The silence as he ends the call feels like it might suffocate us.
"Someone at your grandmother's house identified him," he says finally.
My heart leaps."Does my grandmother know who that man is?"
Garreth shakes his head."No, but the housekeeper does."
"What, Jeremy?"
Amanda leans forward, pointing at the drawing."Who is he?"
"His name is David Turner."Garreth's words fall like stones in still water."And it seems he's Jeremy's son."
The world tilts sideways as the revelation hits.Jeremy – the kind, gentle man who's been like a second father to Dad, who's always had a smile and a kind word for me – his son is the monster who took them?
I stumble back from the table, memories assaulting me in waves.Jeremy at family dinners.Jeremy teaching me to make hot chocolate the way Dad likes it.Jeremy's proud smile when he heard me play piano for the first time.
How could his son do this to us?
"Sam?"Amanda's voice seems to come from far away."Honey, breathe."
But I can't.Because suddenly, terrifyingly, I understand – this isn't just about Dad and Alisha anymore.This is personal.This is family.
And that makes it so much worse.
42
ALISHA
A thin layer of sweat coats my skin as adrenaline courses through my veins.Five days.Five endless, suffocating days in this concrete box of horror.I make my way out of my glass prison on shaky legs, my newfound "freedom" – David's reward for being a good girl – feeling like ash in my mouth.Yesterday, he removed the shackles from my ankles with such tenderness it made bile rise in my throat.
Fucking bastard.
The scream building inside me threatens to tear free.Raw, pent-up emotions expand in my chest like a balloon ready to burst, taking up more space with each passing hour.Without daylight or clocks, time bleeds together in this basement.Day and night exist only in David's words, in his sick little games of control.
My eyes drift to Cole, and my heart cracks all over again.He sits bound to that metal chair, angry red marks carved into his wrists from the constant strain against the cuffs.Dried blood and bruises paint his face like some twisted artwork.The only time David lets him up is to use the filthy toilet in the corner, and even then, only with a gun pressed against my temple.Cole's lips are cracked and bleeding, dark circles haunting his eyes, but that fierce protective look never leaves his face when he watches me.
Thank God I convinced David to give him water and food occasionally."If he stays hydrated and fed, he'll be fully aware of everything,"I'd said, playing into David's sick desire for an audience.To test my loyalty, he lets me enter Cole's cell every few hours.My eyes burn thinking of those moments – helping Cole drink, mouthing 'I love you' while David watches, carrying a thousand unspoken words behind my eyes that I can't voice because that unstable bastard is always there, weapon in hand, ready to punish any misstep.
Walking out of my glass cage feels like standing on a mountain peak where the air is too thin to breathe.My lungs struggle for each shallow breath, but knowing Cole's watching my every move gives me strength.Even bound and helpless, his presence steadies me.
David stands at the table like always, waiting with that possessive gleam in his eyes.He pulls out my chair with exaggerated gentility, and everything in me screams to run.But I can't.Not yet.I force myself to sit, skin crawling as his hot breath skims my ear.
"You smell so lovely."
Lovely?I haven't bathed in days.I smell like fear and desperation.
I swallow hard and stammer, "Thank you."
His finger trails from my neck to my cheek, and Cole's growl echoes off the concrete walls.The sound is pure rage, pure helplessness.
David chuckles, the sound setting my teeth on edge."There's nothing you can do, Walker.I'm the one in control."He straightens, satisfaction oozing from every pore as he moves to his side of the table.
I catch Cole's eye, see the murder written in every line of his face.To diffuse the tension before David decides to "teach him another lesson," I force myself to speak.
"How did you get Cole's and my mobile numbers when you sent that video of Samantha walking in the city?"
David's eyes slide to mine as he takes a bite of roasted potato.He leans back, crossing his arms with that smug satisfaction that makes my stomach turn.
