“Hello?” she called.
The noise turned frantic. A muffled voice cried out from inside.
Her hands trembled as she tried the trunk. Locked.
She ran and found a crowbar leaning against a pile of scrap metal. Dragging it back with all her strength, she shouted, “I’m going to open it! Hold on!”
After several attempts, the trunk finally burst open with a metallic groan.
Inside was a man in his forties, bound with ropes and gagged with tape. His dark hair was messy, his face bruised and swollen. His expensive gray-green suit was torn and filthy. When he saw Eleanor, his eyes went wide.
She carefully peeled the tape from his mouth.
“Thank God,” he gasped. “Please, untie me — quickly.”
With her small fingers, Eleanor worked at the knots. Once his hands were free, he helped loosen the ropes around his legs. He climbed out of the trunk with difficulty, leaning against the car in pain.
Then he looked at her.
For a long moment, he just stared at Eleanor’s face, his expression unreadable. Instinctively, she touched her birthmark.
“Are you okay, sir?” she asked. “Should I call my grandma or the police?”
Suddenly, the man’s eyes filled with tears.
