tiniest slivers of light escaped inward from underneath. It was barely enough to dent the dimness, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she slowly made out the rest of the room.
    The space was smaller than her bedroom and was bare of furniture. Cobwebs hung from every corner of the ceiling, their long strands swaying gently from an unidentified source of moving air. They reminded her of the dark and scary caves she’d seen in the Indiana Jones movies she’d watched with her dad. All she needed was a gigantic, hairy spider to appear.
    With a shudder, she lowered her gaze and tried not to think about it and wished her daddy was near. Dust lay thick on the floor. She looked down at her once-white shorts and grimaced, upset for a second that they were ruined. Then her situation really hit home. She was captive—she had no idea where—and guarded by the frightening thug who’d shown her no mercy. How had all this happened? From her fear, memories slowly began to emerge.
    Her head was fuzzy. She wondered where Brittany was. Had she been taken, too? Perhaps she was here with her, somewhere in the house? The thought gave her hope that she wasn’t alone with the short, thickset man who’d attended her earlier. Through her squinted eyes, she’d seen the bulging muscles in his arms and the array of tattoos that covered his skin. She’d also sensed the menace coiled inside of him and that terrified her. The danger of him had been there in the change room before he pressed a sweet-smelling cloth over her mouth and nose and the world went suddenly dark and blank.
    Tears welled in her eyes and slowly leaked down her cheeks. She wanted her daddy. Where was he? Surely he knew she was missing? Her stepmother would never have kept something like this from him. She must have told him. He was on his way. He’d find her. He’d rescue her. She was sure of it.
    The rattle of the key in the door once again stole her breath. Heart thumping, she tried to slide sideways, to pretend she was still asleep, but though she tried, she couldn’t get the impetus she needed to topple. Panic clawed at her throat. She watched, as in slow motion, the door opened and revealed the bulky shape of her captor.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    Saturday, January 27, 1.10 p.m.

    Before she knocked on the door to her father’s office, Zara took a deep breath and tried to quell the nerves that tumbled around inside her belly.
    “Dad, it’s me. May I come in?” Not waiting for a reply, she opened the door and found him at his desk, frowning behind a mound of papers. He looked up as she entered.
    “What is it, darling? How’s Brittany?”
    “She’s fine. She’s sleeping. I think today’s events and the visit from the detective wore her out.”
    “Not surprising, after all she’s been through.”
    Zara nodded her agreement and took a seat opposite her father’s desk. Needing to occupy her hands, she picked up a heavy glass paperweight and moved it from one hand to another.
    Her father watched her in silence for a few moments. “What’s troubling you, Zara?”
    The nerves she’d almost managed to suppress returned full force, tightening her throat and turning it sandpaper dry. She licked her lips and tried to form the words. In the end, they came out in a rush.
    “It’s about those two men who visited you a couple of weeks ago. You heard Britt describe the man who abducted Olivia. The men who were here looked like him. I-I was wondering if they