“Where are we?” Leila whispers, staring out the dirty window of an old Ford pickup. Her hands and feet are uncomfortable under the restraints but at least he’s removed the cloth from her mouth. It takes everything she has to resist the urge to gag from the smell of him.
The road is rugged. On both sides, she can see nothing but endless farm fields covered in a light layer of snow. The odd summer cottage or abandoned hunting cabin is visible. They’ve been driving for about three hours and seem to be on flatter ground, which means they’re likely near a lake, and chances are it’s Lake Erie. She has a good sense of direction and feels they’re headed southwest. Perhaps to the American border?
It’s still night; however, the edge of the horizon is slightly pink. She calculates in her head. Must
