An Unmarked Grave

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It's pitch black inside the cramped trunk. I can't see a thing. It's too hot for me to think, properly. I struggle not to pass out. One thought keeps racing frantically through my mind. I have to escape! The car continues to move slowly over some bumpy road. I'm jostled quite a bit before I feel the car park somewhere quiet. I carry mace in my purse, but I'm sure the kidnapper hasn't conveniently tucked it into the trunk with me. After a while I hear the car door open and then shut, followed by heavy footsteps. Two low male voices start speaking.

"Is everything all set?"
"It sure is. The Cooper grave is all dug and ready for the funeral tomorrow."
"Ok, Larry, thanks. You did good."
"You have her in there?"
"Yeah, I hit her twice. Hard. She's probably out cold."
I recognize one of the voices. The crotchety old caretaker! The other voice isn't familiar. I struggle to understand their conversation. Why are they talking about burying Mr. Cooper?"  He was our ancient librarian. Whoever the killer is, he's made some sort of arrangement with the caretaker. The second voice fades away as I hear the caretaker leave in his decrepit truck.

Then the conversation becomes crystal clear to me. The kidnapper wants to bury me in the freshly dug grave, underneath Mr. Cooper's casket! Mr. Cooper has no family. No one's going to be attending his service tomorrow, or his funeral. It's the perfect spot to hide a body. No one's going to search for a dead person in the cemetery.

I shudder, feeling a scream building up in my throat. I start struggling with my constraints, but they only dig deeper into my limbs, hurting me. Suddenly, I stop mid scream and freeze. I feel gentle, efficient tugs, pulling at my wrists. Invisible hands are untying the bindings on my hands. It's the same spirit touch I felt pushing me away from the dark stranger while I was jogging here a few weeks ago. Some invisible spirit is helping me! If I escape from this nightmare, I promise I'll devote my entire life to helping friendly ghosts!

With my hands free, I unbind my feet, then reach up to pull the gag from my mouth.  Frantically, I search the dark trunk for a weapon. My hands bump into something heavy and metal. Thank God, a lug wrench! Shaking, I grab the piece of metal and channel all of my love for Dylan, and hatred for anyone would come between us, into my shaking hands. I tighten my grip, ready to hit whoever opens the car trunk. There's a click, as the trunk unlocks.

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