At his conciliatory tone, her steps slowed. “Of course. I understand that I’m not the only one with problems.” She seemed to be softening, making an attempt to see the situation from his point of view. He thought he just might have a chance to repair the damage he’d done.

But then she stepped on something—maybe a soft or muddy spot on the ground—that made her look down.

And when he followed her gaze, he saw what she saw: there was blood all over the hem of her turquoise pants.

Anchorage, AK—Sunday, 4:00 p.m. AKDT

If Evelyn had had the slightest inkling that Bishop was showing a visitor around the plant, any warning at all, she would’ve rushed the door. But she was busy trying to make another shiv when she heard a whoosh and the door swung open.

With her caught in the act of tearing apart her cot, it took her a guilty second to realize that Bishop wasn’t paying attention, anyway. She saw only a flash of his balding head as she scrambled to her feet—not very fast now that she was so pregnant—and he tossed an older woman in with her before slamming the door.

With a mind to save them both, she ran past the woman, who was bleeding from the nose and mouth, and slammed herself up against the panel. She was hoping to catch Bishop before he locked it, maybe knock him down so she and whoever this other woman was might possibly overpower him or, short of that, get around him and try to escape.

But it was all for nothing. She only succeeded in hurting her shoulder. He’d obviously been prepared for her reaction and secured the door immediately.

“Damn it!” she cried in frustration.

A moan, coming from the floor where the other woman had fallen, grabbed her attention and kept her from pounding on the door.

“Who are you?” she asked as she bent to help her new cellmate over to the bed.

The woman was probably in her early seventies. She had white hair and fragile, birdlike bones, and she seemed dazed.

She blinked at Evelyn in apparent confusion. Then she put a hand to her head. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Evelyn replied. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”

Her expression grew more and more horrified as she looked around. “We’re in the cooler!”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“But … why is there a bed in here? And a toilet?”

Evelyn took her hand in an effort to soothe her. “I’ve been held captive here for I don’t know how long. Several days.”

Her eyes widened. “By the man who hit me?”

She was slowly piecing it all together. “If that was Lyman, the same man who just threw you in here, yes.”

“No. It wasn’t Lyman. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name. It was … it was my renter. His name is…” Probably too shocked and befuddled to recall his name, she let her words drift off as she touched her nose and held her hand out her to examine the blood.