Then to her horror he’d pulled a brush from his pocket and run it through her hair gently, meticulously. “You’re so beautiful,” he’d whispered.

Then the drive had resumed.

He now sang, “‘She gets me where I’m going and she always gets me back. She’s my red Cadillac.’ Love it, just positively love it.”

Kayleigh’s hands were cuffed in front of her. She’d hoped she could grab one of the rear door levers, open it and tumble out, taking her chances on the road and traffic.

But there were no door levers. He’d removed them. Edwin Sharp had planned this carefully.

As he continued to sing, she felt the van turn off the main road and drive for a time along a smaller highway, one in bad condition. Definitely going up. Ten minutes later the tires began to crunch over dirt and gravel. Then the surface got even rougher and the vehicle strained uphill for several miles. Finally the van leveled off and ten minutes later came to a stop.

Edwin climbed out. Then there was silence for a long moment.

This isn’t fair, she thought. It just isn’t goddamn fair.

You walk out onstage and sing folks your songs,

You make them all smile. What could go wrong?

“Hey there!” Edwin was opening the rear door, revealing a field surrounded by a pine forest. He helped her out and pulled the tape off her mouth—gently, though she was thoroughly repulsed once more by the touch of his skin on hers. She smelled his aftershave—yes, definitely her father’s—and his sweat.

She inhaled hard, shivering with relief. She felt like she’d been half drowned.

Edwin stepped back and stared at her adoringly but there was no artistic admiration in his gaze now; his eyes lingered on her breasts and crotch.

“My boots,” she said.

“Naw, I like you barefoot.” A glance down. “We’ll have to do something about that polish. It’s a little too red, you know.”

Then he was gesturing at a small single-wide trailer, covered with camouflage netting. It sat in the middle of the clearing. “Familiar?”

“Look, if you let me go, you can have a head start. Six hours, ten hours. And I’ll arrange to get you money. A million dollars.”

“Doesn’t it look familiar?” he repeated, irritated that she wasn’t understanding.

She gazed around. It did, yes. But what was—

Oh, my God …

Kayleigh realized, stunned, where she was standing. This was the property she’d grown up on! That her grandfather had cleared and where he’d built the family house. Edwin had put the trailer pretty much where the manse had been. There’d been a lot of clearing over the years but she could easily recognize landmarks from her childhood. She remembered that Edwin had been aware that she’d been upset Bishop had sold the property—just as he’d lost his own childhood house. How had he found the land? A deed search, she supposed.

Kayleigh knew too that because the company that had bought up all of the private property here had gone bankrupt, there wasn’t a soul around for twenty miles.