The tears weren't only Regina's this time. They were Sarah's, too. Tears of anger, of frustration, of despair at the girl's fragile courage and the hope that rescue was near. But how could they find Regina before it was too late, before she ended up like all the others Sarah hadn't been able to save? She sat up in bed, drawing a deep breath. She'd only been a teenager then, she reminded herself sternly. A child. She was an adult now, a woman with resources and contacts of her own. Surely she could figure out some way . . . Her phone rang and she knew it wasn't the first time. It was the ringing that had woken her. She twisted automatically, reaching for her bedside table where she always left her cordless phone overnight. But it wasn't there. It rang again . . . in the other room. She frowned. She never went to sleep without her phone nearby. Never. She started to climb out of bed and had a second surprise. She was wearing the clothes she'd worn last night—her sweater and skirt, of all things, and her bra.
