He shakes his head as he slowly walks around. After he circles the place, he steps up to me again. “Have you been in the real estate business long?” he asks.
“I have. And if this building doesn’t suit you, I’m sure I can find you something that will.”
He nods. “I’ll think about it.” Then he steps out the door.
I follow. “Okay, well, you have my number if you want to put in an offer.”
“I do. Thank you. You’ve made this easier,” he says and then walks toward his car.
I turn my back to lock the door. That’s an odd way of putting it.I’ve made it easier.He didn’t even have any questions.
Suddenly, his hand is wrapped over my mouth and nose. I try to kick backward and fight him off, but he’s holding me tightly against him.
My gut was right, and I didn’t listen to it. I breathe in, and it smells funny. His hand moves, and that’s when I realize he’s holding a cloth over my face. Before I can fight him off, I’m sleepy.
CHAPTER 24
Savvy
I come to and shake my head. I’m not at the building anymore. It takes a moment for my eyes to clear up. I’m on a cot in a small room. When I try to sit up, I don’t get far. My wrists are handcuffed to the headboard. The movement makes me nauseated, and before I can control it, I’m vomiting off the side of the bed.
Tom enters the room. “Oh, yeah. Nasty side effect. It shouldn’t last too long.” He walks to the other side of the room.
“Where am I?” I ask.
He grins. “Somewhere far from where we were. Don’t bother screaming. No one will hear you.”
My stomach churns even more.
Taking in the room, I’m certain I’m not the first person he’s brought here. There are brown stains on the far wall. Is it dried blood? Is Tom a serial killer? There’s no way Icould have endured all I did just to end up the victim of a random serial killer. No. It can’t be this way.
“Why am I here?” I ask.
He doesn’t respond. He walks to the door and grabs a bucket. He then pours what looks like water over the floor where I got sick. It all runs to a drain in the middle of the room.
Why is there a drain in the middle of this room? This isn’t good.
I spot a vent hookup on another wall. For a clothes dryer. This was once a laundry room. I’m in a house.
He sets the bucket down and then walks to the bed.
“Why me?” I ask.
Get him talking. That’s what I’ve always heard on television shows. I need to buy time. Who will find me? I didn’t tell anyone which building I was showing him. And I have no idea if we’re even close to the building or my office.
He sits on the bed. “You turned in Bob to the authorities.”
Oh no.
“No, I didn’t,” I say.
He smacks me hard across the face. “No lies. I won’t tolerate lies!”
My face stings from his slap. I want to rub it, but I can’t get my hands close. “I’m not lying! The FBI was already investigating Bob when they came to me.”
He arches a brow. “They came to you? How would they know to come to you?”
Something tells me that if I’m honest about the form I filled out, he’ll kill me. “Because I worked for him,” I say.
