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  “I know. But we have to try something.” He kicked repeatedly, trying to get at the taillight. “They must have tampered with things to make it difficult. It’s not doing anything.”

  I placed my hand on his thigh. “Marco.”

  He stopped. Only the noise of our shallow breaths and the scent of his gum and our fear filled the trunk.

  We were screwed.

  Two men and a gun, or probably two, against two kids with nothing but their hands and brains going for them.

  The car drove off the highway, and soon it became clear that we were in the hub of the city. There were too many quick turns and too much traffic noise to remember each one, so all we had now was a general idea of where we were. If only other drivers knew that the car they were passing contained two captives, and two criminals.

  Please stop. Someone please find us!

  My hand went to my pocket to grip my meditation stone, but I hadn’t brought it. It was back home on my bedside table. Back home. Home. Oh, Mom, Savannah, Serena, Sasha, Tamara… Would I ever see them again? Would I appear later to Savvy as a ghost, and would she have two murders to try to solve?

  “Hey,” said Marco. “I know you’re scared. I am too. Let’s just keep positive, and keep alert, ready for anything. Yes?”

  He always seemed to know the right thing to say. He had a calming presence that made me feel safe.

  “Marco? What were you going to tell me before? You said you had to tell me something.”

  “I did?” he replied. “Oh yeah, I did.” He spoke softly. “It doesn’t matter now. Don’t worry.” He tightened his embrace. I never thought I’d be so close to him in this way under these circumstances. It wasn’t fair. We should be in his car, going home, maybe holding hands and planning a date.

  Maybe that was why it didn’t matter. Maybe he had been going to ask me out. But that seemed trivial now. And yet, at the same time, it seemed so important. The people in our lives were what mattered. I shouldn’t have been so worried all the time about saying the wrong thing or being embarrassed or vulnerable or getting rejected. I should have just made the most of everything and taken risks, lived life without holding back. If we got out of this alive, I would ask him out. Heck, I would just straight up kiss him without asking him out. To hell with those bastards. They weren’t going to ruin my chances of living my life, I would do whatever I could to fight and get us back to our families.

  The traffic noises subsided, and the turns became less frequent. I angled my head to be on the alert for any distinguishing sounds that could tell us more about where we were.

  “Do you think they’re going east?” Marco asked.

  I shrugged against his chest, which pressed up against my back. “I have no idea about direction. But it seems we’re heading out of the city.”

  “Do you have sharp fingernails?”

  I scratched my palms. “Not really, why?”

  “We could try scratching his name in here, so if the car gets found but it’s wiped clean of fingerprints, it can be linked to him.”

  I tested my nails against the metal in front of me. I couldn’t get enough traction to make a mark.

  “My watch,” Marco said. “It has a small metal rod on the clasp that might do the trick.” He moved his arm and then held it across me again. I heard scratching against the metal, just behind where the license plate would be.

  “S-e-a-n?’ he asked.

  “Yes.”

  The scratching continued, then stopped. “Don’t know if it’s readable, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, holding his hand as his arm lowered in front of my body. “I wish you hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time. With me.”

  “Hey, don’t say that.” He entwined his fingers with mine. “I’m sorry I couldn’t think of a way to avoid us getting in this trunk.”

  “A bit hard to do with a gun pointed at you.”

  We were silent for a moment, and the rest of the world seemed so distant from our little world within this cage.

  As we drove for what seemed like another half hour, my hand tingled beneath his. Even my other hand tingled. And I felt a magnetic pull above my head, like something was trying to draw me to it. Something outside the car. Farther away, but close enough. My insides became unsteady, wobbly, and every physical sensation heightened. The rough carpet under my body scratched my skin, the bumps as the car went over the road were like punches and kicks, and Marco’s body was too hot against me. I wriggled and sucked in a deep breath.

  “Are you okay?”

  “So intense. Everything. I can feel…”

  Oh no. It couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not without my sisters.

