“This is going so smooth.” Scott laughed and slapped Jordan  on the back, leaning in close so he wouldn't be heard. “So they're coming?”
“On their way.” Jordan  paused. “Scott...are you sure this is right? To do this, I mean?”
“Do what?” Scott was incredulous. “A little joke? A harmless prank? When they find out we hired these police to do this, they'll laugh their heads off.” He chuckled and thrust out his chest, his voice going deeper. “This is our day, man. You remember when Miss Joanna  served us toilet water at church camp last year? And what about the time they—”
“Yeah, I get it.” Jordan  drew in a breath. “I'd better head on down to the lobby. They'll be here any minute.”
“Yeah.” Scott grinned and rubbed his hands together, cheeks growing pink with the excitement. “This is going to be hilarious. Just hilarious...”

<><><><><>

There was a knock at the door. A quiet voice, then a louder one, “We're coming in!”
Madison glanced at the door. Two men barged in, their tanned skin clashing against the material of their uniforms.
Jordan  came in after them, breathing hard. “It's okay, girls. They're just checking for drugs. Just stay out of their way.”
“Drugs?” Miss Fanny stared at Jordan . The teen group had taken a missions trip to Jamaica, and the thought of them having illegal drugs seemed ludicrous. “Why—that's odd. That they would suspect us, I mean.” She turned, mouth gaping open as she watched them grab her travel bag. Her clothes fell out in a heap as they shook it, and her purse was rudely searched as well.
Madison stepped closer to Janie, the third denizen of the room. “They sure don't act like police,” she whispered.
Janie's lips turned in a frown. “I know.”
Moving across the room, they grabbed Miss Fanny's mattress and tossed it over. One of the men paused, eyes fixed on something alarming. His features changed—lips compressed as he held up the small bag.
The other man smelled it and grunted out a gush of foreign words.
“What's wrong?” Miss Fanny's high-pitched voice echoed throughout the room. “Jordan , what is it?”
Both police moved forward and spat out angry words at him.
Madison's heart flip-flopped in her chest.
Jordan ' face had gone somber, his eyes strangely foreboding. He motioned to the two teens and Miss Fanny, and when he spoke, his voice was laden with shock, “They found...drugs.”
Madison glanced at the small bag clasped within the taller man's hand. “We didn't know it was there!”
The man stared back at her—eyes dark, haunting, accusing...
She swallowed and glanced back at Jordan . “What are they...going to do, Brother Jordan ?”
Janie's voice trembled slightly as she spoke, “Yes. What will they do to us?”
“Nothing.” His brow creased for an instant. “They won't do anything to you. Just go with them and don't cause trouble—”
“Go with them?” Miss Fanny's face went blanch. “You mean...let them arrest us?”
Jordan  breathed a sign, whispering quiet words into the still room, “Yes, girls. Just do as they say—and pray.”

<><><><><>

Madison's legs went numb. Her feet wouldn't move, even as she told herself to follow them. God, no. Don't let this happen. Don't let this happen. Don't let this happen...
“Hey, you—” the short police grabbed her arm and yanked her forward— “get a move!”
Madison stepped out into the hall and locked elbows with Janie.
Miss Fanny glanced back at them, but didn't speak.
God, please. Tears filled Madison's eyes. God, help us.
A hall door opened and her brother stepped out. His brows came together, his lips opened for an instance. “Madison? What's wrong?”
She swallowed. She tried to speak. Tried to force words past the lump in her throat...
But the police kept pushing her forward and she just stared at her brother until finally they were out of sight.

<><><><><>

Scott burst into the other girl's room, sweat beading his brow. “Girls,” he gasped. “They're...gone. They've taken them. Girls, you've got to pray. Get together. Get on your knees—”
“Who, Brother Scott?” Tracie stood up and bit the edge of her lip. “What are you talking about?”
“Jamaican police.” The words came out raspy, real even to his own ears. This is so good. Best prank of the year. He bit back his thoughts and forced pain into his voice. “Madison...Janie...my wife...”
“Madison?” Tali sat upright. “They've taken Madison?”
“Yes. There was...drugs in the room.” Scott leaned against the dresser, feigning a weariness he didn't feel, playing the part...
“Oh, Lord.” Tali's voice was a quick whisper. “Save my sister. Save her, Lord.”

