PROLOGUE

When Marcy woke, she felt pressure on her head.

My earphones.

But useless.The battery in the iPod had drained hours ago.

How long has it been?

She tried to reconstruct what had happened but only driblets remained. The terror when she was grabbed from behind on the ramp down to the PATH platform.The scrape of her iPod against the smooth tile as she was lifted through a door in the deserted passageway, the very door with its mirrorlike stainless steel where she had stopped to admire her moves to the soulful music in her ears.When she turned away from the door, a glove clamped over her mouth.The man was strong. He easily lifted her off the floor and through the door, ignoring her heels bouncing off his shins. Marcy’s frantic actions knocked her earphones lopsided, slicing Cassandra’s muddy wail in mid-note.When the door swung shut, fear overwhelmed her as the darkness closed around her. It triggered an involuntary discharge into her underwear, a calamity that registered in spite of her panic.

Lord, I wet my new Calvins.

Marcy fought in the blackness. His gloves were thick, impervious to her scratches; her long nails tearing as they caught in the leather seams. Marcy set aside money every two weeks for a manicure, invariably overtipping, helpless before the effusive flow from the chatty manicurist.

“Honey, if all my customers had nails like yours, I’d be out of business in a week.That’s the sorry truth. I don’t even know why ya’ll bother comin’ in here.”

I want water! How long it’s been since I had a drink of water!