“Nice to meet you, Madison. I’m Rick.” I smiled at her. “Now how about you put down that tire iron before you hurt yourself, and let an old man show off his tire-changing skills?”
She lowered the tire iron slowly. But she was still shaking. Still glancing at her trunk. “You can’t call anyone,” she said. “You can’t tell anyone you saw me. Please.”
Before she could answer, I heard it. A small sound from inside the trunk. A whimper. A child’s whimper.
I froze. Madison’s eyes went wide with panic. “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t call the police. Please.”
“Madison,” I said quietly. “Who’s in your trunk?”
She started crying—deep, desperate sobs. “My brothers and my sister. They’re eight, six, and four. I got them out. I finally got them out. But if you call the police, they’ll send us back, and he’ll kill us this time. I know he will.”
My blood ran cold. “Who will kill you?”
“My stepdad.” She was shaking so hard she could barely stand. “He’s been… he’s been hurting us for two years. Me the most, but he started hitting the little ones too. Mom won’t leave him. She doesn’t believe us. Last night he put a gun to my head and told me he was tired of me being alive.”
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