Woman Details Being Trapped Inside Wrecked Car for Eight Days

Jan. 20, 2011 — -- When Tanya Rider disappeared Sept. 19, 2007, her husband, Tom, fought to get police to start a search for her.

Eight days later her car was found in a ravine and she was trapped inside. The Washington state woman was injured and dehydrated, but was fighting for her life. "Missing Without a Trace: 8 Days of Horror" tells the story of her ordeal.

Read an excerpt of the book below and then check out the "GMA" Library for more great reads.

CHAPTER ONE
Eight Days

Tiny puffs of air squeeze up through my left nostril. My chest… My chest is constricted. What's wrong with me? I fight to expand my lungs, to suck in a breath. Something is pressing into my chest, holding me down. My lungs! I can't breathe! It feels like small, sandwich-bag sacks of air are hanging in my lungs. I cling to them but my body collapses forward, against my captor.

Bound on one side, I beg for release. "Let me go, you monster!" I gasp. "Where are you? I can feel you but I don't hear you! Still, I know you are there!"

I can't talk anymore. My chest is gagging, half-silencing my breathing. Everything hurts. I slow myself to suck in precious air—air for battle.

"Help me!" I scream. "Someone? Can't you hear me? Help me!"

My eyes flutter open and it seems as if all of my long dark hair is in my face. My eyelashes flutter against the tangled mess. My head is killing me and I can't hold my eyes open. They slam shut, but the images linger.

Where am I? Why is my head is hanging at this weird angle? I am sideways, I can tell. And I feel an awful, constant pressure digging into my body. God, it hurts. I struggle again to take a breath. I can only take in a tiny wisp of air but it is filled with pain that shoots through every fiber of my body. Still, I need more air. With a weak exhale, I feel a little cloud of steam drift onto my cheek as I hang there, strangled by my captor. Sweet drool runs out of the corner of my mouth.

With my right arm, I reach out blindly. I want to feel my surroundings. I feel hard curves, twisted forms, raw edges, and a strange, soft pillow—all of it dotted with bits of broken glass. I cannot tell what these shapes represent, but it is a mess.

Where am I? Right against my chest, my hand runs into something, an object, an arc, like a hard, circle-shaped hose. I run my fingers slowly across it. Can it be? A steering wheel? Each breath cuts through my breastbone and I strain to pull in air. I run my hand along the thing, try to assure myself that it really is a car's steering wheel.

Tom Rider was tired, always tired. He and Tanya worked hard, and that's about all they did. Like ships in the night, they didn't even see each other much. He barely had time to nap, let alone spend much time with Tanya, because she worked two jobs herself and her shifts were opposite his. Pretty much, they only got to see each other when their days off coincided. Their lifestyle was kind of lonely, but they were determined. They had set their sights on their goal—their dream home—and they were working hard to get it.

They'd had a quick conversation the night before. Tanya had called after ten on Wednesday night, before she started her nightshift. Tom had to work late so he was spending the night at work, and he'd already crashed. When Tanya called, she woke him up.

"What're you doing?" she asked.

"Sleeping," he grumbled.

Tanya knew his sleep was precious so she immediately hung up, and then she worked the night shift at Fred Meyer, up in Bellevue. She would have gotten home after Tom was a few hours into his day.

Open your eyes, Tanya! I squint. Everything is blurry. Where are my glasses? My head hurts so much and I am so tired. All I want to do is to close my eyes, go back to sleep. But I don't know where I am. Where am I? What is that flashing light in front of me? I open my eyes to let in a bit more light, and I see the dashboard with its yellow and orange car controls. I reach my hand to the fluorescent image, but it is beyond my reach. I turn my head to the left and I can see the black molding inside my side window. I see glimpses of the color of my car, the beautiful blue of my wonderful new car.

My eyes snap shut again as I erupt with a cough, dislodging saliva and blood from a corner of my mouth. Oh, it hurts so much! I spit out the oily blood, not knowing how precious those drops of moisture would become.

I try to breathe, but my chest feels stuck. It won't expand and I can't get air. I don't understand. I exercise all the time and I'm in such great shape, why can't I breathe? I pull my eyes open again. I reach up to my face to brush the messy mop of hair aside, and then I see that my fingertips are bloody. I touch my forehead again and it stings. It is raw. I check my fingers. More blood.

It starts to make sense. It is the steering wheel of my car, my beautiful Honda, the first car I ever bought new! But everything is broken and twisted and I am trapped inside it. I am pinned against the steering wheel and I can't see much but the deflated air bag, which blocks my view. I press at it, try to move it aside.

