She rolled over on her cot and gazed up at the smooth white walls. This had once been a cooler, as she’d guessed—a cooler in some type of processing plant. There was a staff room; she’d run in there when she’d been looking for a way out.

She’d been too frantic to take stock of what she saw at the time, not consciously, anyway. But now that she was once again locked up, she was determined to go over her memories and cement every detail in her mind. She had to believe she’d have another chance to escape, and then she could take advantage of what she’d learned to avoid making the same mistakes.

For instance, she’d have to remember not to go to the right. That was where Emmett had been staying and was most likely where Bishop would be staying now that Emmett was gone. Made sense, given it seemed to be the most hospitable area.

She’d caught a glimpse of a room without windows that had a big machine in it—it had smelled terrible, like rotten eggs—and another room with lots of windows and trash on the floor.

No, not all of it was trash, she decided as she closed her eyes and pictured it again. There’d been egg cartons. Lots of empty egg cartons. This place was most likely a plant that processed eggs, she decided. And the front part, with all the windows? That had to be a store that sold them, like a fruit stand a strawberry farmer put up on his own property.

The more she concentrated on piecing together what she’d seen and making sense of it, a commercial farm with egg-laying hens sounded plausible. And if that was the reality, she probably wasn’t in a location that was too remote. An egg farm or ranch, or whatever they were called, wouldn’t be right downtown but still sited fairly close to civilization. A cooler this size would hold a lot of eggs and yet the small store wasn’t big enough to move a vast amount of product, which meant such a business would require a distribution method—trucks that carried cases of eggs to other retail outlets.

So she was likely on the outskirts of a place much bigger than Hilltop. Anchorage or Juneau. But since Anchorage was closer to Hilltop, if she had to bet, she’d bet on that one. Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport was the largest and the busiest in the state and would make it easy for Bishop to relieve Emmett, since that had obviously been the plan.

The bad news was that there weren’t any eggs in this cooler right now and all the trash she’d seen on the floor in the store, mixed with those egg crates, suggested the egg ranch was abandoned. Which meant little or no chance of a well-meaning customer or employee coming onto the property, stumbling upon what was going on and saving her.

She pressed her palm to her forehead. How was she supposed to cling to hope when it was all so hopeless? Bishop had completely blindsided her, had thought of everything. She couldn’t even make another weapon, not now that she’d stabbed Emmett. Bishop would be watching for that. And if he caught her, he’d punish her.