“When would this ride be over? Still kneeling, Ashley clung to him, burying her face against his arm. Whenever the boat lurched, tossed by a wave, she hung on him even tighter. His left wrist, handcuffed to the rail, grew numb; his right arm, clutched by Ashley, began to ache. How much longer? And where were they being taken? Jack squinted at the sky. In Maine in the month of May the sun didn’t set until around 8:00, he had noticed the night before. Jack tried to read his watch, but the face of ...it was so covered with moisture from ocean spray that he couldn’t make out the digital numbers. The sun was behind him, which meant they were heading east. He couldn’t turn around to get a look at the sun’s position because the handcuff, as well as Ashley’s clinging, trapped him into a cramped position. Taking a guess, he figured it must be somewhere around six in the evening now, a full hour since the man—whose name Jack still didn’t know—had come bursting into their room. The roar of the motor suddenly changed pitch, dropping lower as the boat began to slow down.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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