Oh, my body hurts! My left shoulder, my God, the pain is horrible! My arm is hanging from my side at an odd angle against the door. I can't move my arm. I don't even want to wiggle my fingers. The pain is unbelievable. Oh, my God, the pain! It's searing! My left side feels broken, disconnected. My left clavicle and my left shoulder are burning with pain that is deep, intense, in the bone and in the joint.

I can see out, through the broken window, but I can't make sense of it. Where am I? I see branches and leaves. Everywhere, all around me, blackberry bushes push in through the broken windows and up against the glass. I catch the aroma of the cedar trees, so nice, fresh.

Something is applying pressure, holding me against my will. So tight! I am trapped, pinned. It's my seat belt. I'm cramped and I can't get a decent breath of oxygen into my lungs. I try to suck in a breath but the air seems to go right through me. My chest hurts so much as the air stings my insides.

I try to free myself but I can't reach the seatbelt release. Clawing with my right hand, I feel metal. Then, my fingertips make it to the edge. With all of my mental and physical energy—everything I have—I command my fingers to take back my freedom, to pull upward on the metal. But I lose. The strap is so tight. It cuts into my body, pressing like a piece of metal. I wish I'd bought seat-belt covers to soften them. My body hurts, everywhere that my seat belt holds me—my left shoulder to my right hip and across my pelvis—it all feels bruised. I wish I could get my seat belt off!

How did I get here? What happened?

The driver's door presses into my side and it hurts so much right there, at my ribs and hip. My abdomen is bruised and swollen and I can tell that several of my ribs are fractured or cracked. My leg is trapped, pressed between the door, the seat, and the underside of the dashboard. I can tell I have little if any circulation in my leg and it worries me. Will I lose my leg? What if I can't walk again?

My head hurts and throbs. I feel as if I've been shot in the head! I just want to close my eyes and rest. Maybe, if I go to sleep, I will find out that this isn't real. It's just a bad dream. Yes, it must be a nightmare. I know! I will wake up soon and be thankful that it was all a dream.

On Thursday, as usual, Tom put in a full day at SoundBuilt, which was more than one-hundred miles from home. After he got off work, he put in a couple of hours on a side job, earning a few extra bucks by clearing blackberry bushes from a piece of property for a real-estate agent. After that, Tom ran home to shower and then went to work at a pizza parlor until midnight. By the time he got home, Tom was dead tired. Tanya already would have left for her night job. At least, that was the routine. That's what Tom assumed.

I open my eyes. Have I been asleep again? I hear the trees, flowing in the wind somewhere out there, but I can't see them. It is like a meadow outside, so cool and fresh. I'm down, in a bramble of bushes and I can just make out scraps of blue sky through the shrubbery. It's windy. The wind is blowing the bushes and sometimes, with a gust out there, I feel a slip of wind on my face as a wayward strand of hair wisps past my cheek. With the breeze, I can smell the cedar, fresh, clean and nice. I decide to think about the cedar, but…

Something smells bad. My goodness, it's blood! There's blood everywhere—my blood. I smell pee, too. Oh, my gosh, I think I peed my pants. How awful! I peed in my pants? I suddenly notice that my bladder is full and I feel like I have to pee more. What will I do? I can't go anywhere to pee. I can't get out to go to the bathroom. Oh, God, I have to just lie here and pee myself? How horrible! Someone help me! Help me get out of here! I just want to get up! I pull on my seat belt, claw at the clasp. I can't unfasten it. It won't come off. Oh, my gosh. What will I do?

I hear cars driving nearby. I suck all the air I can into my lungs and yell, "Help me! I'm trapped, here. Please, help me!" I don't hear anyone stop. They must not hear me. I knock on the window. Can't they hear that?

I see a bee buzzing around the blackberry shrub near my fractured windshield. It starts to wander inside my car and I wave my hand to shoo it away. I turn my head, look to the side. I see bugs flying around me, inside my car. Oh, God! What about critters? What if any critters find me? I am afraid of snakes! What if snakes come in here? Calm down, calm down. I don't hear any animals. It is quiet outside, except for that breeze. I am okay. I will be okay. If any animals come near me, I can use my hand to scare them away.

My stomach growls. I'm hungry. I wish I had something to eat. I don't know when I last had something to eat, I don't even know how long I've been stuck here, but I am so hungry! Have I been here for a few hours? Why doesn't someone come?It's getting cold. I am cold. I notice that there are shadows in the bushes, and inside my car. The sun must be behind clouds because it's not as bright as it had been. I search for the bits of blue sky but they are no longer blue. Oh, God! The sky is yellowish orange and the air is wet and heavy. God, help me! The sun is setting. Oh, God, what will I do when it gets dark?

