Chapter 4

Callie moved to the sink and peered at her reflection. Her face was pale but clean. It was her neck, though, that drew her attention. A large, angry red scab covered the right side of her throat; a second almost healed wound was on the left arm.

It had been her first night at Landon and Grace’s cabin. She couldn’t sleep much, and when she managed to sleep, she had nightmares.

“Mementos from the house of horrors,” Callie thought grimly, and wished she had a scarf or something to cover her neck.

She didn’t, however, and tugged the towel from her head. Her hair fell around her shoulders wet and tangled and she searched in the drawer for the brush Grace had lent her. She had borrowed some clothes from her sister-in-law’s wardrobe, too.

“I can’t wear them, anyway,” Grace had said, rubbing her big round belly.

Callie quickly dragged the brush through her hair until all the tangles were gone and her hair laid in quickly, drying waves around her face and neck. It wasn’t as good as a scarf, but hid the worst of her neck and the wounds with it.

She picked out underwear, a bra, a T-shirt, and jeans and began to dress. As she did, she recalled the night she escaped, and she shivered.

“You are safe now,” she reassured the reflection in the mirror, and took a deep breath.

Deciding she was ready, Callie turned, opened the door, and walked downstairs. Grace was standing at the kitchen table, taking bowls and spoons from a tray and setting them out in front of each of the two chairs. But it was the tall man dressed all in black that brought her to a halt.

Callie watched silently as he carried the third chair from the other side of the kitchen aisle to join the two at the table, noting that he was slim-hipped and had a narrow waist, but that in comparison his arms and chest were rather large under his shirt.

He had one of those gorgeous figures that sculptors loved to sculpt, and companies hired to model their swimsuits and underwear. She could imagine him sprawled on a beach, skin glistening with suntan lotion, lips spread in a wide smile and those big, beautiful eyes dancing with the joy of life.

Callie didn’t know why that thought popped into her head. He was nowhere near smiling right now. In fact, his face was expressionless and kind of grim.

“Oh, Callie, you’re awake. You shouldn’t be up and about yet. You’re too weak.”

“I’m tired of being in bed doing nothing, Grace. I need to distract myself,” Callie patted her forehead, and Grace nodded in acquiescence. “The cabin looks different.”

“We did a major renovation. We needed more rooms with the baby coming and all.”

Grace smiled at Callie. “You look much better. Come to meet agent Anderson from the FBI. He joined us last night after you went to bed. He’ll be staying with us for a while,” she added apologetically.

Grace was trying to make it sound as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Callie knew it was. She was still in danger. It was what she’d expected but was still disappointing. Forcing a crooked smile, she said, “It’s okay.”

She peered at the man curiously as she approached. He was almost a head taller than her. He was wearing a suit and tie. He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties.

The FBI man stood up and offered Callie his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Petersen.”

“Pleased to meet you, too, Agent Anderson,” she said politely, shaking the offered hand.

Anderson merely nodded in response; Grace pursed her lips and whispered with a giggle, “He’s a man of few words.”

“I’m in the room next to yours,” Anderson said. “Close enough to hear you shout if you need me. But there shouldn’t be any problems. The alarm system here is state of the art.”

Relief washed over Callie. “Good to know,” she said. “I would’ve hated thinking you were stuck standing in the hall all night. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep a wink,” she added, with a playful smile.

Anderson’s expression remained stoic. She offered a lighthearted clarification, “That was a joke. You’re allowed to smile, you know.”

“I don’t smile much,” he replied.

Frustration flickered across Callie’s face, and she sank into a chair at the table, turning to Grace. “Where’s Landon?”

“He is outside with Dylan. Dylan arrived early this morning and parked his RV in the backyard. They are talking about bikes and photography spots. Landon showed him his restored motorbike, of course. You know how obsessed he was with getting it back in shape.”

Callie giggled. “Classic bikes are his new passion. He wouldn’t stop talking about it on Skype. I learned more about carburetors than I ever cared to.”

Grace smiled warmly. “He certainly enjoyed the hunt for parts, though.”

“Speaking of missing companions,” Callie said, looking around, “where’s Scout?”