7
Private airstrip, Surrey, England. May 19, 5.34am
Faye woke as the early morning light filtered through a tiny window and seeped under the doorframe. She raised her head tentatively and explosive pain made her head swim. She breathed in and out slowly through her nose as the nausea passed, her mouth still covered by a rolled cloth tied behind her head.
Her first lucid thought was for Gemma, her baby.
Where was she? Was she OK?
Then she saw the tiny bundle curled up near the foot of the chair she was bound to. Gemma wasn’t even tied up. They must have known she wouldn’t leave her mother once she revived from the drugs. The little girl’s face looked pale and creased but she was breathing normally and didn’t seem to be injured. Faye desperately wanted to take her in her arms, hold her
