He smiled. “Aren’t we in a winning mood?”
“Fuck you.” She sounded like a petulant teenager, but she didn’t care.
He chuckled and reached toward the bedside table. “Here,” he said, putting the remote control directly into her cuffed hand. “Now you can watch whatever you want. CNN is channel forty-four. Didn’t you once tell me you had a crush on Anderson Cooper? Hey, do you think I’ll look like him when I’m his age?”
Sheila opened her fingers and the remote control slipped to the floor, landing soundlessly on the industrial carpet. She spoke slowly, enunciating every word. “News. Flash. You. Are. A. Fucking. Psychopath.”
Ethan’s face went still. “Watch yourself,” he said, staring at her.
A chill went up her spine. He maintained eye contact for a few seconds as she held her breath.
“Okay, time to make some calls,” Ethan said, oddly cheerful. He pulled her BlackBerry out of his pants pocket.
Sheila let out a breath at the sudden change of direction. “It won’t work,” she said, staring at her small black phone with sudden longing. “The battery was already low on Thursday night at the meeting.”
Ethan smiled, pressing the button on the phone to turn it on. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. It’s got enough juice, and we’ll only keep it on for a minute or two. Don’t want anybody trying to triangulate your signal.”
“So you do realize people are looking for me?” The desperation in her voice overpowered the confidence she was trying to fake. “Which means you know this is stupid. Have you thought about this at all? It’s Sunday, and I’ve been here for three days. Everybody knows I’m missing by now.”
“Aren’t we arrogant,” he said without looking up. His thumb moved across the trackpad as he scrolled through her data. “I’m sorry to inform you, my dear, but nobody is looking for you. You weren’t scheduled to work Friday, and Morris has been away in Japan. You’re not much of a social butterfly, so I doubt you missed any parties. And you have no living family. Ergo, if someone has indeed called you, it hasn’t been long enough for them to think anything’s wrong.” He chuckled again. “Sorry to burst your bubble.”
“You son of a bitch.”
He looked up, his gray eyes cold. “I’m not going to tell you again. Easy with the names. Why do you want to piss me off? I’m in a good mood today.” He found what he was looking for and held up the phone so she could see the screen. “Morris’s home number. You’re going to call him and leave a detailed message on his answering machine. Then you’re going to call Dean Simmons at the university.”
“What?”
“We don’t want people to worry, do we?” He waved the phone in her face. “I checked your schedule. You have an appointment today at the Fairmont with the wedding planner. But you’re having lunch with your fat fuck of a fiance first. Thank you for being so detailed in your appointment calendar, by the way. And as a matter of fact,” he said, checking the time on the phone, “it appears you’re running late. Morris is there waiting for you right now, no doubt starving even though his body fat alone could sustain a small African tribe. So you’re going to give him a call at home-where’s he’s not-and leave a message there. Don’t you fret about finding the right words. I’ll tell you exactly what to say. We’ll rehearse it first.”
Sheila stared at him in disbelief. “No way. I’m not doing it.” She shook her head. “I’ll scream. I’ll tell him to call the police.”
Ethan sighed. “I was afraid of that. I see a little incentive is necessary.”
He set the phone down on the sofa and disappeared behind the wall. Sheila guessed another room was there and wondered how big this place was. She heard a faint beeping sound-was he punching numbers into a keypad?
Her BlackBerry lay on the sofa just a few feet away. She couldn’t take her eyes off it-she’d never wanted anything so badly. But there was no way to reach it. The bastard had left it there to taunt her.
He was back a moment later with two items and a cocky swagger.
“Gun to your head, or knife to your throat?” Ethan’s tone was boisterous, his eyes full of mischief.
He held up one, then the other, letting her get a good look at both. The knife was slim, a surgeon’s blade. The gun was small and silver.
They were equally horrifying.
Ethan smiled. “I’ll let you pick. Though personally, I’d go with the gun. The knife’s super sharp, and I wouldn’t want to slice you by accident.”
Sheila opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was another whimper.
Ethan sat on the edge of the bed. “Now, I want you to listen carefully because I’m going to tell you exactly what you need to say. If you do it right, I’ll let you live a little while longer.” His laughter sounded completely genuine. He was enjoying every second of this. “I know, right? You’re never getting out of here anyway, so why should you make the call?”
Sticking the gun in the waistband of his pants, he moved closer with the knife outstretched until the delicate point rested against the spot just above her carotid artery. “Because if you don’t,” he said, answering his own question, “I won’t just kill you. I’ll kill Morris, too. Capiche? ”
The point of the knife dug into the thin skin at Sheila’s throat. She froze.
“Want to see something else?” Ethan changed gears yet again. He tossed the knife onto the sofa and Sheila slumped, her body a rag doll of relief.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out something small and shiny. He held it until it was just inches from her face inside his upturned palm. Sheila recognized it instantly. Her stomach did a somersault.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked.
Of course she did. It was Morris’s cuff link. The one he thought he’d lost, the Christmas gift from his sons. There was no mistaking it.
“Yes,” she said, choking.
“I thought you would.” Ethan looked satisfied. “I’ll leave it here, on top of the TV, where you can look at it. Hopefully it will serve as a reminder that if you try and fuck with me, you and your fat fuck of a fiance will die. Painfully.”
He leaned in close, and she could smell his cinnamon breath. “Because this is how close I’ve been to him, Sheila. I took it right off his fucking wrist, Sheila. ”
The thought of his being so close to Morris made her want to throw up.
Ethan smiled. “So, do we have an understanding?”
She nodded.
“Good. Now pay attention. Here’s what I want you to say.”
CHAPTER 18
S he was running late. Or she wasn’t coming. Morris didn’t know what to think.
He was standing in the plush, formally decorated Garden Room of the Fairmont Olympic Hotel, BlackBerry in hand. He’d tried calling Sheila three times, and all three times it had gone to voice mail. She’d missed lunch and it was now thirty minutes past their scheduled appointment time.
He was starting to worry. She was never late. That was his flaw.
Beside him stood Carmen Khan, the hotel’s assistant director of catering and events, also known as the wedding planner. Though her demeanor was pleasant, he knew the woman was annoyed because she’d checked her watch four times in the last ten minutes.
Morris had only been in the Garden Room once before, and it was grander and more elegant than he remembered. The room was filled with natural light. The thirty-foot-high Palladian windows offered breathtaking views of downtown Seattle, but it still felt warm and inviting. White table linens offset the luxuriously patterned teal carpet, and the tropical trees that framed the windows added a lush and exotic ambience. As usual, Sheila’s taste was impeccable.
He faked a smile as the woman checked her watch one more time. “I’m really sorry about this, Ms. Khan. She’s never late. I can only guess that something held her up.”
Carmen Khan returned his smile, but her shiny lips were pressed together too tightly for it to be genuine. “I