<><><><><>

The van door slammed shut. It sounded like the pound of a death sentence. The roar of agony. The scream of pain and anguish and terror...
Madison gulped in a breath of the musty air. She scooted back over the damp cardboard. She gripped a metal bar, clinging to it until her knuckles turned white...
“Please let us go!” Janie burst out into a sob, lips quivering. “We'll do anything...please...don't take us to jail...”
The police frowned and glanced towards Miss Fanny. “Tell you daughter shut up,” he said in rough English.
“They're not my daughters!”
The police grinned, though there were few teeth to decorate his smile. And then they men got in their seats. Slammed the door.  Engine sputtered to life...
And the three girls were soon taken away from the small Jamaican hotel to a land of utter horror.

<><><><><>

Tali ran to the bathroom and slammed the door. She slid the lock, pain wracking through her body, doubling her over...
She dropped to her knees and gasped. The sobs ripped from her throat, coming out in jerky breaths, uncontrollable hysteria. “God, no,” she breathed. She clenched her fist, cheeks flaming, eyes crammed shut. “You can't let this happen. Not here. Not in Jamaica.”
She remembered the verses in the Bible. The ones that said you should trust in Him...
But I can't trust. The realization left her weak, helpless. She let her body go limp on the tile floor. My sister...is being taken. To jail. To be abused by the world...by the police...by the inmates...
There was a tap at the door.
She pulled herself up and glanced in the mirror. She smoothed her hair away from her sweaty face, ignoring the redness of her eyes. “Who is it?” She hoped the girls hadn't heard her cry. She hoped they didn't know she was falling apart. She hoped they couldn't see how helpless she felt...
“Zach.”
Yes. She needed him. Zach would know what to do. Zach wouldn't judge her for the tears.
Unlocking the door, she stepped out into the hall.
“Did you...hear?” she whispered.
He nodded, very slowly. His eyes were calm, stance poised, expression passive. But when he spoke, there was a quiver ringing in his voice. “What do we do?”
Tali's face twisted. More tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don't know, Zach. I just don't know.”
He moved forward and pulled her against him in a hug. “We'll call home. Then we'll wait. Maybe by morning, everything will be okay.”
“Maybe by morning,” she whispered against his shirt, “it will be too late.”

<><><><><>

Scott and Jordan  got down on their knees in the circle of teens. The lights were dim in the room. The night was silent—almost like a grave, like death or a living nightmare.
The girls wept as they prayed.
The boy's faces were solemn—brows pushed together—hands clenched in prayer.
Soft murmurs filled the room, bringing on a tranquil presence. It was the peace of God, resting His hands upon them, comforting them, hearing them. It was the voice of God, whispering that everything was in His hands. It was the urge of God, telling them to trust, to remember He had the three girls in His perfect care.
Jordan  pretended to pray. He moved his lips, mouthing the words. But his prayer, however, was much different than the others, Lord, forgive me for this. Forgive me for...faking everything, for lying. He glanced up at the teens, their earnest faces reaching into his soul and twisting it from within his chest. Forgive me for making them hurt. Forgive me, Lord. Please.

<><><><><>

They were fighting. She wasn't sure why, but the tallest man in the passenger's seat had a look of disgust on his face, an alarming expression of panic...
Janie's sobs filled the back of the van.
Miss Fanny leaned over and hugged her, closing her eyes in prayer, cheeks wet with tears.
But Madison couldn't cry. She wasn't sure why, but the fear was too great. It left her numb and breathless—too fragile for tears. She hugged her knees tighter. This happens in books. She remembered a novel she'd read once, about a girl who'd been drug off to prison for a crime she didn't commit. It had been twelve years before she finally was released...
This is the kind of thing I've watched in movies. Heard stories about. But I never thought it'd happen—not to me. No. I'm a preacher's daughter. How could I ever be blamed for a crime? And yet here she sat, charged with possessing illegal drugs, on her way to a foreign jail. God, help. You're the only way. My only chance. Our only chance.
The van screeched to a stop. The tallest police yelled, but the other man waved a gun in his face, and finally the tallest stepped out of the van.
Then they sped off once more, leaving one police behind and charging on with the other.

