Trapped Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  What People are Saying…

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  A Devotional Moment

  Thank you

  You Can Help!

  God Can Help!

  Free Book Offer

  Trapped

  Lillian Duncan

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Trapped

  COPYRIGHT 2019 by Lillian Duncan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given away to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

  Cover Art by Nicola Martinez

  Harbourlight Books, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

  www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

  Harbourlight Books sail and mast logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC

  Publishing History

  First Harbourlight Edition, 2019

  Paperback Edition ISBN 978-1-5223-0210-0

  Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-5223-0208-7

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  This and all I do is for God's glory.

  Without the unfailing support of my husband, Ronny Duncan, in more ways than I have space to write, thank you for all you do.

  What People are Saying…

  GAME ON (2016)

  Game On is a romantic-suspense story layered with intrigue that captivates the reader on the first page and doesn’t let go till the last page is turned. Lillian Duncan adds one surprise turn after another to keep readers on the edge of their seat. I enjoyed reading this book and recommend it to all suspense lovers.

  ~ Jo Huddleston, author of the West Virginia Mountains series of sweet Southern historical romances

  I have enjoyed every book I have read by this author, and I got this one as soon as it was released. I was not disappointed in this one. There is lots of suspense, romance, family secrets and faith which resulted in a story that I couldn't put down after I had started it.

  ~ Ann Lacey Ellison, reader

  1

  “Why are you doing this?” Her eyes were open. Not that it did any good since she was surrounded by complete darkness. With a madman.

  “I thought you might want to play a game with me, Ange,” came the whispered response. “Want to play with me?”

  And then a sharp jab on the bottom of her foot.

  She whimpered.

  “Don’t you like my game, Ange?”

  Another sharp jab. On her shoulder this time. “How about it, Ange? Do you want to play, Ange?” came the whisper.

  Each time he said her name, she cringed, knowing pain would follow. Before she could take another breath a knife scraped against her leg, leaving a trail of pain up to her knee. Probably blood, too. Not that she could see it.

  “Stop it. Leave me alone.” The words came out as a whisper even though she’d meant to yell them. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  In answer, the room was flooded with light. Her eyes protested at the sudden change. She squinted at her captor as he came closer.

  “Because I can.” He bared his white teeth in what would probably pass for a smile in a different situation even as his eyes darkened with hatred. “Women like you think you have all the power because you’re rich and beautiful. You think you can do what you want, then discard us like we’re nothing. Well, who’s nothing now, Ange? Who’s the one in control?” He held up the knife as if to emphasize his words.

  She stared up from the bed. Her hands and feet were tied to opposite bedposts. All she had on was a long T-shirt. The dirt was his. The blood was hers. “I never did anything to you. I don’t even know you. Please…please…this…this…isn’t right. Just let me go. Please.”

  His bright blue eyes glittered with hatred and excitement as he stared at her.

  She wasn’t sure what drove him to such horrible actions, but the man was evil incarnate. She didn’t care if he hadn’t received enough love from his mother or if he was bullied as a child. That didn’t give him the right to treat her worse than an animal.

  “This isn’t right.” He mimicked her, his lip curled with disgust. “And so what? Is there really anything about your pitiful life that is right? All that money and what have you done with it? Nothing. Nothing but party and make sure everyone knows your name. The beautiful Ange Matthews.”

  “That’s not—”

  His hand moved at lightning speed, and he slapped her. Hard. “Don’t you call me a liar.”

  She bit her bottom lip to keep the tears from falling. He didn’t like it when she cried. It made him angry. And that wasn’t good. “I didn’t mean it like that. But I really do give money to charities. All the time.”

  “I give money to charities.” He mimicked her with a falsetto voice. “And that’s supposed to justify your pitiful existence. Because you give a little money now and then to some cause. Big deal. And no doubt, you make sure your picture is all over the news when you do. ‘Look at me. I’m rich and I give money to the poor. I’m so good.’ That’s all you care about—having pictures of the beautiful Ange Matthews all over the place. Of course, you aren’t all that beautiful right now, are you, Ange?”

  Is that what this was about? Her money? Had he sent a ransom demand? “If you want my money, I’ll give it to you. All of it. Please just let me go.”

  He stared at her as if thinking about her offer.

  Hope surged. “Really. I’ll give you my money. All of it. Every penny. Then you can go someplace where the police can’t find you. There are countries that won’t extradite you.”

  “Interesting idea but what would the beautiful Ange Matthews be without all her money? Do you think your celebrity friends would still want to hang around with you, Ange?” He shook his head. “But it might be nice to be rich for a change.”

  Please. Please. Take the money. If he wanted it, she would give it to him. Every penny. “We can go to the bank today.”

