Lying motionless in the small, dark space, Abigail had given up struggling. She wasn’t getting free. Her head was agonisingly close to the mobile phone. She thought she had heard her father’s voice on several occasions, but in reality, without the phone next to her ear, it could have been anyone talking. Could it really be him? Could he really be moments from saving me from all of this?
Between waves of traffic she could hear the waves of the sea, sounding angrier than they had sounded earlier. The wind was getting stronger as she felt weaker. Tied up, left in the back of the car, she was powerless to change her fate. She would either have a wonderful reunion with her father, or her kidnapper was toying with them like a cat with a ball of yarn.
She could hear another car approach, and she renewed her vain hope that she could be seconds from freedom. In her mind, she couldn’t be free from her current situation quickly enough.