<><><><><>

Scott's heart started pounding in his chest as he and Jordan  got out of the vehicle.
“They aren't here.” Jordan ' voice was clipped, face drawn, eyes sharp.
“They're coming—”
“They should have been here!” Jordan  whirled on Scott and glared at him. “They had plenty of time! Longer than us! They had a half an hour to get here. Why aren't they here?”
Scott's face turned ashen. “They'll come,” he said, though his voice had lost its conviction. “They said they'll come and they'll come.”
“Yeah?” Jordan  nostrils flared. “And how do we know we can trust them, huh? How do you know they won't just take off with our girls—with your wife?”
Scott swallowed. “Just wait, Jordan .” He paused, round face going paler still. “And pray.”
“Only this time pray the real thing, huh, Scott?”
“Yeah. The real thing.”

<><><><><>

Zach ventured to the window off in a secluded spot. He looked up at the stars. It was funny, he thought, how the stars looked the same as they did in Florida. If he stared long enough, he could almost imagine he were there, and that everything was fine, and that Madison was across the hall in her pink bedroom...
But everything's not fine. He sighed, deep in his chest. His heart started to ache, and that familiar ten pound rock seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach, pulling him down under a wave of misery. He felt like he was drowning. Suffocating. Dying inside...
“Oh, God, look after her.” He paused, blinking back his own tears. “It was my job to take care of  her and I failed.” Gripping the window seal, he whispered the last words, “Now it's up to You. You're her only hope.”

<><><><><>

Madison's heart lurched as the van stopped. It was dark now—so dark that it seeped inside of her, swallowing her, mirroring the agony in her soul. She glanced at Janie. She was weeping so hard the police had to literally pull her out of the van. Miss Fanny followed and Madison proceeded her.
The police flashed his gun at them. It reflected the light of the moon, glistening in his tight-gripped hand.
“You don't need that gun.” Miss Fanny harrumphed. “We are not criminals—and we do not need to be treated this way—”
“Shut up.” His voice was laced with a strong Patois accent, though his point was clear. He reached out and grabbed Janie's arm, holding her next to him. “We go building.” He pointed a long finger to a trashy hut below a hill. “No talk.” He glared at Janie, squeezing her arm. “No cry!”
Janie whimpered, but did not speak.
Miss Fanny snorted with a red face.
And Madison kept praying...

<><><><><>

Zach opened the door to the girl's room, poked his head in, and motioned for Tali.
She met him in the hall with wide, swollen eyes. “Have they heard something? Do you know anything?”
He shook his head. “No. Have you called home?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell them...everything?”
“No.” She dropped her head, hiding her tears. “I didn't want them to...worry.”
“Oh, maybe that was—”
“Zach! Tali!” Scott's shrill voice echoed down the hall. It sounded like panic, like fear, like desperation...
They turned just as he reached them. “I'm sorry,” he rasped. “So sorry, guys. It wasn't suppose to—”
“What is it, Brother Scott?” Tali's voice was strangely peaceful.
“It was a joke.” The words fell flat on the air. “We hired the police. They had the drugs. It was a joke.” He said it again, as if it explained everything. As if all their tears were suppose to dry up—as if his words were suppose to erase the horror. “They were suppose to meet us up the road. We gave them a half an hour to get there—but they weren't there. We waited, thinking they were going to show up. But they didn't. They're gone—”
Tali gasped and leaned against the wall. “A joke?” she whispered. She stared at him, into his miserable eyes. “You did this for a laugh? You put my sister in danger for a laugh? Your wife? Your own wife!” She lunged for him, but Zach grabbed her back.
She fell against him, sobbing against his shirt.
Zach lifted dull eyes to Scott and whispered over his sister's sobs, “You're saying they've been...kidnapped?”  
“Yes.” Scott's face twisted as the anguish penetrated itself to him. “And it's all my fault.”