  He shrugged. “No, thanks. I love this country. And I’m a model citizen so I have no reason to leave.”

  The thought of freedom spurred her on. “Then stay here. I won’t tell anyone about this. Please take my money, and let me go. How about a million dollars? I promise I won’t tell anyone what you did. Ever.” She sobbed now, unable to control it. “Please, I…I can’t…let me go.”

&
nbsp; “This isn’t my fault. It’s yours.” He pointed the knife at her then jabbed her in the arm with it. A spot of blood appeared. Beside all the other poke marks.

  “It’s not. It’s not my fault. I—”

  He slapped her face again, even harder. “I already warned you not to call me a liar. I said it’s your fault. Tell me. Tell me that it’s your fault.” He held the knife close to her throat.

  “Don’t hurt me. It’s…it’s my fault.”

  “Of course it is. The beautiful Ange Matthews only cares about herself. No concern at all for those people you wanted me to leave behind. Not about how they would get home. How it would ruin their special evening. So very selfish of you.” His finger pointed at her as if he was a school teacher giving her a lecture. “Your fault, not mine.”

  “I already told you I was sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that. It was selfish. And mean. But…but…I was upset. I’m so sorry. I promise I won’t ever do it again. Please let me go.” They’d had this same conversation countless times. And the results were always the same, but she couldn’t stop herself from trying. One of these times it might work. He might take pity on her and free her.

  “You’re right about that because you’ll not ever have a chance to do it again. Or anything else again, for that matter.” His hand brushed her cheek and moved down. His fingers tightened around her throat. “But you know what? Even if I gave you a second chance, you’d probably do it again. That’s just the kind of person you are. Selfish.”

  “I wouldn’t. I’m not. I’ve changed. I promise.”

  His fingers squeezed until she couldn’t breathe.

  “I hate selfish people. Who knows, maybe you would change.” His fingers relaxed, she gasped in air. “But it doesn’t matter whether you changed or not since you’ll never have the chance to prove it. You don’t really think I could let you go, do you? After all, I am a model citizen. Can’t let my reputation get tarnished. It wouldn’t be good for business.”

  She stared at this monster. He seemed so normal, dressed in his work clothes with that stupid hat. To look at him, no one would know he was evil. Wouldn’t know he had her trapped in his basement—or at least that’s where she thought she was.

  “Guess what? Nobody even cares that you’re gone. Nothing’s been on the news or the papers or even your precious social media. That just proves how worthless your life is.”

  “That’s…that’s not true.” Everybody loved her. She had tons of friends. She was the life of the party. Actually, she was the party.

  “Oh, isn’t it? Then why haven’t I heard a thing about the fact that the famous Ange Matthews is missing? Not one little peep on TV. I’ll tell you why. Because nobody cares about you or your pitiful life. Only me. So you really should be nicer to me.” He walked closer and put a hand on her shoulder as if comforting her.

  Right! She jerked away from him.

  His vicious slap stung once again. “I said be nice to me. Don’t worry. I know it’s been a difficult few weeks for you, but it won’t last much longer.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “What does that mean?” More mimicry, and then he smiled. “It means just what you think. You’re not as much fun as I thought you’d be. I’m getting tired of this game with you. You’re really quite boring, to tell the truth. All you do is whine and complain.” He checked his watch and tipped his hat at her. “Gotta go. Duty calls.” At the door he turned back. “Maybe tonight will be the night I end your suffering. Would you like that? Want me to end our little game, Ange?” He closed door and left. He’d left the light on this time.

  Usually, he kept her in the darkness. She hated the dark now. She couldn’t see him coming toward her. Couldn’t ready herself for the next stab with the knife, or sometimes the whack of a hammer. Her body was one big bruise.

  He hadn’t done anything to her sexually. Which seemed odd to her. But every time he came back she thought this might be the day when that fear would become a reality as well.

  It means what you think it means.

  He had decided to kill her. She’d known that would happen sooner or later. Tonight might be the night. Unless she figured a way out. There had to be a way to escape from this mad man. She stared around at the tiny room that was her prison. If she could get untied then she might be able to get away. But it was almost impossible to even move.

  There was no way to escape.

  She would die here—and it really was her own fault.

  2

  The short slightly plump woman walked up to Nate Goodman’s desk. “I need to talk to a co…policeman.”

  He smiled at her blunder. Some thought the word “cop” was an insult, but he wasn’t one of them. He motioned for her to sit in a chair in front of his desk. “Then it’s your lucky day because I happen to be one. What can I do for you, Miss…”

  “I’m Keren Strong. K-E-R-E-N.” She gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry, force of habit. That’s how I always introduce myself. I don’t suppose you need to know how to spell by name.”

