“Why not?” I asked, moving closer to examine the flat tire. It wasn’t just flat—the sidewall was blown out completely. This tire had been driven on while flat, probably for miles. “Madison, what’s going on?”
Before she could answer, I heard it. A small sound from inside the trunk. A whimper. A child’s whimper.
“Madison,” I said quietly. “Who’s in your trunk?”
She started crying—deep, desperate sobs. “My brothers and my sister. They’re eight, six, and four. I got them out. I finally got them out. But if you call the police, they’ll send us back, and he’ll kill us this time. I know he will.”Continue reading…