<><><><><>

A man met them down at the hut. His black hair fell in greasy waves, dangling over his shoulders. His loose, turquoise T-shirt reeked of smoke and filth, and his jeans were ripped at the knees. He looked at Madison, letting his gaze roam up and down her. He smiled, softly at first, lips curling at the edge. Then it broke out into a grin. “This is good.” His English was much better than the others. “This is very good, Ghana.” He pulled out a roll of bills and tossed it to the police. “You leave! Tell no one.”
The short police grunted, then he gave Janie a hard shove into his direction. “This one,” he growled, “no stop crying, Turell.”
“Well, she will learn fast, will she not?”
Ghana grinned and, stuffing the money in his uniform, stalked away.
Opening the door of the hut, Turell motioned the girls inside. When the door was locked, he turned on them with a small revolver. “This is gun. You be obedient to gun, he be nice to you, okay? Yah?”
Miss Fanny swallowed. “This is no jail. Where are we?”
Turell only grinned. “It doesn't matter.” He walked towards Madison, fingering a strand of silk brown hair. “You will not be here long.”

<><><><><>

“Jacob Fielder, stop that this instant!” Swooping Sarah into her arms, Joanna  pointed a finger at Jacob. “You go out there right now and mow that lawn! And tell Sarah you're sorry.”
Jacob reluctantly obeyed and just as he was headed out the door, the phone rang. Peace and quiet. What I wouldn't give for such a golden treasure...just for one minute! She sank down into a chair, Sarah cuddled against her chest, and flipped the phone open. “Hello?”
There was silence. Then a sniff. “Mom?”
Something's wrong. Joanna  swallowed. “Tali?”
“Yeah. It's me.” No glee in her voice. No we're having a blast. No Zach can't find his wallet. No I forgot my extra shoes. It was something bigger...
“Mom, I don't want to worry you.” She paused and there was another sniff. Was she crying? Not Tali. Not unless...
“Tali, what happened? Where's Zach and Madison?”
“Zach's here. But, Mom...”
But what?
“Madison's...gone.” The last word came out on a sob. “There was this joke Scott was playing on us. Police were coming. They found drugs and arrested Miss Fanny and Janie and Madison. But they didn't meet them and now they're gone and I think, I mean, we think they've been kidnapped and that maybe—”
Joanna  didn't hear the rest. The words faded away. Spots danced in front of her eyes. My baby? Kidnapped? It didn't seem real. Not her daughter. Not in Jamaica. This was a teen mission trip. Everything was suppose to go fine and they were suppose to be home in just three days...
“Mom? Mom, are you there?”
She forced her lips to speak, but her throat felt dry—her tongue like a strip of leather that wouldn't be moved. “Are they being...searched for?” she breathed.
“I don't know. The adults won't tell us much. Mom, what do we do?”
  What do we do? I don't know. I just don't know...
“Pray, Tali,” she finally whispered. “That's all we can do.”

<><><><><>

They were thrown into a small room—door locked—windows barred. Madison pressed up against the door, listening for the man to come back. She could hear him on the other side, singing in soft Patois.
And then she cried. The numbness fell away to reality. She was here—and she wasn't leaving. Miss Fanny's words came back to her, “Why won't we be here? Where will we be?”
Turell had grinned, dropping his arm over Madison's shoulder. “I sell girls—and sometimes women.” He paused, hugging Madison closer. “Guess you'd be considered slaves. The term sounds cruel, but don't worry. I only sell to very, very nice people.”
Very nice people. Madison cringed and hugged her knees. God, don't let this happen. Please, Lord. Please keep us safe. Don't let them do this. Please...God...please...
Her shoulders wracked in pain—her sobs bouncing off the mud walls, mingling with the cries of the two other prisoners inside the room.