God, you are my rock and my shield. I'm so frightened but, with you by my side, I know I am safe. I trust you, God. Please help me to trust your will completely. You know all things before they happen. Please protect me, God. Be near me and guide others to me. No amount of suffering will ever take away my love for you, God. Be near me, God. Be near me…My stomach growls, yet again. I am so hungry. Why isn't anyone helping me? I do not understand. I'm right here! I am so mad! I start to cry and, as the tears well up, I feel the urge to give in to them, to let go, to pour out my frustration and rage. But my abdomen and chest hurt. I whimper. I need to rest. I close my eyes.

I wake up and see an eerie blue light, glowing in the darkness. It's my cell phone. Where is it? My phone! Desperate, I reach out for it, but I can't reach anything beyond my own body. I try to shift myself up to my right, but I am pinned in and the left side of my body is in agony. I am broken. I know I am broken. Oh, my God, the pain! I cannot move. I settle back down, resting my head down against the seat belt as my ripped body presses against the door below me. It hurts. It hurts so much. I close my eyes and try to breathe. Just think about breathing. In and out. Slowly now. Breathe slowly, smoothly. In and out…

It is dark but I am still thirsty. Can't I just have some food, something to drink? Please, someone, help me! Tom, bring me some water! My head is hurting in a different way and I know that it is from dehydration. The pain is blinding and I can't think. I just want to get out of here, to find some food and water. I am so tired. I want to go to sleep, but it is so cold.

I wake up and it is light out, thank God. My throat is so dry, scratchy. I want to clear my throat, but I can't muster any air or saliva. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and it feels like a brick. I want a drink of water! I want food! My stomach hurts, I'm so hungry, and I feel weak. My gut cramps up in a weird way. At least, I'm too dehydrated to pee anymore. Oh, that's what stinks in here! The air is thick and stale and the smell so foul, as the stink of my own wastes and blood fills my little space. It's like an outhouse, like I'm living in my own outhouse, surrounded by my waste.

I try again, banging on the window, yelling at the cars that whir by so fast. I try to shift, reposition my body to reach the latch yet another time, another way. I claw at the seatbelt clasp and my fingertips burn from trying to get that clasp free, but I will do anything to escape this prison. I have a new pain when I move my right arm. It's bad. It aches with deep, intense pain in my armpit. I have to think again about trying to fight that damned clasp. It hurts so much.

How long have I been here? I feel like I am encased in a metal tomb but, still, it won't give up its twisted-metal grip on me. I try again to contort my broken body against the steady weight of twisted and jagged metal and the restraint of the seatbelt, but it hurts so much more when I move and my right arm is less help than before. I feel blurry. I don't know what to do. Should I give up? The world goes black again.

On Friday morning, just like every day, Tom woke up at five o'clock in their makeshift bed on the floor. They'd lived in an RV during construction and had only recently moved into the house, which was still bare bones, so Tom and Tanya didn't even have a bed. Tom got up, showered, and headed off to work. As the morning went on, he didn't hear from Tanya. He figured she didn't call because she needed to sleep. They always needed sleep.

Sleep only lasts so long. I wake up and try again and again—knocking on the window, clawing at the clasp, pulling at the seatbelt. Is it futile? I press against the pain and try and try and try until I am exhausted. I let my eyes close so I can rest my body, my aching head.

I jump. The phone is ringing! My cell phone is ringing! I look for the blue light. Where is the phone? I twist and pull my broken chest and press my body against the confinement of the seatbelt, trying to reach it., desperate to reach it Panic overtakes reason. I can't reach it! I have to reach it! God, please let me reach it! "Tom!" I scream. "Tom, I'm here!" The phone stops. I cuss and yell and tap my foot on the floorboard. Oh, my God! Tom, I'm here! I want to hear his voice of reassurance! I want to call 911! I want help!

I think about my dog, Lady, who has comforted me countless times in the past. Lady is such a good friend and she means so much to me. Where is Lady? Lady, are you with me? I love you, Lady.

I am hungry and thirsty. What's the last thing I ate or drank? I know! I got off work in the morning and stopped at Whole Foods. I felt so gross, after working all night at my dirty job. What did I buy? I usually trust whatever my body's craving and buy something to have later because I'd usually need to go to sleep when I got home. I'm sure I got a bottle of water, which is always my first priority. Since we're building our house, we don't have a fridge so, whenever I stop at Whole Foods, I'd usually get pancakes, make a salad in the deli, or sprinkle cheese on scrambled eggs…

I am so hungry, I feel weak. I don't understand why I can't have some eggs and a bottle of water. My lips are cracking and I am tired. I feel blurry.

