Desperate Rescue. Barbara Phinney

married couple.” She didn’t want to think of them. They’d been the hopeful pair to lead the way for all of them to start a new generation. Except their plans hadn’t turned out the way they wanted them to.

      Eli shoved open the door of the room she’d shared. It was empty. Only then, did she realize she’d pulled in a breath and held it. Letting it out felt like a relief. She focused on her old room, noticing that all the furniture was still there.

      It only added to the eerie atmosphere.

      She found herself stepping into the bedroom. The bed was made, the threadbare bedclothes not quite as neatly made as she remembered. The cheap, thin pillows, three in a row on the double bed ahead of her, barely made a lump under the faded chenille bedspread. The whole room had a hasty-looking feel to it, not at all like Phoebe’s usual meticulous standards.

      She walked over to the window and looked down at the front yard. The same view as she’d seen so many times before.

      Movement to her left caught her attention. That animal? Could it still be there, not scared off by her sudden flight into the house? She must not have made enough noise.

      Like the silent house around her.

      Silent? She cocked her head, listening. Hadn’t Eli just opened a door? What was he doing?

      “Eli?”

      Nothing. She peeked one more time at the far view outside, but saw no movement or rustling in the woods that had closed in on the compound.

      “Eli?” she called again.

      Still nothing. Swallowing, she moved from the window, avoiding any accidental glance around the room as she slipped into the hall.

      All the bedroom doors were open. “Where are you? Did you find anything?”

      There was nothing but a chilling silence. She dared to peek into the next bedroom, then the far one and soon all of them. No one. Not even Eli.

      She hadn’t heard him walk down the stairs. They were old, and creaked—especially on cold, windy nights when falling temperatures and harsh eastern winds shifted the house.

      Where was he? What was he doing? Trying to teach her not to be afraid of ghostly memories? To trust in God when there was nothing left to trust in?

      Anger bubbled in her, followed swiftly by fear.

      Maybe he’d left her in this house and that movement by the fence was him leaving.

      His way to teach her a lesson on trust?

      Just like Noah. The thought spat into her head and close on the heels of that accusation was another.

      He was Noah. Eli Nash didn’t exist. That was why Phoebe never mentioned him. He didn’t exist. For all she knew, Eli was Noah’s middle name and he was both left-handed and right-handed and had sought her out to avenge her desertion and fulfil his threats.

      And Noah, now that he knew how she had escaped, was going to make sure she didn’t escape again.

      Tears burned her eyes. Her throat hurt from the choke of falling totally apart.

      She had to get out of there.

      Whirling, she flew down the stairs, missing the last two treads in a blind panicking stumble.

      Two arms caught her. Firm, well-muscled, they wrapped around her torso and stopped her from falling on her face.

      Pinned by them, she let out a cry and threw them off. “No! Let me go! What kind of sick lesson are you trying to teach me, anyway? You’re insane!”

      “It’s me, Eli!”

      Total panic flooded into her and her eyes widened in horror. “No, no! You’re Noah! There’s no such person as Eli! You’re trying to trap me in here! To kill me like you threatened to do. I saw you!” She thrashed away from him, twisting until she was free.

      “Kaylee! It’s okay!”

      She heard him, but couldn’t control the fear racing through her. She flung herself at the front door, finding it closed. Then, firing it open, she fell over the threshold.

      Eli shouted her name again. This time it registered, but she didn’t dare listen. Gulping in the fresh fall air, she raced across the front yard, not headed to the cut in the fence, but straight at the gate.

      She tripped over something and fell ungracefully on the dry, dormant grass.

      “Kaylee, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself. I’m not Noah! It’s me, Eli!”

      She saw him close in on her. Even now, with the panic settling in her, she couldn’t stop herself. She knew the craziness of her actions, but she was beyond any self-control. She stumbled to her feet and began a zigzag trek around the house.

      Reaching the back gate, she thrust out her arms and shoved hard. The posts, weakened by too many high winter snows, had lost their grip on the ground. One good shove from her and they toppled loudly, dragging brittle brush with them.

      But they weren’t so weak that they gave her full rein. She stumbled and crawled over them, only to have one post fight back. Her weight wasn’t great enough to keep it down and she found herself scraped and tangled in the mix of chain link and barbed wire.

      “Kaylee! What’s going on? Are you crazy? Stop! You’ll cut yourself to shreds!”

      She stared up at Eli. He stood over her, worry frowning on his face.

      There was no mockery, no smirk on his face. He held out his left hand and she saw the puckering scar he’d shown her before.

      Confusion swept through her. Did Noah have that scar?

      No, he didn’t. She was sure now. “Where were you?”

      “You mean, just now? I went into the basement.”

      “Why?”

      “Looking for—Looking for any clues to where they went.”

      “Didn’t you hear me call?”

      “Once, but by the time I got up into the kitchen, you were already racing down the stairs. I had to grab you when you stumbled. You could have killed yourself.”

      Her panic drained away. “What did you find in the basement?”

      He pulled in a deep breath and shook his head. “Not much. A table, a few chairs. It looked as if it was set up for one of those prayer sessions you described. A few candles. There was a lightbulb hanging from one of the beams.”

      A light? The times she’d been down there, only candles were used and she’d kept her head down in hopes no one would notice her. A shudder danced through her. Old knobby candles that smoked and stank and shot long shadows through the basement.