Indivisible Line (9 page)

A deep voice came from the front of the car. “I will say this once. We’re not going to hurt you if you sit still and stop fighting.”
 

Sarah wanted to yell obscenities at the man trying to quiet her down, but the cloth covering her mouth muffled her angry protests.

Just when she’d thought her life was in the biggest mess possible, this happened. This experience tipped the scale from “mess” into “hopeless and shitty” territory. Tears burned her eyes, and she sent fervent, silent pleas to Dotson’Sa to make sure her suffering would be quick and painless. What were these goons going to do with her? Kill her? Rape her? The possibilities made her cry with terror and desperation.

Chapter 6

Sarah alternated crying with occasional attempts to beg for mercy around the gag, yet her captors stayed silent. They never relaxed their grip on her, either. They’d said she wouldn’t get hurt if she stopped fighting. Could she trust her abductors’ assurances?

Many scenarios raced through her head. Maybe this was some kind of payback. Or perhaps the Medical Board had found out about the unconventional surgery she’d performed in Beaver and decided to throw her in jail. If that was the case, though, how come these people didn’t identify themselves before taking her? Nothing made sense, and her thoughts swam in a sea of fear and uncertainty.

In the enclosed space, the only distinguishable sound was the car’s humming engine and the muted songs on the radio. The car had been cruising for about twenty-minutes, and she guessed from the swooshing sound of other cars that they were on the freeway. If they had been driving along residential roads, the traffic would have been more stop-and-go.

Forcing words past the gag, she tried again. “Where are you taking me?” Silence answered her once more. She could hear the annoying sound of someone chewing gum in the front passenger seat and the guy on her left drumming his finger on the glass window.

“Please, can someone answer me?” her muffled voice pleaded one more time. Her request fell on deaf ears.

After a few minutes, the car came to a stop, and Sarah jerked her head up, holding her breath and hoping the blindfold would be removed. It didn’t happen. Instead, they ushered her out of the car without a word. Once her feet were planted on solid ground, the new sounds around her struck her as odd.

Most of the noise seemed to come from engines, propellers, gusts of wind, and the sound of planes taking off and landing nearby. Where in God’s name had they taken her? Sarah stayed where she was until someone took her elbow, guiding her forward. She shook the hand off and refused to move.

Whispered conversation swirled around her, but the roar of engines and buzzing propellers made it difficult to understand anything. Growing more hopeless with each passing second, she made a final attempt to break free from her three-man entourage by turning back to the car. It was a bad decision on her part. Huge bodies surrounded her like a brick wall, and then one of them slung her over his shoulder.

At that point, Sarah lost her bearings altogether. Rage engulfed her, and she began pounding on the man’s back with all the force she had. No matter how hard she struck and hit, no one hit her back. The only response she got was a grunt of pain and irritation from the man who held her like a sack of rice.

Before Sarah could strike out again, her arms were pinned to her back, rendering her helpless and disheartened. Without the ability to scream, she started to cry, feeling more scared now than ever.

When she was a child, her mother had made her memorize prayers in their native language, even if she’d barely understood their meaning.
“If you’re ever in a dire situation, say this prayer and you shall feel comfort.”
In her hysterical state, she began praying out loud in the words her mother had taught her. Her suspicion that they were putting her on a plane was confirmed when she heard a female voice welcoming them aboard. The woman was abruptly shushed by one of the men. Sarah was lowered into a seat, and then her wrists were bound in front of her, and a lap belt secured her.

Sarah continued to chant her prayer, although quieter this time. She kept repeating the words until exhaustion took its toll, sending her spiraling into a restless slumber after the plane took off to its unknown destination.

When Sarah awoke, it felt like she was resting on a bed of clouds, so soft and luxurious. She smiled, never imagining she’d ever get a chance to touch the fluffy cotton, ever. They’ve always been out of grasp, something she admired from afar. This time, she laid on them, not just enjoying the experience but also loving the glorious sensation.

If she were dead, then she must be in heaven. Her smile got bigger. At least Dotson’Sa had heeded her prayer for a quick and painless death.

Sarah recalled her mother saying that heaven was whatever you wanted it to be. It could be a bed of clouds, songs of happiness touching your heart, a remarkable scent of the most fragrant flower, and peacefulness unknown to man.

She must be in heaven. Her hand caressed the fluffy clouds again, and another grin spread across her face. When she opened her eyes to feed on the images of her own utopia and her vision adjusted, she noted light yellow walls with stenciled flowers. Among them were her favorites—forget-me-nots and stargazer lilies. She basked in the beauty surrounding her.

Her eyes traveled to the furniture. It was exactly what she would have envisioned for her perfect sanctuary. The toile upholstery had been paired with black, distressed wood tinged with gold specks, and the overall effect was breathtaking. It was the sort of room you would only see on television or in home decorating magazines. Sarah’s gaze traveled upward to where a canopy spread across the expanse of the bed. Dainty and ethereal, its panels were also made of the same sublime toile material.

Sighing, her mind raced back to her father, wondering when they would meet again. Then she thought of her mother. Could their separate heavens ever cross paths? Did individual heavens find an intersecting point where happiness could flow freer? She marveled at the idea and let the comforting thought warm her.

Still basking in the scents and visions of happiness, she heard a tap coming from her heaven’s door. She rolled her eyes at the errant humorous idea that crossed her mind. Someone wanted to see her—an angel perhaps?

With the grace of pleasure coursing through her, she replied, “Come in.” Even her voice sounded dreamy, and that made her beam with radiance.