<><><><><>

Tip stepped out of the bedroom and glanced at his wife.
She met his gaze. Her eyes were round in horror, lips quivering...
“What's wrong, Joanna ?” He faced her, his hands taking her upper arms.
She swallowed and breathed. “Tali just called.”
He'd never seen her like this. There was something frightening in the way she trembled under his grasp, the way she looked at him. “What is it?” he forced out the words, even as his own heart stopped in his chest.
“Madison, she's...”
Dead. He closed his eyes, his breath knocked out of him. Oh, Lord, please don't let her be dead...
“Talk to me, Joanna .” His grip tightened. “Tell me.”
“Kidnapped, Tip. They've kidnapped her!” Her features twisted. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “And there's nothing we can do! Nothing! Nothing!”
Tip grabbed her up against him, clinging to her. He laid his face against the top of her hair, breathing in and out, in and out, in and out...
“What do we do, Tip? What can we do?” She sobbed, unaware that Sarah and Ryan were watching her from across the room, tears filling their own little eyes. “Tip...what...can we...do...?”
Tears sprang to his eyes but he blinked them back. He was the man. He was suppose to be strong, in control, handle everything that life handed him with strength and vigor...
Only he didn't feel strong. He didn't feel in control. He didn't think he could handle this.
With a quick prayer, he handed it to the only One who could.

<><><><><>

Jordan  was standing in the lobby when the tall police walked through the door...
He lunged himself forward, slamming the man against the wall, hands seeking his throat. “Where are they, Malik?” he seethed the words.
The police gasped, clawing at the hands around his neck. “Ghana...took them...”
“Where? Why didn't you stop him?”
“He...not listen...tried to tell him...we argue...he stop van...I walk here...”
Jordan  loosened his grip, breathing hard.
“I come back—warn you.”
Jordan  wiped the sweat from his forehead, hands trembling. “Where did he take them?”
“I show you.”
Jordan  took off running, shouting over his shoulder, “I'll get Scott!” And then he was gone, leaving Malik in the lobby, rubbing his bruised neck.

<><><><><>

The door opened.
Madison backed away, fear pumping through her veins.
“You,” he reached down and grabbed her, “come with me.”
She glanced back at Miss Fanny, Janie. Christ, help me...!
The door slammed shut and she found herself on the other side. There was another man there, dressed in a shabby suit. His eyes bore into her—dark eyes that seemed to lick with flames and flicker with a satanic darkness...
“This the one?”
“The best,” Turell assured him. He gave her a push into the light, so the stranger might better scrutinize her. “Fine looking lady, is she not? Yah?”
“Indeed.” The other man smiled, though only slightly. “But your price is high.”
“Not too high for her. See those eyes? Are they not smart?”
The stranger grabbed her chin. His touch felt clammy, cold—his fingertips pressing into her skin with frightening pressure. She jerked away and stepped back against the wall. “Who are you?” she breathed.
Silence.
She glanced at Turell frantically, but he only grinned.
“You're not—I mean, he's not—going to...” her words trailed away. Fear ripped through her, lodging in her throat, settling in the pit of her stomach like lead. Oh, no. God, no, no...
“American, you say?” the stranger went on. He stepped closer to her. Hands smoothing down her cheeks, running over her hair.
“Please...stop.” She scooted away, but he grabbed her arm and jerked her towards him.
“Willful. Strong-headed.” He paused and smiled down at her. “Delightful.”
“As I say, best on the market.”
Market? Her breath came in painful labors. His skin burned against hers, reminding her that one hand shake, one exchange of money, and she'd be his...
The door burst open.
Madison screamed. Bullets whizzed past her. Shouts. Poundings. Faces—Scott's face. The police. Jordan ...
Turell toppled to the ground as a bullet struck him in the forehead. He lay on the dirt floor in a bloody heap...
The stranger jerked her backwards, protecting himself behind her. Heavy arms went around her neck. Squeezing. Squeezing. Squeezing...
“Stop it!” Scott held his pistol with both hands, face pale. “Let her go!”
“Back away!” The stranger gripped her tighter, taking away her breath, killing her. “Drop your guns or she's dead.”
She's dead. I'm dead. Her eyes went blurry, even as she gulped for air. I'm dying.
“Let her go!” Jordan  roared.
His voice sounded faraway. Their faces weren't so vivid, as if it were all a nightmare, a dream. But the pain was real. Every time he squeezed tighter she was reminded that it was really happening. She was dying. He was killing her...
Glass shattered. His body jerked. Sounds exploded in her ear, then another jerk.
His grip loosened on her neck. She gasped, groping, trying to fight the blackness seeping into her consciousness...
His body fell, pulling her down on top of him, and she turned. She stared into his face. His eyes turned dull, cold, rolling back into his head as death clawed at his soul. The metallic-sweet scent of blood drifted to her nose—and finally, with one last gasp, his eye lids drifted shut. He was dead.
Madison's head dropped to his motionless chest. Darkness caved in around her, tossing her into a pit of blackness. She was falling—falling so fast she couldn't stop it. She kept reaching out, trying to fight the numbness, trying to stay alive...
But she just kept falling, falling, falling...
And then the blackness swallowed Madison Fielder, and she remembered no more.

