Em slackened her muscles. Let them think she was dead. Or unconscious. Is this what happened to Josie? Em thought. Shoes slapped across the floor and up three flights of stairs. Em noted one slower than the other, pausing at each landing—out of shape. The men said nothing. Over-confident. Fearful. Or maybe they didn’t know each other. Were they the same ones from before? Then they were outside her door. Em loosened the last fibers of her being as the handle clicked and the closet door swept open.
Is this what happened to Josie?Rough fingers pressed into her neck. “Heart’s beating.” A white man’s voice. He grasped Em’s jaw, turned her face toward his. She played dead. He dropped her head, grabbed her wrists, pulled her into the hall. “She going to Minneapolis?” An Indian man. Em felt a sur
