“I saw him walk to that other building, after,” the girl replied, referring to the bed and breakfast.

If Tara could just get hold of her gun, if she could just call Warren, and if she could just get her keys to get them all out of here, then they had a good chance of leaving there alive. She knew she had to go find them—it was their only chance.

“I have a plan,” she whispered, before peeling the duct tape off of the floor that the girl had ripped from her mouth. “Put this back on,” she whispered.

The girl’s face contorted into confusion and fear. “What? No,” she replied. “I’m not putting that back on. Why?”

There was no way Tara was going to allow this girl to follow her. She had to stay where they were. It’s where she would be safest. Tara would go after him, go after them both, as soon as she could find her weapon, and then her keys. The girl would just have to stay in the barn, her hands untied behind her back, her mouth taped shut. That way, if he came back in, he wouldn’t suspect anything from her, but if needed, she could still defend herself. However, Tara suspected and hoped that she wouldn’t even need to because he would notice Tara was gone and go look for her. She told the girl all of this and she nodded reluctantly. The girl understood, but she didn’t want to be left alone either. It was written all over her face.

“I won’t let him come back in here and hurt you,” Tara reassured her. “I’ll be watching him.”

The girl nodded again and took a deep breath before placing the tape back over her mouth. She was trusting Tara completely. And after she sat back down against the wall, her hands hidden behind her back, Tara gave her a quick squeeze. She was going to do whatever it took to save the girl and her sister. After Tara let go, she turned around toward the barn doors and quietly crept across the floor.

***

Tara crouched down on the side of the house. She could hear them, their voices floating through the crack in the window above her. They were in the kitchen. Tara knew, because she had peeked ever so slightly—lifting her eyes just over the windowsill. They hadn’t seen her. They were too deep in conversation. But Tara saw them—the man and the older woman—standing there by an island counter.

Tara’s gun, phone, and keys were placed in front of them. Everything she needed was right there, but getting to them would be the biggest obstacle. She needed for them to leave the room, and then she would push the window fully open, crawl through, and retrieve them. But for now, all she could do was sit and listen.

The man had just told the older woman that Tara was an FBI agent, and it suddenly made Tara feel oddly exposed, as if they could see her.