CHAPTER 11
Seconds passed. Chelsea tried to mentally calculate how much time was left, but in her terror, her mind could never count past five before she lost track of where she was.
When Bradley’s timer beeped, shivers of panic cascaded down Chelsea’s spine, then circled around to her gut, where they sat like a monument to fear and terror.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She was supposed to land in Detroit in half an hour. Get off the plane, check into her room, and prepare for the next few days of interviews and investigation.
None of which she could do if she was dead.
Bradley was marching to the back of the cabin.
“Get up,” he ordered.
Chelsea twisted in her seat and stared as a young woman with bright blue streaks in her hair stood up, her entire body trembling. It was
