When Jillian didn’t call out to her, Ellie realized her friend was unconscious. Head to the side, her eyes closed and mouth slack, Jillian’s chest rose and fell with every breath. She was tied to a chair, like Ellie had been so long ago. But it was the rope around her neck that had Ellie’s heart leaping in her chest.
“You tripped the switch when you walked in.” It was the voice that had haunted her nightmares. The place from those same fevered dreams.
Ellie stiffened until she thought her spine might crack and turned slowly to face the man behind her.
He was beyond the reach of the soft glow from the weak bulb in the ceiling. Only visible from his waist down, his thick but average frame was unremarkable. Black slacks covered his legs, but it was his work boots that caught her attention. Steel-toed and well-worn, they bore a stark contrast to the tailored trousers that were clearly expensive and cut just for him. She blanched when she realized the boot leather was dark with years’ worth of blood.
Did her own blood mingle with the rest?
“What switch?” Her voice echoed, eerie and hollow.
He only pointed to Jillian. Daring to take her eyes off the man for a moment, Ellie glanced over her shoulder just as an audible click filled the silence. The slack in the rope tightened a few inches, the loop that had been there when Ellie walked in straightening slightly.
“Jillian.” She didn’t even flinch when Ellie spoke her name. Jaw tightening, Ellie turned back to the master.
His arm raised slightly, and the barrel of a gun peeked out from the shadows. “She’s still fighting the sedation. If she can hear you, she can’t move yet.” He gestured with the revolver. “Take your weapon from your holster and set it on the floor.” She did as he asked, squatting to lay it down. As she moved to stand, he laughed. “Backup weapon too.”
Pursing her lips tight, she glared at him as she bent lower and laid the smaller ankle gun on the concrete.
His response was another laugh that was far too calm. “The bulletproof vest is a nice touch, though it won’t help you if I shoot you in the thigh. Or the head.”
Ellie stiffened as he lowered the muzzle, fingers going to the trigger.
He scoffed. “No need for that. Wear the vest or don’t, it won’t protect you for what I have in store.” Chuckling, he sniffed, raising his arm until the gun was pointing at her chest again. “Actually, testing it out could be fun. I’ve heard the impact packs quite a wallop even with the vest on. Perhaps we can try that theory out and see how bulletproof it really is.”
Click.
Dragging her attention from the kidnapper, Ellie gasped when she saw the rope nearly taut.
Her gaze followed the cord up to the rafters, where a large weight dangled above the ground.
Spinning, she fought the urge to rush him right then, but the mechanism that held the heavy weight in the air was a complicated system of levers and pulleys, and the master was the only one who knew how it worked.
Click.
“No!” She scrambled to regain control, wondering if she could retrieve the gun from under the Kevlar vest fast enough to shoot him dead before he did the same to her. “Please, stop it. I’m here, like I said I would be, and I’m alone.”
“Every thirty seconds, the weight lowers.”
Ellie’s gaze was drawn to the pulleys, and her heart sank. She had no defense against this kind of trap, much like the night she was fifteen and on her own in the dark.
Click.
Jillian’s head snapped upright, held by the rope, which was now snug.
“I’ll do whatever you want, just please, make it stop.”
He gestured at the stainless-steel surgeon’s tray set up on the table, the single bulb glinting off the metal instruments. “Choose your tool, and I’ll stop the timer.”
“Come on, Red. Are you heartless? Put her out of her misery.”
Her stomach dropped out of her body, and a gaping hole replaced it. This was the room he’d held her in thirteen years before. From the cracked concrete block walls to the rusted aluminum siding that started about ten feet up and angled sharply to form the roof, the space was almost exactly as it had been when she was fifteen. Even the assortment of tools laid out before her was almost identical.
Fighting the onslaught of jumbled memories melding with the present, she tried to stem the panic that bubbled within her. Thirteen years ago, she’d failed, and an innocent stranger had died. This time, if she failed, she’d be sentencing her best friend to death.
“If you stall much longer, dear Jillian will be too far gone to enjoy our little game.” He gestured at the table in front of her. “It’s time to make your choice.”
Arranged neatly on the rectangular tray were a dozen or more instruments of torture. A scalpel, a corkscrew, shears big enough to cut fingers off as easily as the tender branches of young spring saplings, a stun gun, and—
She twisted away from the sight, bile rising in her throat, her rapid heartbeat nearly drowning out the sound of another click. “I can’t.”
“Then she’ll die.” He chuckled. “The chair is bolted to the floor. It won’t be an easy death.” Her gaze went to the guns on the floor, but he stopped her with a gentle clicking of his tongue, as if she were a toddler trying to sneak a cookie from the jar. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. There’s a code to stop it.” He held up a remote type device as if it was proof. “She’ll be snapped in half by the time you figure it out.”
You can’t outsmart the master, puppet. Choose how she
