'No,' she said.
'I didn't think so. Don't lie to me again.' She was being pretty brave, a lot braver than most of his victims, but her body still shook with tiny sobs. Charlie usually enjoyed that sight. Not tonight. 'I don't want to kill you,' he said. 'I thought I did, but I don't anymore.'
'Then don't.'
'It's not that easy. You know what I look like. You know where I live. How can I let you go?'
'I promise I won't tell anybody.'
'But you'd be stupid if you didn't. Why would you let a serial killer roam free and not tell anybody where he lived? I don't want to hurt you, I swear I don't, but you'd tell the police. You'd
'You'd come after me if I did.'
'Not if you had police protection.'
'I wouldn't have police protection forever.'
'I'm not that kind of killer. I hunt easy targets, people who won't be missed.'
'Everybody is missed.'
'No they aren't.'
'Yes, they are.'
Charlie could talk to strapped-down women in his basement with an ease that eluded his interactions with other humans, but he found himself momentarily flustered. 'Either way, a promise not to tell isn't enough. I can't believe you.'
'Then what can we do?'
'I don't know! That's the whole problem! If we can find an answer, I'll do it, but I can't think of one! I probably shouldn't have kept you alive even this long. The police could be on their way right now.'
'They're not.'
'I'll make it quick,' Charlie promised. 'I never do, but this time I will. It'll be over in seconds. You'll hardly even feel it.'
'My name is Patti.'
'I don't care.'
'I just want you to know that. My name is Patti.'
'I said I don't care.' Charlie ran a hand through his hair, thoroughly frustrated. She was ruining his celebration with Kutter.
'I can come up with a plan,' Patti said. 'Just give me time. Give me an hour.'
Charlie considered that. It was a bad idea, a terrible idea, but it seemed fair to give her a chance. She might come up with something brilliant. If he could resolve this situation without murdering her and risking having the police hunt him for the rest of his free life, it would be worth taking the chance on keeping her alive awhile longer.
'Okay,' he said. 'I won't kill you yet.'
'Thank you.'
'Put your thinking cap on. I'll go get you some food. Do you like cereal?'
* * *
Charlie closed the basement door behind him as he stepped into the kitchen. He didn't have any steak in the house, and though there was a twenty-four-hour grocery store not too far from his home, he wasn't sure it was a good idea to leave the house right now. He and Kutter would just have to celebrate with bacon strips.
He walked into the living room. 'Kutter! What the hell--?'
Kutter stopped chewing on the couch cushion. He'd exposed a piece of the stuffing, and another bit of white fluff was on the floor.
'Why are you chewing up my couch?' He hurried across the room. Kutter ran to the other side, thinking it was playtime.
'You idiot, I was going to buy you a steak tomorrow! Steak! I bet you've never even had a steak. A big, thick juicy steak on the way and you're trying to eat my couch? Why would you do that? Huh? Why?'
Charlie stood there, waiting for an answer. Then he remembered that he was unlikely to receive one.
He couldn't believe this. He hadn't even been the dog's official owner for half an hour and Kutter was chewing up the furniture.
He sat down on the damaged couch. Kutter jumped up next to him.
'Go away. I'm mad at you.'
Kutter prodded Charlie's hand with his cold wet nose, seeking petting.
'No. You don't deserve to get petted. You're a bad dog. Good dogs don't chew up couches. Only evil ones do that.'
Kutter continued to prod him. Charlie reluctantly petted his head.
'What's wrong? Were you just stressed out because your old owner tried to take you away?'
That might've been it. Byron's unexpected presence might've confused the poor animal. And Kutter might've been scared by having Charlie go down into the basement so soon after Byron left. Maybe he thought that Charlie had left him forever.
'I'm sorry,' said Charlie. 'You're not a bad dog. We'll make up.' He took Kutter's paw in his hand and shook it. 'Deal?'
Kutter licked his face.
* * *
Charlie watched the 11:00 PM news to see if there was anything about Patti. Nothing. That wasn't surprising--she'd hadn't been missing for very long, and if she lived on campus and had a boyfriend, it might not be unusual for her to come home late.
He had time.
'What a waste,' he told Kutter. A beautiful girl in his basement, and he simply didn't feel like torturing or killing her. How had his life turned out this way?
He decided not to go downstairs to check on her. She'd be fine until tomorrow. Then Charlie would call in sick to work, and spend the morning either following Patti's plan, or disposing of her body.
* * *
The alarm went off as usual at 6:30 AM. Charlie got up, threw on a robe, took Kutter for a quick walk, came home, brushed his teeth, and then practiced his 'sick voice' a few times. He thought it sounded pretty good. He considered leaving his voice mail without using a script, then lost his nerve and wrote down what he wanted to say. He kept it simple--giving more information than was necessary made it sound like a lie.
He dialed Bob Testiro's number. It rang twice.
'Hello?'
Charlie froze. Bob was
'Hey, Charlie, what's up?'
He considered coughing into the phone, then decided it would sound forced. 'Nothing much. I'm just calling in sick.'
'What's wrong?'
'Sore throat. Some aches and pains.'
'Charlie, we're already two people down this week. I worked all day Saturday and half a day yesterday to get ready for the global operations center's visit. You really can't fight through a sore throat and some aches and pains?'
'I...guess I can.'
'Thanks. It's just really not a good time for you to be out. If you're still not feeling well on Tuesday, it won't be an issue. See you in a bit.'
Charlie hung up. That hadn't quite gone as planned. He couldn't afford to get fired, so it looked like he'd be going in to work today.
