“I do remember,” he said, although he hadn’t until she reminded him.

“Well, I hope you can find Dr. Talbot and that … and that your baby’s okay.”

“Appreciate your help,” he said, and whistled for Makita as he hurried back to his truck so he could head to Quigley’s Quick Stop.

Anchorage, AK—Tuesday, 10:40 p.m. AKDT

Evelyn’s captor returned for her bowl. Because he’d left the tray before, she hadn’t expected to hear from him so soon, but it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before the slot opened and she could see the now familiar torso of her captor as he demanded her empty water bottles, banana peel and bowl.

When she shoved those items through the hole—all except for the water she was conserving—he caught her hand so she couldn’t withdraw it.

“Why is there blood on your fingers?” he demanded.

A fresh deluge of adrenaline ripped through Evelyn. She was just trying to decide what to say when he added an impatient, “It’s not the baby, is it?”

“No. I-I fidget when I get anxious, sometimes bite my cuticles.” Although she’d wiped the blood on her jacket, it’d left a telltale smear. She’d been unwilling to waste her drinking water by pouring it over her hands, and there was no way she was going to wash them in the toilet.

“You make yourself bleed?”

“A lot of people do.” She prayed he’d believe her. She didn’t want him to come into the room. If he figured out what she was up to, the punishment could be severe. There was also the possibility that, even if he didn’t discover she’d been trying to pry her cot apart, he might take the opportunity to abuse her.

At the same time, she needed to engage him, try to befriend him. She’d spoken to enough violent criminals over the years to understand that the victims who survived were those who managed to make themselves more than mere objects, to be used at will. They connected with the person who was confining or abusing them, made themselves human, and they often did that by pretending to be supportive of their attacker and empathetic with his motives, needs and situation.

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears while she waited to see how he might respond—and what she might be able to make of it.

“You’re a shrink and you’re self-destructive? Isn’t that ironic.”

“I’ve been through a lot, and being locked in a cooler is reactivating some bad habits.”

He seemed to accept that. No doubt he had a few bad habits himself. “How much longer until the baby’s due?”

“I just started my last trimester.”

“What the hell does that mean?” He tightened his grip on her wrists. “Speak English, for God’s sake!”

She drew a calming breath. “I still have twelve weeks left, but this is a high-risk pregnancy, so…”

“So the baby could come at any time. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

He cursed as he let her go.