A short, plump woman with graying blond hair and dressed in a starched white uniform walked in. Her cautious expression was replaced with a welcoming smile the instant their eyes met. “Good morning, miss. I gather you slept well?”

Sarah’s smile dimmed. It was as though a record had been playing a beautiful melody until someone scraped the needle across the vinyl. Her bubble burst.

She looked at the woman with a blank expression.

The face of the angel, or whoever she was, lit up. “You were mighty tired last night when you arrived, so Simon brought you here to your room.” The woman stopped at the foot of the bed.

Well, wasn’t that dandy? Sarah even had someone named Simon carrying her to bed. She lifted the clouds that were wrapped around her like a cocoon and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“I was?”

This heaven was fast becoming more odd than divine. Sarah scrutinized the material she’d first thought was a bed of clouds. Scooting to one side of the bed, she ran her fingers on the goose down comforter and brought it to her nose to give it a sniff. It was luxurious, all right.

“Yes, miss.” The woman moved toward the curtains and pressed a button. In an instant, the drapery receded from sight and the room was bathed in sunlight. She looked over her shoulder at Sarah. “Do you prefer breakfast in bed, or are you planning on joining Mr. Andrews?”

That was Sarah’s cue to jump out of bed, panic returning to claw at her. This wasn’t heaven, and the woman standing before her wasn’t an angel. “Who are you? Where am I? And who is Mr. Andrews?” she screamed in terror while she backed away from the woman, finding herself next to the floor-to-ceiling window. She whipped her head to check for an escape route, just to discover that they were at least thirty floors from the ground.

“My name is Matilda. I’m Mr. Andrews’ nanny. Well . . . I was a long time ago. I’m his housekeeper. I apologize that I can’t answer your other question. I’d rather let Mr. Andrews answer that for you.”

Matilda stayed in her spot and did not approach Sarah, who at that point felt like a scared cat after a cold shower.

So the heaven she’d been dreaming of was, in fact, some kind of hell? Would someone pinch her now and tell her she’d been punked?

“Matilda, did you know I was kidnapped?”

Astonishment crossed Matilda’s face, and she scolded Sarah. “Mr. Andrews wouldn’t ever do that. In fact, why don’t you get dressed and join him in the dining room so you can set everything straight with him.”

Sarah stared at the woman, dumbfounded.

The older lady strode to mirror-paneled double doors at the far end of the room and opened them. “Clothes in your size are all here, as well as shoes, which were ordered for you.” She pointed to neat rows of outfits, which were arranged by color scheme, and another little closet within a closet, which held shoes of different colors, styles, and heels.

“I don’t know who he is,” Sarah croaked.

“He sure sounded like you kids were well acquainted. Now, why don’t you wash up while I tidy your bed? Dress warm, just in case you two go for a walk. Bless his heart, he sure needs it.”

Sarah took a step back, eyeing every exit point in the room.
It’s obvious that Matilda adores Mr. Andrews,
Sarah thought. Because of that, she knew the woman wasn’t someone she could rely on for help. Her brain started thinking a mile a minute. She’d have to plan her getaway once Matilda left the room.

“Fine, I’ll meet Mr. Andrews for breakfast, but please leave me for now. I’d like a moment alone.”

Matilda nodded her head in understanding, no doubt thinking Sarah had lost her mind. The woman walked to the door, but not before she gave Sarah a final, fleeting glance. “The dining room is down the hall to your left.” She tilted her head before closing the door.

With her mind racing, Sarah ran back to the window and looked out. Given a different set of circumstances, she would have been gawking at the grandiose view which greeted her, but nothing in her current predicament could be considered grand. Not even the tall skyscrapers or the beautiful skyline dotting the magnificent tapestry could distract her.

Where am I?
She had been kidnapped—taken against her will and held as a prisoner in this beautiful nightmare.
No exit here
, she thought after studying the seamless window.

Sarah scurried across the room, grabbed the golden doorknob, and twisted. Relief washed over her when it opened. She could slip out of the room and hide somewhere until the coast was clear, and then she’d run for the front door as fast as possible. With that small plan in place, she poked her head out. Discovering a man standing across the hallway from her door, she recoiled in an instant, slamming the door shut just as he looked up.

Dotson’Sa, why have you forsaken me?
The question ran in her mind, but she was unable to utter the insolent words. Still, she was trapped. That pretty much summed up her situation.

She darted to another door and opened it with trembling hands. It wasn’t another exit. Instead, she found herself staring into a bathroom straight from
Architectural Digest
. Fear crept up her spine, but she took a few tentative steps toward the marble sink.

I’m going to be sick!
Panic made her stomach start roiling. Turning the brass spigot, she let the running water flow to drown her sobs.

After a few minutes of dry heaves, Sarah rinsed her mouth and glanced up. In the mirror’s reflection, she could see the window behind her. It was small, too small to even fit a young child. There was no way out for her except the front door, and getting there would be tough with the guard standing outside.

Sarah walked back to the bedroom and slumped onto the bed. “At least I’m alive for now.” She uttered the words aloud to convince herself how lucky she was. Alive and trapped in a nightmare.

Replaying what Matilda had said earlier, she knew she could get her answers from this Mr. Andrews. She would be happy to have breakfast with him if she’d get her freedom in return. It might have been naïve of her to think this way, but she had to believe her abductor possessed a good heart. Regardless, even if she had to grovel and beg, she’d do anything necessary to reclaim her liberty. But before she got ahead of herself, she still needed answers. Who and what was behind her abduction?