  We had always been able to connect when we experienced enhanced sensory perception, even though sometimes it was delayed by circumstances out of our control. We always managed to find each other and do what we needed to do to allow each sense to flow through us from the future and give us a message.

  But how could we, when I was here and they were somewhere else, and I couldn’t get to them? Would I eventually pass out from the increasing intensity of the feelings? Would they pass out from their senses, and from not being able to connect with me to complete the five-sister circle?

  I panicked. Tried to calm myself by breathing slower, but even breathing felt too strong, too painful. “I’m getting something,” I said. “It happens when my sisters and I need to connect, when we get our visions.” I panted and writhed, couldn’t keep still. “Oh God, I can’t take it!” I scratched at my skin, urging the sensations to release me from their hold, or to distract myself from them by creating a new sensation of pain. “I need my sisters!”

  “Shh, shh,” Marco soothed. “Try to focus on just one thing. A different sense, like the sound of my voice. Shh…”

  I tried to focus, but just as I almost had it, the sensations would overpower my focus, and my heart would race again. “I need to connect! I need to connect!” My hands flailed about, and tears streamed, not only from my own discomfort but from the knowledge that my sisters were in pain too. And by now they would know, and Mom would probably know, that I had not come home. We had probably been driving about ninety minutes, and knowing Mom she would have called Lizzie, and Lizzie would have checked the parking lot and seen that Marco’s car was still there. Maybe they would think we went off for a moonlit romantic walk, but Mom would know that I wouldn’t be home late without texting her first. And Lizzie knew Marco’s mom, so they would all probably be looking for us by now. That gave me a slight bit of comfort, but as a sharp pins-and-needles sensation took over my body I wept, cried out, banged my fists against the car.

  “Talia!” Marco urged. “Talia!” He captured my fists before I made too much noise. “Connect with me.” He grasped my shoulders and encouraged my tense body to roll over to face him. “Connect with me.” He held my hands against his chest, and each and every beat of his pounding heart vibrated against my palms.

  I felt his breath against my face. His eyes, although we were in darkness, bored into mine. I felt everything. I didn’t need sight.

  “Take a deep breath,” he whispered. “In... and out.” He demonstrated, and I followed, desperate for relief. My breaths and sobs intertwined, creating an uneven rhythm of inhalations and exhalations, each breath a bumpy ride through my airways.

  My hands melded with his, pulsed against his chest with each beat of his heart.

  “In… and out…” he continued, guiding my every breath, until it calmed down and synced with his.

  I looked toward where his eyes should be. I tried not to blink, tried to remember what they looked like. I listened to the sound of his voice, the sound of our breathing. I inhaled the scent of his gum, and the scent of him. My trembling subsided. The overwhelming sensations lessened. I didn’t know how, but somehow it was working. I wasn’t getting a jolt, or bubbles, or a sensory vision of touch, but connecting with him was taking away the intensity, making it manageable.
I hoped this meant that my sisters were managing too. Maybe Mom was helping them, connecting with them.

  The only downside to the return of my composure was that I wouldn’t get any insight from connecting with my sisters. There was something we needed to sense, and we wouldn’t sense it. And my sisters would not be able to use the gift of the Delta Girls to find me, because they were missing my hands.

  I stayed like that with Marco for a while, but I didn’t know if it was one minute or twenty, because time seemed altered somehow. And then the road beneath us became bumpier. There was an incline, and Marco held me closer so I didn’t slide away from him. The vehicle slowed, turned, turned again, and then the engine’s rumble abated as we came to a stop. For the next minute, each beat of my heart felt like a painful injection, filling me with dread and bringing me closer to what would come next, whatever that might be.

  “It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” Marco whispered through shaky breaths.

  With a dull click, the trunk opened, and cool air rushed in.

  Chapter 16

  “Get out. C’mon.” Sean pointed the gun at us. I glanced around, trying to take in as many details as I could. We were out in the middle of nowhere, a clearing in the woods. A raised wooden pathway led from where the car sat to a rundown cabin that blended into the surrounding trees.

