Her whole left side, from shoulder to ankle, tingled from lying in the same position for so long, but still she didn’t move, not even when he slid his hand beneath her again to release the seat belt.

He got out. Besides his footsteps, she could hear a loud chorus of insects and amphibians. He opened the passenger door. “Want to sit up now?”

She didn’t respond.

He sighed, then grabbed her around her right biceps and hauled her into a sitting position. Her head teetered as though it were about to roll off her shoulders. Nerve endings screamed in pain. She bit into the gag to keep from moaning.

He lifted her from the vehicle and carried her up a set of three steps. He had to juggle a bit in order to open a door, then with her still in his arms, went through it sideways like a groom carrying his bride.

The air inside was hot and stuffy. The floor beneath his footsteps sounded as though there was hollow space beneath it. She heard something being dropped with a thud. Then she was deposited ungently into a hard chair.

“You can sit up, or play dead and fall out onto the floor. Where you’ll lie till Doomsday, because I’m not lifting you again.”

She remained sitting up and heard a snuffle of amusement, along with the soft snick of a light switch. The hood was suddenly pulled off her head. The light pierced her eyes. Reflexively she squeezed them shut, then slowly opened them and blinked her abductor into focus.

He stood directly in front of her, unyielding and unsmiling. “Long time, no see, Ms. Shelley.”

AT FIRST, THE BEARD THREW HER OFF. THEN, LOOKING PAST it, she recognized the face. Putting a name to it took a moment longer, but finally one emerged from distant memory. Gannon. Raley Gannon.

Identifying him didn’t allay her fear. In fact, when he extended his hand toward her, she recoiled, which caused him to frown. He hesitated as though waiting to see just how spooked she was, then reached around to the back of her head, untied the gag, and removed it.

She moistened her lips. Or tried. Her tongue and mouth were dry. When she tried to speak, her voice was a croak. “Have you lost your mind?”

Saying nothing, he turned his back on her. With his sneaker, he moved aside a small black duffel bag, which must have been what she’d heard drop after he carried her inside. Walking beneath the ceiling fan, he yanked on a string hanging from it. The motor hummed, the blades began to turn, stirring the warm air and cooling it slightly.

They were in what appeared to be a cabin with a living area and kitchen combined into one room. Britt assumed that the open interior doorway led to a bedroom, but it was dark beyond the door. The furniture was old and mismatched, but the place was clean and neat. All the windows were opened. Insects batted against the screens, trying to fly into the light. Beyond the screens, the darkness was absolute, impenetrable, unrelieved by moonlight or man-made lights that she could see.

She was still wearing the camisole and boxer shorts she had gone to bed in, but she also had on a nylon windbreaker that belonged to her. The last time she’d seen it, it had been hanging in her closet. He must have put it on her while she was unconscious.

He took a bottle of water from a vintage refrigerator, uncapped it, and drank thirstily, emptying the entire bottle, which he then tossed into the trash can beneath the sink.

He glanced at her, then got another bottle of water from the fridge and uncapped it as he walked across the room. The ceiling fan fluttered his hair, causing her to notice another distinctive change in his appearance. He used to wear his hair short, almost in a military cut. Now it fell an inch past his collar and over his ears to blend into the beard. She detected a few touches of gray among the wavy, dark strands.

He extended the water bottle toward her mouth.

“You’ll have to untie my hands.”

“Fat chance.”

“I can’t-”

“You thirsty or not?” He pressed the top of the plastic bottle against her lips. She took it, gulping until the water began flooding her mouth. She tilted her head back to signal she was finished.

He stopped pouring, but not soon enough. Water dribbled over her chin and onto her chest. Some trickled from the lip of the bottle and splashed onto her bare thigh. She looked down at the spot where several drops beaded on her skin. When she looked back up, she caught him staring at that spot, too. Then his eyes connected with hers.

He moved so quickly, she jumped. “Will you relax?” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You already have.”

He reached toward the back of her head again and dug his fingers into her hair, then tentatively moved them along her scalp until she winced. “You’ve got a goose egg.”

“What did you expect?”

“I expected you to have a goose egg. Because you didn’t do what I told you to do. If you’d been quiet and cooperative, I wouldn’t have had to clip you.”

She started to say that she would be sure to remember that the next time an intruder snatched her from her bed and carried her off in the middle of the night. But she held her tongue.

It couldn’t be a coincidence that Raley Gannon had kidnapped her two days after she woke up with Jay Burgess lying dead beside her. She didn’t know how the two events were connected, but she knew they must be, and all the implications were frightening.

He disappeared through the darkened doorway. A light came on in the adjacent room. She heard him rustling around, opening doors and closing them, and soon he returned with a bottle of pills. He shook out two tablets and extended them to her. “Take these.”

“What are they?”

“Ibuprofen.” He turned the bottle so she could read the label. “Generic.”

“I’m not taking them.”

“How come? Afraid that I switched them with a date rape drug?”

She looked up into his face, and it was remarkable how much he had aged since the last time she’d seen him. It was evidenced by more than just a few gray hairs. His skin was dark from sun exposure. His beard and mustache were as black as any pirate’s and concealed his lips, which she imagined were firmly set and slow to smile.

But what really added years were his eyes. Not only were there pronounced lines radiating from the corners of them but the irises themselves had become hard and cold, as if a pond that in summer was placid and green had now frozen over.

Or maybe they’d always been that way. After all, she’d seen him only a few times and from a distance as he’d dodged reporters. She’d really known him only as the blurred figure fleeing the video camera, as the subject of a hot news story.

If it was retribution he was after, she would just as soon get it over with. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Jay Burgess.”

“Go to the head of the class.”

Jay’s death had prompted this…this whatever it was. Jay’s death had brought Raley Gannon out of obscurity. He had left Charleston five years ago, never to be heard of again. At least not by her.

Possibly he and Jay had stayed in touch. Jay had never mentioned him, though, and it had never occurred to her to ask him about Raley Gannon. As soon as he was no longer news, she’d forgotten about him.

He bounced the tablets in his palm. “It’s going to be a long, uncomfortable night for you. Take the pills.”

She hesitated only a second, then opened her mouth.

“No way in hell am I going to let you bite me. Stick out your tongue.”

She did. He set the tablets on her tongue, then pressed the water bottle against her lips again. He poured more slowly, she swallowed more easily, until she’d drained the bottle. He turned and walked into the kitchen to throw away the empty bottle.

“Did you…” She stumbled over the words, tried again. “Did you have anything to do with what happened to Jay and me night before last?”