PROLOGUE
Beverly Sinclair had finally done it. After years of working to get her life on track, she finally had a decent job, a great husband, and the smartest, most beautiful baby boy ever born. He was only three weeks old, but she was certain he was destined for great things.
She could hardly wait to show Cory off to her friend Isabelle.
The doorbell rang five minutes early, but that was just like Isabelle. She was never late a day in her life.
Beverly rushed to the door, filled with a proud, maternal excitement she’d never known existed before Cory was born. Isabelle was going to love him.
She swung the heavy wooden door open, wearing a welcoming smile.
A masked man rushed forward, pushing her inside before she had time to react. His weight slammed into her, knocking her against the wall.
Shock jolted through her, making it hard to breathe. A scream formed in her mind, but that was as far as it got. Her lungs heaved, filling with air scented by a faint hint of men’s cologne.
He kicked the door shut behind him with a final, sickening thud.
From the nursery, Beverly heard the squeaky beginnings of her baby’s cry.
She had to get Cory out of the house. Run away.
Panic flooded her body with strength, and she shoved hard against her attacker. She let out a cry of outrage that made her throat burn with its ferocity.
The man rocked back on his heels enough that Beverly was able to slip out of his reach, but her freedom didn’t last long. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back, catching her before she fell.
She saw a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye and turned toward it, praying it wasn’t a knife even as she brought her arms up to protect herself from a slashing blade. But the man held a small aerosol can in his gloved hand. Something wet and cold hit her face as a sharp medicinal stench filled her nose. Her body crumpled like rag doll, and her captor’s arms tightened around her, keeping her from hitting the hard tile floor.
Beverly tried to move, but her body didn’t respond. She could see and hear perfectly, but nothing else worked. Her arms and legs buzzed for a moment, then went numb. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even twitch.
The man settled her gently to the floor. “We can’t have you bruised,” he said in a clinical tone. “That would ruin everything.”
A thick, suffocating fear settled over Beverly. She had no idea what he meant by that, but it couldn’t be good. Not for her. Not for her baby.
Cory let out an angry wail, giving away his presence in the next room.
Beverly struggled to move something—her arm, her finger—anything.
A hoarse moan floated up from her chest, but it was all she could manage, and even that wasn’t loud enough to be heard in the next room, much less by her neighbors.
The man smoothed her hair away from her face and leaned over her so she could see right into his bright blue eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay. You’ll see. I’m going to take good care of you.”
Helplessness made it hard to breathe, impossible to think.
He left her there, lying on the floor, struggling to make a movement or sound. Only the knowledge that Isabelle would be here at any minute kept her sane. Isabelle would save her.
She heard water running in the bathroom. The antique clock on the wall bonged, telling her it was two. Isabelle would be stepping through the door at any second.
Cory’s cries got louder. Maybe the neighbors would hear him.
Please, let them hear him.
The man came out of the bathroom and hovered over her. It made him look huge. Monstrous. He was a giant black shadow ready to devour her.
“We don’t have much time. Let’s get you out of those clothes.”
Beverly’s heart gave a hard, fearful kick. She struggled not to panic. She had to stay calm for her baby and get him out of this any way she could.
The man picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her into the bathroom. The air felt warm and humid, and she heard a drip of water landing in the tub.
A tingling sensation began along the bottom of her feet, and hopeful excitement made her break out in a cold sweat. Maybe whatever he’d done to paralyze her was wearing off.
The man unbuttoned her blouse. “This would be faster without the gloves, but we wouldn’t want to leave any fingerprints behind, would we?”
He stripped the shirt off her body and reached around her to unfasten her bra. A new kind of panic found its way to the surface as Beverly realized that he might be here to rape her.
Then again, if that was all he wanted and he left Cory alone, she’d count herself fortunate.
He continued stripping her clothes away, talking to her in a calm voice. “I have too much work to do. Too many people to help.”
A warm, buzzing sensation worked its way up her legs, and she began to get the feeling back in her hands, too. As much as she wanted to fight him, she remained still, not letting him know that she could move. Surprise was the only advantage she might have, and she didn’t want to give it up.
She still wore her stretchy maternity pants because they were more comfortable, and he slid them and her panties down and off her legs without any trouble. He didn’t even look at her naked body. There was no hint of lust in his eyes, only clinical detachment as he lifted her into the bathtub.
Warm water sloshed around her as he arranged her limp arms along the sides to hold her head up.
Beverly lay there, naked. Helpless. She cringed every time he touched her, barely restraining the urge to jerk away from him.
Cory was screaming his little head off in the next room, and she silently willed him to quiet down. To not draw attention to himself.
Where the hell was Isabelle? She was never late, unlike Beverly, who was late so often her husband had set every clock in the house fifteen minutes fast.