  The driver appeared around the side of the car, a bald man with gray eyes and a sneer lifting one corner of his thin lips. He grabbed my arm and yanked it, forcing me out of the trunk. “You heard him.”

  “Hey!” Marco objected, stepping out and holding onto my other arm. “She stays with me.”

  “Just get a move on.” He continued to hold my arm, and Sean and his gun followed us into the cabin, which smelled of musty old furniture and cigarettes. A table sat near the entrance with a lamp on it, and a couple of old couches with torn upholstery lay in the center of the room.

  Footsteps sounded nearby, and my breath hitched high in my throat as another man emerged, from what was probably a small kitchen to the right. Oh God, now there are three against two. He looked too neat to be a criminal: hair shaven close to his head, no facial hair, dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt buttoned up to the neck. “Thought you’d never get here. Get those two into the basement, then you guys should drink up.” He raised his mug, steam rising from the top. “You’ll need the caffeine to stay alert all night.”

  All night? What are they planning?

  “Has our contact been able to get Dave’s input?” Sean asked.

  My ears pricked up.

  “Not having much luck,” the coffee man sighed. “The cops are recording his permitted calls, but from what they could discuss via our code we know he wants you to resolve things ASAP, by whatever means necessary.”

  Sean gave a nod. “Hence these two.” He cocked his head again, and the bald man led us toward a door at the back.

  My heart pounded, and I exchanged a worried glance with Marco.

  “Just tell us what you want,” Marco said.

  “We’ll get to that,” said Sean. “Firstly, welcome to your new residence.” The bald man shoved me through the doorway, and I stumbled on the first step that led to the basement. I glanced down at the broken, jagged bit of wood on the edge, which made it look like the stairs had a scar. Marco stayed close to me, shadowing me in protection, as we walked slowly down the staircase. “And don’t bother looking around for a way to escape—there isn’t one. From down there there’s only one way out and that is through this door, which has reinforced locks, and then through us.” He gave the air a jab with his gun.

  “Yeah, and you two behave,” added the bald man. “Any funny business and we’ll tie you up, so sit still down there and be quiet.” He stood back and slid his hands in his pockets while Sean towered down over us, his dark eyes glaring at me and turning my stomach.

  I hung onto Marco’s arm, standing half behind him at the bottom of the staircase, and looked around the dark, dusty basement lit only by a flickering single light bulb hanging from the ceiling by a cord. There was some kind of closet in the corner, and what could be a toilet cubicle behind a slightly ajar door. Shelves were on the walls with containers, bottles, boxes, a few old books, and God knew what else.

  Sean turned around and went to close the door, the spear of light from upstairs shrinking.

  “Wait!” I said, stepping forward. “You can’t just leave us here. We’ll need something to sit on, or a blanket, and, and…” I looked around. “And we’ll need water and some food.”

  Sean laughed, then coughed a smoker’s cough. “This ain’t a hotel, girly. And I’ve survived worse. You can too, if you’re lucky and you cooperate.” He chuckled again.

  My body tingled with a feeling of déjà vu. Water… food… cooperate…

  A sentence formed in my mind from a memory, something Serena had heard, and I blurted it out without thinking. “Like you had to cooperate when you were a kid?”

  Sean looked at me, his brow creasing, his eyes full of curiosity.

  Okay, okay, what was the next part? Quick!

  My heart pumped blood quickly to my brain, retrieving the memory.

  “Almost two days without food and water; you were lucky to survive.” I let go of Marco and crossed my arms confidently.

  Sean’s eyebrows rose. Then he shook his head and ran a hand through his messy hair. “So it’s true what they say on TV about you, huh?”

  I held my chin high. Marco placed his hand gently on my lower back, creating a warm spot that slowly spread throughout my body.

