Vicious

somebody call the day before yesterday to make sure the Internet connection still worked on The Seaworthy.”

“Was it Allen—Mr. Meeker—calling?” Susan asked.

“I don’t know who it was,” Chris replied, shaking his head. “I didn’t recognize his voice. He hung up as soon as I told him it was working fine.”

“But if it wasn’t Allen, who…” Susan didn’t finish. He’d already said he didn’t know who had called with that inquiry. Susan numbly stared at him as he started fiddling with his cell phone again. Then she glanced over his shoulder at the old, faded photo of The Seaworthy on the wall.

“Well, thank you,” she murmured—though he clearly wasn’t listening. She took Mattie by the hand and started back toward her car.

Moira woke up shivering from the cold.

Panic-stricken, she rubbed her bare arms and shoulders and realized someone had stripped her down to the waist. She still had her jeans on, but no shoes or socks.

Moira didn’t have any idea where she was or how she’d gotten there. The room was so dark she could barely see her hand in front of her face. It smelled damp and moldy. She was curled up on a bare mattress or a futon—she wasn’t sure which, but it felt low to the ground. She blindly patted around for her missing bra, T-shirt, and sweater.

When she finally sat up, it felt like something hit her between the eyes. Her head throbbed so badly she was nauseous. She would have thrown up if she’d had something in her stomach. Moira kept feeling around for her clothes until—at last—she found her sweater and T-shirt. But she still couldn’t locate her brassiere.

Then she remembered the man who had helped her out of the pit. “It feels like you’re wearing a bra,” he’d said. “Are you wearing a bra?”

Shuddering, Moira clutched the sweater in front of her breasts and kept searching in the dark for her bra— though she knew it was useless. Her handsome rescuer, the man calling himself Jake, had taken it. And he’d brought her to this black, cold place.

Moira heard a whistling noise and something flapping—like a boat’s sail in the wind. She wondered if she was anywhere near a harbor.

Feeling around for the edge of the bed, she realized that she was right about the mattress. It was on an icy- cold cement floor. Something crawled over her hand. She recoiled and let out an abbreviated shriek. Moira wasn’t sure if it was an incredibly large bug or a small rodent, but she scrambled to the opposite side of the mattress. She tried to get to her feet, but a bone-grinding pain shot up from her left ankle, and she fell back on the mattress again.

Catching her breath, she heard another sound: footsteps. Then there was a clank. The sound was in the room with her. When she turned in that direction, she saw a door opening—and a dim light pouring through it. For a fleeting moment, she could see the small, grimy, windowless room that was her prison. Beside the doorway was an empty metal bookcase—the only other piece of furniture besides the mattress.

The door opened wider. A shadowy figure appeared at the threshold.

Recoiling on the mattress, Moira clutched the sweater in front of her breasts. “Where am I? What—”

She didn’t finish. A bright flash blinded her.

By the time Moira realized someone had taken her picture, she heard the door clank shut and then footsteps retreating. She quickly put on her T-shirt and sweater, but they weren’t much protection against the unrelenting cold. She was still shivering.

She almost called out for the man to come back, but thought better of it. Moira started to cry. She tried to figure out where the door was. Even though she’d heard the lock clank, she still needed to know. It was the only possible way out. But all Moira could see now were ghost spots from the flash—and darkness.

And all she could feel was dread for the next time that door opened.

“I spy with my little eye something that begins with a D,” Susan said.

“Dog!” Mattie exclaimed, wiggling in his child seat in the back.

“No, there aren’t any dogs around here,” Susan said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “It’s the same first letter as dog, the same, deh…deh…” She nodded toward a deer-crossing sign at the side of the road ahead. They were headed down Carroll Creek Road toward the house.

“It’s a deer, sweetie,” she finally said. “See the picture of the deer on that sign?”

“Mommy, are we gonna go home soon?” Mattie whined.

“Soon,” Susan said. And she refused to get her hopes up that Allen was there, waiting for them.

She’d called the police while still in downtown Cullen and left a message with the woman who had answered the phone at the police station. She must have been Cullen’s version of the 911 operator.

Fischer had said he’d check in with her in two hours. “My fiance is still missing,” Susan had explained to the woman on the line. “And it’s been more than two hours, so I’m just following up with the sheriff. My little boy and I may relocate to one of the inns in town and wait it out there. I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll make sure to pass along your message, Ms. Blanchette.”

Susan figured it would take about twenty minutes to pack up everything and load it in the car. She also wanted to check the Internet connection on The Seaworthy.

She passed Rosie’s Roadside Sundries and then continued along Carroll Creek Road. Just beyond the spot where she’d had the flat yesterday, Susan noticed a paved one-lane artery, Trotter Woods Trail. Susan quickly stepped on the brake. Through the trees, she’d glimpsed a black car parked down that road.

She backed up and then turned onto Trotter Woods Trail, which was so overshadowed by trees it was like driving at night. Susan switched on her headlights. The black car came into view. It was a Volvo, damn it. The car rocked slightly, and Susan noticed the startled shirtless young woman and man in the backseat. Mattie waved at them.

Susan sped up a bit and kept driving up the snakelike, narrow trail, figuring there was another way out—or maybe, just maybe, another black car along the roadside, a BMW next time. She slowed down as the paved road eventually became gravel—and a bit bumpy. Susan glanced in the rearview mirror. Smiling, Mattie seemed to enjoy the rough, jostling ride. Susan knew they were getting closer to the bay because she could smell salt water through her half-open window. She came to a turnaround area. Before the gravel road continued, there was a small, weathered wooden sign: PRIVATE PROPERTY.

Through a break in the trees, Susan spotted the top of a frame-style house. It sat on a hill, and the second floor had large picture windows and a deck encircling it. She realized this was their neighboring residence on the bay. She’d noticed the house from their dock—about a quarter of a mile down the shoreline.

It was a long shot anyone was home or had run into Allen earlier this afternoon. But Susan figured she was practically on their doorstep, so why not give it a try?

She continued along the bumpy, gravel drive. The forest thinned out, and she could see the bay—and the rest of the house. The gravel road merged with a paved driveway that looped around toward the back of the place. She followed it as far as the front door.

“I’ll be right back, sweetie,” she told Mattie, grabbing her purse. “Be a good boy and make sure Woody behaves himself. We’ll go back to the house after this, I promise. You can watch a little more of Shrek.”

“’Kay,” he murmured.

Susan left the car windows open a crack and locked the doors. She walked up to the front door and knocked. There was no answer. Susan rapped on the door again, but to no avail. She glanced back at Mattie and then followed a walkway toward the other side of the house. There was a carport—and a red MINI Cooper parked in it.

“My God, it’s him….” she murmured.

She took another look at her car in the driveway to make sure Mattie was okay. She could just barely see his silhouette in the backseat.

Unless the guy was out for a sail or a hike in the woods, he had to be around. His car was there. She could hear a flapping noise coming from the backyard. It sounded like a boat sail.

She waved at Mattie and then stepped toward the back of the house. She didn’t like leaving him alone in the car—even for a minute or two. But Mattie was better off sitting out this expedition. Without him tagging along, she