The other man’s hand snakes out and clamps around my throat, cutting off the blood flow to my head. “Gimme your hands or I’ll fuckin’ knock you out.”

I extend my hands. In front of me.

The other man tapes my wrists together. Fear crashes over me when I realize I’m done. I can’t get to my .22. Can’t get to my cell. I’m at their mercy and there’s not a damn thing I can do to help myself.

“Who are you?” I try to maintain a level of authority in my voice. I’m appalled when it quavers. “Why are you doing this?”

The men ignore me.

“Get up,” one of them says, and without waiting for me to comply, they haul me to my feet.

I look from man to man. Both are wearing ski masks and snowsuits. “I haven’t seen your faces,” I tell them. “I don’t know who you are.”

The men exchange looks, but say nothing.

“Let me go and we’ll forget this happened,” I say quickly. “I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.”

“Yeah, right,” one of them mutters.

“Tell me what you want,” I say. “I’ll do it.”

“You and that big mouth of yours will find out soon enough,” one of the men tells me.

“Let’s go,” says the other.

He takes my arm, drags me into the living room. I know they’re going to take me outside. God only knows what will happen once they do. Last time I checked my phone, the temperature was eighteen degrees. I try another tactic. “I need to get dressed,” I tell them.

“You’re dressed just fine,” the man behind me replies.

“I’ll freeze,” I say.

“We better put a coat on her,” the other puts in.

The man grasping my arm stops, gives me a rough shake. “Where’s it at?”

My barn coat is draped over the back of the bar stool facing the kitchen. I cock my head toward it. “You’re going to have to untie me. So I can put it on.”

The other man brushes past us and snatches up the coat. Facing me, he drapes it over my shoulders, yanks it tight, and fastens it with the big safety pin—without putting my arms through the sleeves. “There you go. Nice and warm.”

The other man kicks my sneakers over to me, then kneels and shoves them onto my feet, cinching the laces tightly. Together, they force me through the living room, out the door and onto the deck. As they drag me down the steps, I realize these are the same men I saw last night with the two women. They’re Amish; I can tell by their accents. And I’m pretty sure they’re going to kill me.

*   *   *