He’d timed it perfectly, same as always. The ancient security guard hired by the Homeowners’ Association was predictable-Henry always left at midnight to take a dump. Every shift, without fail, the old rent-a-cop drove to the twenty-four-hour doughnut shop two streets away, did his business, and returned to the guard booth with a large coffee and French cruller. Not that Ethan couldn’t have handled Henry if for some reason the geezer’s bathroom habits suddenly changed. But why take the risk?
He looked up at the security camera mounted above the booth. It was broken and had been for a year. He was sure of this because he was the one who’d broken it.
He was nothing if not careful.
In under a minute he was in his driveway, pressing the button on the remote garage-door opener he’d stuck on the visor of the Chevy Suburban. His street was dimly lit, with no movement anywhere. In the bedroom community of Briar Woods in Lake Stevens, everybody was tucked in for the night.
He parked right in the middle of the large garage so there’d be ample space on either side of him. His vintage Triumph was gassed and ready to go. Once he got Sheila settled in, he’d be taking the bike and going back out to Renton to get her car out of Tony’s Tavern’s parking lot.
As for her Volvo, that was easy. He was going to park it back at Sheila’s place.
He pressed the button to close the garage door, got out of the car, and walked around to the passenger side. He opened the door and unfastened Sheila’s seat belt.
Hoisting her over his shoulders, he carried her inside the house through the connecting door. There was no alarm to disengage. He’d never had a system installed because he didn’t want the headache of a security company snooping around, should the alarm go off by accident. Besides, security systems were designed to keep the bad guys out… and he was the bad guy. The thought made him grin.
Inside the house, he took an immediate right, heading through the basement door, which he’d propped open before he’d left that evening. The door behind him closed and locked automatically, and it had a keypad. Nobody could enter or exit the lower level of the house without the code.
It hadn’t been easy to find a house with a basement in the greater Seattle area. The basement mirrored the upper level-huge and sprawling. He felt no claustrophobia here. As he navigated down the stairs, the lights turned on automatically.
It would only take a few minutes to get Sheila prepared. He hummed, almost giddy with anticipation.
He placed her gently on the bed and her head rolled to the side. Her mouth was slightly open and a line of saliva trailed down her chin and under her jaw.
She looked dead.
Lovingly, Ethan traced the saliva with his finger and tasted it, remembering.
CHAPTER 15
T he room smelled pleasant, like the grass after a good rain, reminding Sheila of summers spent on Fox Island as a girl, running around barefoot in the backyard of the house she’d lived in until her mother died.
That was so long ago, decades really. But, at this moment, it felt as if she were there. The cool breeze kissed her damp skin like a lover. Inhaling deeply, the fresh, clean air expanded her lungs, and it felt good.
She sensed movement behind her closed eyes and tried to open them, but the eyelashes on her right lid stuck together and it stung as they ripped apart.
This was not Fox Island.
Her vision was blurry and her head was thick with the brain fog that only happened after nights of serious drinking or one of her blackouts. Is this what happened? Had she fucked up again? Her mouth was cotton dry, and when she tried to swallow, she gagged.
The shadow in front of her danced around. She tried to follow its movements, but it wasn’t easy. She heard voices in the background, low voices, chuckling voices, familiar voices. Her breath came faster as she fought back panic. She must have passed out in a public place. What if she was at the university somewhere? What if one of her students saw her?
She struggled to stand up, but couldn’t. Her arms were lead and her legs wouldn’t respond.
“Just relax,” a man said in a kind voice. “Nobody’s here but you and me. It’s just the TV. I put it to CNN because you’re an avid CNN watcher, aren’t you?”
She tried to speak but her parched throat refused to comply.
“Now listen carefully and try to relax. I know it’s difficult because you don’t know yet where you are, but you have to try. I’m going to put a straw to your lips. I’m going to give you some water. Okay? Here it comes.”
Something must have happened. She must be at a hospital somewhere, and any minute, the kindly voice was going to explain to her what the hell was going on. Wherever she was, Morris was on his way. He had to be.
Sheila felt the plastic touch her lips. She puckered in reflex, sucking in the cool water. She took five long sips before he took it away.
“There. Better?”
She tried to nod but her head felt heavy.
“Now, I want you to listen to me. I want you to focus. Can you see me?”
She looked straight at him. Gradually, the abstract colors started taking shape and her vision began to fill out, transforming him from a two-dimensional picture into real life.
“Do you remember me from last night?” he asked, smiling.
She kept staring at him, struggling to focus as his features continued to sharpen. Tawny skin, dark hair, dark eyes appraising her behind thick-framed glasses, tall and confident. It came back to her quickly. Tony’s Tavern. Swiss-mushroom burger and a Diet Coke with lime. Yes, she remembered.
“James,” she said, her voice hoarse. “You’re James. Where am I?”
“At my house.” His voice was reassuring. “In a room in the basement, my most favorite room actually, a room only very few people get to see. You’re very lucky.”
“I don’t understand. Why can’t I move?” Her voice felt a little stronger now. She tried to look around the room but her head felt like rubber, lolling on her chest like a rag doll’s. It was bright in here. From somewhere in the room, a fan blew cool air into her face.
“Because I tied you down,” he said. “Look.”
She followed his direction and was shocked to see he was telling the truth. She was propped upright in a queen-size bed, pillows at her back. Her wrists and ankles were encased in thick steel bracelets attached to chains that were handcuffed to the wrought-iron headboard and footboard. A thick wool blanket covered her from the waist down. She couldn’t see or feel her feet.
“I don’t understand,” she said, again fighting the panic that started to churn in her belly. “I-”
“Are you going to throw up? Tell me now so I can get you a bin.”
She nodded. In a flash something metallic and shiny was in front of her and she vomited into it.
“Feel better?” He wiped her face with a moist paper napkin. Scented, like roses and vanilla, nauseating. A baby wipe. The straw touched her lips again. “Here, have more water.”
Her mouth tasted awful but she sucked anyway.
“Now, Sheila, I know you feel terrible right now, but that feeling will pass soon enough. It will change into something else, something worse I think, but I promise you that in a little while you’ll be able to think very, very clearly. Because in a minute your body is going to produce a surge of adrenaline and it’s going to help wake you up. Are you listening?”
She nodded. The voices coming from the TV were distracting. Democrats arguing with Republicans. It was difficult to concentrate. As if reading her mind, he muted the sound and stepped closer to her.
“Here’s the situation. We had dinner last night. I slipped something into your soda when you went to use the restroom. I’m sure you can guess what it was, because you always discuss date rape in week four of your social psych course. No need to panic, I didn’t rape you. With me so far?”
She nodded again.
“But I did bring you here to kill you. And I think it’s important you know this, that you understand this very clearly, because when you understand it, it makes my job a lot easier. And then other people don’t have to get hurt.
