Page 71 of Waiting in Wyoming
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Meyra was forcingherself not to panic. Miranda said don’t panic when bad things happened. When people panicked they froze. When they froze that was when things could go wrong. Just keep moving.
She had been able to get the tape off her hands. Then her feet. She was really careful when she pulled it off her face. It hurt, though. A lot. She thought her lip was bleeding, but she could breathe better now.
She’d heard what those men had said. What they planned.
She wasn’t stupid. Those were some of the same men who had hurt Brandt’s sister, Powell, had nearly killed Heather and Gunnar and Daniel, and had hurt Brandt’s parents.
And they were there now. In Masterson County.
It was some kind of conspiracy. A crime ring, just like Sage had said it was before. Like Miranda had said when she was there trying to find answers. Meyra and Brandt—they were right in the middle of it now.
Well, she wasn’t going to let them get away with it.
She looked up. There was a way out of there. She’d already found it. Miranda said don’t panic; well, Meyra wasn’t going topanic.
The drywall behind the closet wasn’t actually nailed down all the way. She’d seen light in the crack around it. It wasn’t finished properly. Martin Tyler obviously hadn’t been responsible for the framinghere. Martin and his brothers would have done a far better job.
Meyra pulled it back, until she could slip through. The drywall slipped right off the too small nails, too. It took her some twisting, but she fit through the wooden frame eventually. She scraped her arms on the nails, but she had on her hoodie still. She’d survive a few scratches.
She was going to get outside, get to a phone or a car or something. And get help.
Brandt was still inside. Drugged. He wouldn’t be able to just get away. She couldn’t carry him. So she had to find a way to get help back to him instead.
Meyra saw the way out. The closet butted up against a small storage room or something. There was a window right there. Not a very big one, but she didn’t have very wide hips. She wasn’t as bone skinny as Marin, but she wasn’t as curvy built as Miranda. She was right in the middle and was tall enough. She could do it.
She slipped the lock open, and raised the window. She pushed as hard as she could against the cheap metal screen.
She had to get to help.
Brandt was counting on her. She could do this. She could. Meyra pulled herself out of the window. And let herself fall to the gravel below. She landed hard.
Then hard hands were there.
A hand covered her mouth.
And a strong man yanked her from the ground.
“Well, well, looks like you found yourself a little bit of trouble, didn’t you, pretty girl? Looks like I’ve found me a Talley to play with now.”
Meyra fought as he dragged her across the parking lot.
Toward an old van that was just sitting there—behind a maroon semi. He opened the back door, and shoved her inside.
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“I’m notsure we’ve met before,” her new captor said, smirking at her.
Like Fletcher smirked at Dylan sometimes.
Meyra knew who he was. Everyone did. And well, he really looked like Ben and Fletcher and Gil. Just older. “You’re Bruce. Nikki’s uncle. Em and Junie and Auggie’s father.”
The man who had abused them. He was a monster, and they all knew it. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I’m here on a little errand, precious.” He grabbed rope from the back of his van. His other hand tightened around the back of her neck so much it hurt. Meyra couldn’t fight, even though she tried. Then he had her hands bound. “You are going to stay right here, out of trouble. I’m sure I’ll figure out what to do with you later.”
He studied her, with eyes the same blue as Fletcher’s. It was creepy to see Fletcher’s eyes in his face. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the mouth. Then he pulled away. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll just drive off into the sunset and keep you for myself? What would the rich fancy boyfriend have to say about that? He should do a better job of taking care of you.”