<><><><><>

There were noises, faint and indistinct, drifting into her consciousness. At first she hardly recognized them, but then the words started to make sense and she thought she heard her name.
“Madison.”
She couldn't speak. Her mouth felt dry, motionless, as if she hadn't used it in years. Her eyes fluttered open. The light blinded her, casting a fog around the room, blurring away the colors...
But then the fog fell away, and there were two faces looking down at her. She swallowed and licked her lips. “Sav-vannah?” she whispered.
Her older sister breathed a laugh and reached for her hand.
She felt warm, protected—as if she'd just reached shore after a long, hard storm. She licked her lips again. “W-where am I?”
“The hotel,” came a male voice.
She turned her head to find another warm face staring down at her. “Zach.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “What did I tell you about doing drugs?” he teased her. “I knew it would get you into trouble one of these days.”
She tried not to smile, but the result was pathetic.
“Madison?”
Now it was Scott. He stood over top of her, looking as if she were dead rather than alive. Fear paled his face—horror etched along his eyes—guilt tugged his lips into a grim frown. “I'm sorry, Madison.”
Sorry? 
“But—but you rescued me, Brother Scott.”
Tears glazed his eyes. She didn't think she'd ever seen him cry...
“It was a joke. A prank, Madison. We hired the police to arrest you. They were suppose to bring you back, but Ghana had other ideas and—”
“Stop it.” The words came out hard, fast, unforgiving. But she couldn't help it. Not after what he'd done...
Scott ducked his head just before a tear escaped. “I don't blame you, Madison. Janie won't speak to me. Won't even look at me. My wife's so upset she can't stop crying, and I know she's got to hate me after everything—”
“I don't hate you, Brother Scott.” Her words came out soft, belying the pain that squeezed in her chest. “I just don't understand.”
“I don't either.” 
He wiped the tear with the back of his sleeve and finally met her gaze. “What a fool I've been. Oh, Madison. I thought we'd never find you. I thought I'd come home to motherless boys. I thought your mom and dad would have one less daughter. I thought Janie's mother—”
“But that won't happen, Brother Scott,” she cut him off. “Because we are here. And everything's okay now.”
He wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts and swallowed. “For all it's worth, Madison, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you.”
“And how's that?”
He stared at her. She was smiling at him...
“Well...” he paused, stumbling over his words. “What would you like? Anything in the world.”
Her smile got larger. “I'd like you to take me, Miss Fanny, and Janie to get our nails done. Fingernails and toenails.”
Scott let out a long breath. He leaned down and hugged her, whispering in her ear, “Thank you, Madison. Thank you so much!”
She smiled, trying to push back the anger that tried to resurface. Trying to forgive. Trying to turn the page. Trying to forget.