If only she had some other means of escape aside from her own wits. A weapon. A club or a knife or a saw or a rake or an ax or . . . God, what she’d do for a damned gun. But as she squinted, her gaze scraping the walls and floor, there was only a meager array of tools on the wall and a cell phone that never seemed to ring, even though he talked on it often enough, always, it seemed to the same person. Now, he was using scissors, and she thought she spied screwdrivers and a crowbar on the wall, but she couldn’t be sure. The twilight was pervasive, the stale air close as she noiselessly picked at the knots. Feeling the rope shift, she tamped down a ray of hope that rose in her heart. No time to get ahead of herself. And she was sweating. Beads of perspiration rolled down toward the hard floor, her fingers slippery as she plucked at the braided nylon, her joints straining.

The rope shifted.

Loosened.

Or was it her mind?

Oh. God.

She pulled again on that end of the cord and again she felt the tension on her bonds lessen.

Chloe sniffed loudly, sobbed again.

Stop, Zoe wanted to shout. Don’t give this sicko the satisfaction of hearing your fear. Be strong. You can. You know you can.

But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Deep down Zoe had always known that she was the strong one, that her twin was weaker, always had been. Hadn’t Zoe played the role of protector since the day they were born, twenty-one years ago? Zoe had come into the world first, and according to their parents had let out a yowl that nearly shook the concrete and steel of the hospital. Minutes later her younger sister had entered this life with barely a peep. Chloe had been so quiet the maternity staff had to double-check to make certain the smaller baby had been breathing, her little heart beating.

Right now Zoe’s younger sister was certainly making up for that quiet entrance into St. Anthony’s Hospital, and it wasn’t a good thing.

Be quiet.

Please, please, please!

Be brave.

I’ll save you.

Zoe let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

If I can.