  “Not a problem, K-E-R-E-N.” A little humor went a long way in putting people at ease. And this woman was anxious. “What can I do for you?”

  She leaned forward in the chair, her fingers drumming on his desk. “I think my cousin’s been kidnapped. I can’t find her. Anywhere. She’s simply disappeared, and I’m very worried about her.”

  Kidnapping wasn’t a usual part of Nate’s duties on the Mount Pleasant Police Department, population 17, 000, give or take a few hundred. He stared. “Excuse me?”

  “I said I think my cousin’s been kidnapped. Her name is Ange Matthews. I’m sure you’ve heard of her, right? Everybody has.”

  If anyone in Mt. Pleasant was to be kidnapped, it would be Ange Matthews, their most famous and wealthy resident.

  This woman didn’t look as if she traveled in the same social circles as her glamorous, celebrity cousin. She was pretty but wore no makeup and her brown hair was a curly mess. A simple T-shirt with blue jeans completed her look.

  “Really? What makes you think that?” He motioned to his boss and ex-fiancé, Leslie, the Chief of Police, to come over. “I think you better hear this. Go ahead; tell her what you told me.”

  “I think my cousin was kidnapped. Her name is Ange Matthews.”

  Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you think she’s been kidnapped?”

  Keren clasped her hands together. “We were supposed to have lunch a week or so ago on Saturday, but she didn’t show up. I haven’t been able to get hold of her since then. Something’s definitely wrong.”

  “And you say this is Ange Matthews?” Leslie asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure you know she’s very rich. Someone probably kidnapped her for her money. You’ve got to help her. I’m sure she’s in trouble.”

  “How do you know she needs help? Has there been a ransom demand?” Leslie asked. “When was she kidnapped?”

  “I don’t really know if she was kidnapped, but something’s wrong. I just…if not, why isn’t she answering her phone?” She looked at Nate as if wanting him to step into the conversation. “Ange loves her phone, you know. She always has it with her. And even my husband is worried. He told me to come talk with you today.”

  “So you haven’t received a ransom demand? Or any other type of communication that would indicate she’s been kidnapped? That she’s being held against her will?” Leslie asked as she sat down facing Keren.

  “No but—”

  “Then that probably means she’s not been kidnapped. With her kind of money that would have been the first thing to happen. I’m sure she’s fine.” Leslie smiled at Keren. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to say she’s been kidnapped when you have no such proof.”

  “Maybe there was a ransom but just not to me. How would I know? I’m only her cousin, and I’m sure not rich. The money’s from her mother’s side of the family. I’m from her father’s side.”

  “Well, I’m sure if someone, anyone, ha
d received a ransom demand, we would have been contacted about it.” Leslie’s tone told Nate she was no longer interested. “Besides, isn’t she sort of known for traveling here and there all the time? She goes to New York and LA and other hot spots.”

  “Well, yes, but I can always get hold of her. But I can’t this time. She’s not answering her phone. And she always answers her phone. For me.”

  Leslie sighed. “Are the two of you close?”

  “We see each other now and then. And we talk on the phone at least a few times a month. We were getting together for lunch a few Saturdays ago, and she never showed up. It was my birthday, so I don’t think she’d just skip out without contacting me.”

  Nate hid his smile, understanding the situation a little bit better. Her rich, famous cousin had forgotten her birthday.

  Leslie gave him a glance and a smirk. She was probably thinking the same thing. Leslie looked back at the cousin. “Has she ever just left before? Without telling you.”

  “Well, sure, but—”

  “So it is plausible she just left and isn’t returning your calls. Because she’s busy.”

  Leslie didn’t have an ounce of concern for Ange Matthews or Keren, the cousin. Compassion was not her strong suit. That didn’t surprise him.

  Ange had probably thoughtlessly gone off somewhere, involved in her own pursuits, and had forgotten her cousin’s birthday. The wealthy often had an entitlement personality, forgetting mere mortals who had to work for a living. He chided himself for making such a judgment. He didn’t know her.

  Keren’s face was splotched with frustration. “Sure, it’s plausible, but—”

  “Then there’s no case. We can’t really help you.” Leslie stood, dismissing the woman. “But be sure to contact us if you do get a ransom demand. Or have some real proof that she’s missing.” She walked away.

  The woman looked at Nate. “I would have thought she’d be a little more concerned about Ange. Considering how rich and famous she is. And she does live in your town. I thought this was a friendly place.”

  “I’m sure she’s concerned.” He tried to be diplomatic. “But she’s a busy woman. And I believe the Matthews Estate isn’t actually within the city limits.”