Wednesday. The day after the kidnapping and forced dinner.
Novalee stared at the black lingerie spread across her bed. Silk and lace, expensive and beautiful and wrong. So terribly wrong.
Tonight was the night Dante had demanded she wear it. Eleven PM, he'd said. A car would pick her up.
James was working his overnight shift at Patterson Shipping. He'd leave at 10 PM, wouldn't be home until eight in the morning.
She hadn't slept.
She'd spent the entire night staring at the closet door that hid the white box, trying to figure out a way out of this. Trying to find some escape that didn't end with James dead or her parents hurt.
There was none.
She came home to a cooked meal by James at 7pm. She pushed food around her plate, barely eating. He noticed—of course he noticed—but she blamed
