Cheyenne could do the math. These men thought they could get five million dollars from her dad. And they probably could, if he had enough time. And after that they would have two choices.
Choice one: Free the girl who could help the police find them.
Choice two: Kill the girl and find a good place to hide her body.
And the longer she was here, the more they might start thinking that it wasn’t in their best interests to pick the first choice. Because, blind or not, she would know too much.
Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Cheyenne tried to calm down. These guys were criminals, yes, but they were car thieves, not killers. And that was a pretty big difference. Griffin had kidnapped her only by accident. And while it was true that he could go to jail for that, maybe his sentence wouldn’t be too bad because he hadn’t meant to do it. But murder — she forced herself to think of what she really meant — actually killing her, for that they could be put to death themselves. That had to serve as a deterrent. Didn’t it?
But then Cheyenne thought of how empty the roads had been on the way here, and the impression of stillness and space that had surrounded them as they walked to the house. Even though the punishment for murder was much worse than it was for kidnapping, that still assumed someone would find her body.
Her head felt muddled and thick, but she forced herself to think straight. Just by the way the three older men treated her, she could tell that they saw her as a thing, not a person. They probably saw everyone as things, but her blindness just made it easier for them to write her off.
Griffin was the only one who might want to save her. Cheyenne had to make sure he continued to see her as a person. She had to make him care about protecting her. She had to give him a reason to hesitate. No more arguing with him, she vowed. No more fighting. Because her life depended on it.
But Cheyenne knew it was a one-way street. If she had a moment when she might turn the tables, she had to be willing to do whatever it took. Even if it meant hurting Griffin. Even if it meant worse than that. Because she was pretty sure this situation was going to end with somebody dead.
After a long pause, Griffin said, “How come you think I’m not like them?” She couldn’t read the emotions that colored his voice.
“You’re kind, for one thing. And for another, I think you’re smarter than they are.” Cheyenne was telling the truth. If she had to lie, she hoped she could make that sound like the truth, too.
He shook his head hard enough that she could feel it because the bed wiggled. “I’m not smart. I dropped out of school before they could kick me out.”
“I don’t believe it. Maybe you have troubles reading, but I do too, and I’m still smart, and so are you. If you start believing what other people think, you’ll never get anywhere.”
Cheyenne thought of her biology teacher, Mr. Waddell. Even though he insisted his name was wa-DELL, the kids all called him Mr. Waddle. “Just because you have a disability, I’m not going to be lenient with you,” he had informed Cheyenne, asking her to stay behind after her first class with him. “Don’t expect any special considerations from me. You will be treated like any other student.” Of course, was he really any worse than Ms. Crispin, who taught English? For their project, everyone in the group had gotten a failing grade. Cheyenne got a B. For the exact same project. Two weeks ago, Ms. Crispin had said to Cheyenne, “I wanted to tell you how impressed I am. You can hardly tell you have a disability.”
Griffin’s bitter voice snapped Cheyenne back into the here and now. “You really think it makes any difference what I think of myself? You really think I could be anybody I wanted to, even president of the United States? You’ve got to face facts, Cheyenne. You’re blind, which means you’re never going to be able to do a million things. And the facts of my life mean I don’t have many choices, either. I don’t have many choices at all.”
“So does that mean you just have to go along with what’s happening here? Just because you took my stepmom’s car doesn’t mean you have to keep going down this road with them.”
“What are you thinking? Are you thinking I’m going to drive you to the police station and turn myself in?”
Put like that, Cheyenne could hear how ridiculous the idea was. But what would happen to her? She blurted out her fear. “I don’t think they’re ever going to let me go.”
“Of course they will.” Griffin sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“You know as well as I do what the easiest solution would be,” Cheyenne countered. “For them to keep the money and get rid of me. I’m the only witness. Probably nobody saw you at the shopping mall. Certainly not well enough to recognize you. And it was a fluke thing. You have no connection to my family or to me. None. Meanwhile, the police will be looking at people connected to Catlin Gabel School, and every housekeeper and groundskeeper we’ve ever had, and people Dad knows through Nike. They’ll look at everyone who works at Nike now or who has ever worked there, including all the people who have been fired from Nike and all the people who hate Nike because they think it has overseas sweatshops.”
“That’s a pretty big list. That’s practically the United States of America.”
“Right,” Cheyenne said. “So what are the chances that they’ll find you guys? Probably pretty slim. Unless you give me back. And those other guys won’t believe me if I say I won’t tell. That if you let me go, I won’t say anything. But I promise I won’t.”
“We’re gonna give you back, okay? We’ll take you someplace safe and turn you loose.” Again Griffin sounded as if he wished he believed what he was saying.
There had to be a way for her to get out of this alive, Cheyenne thought. There had to.
“What would have happened if I had gone through the bathroom window? What’s back there, anyway?”
“Nothing. No people anyway, at least not for most of it. It’s just woods. It stretches on for miles. To the east, there’s a river. To the west, there’s our road, and after about four miles, that meets up with a bigger road. But it’s still pretty quiet. You probably would have just wandered around and got lost and died. It gets down pretty far below freezing at night.”
Cheyenne opened her mouth to say something but found herself yawning so she made a creaking noise.
She felt his cool hand on her forehead. “I think the Advil brought your fever down. You need to get to sleep. We both do.” He pulled the blanket up to her chin. “The floor’s too hard. I’m going to sleep on the other side of the bed in a sleeping bag. Don’t worry — I won’t bother you or anything.”
Cheyenne knew that if she could see, Griffin’s face would be bright red.
She heard him stand up, turn off the light, then felt him sit on the other side of the bed. Rustling as he got into his sleeping bag. No part of him touched her, so she knew he must be lying just on the edge of the bed.
She was exhausted, but she was also wide awake. She couldn’t pin her hopes on Griffin. He might stop things from happening, but he probably wouldn’t. After all, he was just a kid. Like her.
Long after Griffin’s breathing had reached an even rhythm, Cheyenne lay awake, trying to think of a way out.
If she could get to a phone.
If she could find another way to alert the authorities.
If she could persuade Griffin to save her.
If she could escape.
Nothing but ifs.