I need help! I realize that I need to call for help. I reach through the steering wheel and pick up my phone from the dashboard. I call 911.

"911," she says. "What is your emergency?"

"I went off the road and I need help!"

"That's stupid!" says the dispatcher, laughing at me before she hangs up.

I am so mad! I can't believe it. I want to tell Tom, so I call him.

"Hey," he answers. He sounds happy and casual.

"What the hell, Tom?" I yell at him, furious.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Why are you taking so long to come and get me?"

He doesn't answer. The line goes dead. In an instant, the phone rings.

The phone! Where is my phone? I see the blue light, over there. I try, but I cannot reach it. I am pinned in my seat and I cannot reach my cell phone. I claw at the seatbelt until my fingertips are raw and burning, then I pound on the window and yell. Finally, I am tired. I let my eyes close.

"Hi, Lady!" I say. She looks startled but then she smiles at me. She has a cute smile and her teeth are white. Her tongue is hanging out and it glistens with wet saliva. I look out my window, where there's just a bramble of bushes, but I see a reflection of Lady on the window. I realize that she's sitting in the other seat, looking out the front window at the scenery, and then she turns her head in front of me and smiles again. "Aw, Lady," I say, reaching for her. "You're always right here!"

I am cold. The night is cold and I shiver. It is harder to rest at night because the animal sounds scare me. My adrenaline flows and, besides, it is cold. I am wide-eyed, staring into darkness. I hear the brush rustle, as a critter moves through the darkness. Maybe it's a squirrel. Or a rat. What if it's a raccoon? They are mean, so I hope it is not a raccoon. A car passes on the road and the red of their tail lights flashes in the night above me as the animal scurries away. I reach for the clasp and try again.

Forest animals make a lot of noise at dawn. A large bird lands on the hood of my bright blue SUV. Sideways, I see his head, his beak. His head is white with a little black streak. I don't see the rest of him but I know that he is a bald eagle. He looks at me with yellow-green eyes and is very interested in me. I've never been so close to a bald eagle. He stays with me. His skinny legs try to keep their grip on the hood of my car. Now, he seems more interested in getting off the hood, and he is not looking at me. He's looking down, in front of the car. He is focusing on what's below and thinking about going. Why does he get to hop off the hood? I'm glad that he doesn't. He stays with me. I look into his eyes and thank him in my thoughts. SoundBuilt was Tom's Monday-through-Friday job so, on Saturday, he had the luxury of sleeping until eight o'clock. He planned to spend the day tackling those blackberry bushes. The agent who was handling the property needed the wetlands cleared fast and Tom was squeezing in the project between his regular job and his pizza job. At nine that morning, Tom was working on the blackberries when his phone rang. It was Tanya's boss at Fred Meyer.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

"'Course," Tom said. "Why?"

"Well, Tom, Tanya hasn't been at work for the last two shifts and—"

"What?" Tom said, shocked. "What are you talking about? That's not like Tanya!"

"I know Tom," she said. "She hasn't been at work and she hasn't called and it's not like her, so I just wanted to make sure everything's alright."

"What?" Tom repeated, his mind reeling as he jumped gears from the physical work to contemplating what he was hearing. "When is the last time you saw her?"

"She left Thursday morning, around nine," the woman said, concern growing in her voice. "And, Tom, she's not answering her phone."

Tom's mind went into overdrive. When's the last time I called her? When's the last time I talked to her?

"I'll try to get hold of her as soon as I hang up, and I'll have her call you," Tom promised. "Is there a number you can give me?" Standing out in the bushes, Tom wrote the number on his hand and then ran to his truck.

He called Tanya's cell phone. No answer. He called again and, again, she didn't answer. After a few tries, he left a message. He climbed in his truck and started to drive, without really thinking about where he was going. Tom thought to call Tanya's boss at her second job, at the Nordstrom Rack. He found out that Tanya hadn't been scheduled to work the day before, Friday, but that, at the moment, she was late for her shift—and she hadn't called. Tanya's boss, like everyone, knew that Tanya would never miss work and not call in. That's just not her.

Worry flooded his senses. No way would Tanya miss work. If she had, he would have seen her at home! Where could she be?

Finally, Tom realized that Tanya was missing—and that she had already been missing for thirty-six hours. Thirty-six hours! Starting to search for her, Tom knew that this gap in time would be a great disadvantage. Far too much time had passed. Their crazy life had gotten in the way. While they were both working two jobs, she had disappeared from the radar and he had kept on working, assuming that everything was going according to plan.