Mary tried to move her hands. Feel for a latch. Find the trunk lock. She wrenched her hands apart but they wouldn’t come undone. Duct tape, there, too. She could feel it up her arms, wrenching her shoulders almost out of their sockets. She ignored the stabbing in her forehead. Blinked blood from her eyes. She pulled and pulled, yanking her wrists apart with all her might. Nothing.

She raised her hands bound together, trying to feel for the latch. The lock. A wire. Anything. The blanket kept getting in the way, wrapping her up. Stiff and scratchy, a tarp. It smelled of garbage and motor oil. Wet splotches around her face. Her blood. Mary tried throwing off the tarp but couldn’t. There were yards and yards of it. Every time she moved, weight shifted on top. Clink. Clink. It made a clinking sound when it moved. He had weighted the tarp down with things. Tools. A shovel?

She kept moving her hands, scratching frantically around for a latch. All she could feel was the tarp. The car roared forward, with no turns in the road. The expressway. He had it planned all along. Out toward the airport, away from the city. There were warehouses. Industry. Distribution centers. The shipyard. The piers. Long stretches of roads, desolate after business hours. Then Chester, Delaware. Farther south. Or north.

No! She wriggled, trying to roll herself over, twisting this way and that, feeling frantically for any kind of latch. Her eyes filled with tears but she squeezed them shut. She thought of Mrs. Nyquist, riding bucking broncos. Bennie, rowing hard on the river. Judy, climbing huge rocks. Mary could never do stuff like that. She could never do it their way. She had to do it herself. Her way.

What can I do? Make funny noises or wiggle. What can’t I do? Move, scream, or save my own life. Guess what? My way sucks.

Mary had to do something. This man was taking her somewhere to kill her. The secondary location. Huh? Where had she heard that term? Not in law school. How did she know that term? Where else? She didn’t do anything anymore. Or go anywhere. Since Mike, all she did was work and watch TV.

TV! That was it! The Lifetime Channel! That was where she had heard it, on some show on Lifetime. Television for Women. The secondary location was where the bad guy took you when he wanted to kill you. The secondary location was the place you were never supposed to go.

MMMMMM! MMMMMM!

Mary found her train of thought before it derailed. Now what else had she seen on that show? One of those survival shows for girls, with reenactments and lipliner. What else was on that show? It came on Saturday morning, when she should have been at work, and again on Sunday mornings, when she should have been at church.

It showed how to survive carjacking, attempted rape, avalanche, if your car went in water, or quicksand, or if you were locked in a basement, a refrigerator, or a CAR TRUNK!

The Lexus curved steeply to the left, accelerating. An on ramp? An off ramp? Hurry! Then she remembered something else, another save-your-lifetime tip, and one that she was in an excellent position to do. And she even had the weapon of choice.

She started kicking backward, ramming her high heel against the blanket. Kick, kick, kick. She had to kick with both feet, since they were tied. Her stomach muscles protested, then screamed, then begged for mercy. She kept kicking, aiming for the taillight with the spike of her high heel. The Lexus was slowing. No! Were they there? Was he coming to get her? She kicked like crazy, fighting terror.

Yes! Mary succeeded in the first step. Kicking upward enough times to shimmy the tarp off one foot, leaving her high heel free, and lethal! She kicked hard! That one’s for Keisha! She kicked again. This one’s for Frank! She kicked harder. This one’s for Amadeo! She kicked hardest of all. Then she kept on and in the next minute heard a cracking sound at her heel. She was doing it! The taillight was cracking!

She kicked in a frenzy, heedless of the pain in her head, stomach, legs, or wrists. She could do it. She could save herself. She was going to live! She couldn’t see if light was coming through the tarp, she didn’t see the progress she was making. But she could hear it. One crack, then another. And another, the plastic cracking and giving way. If she didn’t electrocute herself, she could live! It was night. Couldn’t someone see a light being kicked out?

The Lexus was slowing, and she heard the sound of engine noise. HONK! HONK! HONK! Honking, right near her bumper! Someone had seen it! Someone was trying to tell the driver! He knows, stupid. Call the cops! Call 911! She kept kicking, determined. For Keisha! For Frank! For Amadeo! Kick! Kick! Kick! She kicked like her life depended on it, because it did. The taillight had to be demolished. She pictured it, cracked, its bulb smashed to smithereens. She could feel cool air on her foot. She had broken through! She could have fit her foot through the hole if it had been free! Still she kept kicking.

HONK! HONK! HONK! Suddenly, the Lexus took off. She lurched violently to the back of the trunk and stayed there. The honking sound got farther away. No! He was going to get away! Get the license plate! Call the cops! Kick, kick, kick! Her foot was wedging in the place where the taillight was. She squeezed her toes to keep her high heel on. She’d kick through the metal! She was determined!

MMM! MMMM! MMMM!

And in the next minute, she heard it. Sirens! Far away. Getting closer? Yes! They were coming! Cops! The Lexus shot away in response. They were going to have to chase him. He wasn’t going down without a fight, not with her in here. Mary kept kicking. Still kicking. Trying to yell. Trying to stop crying.

don’t kill me don’t shoot the trunk please I’m in here I’m in here

The sirens blared louder and the Lexus hit top speed, barreling down the expressway. She rammed her heel into the back of the trunk and got stuck. The Lexus careened left and right. HONK! HONK! It was the Lexus, honking. She couldn’t hear anything but road noise and sirens. Fresh air swept into the trunk through the hole. Mary kept trying to wedge her foot out of the taillight well so she could keep kicking.

I’m alive in here don’t shoot the trunk don’t shoot the

There were more sirens, louder now. They were chasing the Lexus, full court press. She could imagine it like it was on TV. Cops, NYPD Blue, every cable channel had its high-speed police chase. And now, she was in one. Mary was finally in the television. She almost laughed.

If I live, I promise I’ll get a life.

Sirens were all around them now. Left. Right. Directly in back. They were racing ahead together, careening this way and that. The cops had to be surrounding him, at warp speed. Would they shoot her? Would they crash? This was worse than before! Mary kept kicking so they would know she was still alive. Suddenly the Lexus took a sharp right turn, almost ninety degrees.

Everything went crazy. The Lexus pinwheeled around and round. Wheels squealed. Sirens blared. Mary screamed. Cried. The Lexus spun out of control, then it spun slower and slower. Mary hiccupped. Vomited. It filled up her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Help! Help! God!

The Lexus was slowing its spinning.

I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t

CRAK! CRAK! CRAK! Gunfire! Right near the car! The cops weren’t going to shoot her, but he would! He wanted her dead! CRAK! CRAK! CRAK! CRAK! A fusillade of gunfire thundered in her ears. There was no oxygen. She hiccupped and hiccupped. And finally, shuddered.

CRAK! CRAK! CRAK!