  “What else do you know about me?” he asked, lowering the gun and crossing his arms, the barrel poking out from under his elbow.

  “I know you’re Sean Bolt, brother of Dave. I know you had something to do with my dad’s death. I mean, disappearance.”

  Crap, should I have said that? What if he’d thought I didn’t know who he was, and now that he knew that I knew his identity, I had backed myself into a corner with no hope of getting out alive?

  “Yeah well I am famous too, been on the news just like you.” He grinned and pretended to style his hair. “Of course you know who I am.” He studied me. “Why did your father’s case get reopened? What do you know?” He tilted his head.

  “Nothing. We, um, just asked them to.” I uncrossed and crossed my arms.

  “Liar.” He spoke so loudly that I flinched. “You found the money didn’t you? And the note that loser put with it to set us up.”

  Money? Note?

  I kept silent.

  “Where is it?” he asked.

  Silence.

  “I said, where is it?” he shouted.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Not so psychic after all then, eh?” He chuckled.

  “Sean, we should make the phone call now,” interrupted the bald man. “Leave the interrogating till we have the rest of the plan sorted.”

  My body trembled, and Marco pulled me backwards, away from the staircase. I wanted the men to leave us alone, but I didn’t want to think about what might happen when they returned.

  Sean closed the door, and I heard the metallic sound of locks being fastened. I turned to Marco and buried my face in his neck, pulling him close to me. His arms held me tightly, his palm stroking the back of my head. “What are they going to do to us?” I said, trying not to cry.

  “Shh, don’t even think about that. Let’s see if we can eavesdrop on whatever this phone call is. We have to stay alert,” he whispered.

  I pulled back and nodded.

  We tiptoed up the stairs, reaching the top and angling our heads toward the door.

  A muffled cough sounded from Sean, and the sound of coffee mugs being placed down on the coffee table. “Yeah, yeah, got ‘em… Two. The girl wasn’t on her own. Had to take ‘em both… Well nothin’ I could do about that… Yeah, but in the meantime I think I should see what I can find out. I think she knows, or she might be able to find out.” Sean cleared his throat.
“Hey you don’t know that, I actually think she might be the real deal. Said something just now that she couldn’t have known otherwise…Gotta keep an open mind, man. Everything’s worth a shot… And if she doesn’t? Then the mother might know. Failing that, she’s sure to respond to the ransom demand once morning arrives and her precious daughter is nowhere to be found.”

  I felt sick.

  They were going to hold me—us—for ransom if they couldn’t get what they wanted? But my mom didn’t have much money. Just how much were they talking about?

  “Can you get an insight into what they’re looking for?” Marco asked. “Or do you need your sisters?”

  “Sometimes I get feelings, but mostly I need my sisters. I honestly don’t know what money they mean or where it is.”

  Marco scratched his head, as though trying to remember something. “I wish I knew.” He shook his head. “Maybe something will come up if we can get more details out of them.”

  “It’s okay, this is my mess you’re in. I’m so sorry.”

  He held my arm. “Talia. We’re in this together. We’ll figure something out.”

  Footsteps sounded and we scooted back down the stairs.

  The door opened. “The thing is, Little Miss Fortune Teller,” Sean said. “I’ve got a very demanding boss who requires this money as soon as possible. We’d also like to destroy the note your father left with the cash that implicates us in his… his…”

  “Murder?” I planted my hands on my hips. “Go on, say it, you coward!” I didn’t know what had gotten into me. But the sight of him churned my insides into a sickening spin.

  He eyed me and slid his hands in his pockets. At least he didn’t have the gun pointed at us anymore. “How do you even know he’s dead? Did you find out in one of your ‘psychic visions’?”

  “Yes, actually. And I’d like to know exactly what you did to him.”

  “Then if that’s true, why doesn’t he just tell you himself? Or why can’t you see it in a vision, huh?”

  I diverted my gaze from his awful eyes. “It doesn’t work that way. Not all details come through.”