Dark Visions by Jonas Saul Page B

confirmation from you that it is in fact Sarah Roberts'
notebook. Do you understand why we have to find her now, before she
does further damage."
    Could Sarah be a part of something this
diabolical?
    "Tell him the rest," Goatee's partner
said.
    "We got a call a couple of hours ago from a
woman who claims she's from the Psychic Fair in town. She told us
that your daughter was in some kind of trouble, which we already
knew. The odd thing was she was told that her daughter was in
trouble too. She says that her daughter is going to be shot in the
next day or so. It looks like Sarah's planning something. We are
going to have to find Sarah quite fast to stop this."
    Goatee had opened the notebook to the last
page of writing. Caleb looked down and saw a word circled numerous
times. He lowered his head to block the sun and saw the name
'Dolan'.
    He also saw save yourself beside
it.
    He had wanted to corner that woman Esmerelda
and make her fess up for her prophecy of danger. He also wanted to
talk Dolan into helping.
    A thought was stirring in the back of his
mind. Somehow, this whole thing has to do with the Psychic
Fair.
    Dolan won't even see him coming.
     

Chapter 22
     
    Sarah held on to the screwdriver by the cold
steel shaft as she shifted her position. Her hands slid along the
smooth velvety surface of the trunk liner until she came upon the
plastic thumb screws directly behind the brake lights.
    She removed all the thumb screws she could
feel in the dark and then pulled the liner toward her, exposing the
back of the brake light assembly.
    Her tiny jail gained a small amount of
sunshine from outside. This helped her as she tugged on the brake
wires, loosening the bulb.
    "You awake back there?"
    She jumped and almost dropped the
screwdriver when she heard his voice coming from the front of the
car. She didn't answer him. She had no idea what difference it
would make whether she was sleeping or not.
    After what she thought was a minute or so
she heard him talking. She guessed he'd wanted to make a phone call
on his cell without her hearing anything. His quiet mumbling wasn't
coherent by the time it reached her in the trunk anyway. The sound
of the highway racing by under the car was a steady drone.
    With the bulb in her hand, she looked
through the small hole where the brake wire had previously been.
The red plastic brake light cover was all she could see. The hole
was too small to accommodate her hand. All her efforts were
useless. Dead end. A small hole to nothing.
    With the little light coming into the trunk
now she could work on the lock mechanism.
    After at least five minutes, with nothing
but sore hands, she gave up. Besides, what could she do if she
popped the trunk open while they were going sixty miles an hour on
the open highway, she wondered?
    The next time her kidnapper went to let her
out he'd stumble upon what she did to the brake light and the trunk
cover unless she could replace everything exactly as it was.
Somehow, she was making this worse on herself.
    The road was starting to get bumpier. The
car hit a couple small potholes adding pressure to her shoulders.
One was big enough to make her wince.
    She took the end of the screwdriver and slid
it through the hole where the brake light had been. She applied
pressure to the top corners of the red cover, trying to get it to
break off. Maybe she could signal someone driving behind them.
    More bumps hit the wheels. She rolled around
for a better position and pushed harder. The floor of the trunk was
merciless. Her right shoulder was on fire, the energy in her arm
waning.
    A corner popped loose, followed by another.
From her limited view of the outside she could see they were on a
two lane highway, with little to no traffic.
    They hit what felt like speed bumps in the
road and at that exact moment, the screwdriver was knocked from her
hand. She had thrust hard to dislodge the rest of the plastic. The
brake cover gave way and was lost to gravity as they hit the