Breaking Steele (Sarah Steele Legal Thriller)

Prologue

The mind can break and be lost forever, but if the will breaks it comes back stronger.

PROLOGUE

LIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE slats in the wood. Car headlights shone through the barn walls, moving like fingers tracing words on the sawdust-covered floor. Tracy Mulligan cried silently as she lay bound and gagged, hanging onto the last thread of life. She clung to a hope that someone would find her, but with each passing car, and each passing day, her hope was replaced with dread. This was the end.

“God, help me.” Her strangled voice sounded strange in her own ears, as if from someone else, someone from beyond.

Her prison was so small she couldn’t even sit up. She was locked in a grain box that smelled of rotten corn, rat droppings, and urine. Her own urine. It felt like the top was closing in on her. With each of her movements, the sides touched her, pushed and scraped, making the small space feel like the jaws of a monster. Tiny holes in the planks let in comforting rays of light.

Her legs and hands were duct taped, and an old t-shirt was stuffed into her mouth with duct tape wrapped around her head. Every time she moved the tape pinched her scalp. She’d once had long, blonde hair, but now it was short and ragged. He had cut it all off. It had almost been the worst part, feeling those scissors on her head, making her look as ugly outside as she felt inside. After that, she knew there was no going back to how things were before. He’d taken everything away. Even her hair.

She just wanted to sleep. To forget for a moment this waking nightmare she was in.

Why me? Please, God, I don’t want to die.

But then the agonizing thought returned. God wouldn’t help her. This was her fault. Tracy never thought the guy she chatted with, and yes, even flirted with online would ever do this—

The tall man called himself Hank. She met him on Facebook and added him to her friends list. He was so nice, and always remembered little things—things she had forgotten she had even mentioned. He had this way of making her feel like the only girl in the world. He told her he was seventeen, but it turned out he was in his forties.

Tracy’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the alltoofamiliar sound of footsteps, and then the beads of light disappeared as a figure stood above her, covering her with shadow.

No, not again. Please, not again.

The lid burst open. Light blinded her and all she could see was a hand reach out and pull her out of the cramped space. She struggled and squirmed, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. He had her. And when he was done, she would be thrown back into the dark hole until he felt the need to pay her another visit.

“Washday, my love,” His voice was so smooth, yet had a tinge of hate laced through it like a snake wrapped around a tree. “You know what today is?” He looked into her eyes as if searching for something.

She shut her eyes and swallowed a whimper. She wouldn’t give him any sign she was there. He’d have her body but not her soul.

“It’s your birthday.” He laughed. “And I have a special treat for you.”

It wasn’t her birthday. What was he talking about?

He cut away the tape from her hands and legs and Tracy slumped to the floor. Her legs were numb. They started tingling, coming back to life. She thought hard about running again, but the last time she ran he broke her nose.

How long had she been here? She couldn’t remember. It felt like years, but that couldn’t be right. It had been enough misery to fill a lifetime.

She watched Hank fill the horse trough with cold water from a garden hose. He whistled as he waited for the tub to fill up. She hated washday. The water was cold and he would stand there and watch her with that evil grin on his face.

He half looked at her, mumbling and picking at his fingernails. She didn’t know she could despise anyone as wholeheartedly as she did him.

“You know, my pet, you’ve been a good girl—most of the time. But one thing still bothers me. You don’t look at me with the love and respect I know I deserve. Do you realize who I am?” His tone turned darker as he walked over to where Tracy sat in the dirt.

“I’ve given you everything. My heart, my soul … and in return you whine and cry like a spoiled little brat!” Grabbing her by the hair, Hank pulled her to her feet. Dragging her to the metal tub, he stripped her down and tossed her in like a rag doll. The water took her breath away. She choked and gagged on the t-shirt that tried to work its way down her throat.

“You want your birthday present?” His voice softened as he pulled out a small, black stun gun. Holding it in his hands, he looked at her with a creased brow. “You make me sad, so sad, my sweet Tracy. I love you and you act like I’m the bad guy. And frankly, I’ve grown tired of you.”

Tracy struggled to get out of the water, but it was too late. Hitting the trigger, a charge of blue electricity emitted and he jammed it in the side of her neck.

Electricity surged through her body. The shock of the charge made her brain freeze and her muscles spasm. She tried to move, she needed to move, she had to move, but when she tried as hard as she could to run, her foot barely moved an inch.

It took a moment for her to realize what was going on. Her body convulsed and twitched. The pain took over her mind. She tried to think, but everything was going dark.

He moved. He was pushing her under, forcing her down.

Her back arched and the gag jammed itself deep into her throat. This was it, the end—she was going to die and the last thing she heard through the water was his voice, muffled as if it came through another world.  “Tracy, sweet, sweet Tracy …”