Fortunately, blood was one of the few things she still had access to. She also had a water bottle that was half-full. If she cut herself, squeezed the blood that oozed out into the water and poured the mixture onto the floor as well as the back of her beige dress, she could make it look as though her water had broken. Then she could curl into a ball facing away from the door. And when he brought her breakfast and she didn’t come to take the tray, he’d bend down to see what was going on and spot her “suffering” on the bed.

She just had to be careful to put the bloody puddle in a place where it would look as natural as possible, she told herself, and the easiest way to do that would be to put the bottle between her legs before unscrewing the cap. Then the solution would fall naturally and she’d have bloodstains on her legs and feet, which would look even more authentic.

The question now was … when should she make her move? She was so frightened it was tempting to delay, hoping against hope that something would change. That he’d hear and respond to her entreaties. That his conscience would finally get the better of him. That Amarok would find and free her.

But Bishop could arrive at any moment. She’d be a fool to wait.…

Now. The time was now.

She took several deep breaths, seeking strength and clarity. Then she picked up the shiv.

Steeling herself not to flinch or cry out, she cut one finger after another until there was enough blood in that bottle to make it a nice watery red.

Hilltop, AK—Thursday, 12:30 a.m. AKDT

It was finally growing dark, but it would stay dark for only four hours. Nights were short this time of year, and farther north shorter still. Not too far from Fairbanks, night never came, not in June, especially as they approached the summer solstice.

Amarok hated to see the sun sink below the horizon. It reminded him that time was passing fast, too fast, and he hadn’t yet found Evelyn. The darkness also made it more difficult to stay awake while he drove.

After speaking to Dax O’Leary, he’d gone to Roxanne’s. Fortunately, there’d been several dancers and a few patrons who remembered the “big guy with the scar.” The unknown man had stood out, not only because of the damage to his face but also because of his size and build.

Amarok hadn’t had a chance to speak to the bouncer who’d been there the night the van was stolen, however. A different one was on duty, so the manager had provided Greg’s phone number.

Amarok had already tried to call him. It’d been after eleven by then, but sheer desperation overruled any qualms about disturbing someone in the middle of the night.

Greg had finally answered but only to say he remembered seeing the guy but didn’t know who he was or where he was from.