Swimsuit - James Patterson [3]
She was getting it together now. Brain working fine.
She shouted, “Douglas? Dougie?”
And then, as though God Himself had finally heard her calling, a cell phone rang inside the trunk.
Chapter 3
KIM HELD her breath and listened.
A phone rang, but it wasn’t her ring tone. This was a low-pitched burr, not four bars of Weezer’s “Beverly Hills,” but if it was like most phones, it was programmed to send calls to voice mail after three rings.
She couldn’t let that happen!
Where was the damned phone?
She fumbled with the blanket, ropes chafing her wrists. She reached down, pawed at the flooring, felt the lump under a flap of carpet near the edge, bumped it farther away with her clumsy… oh no!
The second ring ended, the third ring was starting, and her frenzy was sending her heart rate out of control when she grasped the phone, a thick, old-fashioned thing, clutched it with her shaking fingers, sweat slicking her wrists.
She saw the illuminated caller ID number, but there was no name, and she didn’t recognize the number.
But it didn’t matter who it was. Anyone would do.
Kim pushed the Send button, pressed the phone to her ear, called out hoarsely, “Hello? Hello? Who’s there?”
But instead of an answer, Kim heard singing, this time Whitney Houston, “I’ll al-ways love you-ou-ou” coming from the car stereo only louder and more clearly.
He was calling her from the front seat of the car! She shouted over Whitney’s voice, “Dougie? Dougie, what the hell? Answer me.”
But he didn’t answer, and Kim was quaking in the cramped trunk, tied up like a chicken, sweating like a pig, Whitney’s voice seeming to taunt her.
“Doug! What do you think you’re doing?”
And then she knew. He was showing her what it was like to be ignored, teaching her a lesson, but he wouldn’t win. They were on an island, right? How far could they go?
So Kim used her anger to fuel the brain that had gotten her into Columbia premed, thinking now about how to turn Doug around. She’d have to play him, say how sorry she was, and explain sweetly that he had to understand it wasn’t her fault. She tried it out in her mind.
See, Dougie, I’m not allowed to take calls. My contract strictly forbids me to tell anyone where we’re shooting. I could get fired. You understand, don’t you?
She’d make him see that even though they’d broken up, that even though he was crazy for what he was doing to her, criminal for God’s sake, he was still her darling.
But — and this was her plan — once he gave her an opportunity, she’d knee him in the balls or kick in his kneecaps. She knew enough judo to disable him — as big as he was. Then she’d run for her life. And then the cops would bury him!
“Dougie?” she yelled into the phone. “Will you please answer me? Please. This really isn’t funny.”
Suddenly the music volume went down.
Once again, she held her breath in the dark and listened over the pulse booming in her ears. And this time, a voice spoke to her, a man’s voice, and it was warm, almost loving.
“Actually, Kim, it is kind of funny, and it’s kind of wonderfully romantic, too.”
Kim didn’t recognize the voice.
Because it wasn’t Doug’s.
Chapter 4
A NEW KIND of fear swept through Kim like a cold fire, and she started to pass out. But she got a grip on herself, squeezed her knees together hard, bit her hand, and kept herself awake. And she replayed the voice in her head again.
“It is kind of funny, and it’s kind of wonderfully romantic, too.”
She didn’t know that voice, didn’t know it at all.
Everything she’d envisioned a moment ago, Doug’s face, his weakness for her, her learning how to win him over when he got out of control — that was all gone.
Here was the new truth.
A complete stranger had tied her up and thrown her into the trunk of his car. She’d been kidnapped — but why? Her parents weren’t rich! What was he going to do to her? How was she going to escape? She was — but how?
Kim listened