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into someone who had seen the news of her “abduction.”
    Whatever happened, she did not want to fall into the hands of the authorities or anyone assigned to protect her interests. Their previous failures had already left her with plenty of scars that had no hopes of healing.
    How could a child drop off the radar these days? How could she be pulled from school, sold to someone, and locked in a dungeon and held prisoner for three years without anybody noticing?
    The agencies designed to protect her had failed and she would never trust them again.
    She felt safe with John. Safer than she’d felt in years, even though she knew a brush from his skin could kill her just as it had done to Randy and Stacy. She wasn’t sure why she trusted John so much. Maybe, she figured, because she had dreamed of him, or an angel that looked like him, anyway, saving her.
    Or maybe it was something else…
    Something happened when they briefly touched, something reason couldn’t explain. A bridge had connected them. Though it hardly seemed possible, she felt as if she’d known John a lifetime already. She hadn’t seen all his memories, only glimpses, but it was enough to know she could trust him. He would protect her no matter what.
    And she would do the same for him.
    As Abigail neared their vehicle, parked about 90 yards from their room, a family of four spilled from a dusty minivan.
    A boy and girl, both younger than six, first looked at her with passing glances before they locked their glances into stares. Their mother, a heavyset woman with a skittish expression, also stared at her. Then the woman rushed the kids to grab their stuff, and slid the minivan’s door closed. The mother stole a second glance at Abigail, but Abigail broke the stare, pointed her nose at the concrete, and kept walking towards the car.
    She thought the woman was still looking at her, perhaps silently wondering, “Is that her? ”
    Abigail’s heartbeat raced as she felt like it took forever to reach the stolen car. She considered passing it, suddenly certain the family recognized her as The Missing Child, and was now scrutinizing her every move. Just as she reached the car’s bumper, she turned right, opened the car door and climbed inside.
    She slid into the front seat, craned her neck, glanced in the rearview mirror, and saw that the family was not watching her after all. They were walking toward their room.
    She exhaled with a bottomless breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
    Abigail retrieved the instructions from her pocket and started to read. She reached down and pulled the seat up as far as it would go, leaned close to the wheel and stretched her bare feet down to touch a gas pedal that felt half frozen against her foot. She inserted the key into the ignition, whispered a silent prayer to a God she knew had long ago stopped listening (if He had ever lent her an ear at all) and turned the key as her heart slid to the bottom of her chest.
    The car lurched backward before her foot found the break, then stopped with a sharp shudder, throwing her like a rag doll against the cracked leather seat.
    Her eyes flitted across the windshield nervously as she tried to determine if she had gathered attention, but the parking lot was empty of people at the moment. She slowly backed up before sliding the car into “Drive” and the car jerked towards the busy four lane road.
    The street was surprisingly busy, and the cars seemed to be driving so fast. She waited for a lull in traffic, praying nobody would drive up behind her in the parking lot, or worse, that a cop would drive past.
    She spotted a break in traffic, just enough to get out quickly and make a sharp right.
    Turning the wheel rapidly in her hands, she misjudged her speed and the car veered violently onto the rood, sweeping into oncoming traffic.
    Abigail looked up just in time to see a red truck barreling towards her in the same lane.
    She was helpless, spinning the steering wheel faster until the car