She remembered curling up on the back seat of the car, her stomach heaving with every twist and turn. She had wanted more than anything else just to go home to her parents and kid sister. It didnt matter that her sister was always stealing things from her room, or that her parents marriage was one long, run-on argument.

They were family. They were home. They were safe.

But she hadnt been brought home, had she? Instead she was…where? In someones shed, a prisoner being kept for their amusement? In a grave waiting to be filled?

She sniffed the air. It smelled of decay and dampness. Pressing her aching head against the wall, she managed to push the blindfold no more than a scrap of cloth down far enough for her to see.

A faint glow outlined the dark room, revealing sloping walls of stone or earth, a low ceiling, and a hulking shape that might have been a cart.

A cave? she thought, adrenaline flooding her veins. Oh, God, what am I doing here?

There had to be a way out. If she could only get her hands free, shed be able to untie her feet and search for an exit.

No matter how much she struggled against the restraints, however, she accomplished nothing except chafing her wrists raw.

Please, she whispered. Then, more loudly: Somebody help me!

She listened, but she heard nothingnot even the wind. She was entombed in silence.

Someone will come rescue me, she assured herself, desperate to hold onto even the faintest of hopes.

The problem was…nobody knew where she was. Her family didnt even know where she'd been earlier that nightthey had thought she was studying calculus with a friend. They probably wouldnt notice her absence until the next morning, and by then…

Her throat was already dry. How long could she survive without something to drink?

A scream, which had been building ever since she first woke up, suddenly burst from her lips. She screamed until her throat was raw and her lungs felt like they would tear from the pressure.

The sound of her screams filled the darkness, then faded back into empty silence.

CHAPTER NINE

Harley strode from her hotel room with one thing on her mind: making sure the person who had killed Lisa Powell and Theresa Flowers never had the chance to kill again. She had been down this road before, watching body after body pile up with no sign they were any closer to catching the killer than before, and she had no interest in repeating that experience again.

She was so hellbent on talking with their only suspect, Candy, that she didnt notice Callaway leaning against his truck until he cleared his throat.

You clean up nice, he said, his eyes making a slow study of her figure as he balled a hamburger wrapper in his hands.

Wouldnt want to make a bad impression, she answered, opening the door of her car.