the time to get into my car and start it up. I was running flat out now and I didn’t want anything slowing me down.
I crossed Route 1 on an angle, only having to slow to let a taxi get by. There wasn’t much traffic at this hour. The small plaza with XXX Delights, Shaw Flowers, and a couple of other businesses was about a hundred yards ahead. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and even as I ran I tried to remember the last time I’d run like this. I prayed I didn’t have a heart attack before I reached Ian’s apartment.
It’s Syd, I told myself. It’s her. He’s got her. He’s had her all along.
But what the hell was he doing with her in the van? Moving her from one location to another? Actually, maybe that made some sense. He could hardly keep someone hidden in an apartment right behind the shop. Mrs. Shaw would hear something, notice something, wouldn’t she?
I’d reached the van and ran right past it.
It was dark around the back of the shop, but there was a single door with a light over it and a small curtained window to the side. There were lights on in the apartment.
I didn’t bother to knock.
I tried the door, but it was locked. I put my shoulder into it, tried to force it open, but it held.
From inside, a man, his voice filled with panic, shouted, “Who is it?”
“Open up!” I shouted. “Open the door!”
Again, he shouted, “Who is it!”
“Open the goddamn door!”
“I’m not opening the door till you tell me who it is!”
I reared back, lifted my leg, and hit the door with the heel of my shoe with all I had. The door gave way a couple of inches, held now only by a chain.
In the crack, I could see Ian standing in what appeared to be a small kitchen, dressed only in red boxers, his skin pale and freckly.
He was screaming.
I gave the door another kick and the chain ripped off. I came through the door and shouted at Ian, “Where is she?”
“Get out of here!” he shouted. “Get the fuck out of here!”
The kitchen area was part of a larger room that included a couch and a TV with a DVD player and a game console. It wasn’t much of a place, but for a young guy living alone, it was amazingly neat and tidy. No dirty dishes in the sink, no empty beer cans or pizza containers. A small collection of video game magazines was stacked perfectly on the coffee table.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“What?”
“Where is she?” I was shouting at the top of my lungs.
“Get out!” Ian shouted.
There were two doors on the far side of the room. I shoved Ian out of the way and went to the first one, flung it open, expecting a bedroom or closet or bathroom. But it was an entrance into the back of the florist shop.
I turned to the other door, and as I was putting my hand on the knob Ian pounced on me from behind like a cat. He wrapped his hands around my head, digging his fingers into my eyes and cheeks.
He was slight, which gave him the edge when it came to speed and nimbleness. I tried to get my fingers under his and pry him off, but he was hanging on. So I propelled myself backwards and into the wall, crushing the wind out of Ian. He let go and fell to the floor. He was up again in an instant, but this time I was ready for him. I put my fist into his face, catching him below his left eye.
That knocked him back a second time, giving me enough time to throw open the door and enter what turned out to be the bedroom.
It wasn’t much larger than a walk-in closet. A small dresser along one wall, a narrow door that must have been a closet, and a second door at the other end that was open and showed a sink and toilet.
There was just enough room for a single bed.
There was a person under the covers, and judging by the shape it definitely looked to be a young woman. Not moving. Drugged, I thought.
Or worse.
The covers were pulled high enough to hide everything but a few locks of blonde hair. Despite all the ruckus, she still hadn’t moved.
Oh dear God…
“Syd,” I said. “Syd?”
I sat on the edge of the bed and was about to pull down the covers when I sensed Ian coming through the door. I turned and pointed and fixed my eyes on him with such fury that he stopped.
“You make one move and I swear I’ll fucking kill you,” I said, barely able to get the words out I was panting so hard. Sweat was dripping off my brow, my shirt was plastered to me.
I pulled the covers back down to the girl’s shoulders. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Her skin looked rubbery, had an odd sheen to it.
“What the fuck?”
This girl was not Syd.
This girl was not a girl.
She was a doll.
EIGHTEEN
I TURNED AROUND AND LOOKED AT IAN, who stood in the doorway staring at me, his face flushed from our grappling and, I suspected, embarrassment.
“Just get out of here,” he said quietly. There was a bruise coming up on his cheek.
“I thought… I thought she… I thought it was my daughter.”
Ian just stared at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “When I saw you…”
“You were spying on me?”
“I saw you carry something in from your van.”
I put my hand around the doll’s arm, raised it up to get a sense of its weight. No wonder it was so easy for Ian to carry it in here. It couldn’t have weighed much more than ten or twenty pounds. The inside of the arm felt like pillow stuffing.
I got off the bed and moved past Ian into the main room.
“You bought that next door?” I said.
Ian nodded. His nearly naked body seemed to have caved in on itself. Instead of seeming menacing, he now bordered on pitiful. “Please don’t tell my aunt,” he said.
I lowered my head, shook it regretfully. “Yeah, sure. I’m sorry.” Then I remembered the command I’d shouted out to Carter as I’d run out of the Just Inn Time. We could probably expect to see the police here any moment.
I said to Ian, “You keep… it… here?”
Ian shook his head. “My aunt’s in here all the time, cleaning up, making me things to eat. I got a storage unit in Bridgeport where my family’s stuff is. I keep her there and bring her over sometimes, then take her back before my aunt gets here in the morning. Sometimes, we just go for a drive, maybe park down by the harbor for a while and listen to the radio and stuff.”
I didn’t want to think about the stuff.
I ran my hand through my hair. Now I understood why Ian had been so odd when I’d spoken
