by Donna Welch Jones

4.8 stars – 15 reviews

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Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled

Here’s the set-up:

Shadows and fog filled Sheriff Lexie’s brain. No familiarity. No point of reference. “Where am I?” Spots ached inside her flesh—deep bruises that disturbed her nerves. Her right arm suspended above her held by a chain attached to a two-inch metal clamp around her wrist. The chain trailed through the broken cellar window. Lexie braced one hand against the wall to bring herself to standing. The movement sent pain pulsating through her body. Up and down her stiff legs marched like a wooden soldier. Her left hand fisted and punched forward as if a boxing bag or her captors new face dangled in front of her. Lexie’s scream filled the cold darkness. “YOU’LL DIE FOR STEALING MY BABY!”