The elevator jolted, groaned, and then stopped.
My breath hitched as the lights flickered and died, plunging me into absolute darkness and the icy grip of claustrophobia.
Frantic, I called my husband, David, for help, certain he' d be my rescuer.
Instead, his voice, impatient and dismissive, carried the faint sound of music and a woman' s laughter – Ashley, his young assistant.
"Look, Sarah, I can' t right now," he said, explaining he was taking Ashley, who was faking a cold, to get medicine.
He chose his assistant over his wife, gasping for air and pleading for help.
Then he hung up.