Unlike the terror in those gray depths in his last moments, when he’d begged for his life…or the dull acceptance an instant before she’d slit his throat.
Katarina flinched, but the image refused to fade. No less than she deserved.
Flawed or not, the man had stood by her side and helped her hunt down Kingsley to reclaim her daughter. Katarina had done lots of unforgivable things in her life, but this one topped the list.
She opened her eyes and glared. “Either tell me what you’re doing here or get the hell out. I’m tired of this visit already.”
The detective didn’t respond right away, so Katarina filled the downtime by subjecting her nemesis to a thorough once-over. That crisp tailored charcoal suit she wore easily cost more than most of Katarina’s closet combined, and Ellie hadn’t even earned that fancy wardrobe through hard work.
Her fair skin was smooth and perfect, no doubt thanks to a drawer full of expensive beauty products, and those baby pink nails appeared fresh from a manicure because only the best would do for the daughter of the wealthy Kline family. All due to a stroke of luck at birth. Some twist of fate that plopped her into the hands of loving, loaded parents.
Meanwhile, Katarina had been passed around from home to home like the hand-me-down clothes she had to wear. Each time, the new set of parents wanted to recreate Katarina into their image of a perfect daughter. No one ever asked Katarina what style of clothes she’d prefer to wear or which hobbies she might enjoy, but any failure to display an appropriate amount of enthusiasm for whatever they chose for her led to trouble.
Good thing she was a quick study. It only took one slap across the face and one accusation of ungrateful brat for Katarina to learn that her needs and wants didn’t matter. Not even when foster parents claimed they did. The safe option was to slip on the new clothes and personality like a mask and play a never-ending game of pretend.
Bitterness welled like blood to a scratch as Katarina glared at the elegant, expensively dressed trespasser who’d barged into her hospital room like she owned the place. Who knew? Maybe she did. Nothing would surprise Katarina less than to discover one or more Klines owned a stake in the building that trapped her. At the very least, their twenty-four carat asses probably all sat in seats on the board.
Lucky bitch. As she eyed Ellie Kline in her beautiful suit, perched on the ugly brown chair like a princess lowering herself to visit a peasant, Katarina bet that the detective had never spent a single day of her life pretending. Must be nice growing up with doting parents who accepted you the way you were.
“Why haven’t I been given any updates on Bethany? What are you guys even doing to find her, beyond annoying the hell out of patients trapped in the loony bin?”
Ellie’s nose wrinkled at that last bit, which only irritated Katarina more. Screw her highness’s disapproval. Katarina was the one stuck here. As far as she was concerned, that gave her the right to call this hellhole whatever she liked.
Or maybe the detective wasn’t reacting to her wording at all, but the smell. Katarina couldn’t remember the last time she’d showered. She lifted one arm and sniffed. Oof. Definitely ripe. But what the hell could anyone expect, tied to a bed all day and night?
Eyes narrowed, she bent her elbows and flapped her arms like a chicken, hoping to push the reek of BO in Ellie’s direction. Take that, Princess.
The detective’s nose twitched, but she was too polite to comment. “The Charleston Police Department is working in coordination with the FBI to pool resources and find your daughter as soon as possible. We have officers and agents working around the clock and chasing down every credible lead.”
Katarina sneered. “Blah blah blah, give me a break. You sound like a trained seal. If I’d wanted to hear that kind of politically correct department speak, I’d flip on the ten o’clock news.”
Not that she could flip on the news in this stupid place even if she wanted to, because apparently those sort of real-world events were deemed too upsetting for the patients’ fragile mental states. Katarina would be lucky if they let her watch the cartoons.
Ellie’s lips tightened as she tugged on a loose strand of hair. “I’m sorry if I came across that way, but we really do have agents—”
“Cut the bullshit already. I just want the truth. Why haven’t they found Bethany yet? Or are only kids from fancy families with McMansions and seven-figure stock portfolios considered worth the effort to find?”
The detective’s spine stiffened, and her hands balled in her lap. “That’s not true. Money doesn’t matter at all in kidnapping cases.”
Katarina narrowed her eyes. “Spoken like someone who comes from money because they’re the only ones clueless enough to say shit like that.”
Red splotched the other woman’s cheeks. The gray jacket Katarina admired lifted and lowered several times before she replied. “I agree that money often makes a difference when it shouldn’t, but I don’t believe that kidnapping cases are one of those times. Just about every officer or agent who puts on a uniform dreams of being a hero, and nothing is more heroic than rescuing a pretty little girl from the clutches of a sick and twisted sociopath. So, to answer your question…everything. Everything is being done to find her.”
Katarina grunted her disbelief, earning her a frustrated glare.
Ellie exhaled another long breath. “That’s the main reason I’m here, to help chase down any possible lead. No one knows Kingsley better than you, so I’m hoping that by talking, we can shake some little detail or memory free that will help lead me to Kingsley, and Bethany by default.”
The laugh that burst from Katarina’s lips rang harsh in the sterile little cell of a
