“Who are you?” she whispered after a tense pause, in which Jake realized he’d been gawking at her hair. The sunlight was setting it ablaze, and it was so pretty.
“Jake,” he mouthed.
“Get me out of here, Jake. I want to go back to my parents.” Her soft whimper and trembling, pink mouth sliced through him.
“I can’t,” he whispered. Her desperation was so palpable, it felt like a weight on his chest.
“You have to,” she insisted, those blue-green eyes going fierce.
“I can’t. He’ll kill me,” Jake whispered. Wild to do something, he clawed in his jeans pocket. “Here. I brought you some Pop-Tarts,” he said, holding up the package triumphantly. “They were from my grandma Rose’s groceries, but I don’t think she’ll notice if a few are missing. They aren’t good for her heart anyway, but she loves them so much, I talk Emmitt into getting her some once in a while . . .”
She stared at him like he’d gone mad. He realized how lame his offering was, given the direness of her situation. It struck home again just how lame he was. How inadequate.
“He tied my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t try to get down the ladder,” she whispered. She blinked the tears welling in her eyes. He felt himself dying a little inside.
“Oh.”
“But I am hungry. And weak,” she added.
“I’ll feed it to you,” he whispered. He ripped open the paper package. “Come closer,” he directed. She came nearer, and the sunlight fully illuminated her face. There was a sprinkle of light freckles on her nose. He saw the mottled bruise on the left side of her forehead. It stood in such contrast to her pretty face and pale, smooth skin. He paused in the action of extending his hand.
Anger pierced his helplessness. He recognized Emmitt’s handiwork. She was staring hungrily at his hand, which held the Pop-Tart. She parted her lips, and he got ahold of himself.
He shimmied out farther. The limb dipped alarmingly. Her eyes went wide.
“’S okay. It’ll hold,” he assured. He held out his hand and it crossed the pane of the window. She craned her neck and took a large bite out of the Pop-Tart and, without chewing, bit off another. She was hungry. When had Emmitt taken her? Had it been before she’d had her evening meal? Or were fear, adrenaline, and her injury responsible for her sharp hunger? He wanted to ask her, but her mouth was full as she demolished the Pop-Tart. Then, when she slowed down a little, something else preoccupied him.
Her even, small white teeth and pink mouth.
The Pop-Tart almost gone, he extended his thumb and forefinger with the last bite. Her lips brushed against his skin as she nabbed it. Pleasure tingled through him. Her gaze darted to his face and she abruptly ceased chewing. Had she felt it, too?
“You have to get me out of here,” she whispered after she’d swallowed the last of the Pop-Tart with effort.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Harper. Harper McFadden. He hit me when I was in the showers at the campground.”
“Which one? Which campground?” he added when she just stared at him blankly.
“I don’t know the name. It’s on the river. My parents are Philip and Jane McFadden. Go to the police and tell them I’m here!” she hissed, the idea seemingly enflaming her.
“I can’t do that,” he whispered, thinking intently. “Town is too far away. He might have moved you by the time I got there.”
“You have to do something,” she insisted. A tear spilled down her cheek. She clenched her eyelids shut. He sensed her misery. “He . . . he took off my clothes. I’m . . .”
Her face collapsed. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Her mortification at her nakedness and vulnerability, the stark evidence that she’d been robbed of her basic dignity, made something new and unexpected happen inside Jake. His anger at her mistreatment at the hands of his uncle made him go cold . . .
Cold and hard.
He did have to do something.
She’d lost herself to distress. Her eyelids remained clamped but a few tears escaped down her cheeks. She was holding her breath. He recognized that she was trying to contain her fear and admired her for it. He sensed her terror, and it was huge, but she was fighting it like crazy.
“Breathe, Harper,” he prompted firmly. Her eyelids remained squeezed shut. He stretched his arm and touched her damp cheek. He felt a tremor go through her. Her shimmering eyes locked on him.
“Okay. I’m going to get you out of here,” he said. “But you’re going to have to wait here for a few hours. There are some things I’m going to have to do to make this work. When I do come to get you, you’re going to have to do exactly what I tell you to.”
“I don’t want to stay here alone. Get me out of here now,” she pleaded in a shaky whisper.