I couldn't answer.
We parked at the edge of the beach, the old house a black silhouette above the driftwood line. The yard was overgrown, the porch sagging, but the curtains in the front window had been drawn tight, making me suspect Vance had been inside for some time.
He got out of the car and came around to the passenger side. Glancing around, he ordered, "Get out and get inside."
He made me walk first, keeping one step behind me, the gun's shadow on the ground always at the edge of my vision.
The front door was unlocked. It swung open with a sigh, like lungs deflating. The house hadn't been lived in for years, but the air seemed fresh.
Inside, sparse memories pressed in on me… mom's sunhat on a hook, the wooden bear box Mia used to keep her collection of everything she found washed up on the beach, the corner of the coffee table where I'd hit my head on. All were gone now and in their place were cobwebs.
He steered me into the kitchen and walked over to the counter, where he thumbed a button. A panel on the floor slid open and darkness loomed within.
“Get down there,” he ordered.
I did, but not without making sure to grab the butter knife that sat on the kitchen counter as I passed. When would I even use it? I had no idea, but the thought of it being there as I clungto it inside my sweater sleeve, was comforting as I descended the creaking wooden stairs into the darkness.
Chapter 17
Lily
There was a single bulb hanging down, casting skittery shadows on the cinderblock walls. A freezer stood beside rusty wire racks that held mason jars of canned peaches, pickles, and dusty tools. A dingy mattress lay on the floor in the corner, while a security monitor hung on the wall, directly behind a metal armchair. The air was cool, and smelled like musty newspapers, despite not seeing one in sight. He told me to sit on the mattress, cross-legged like a kindergartner. Then he took my phone and my purse and emptied my bag, throwing it all onto a workbench strewn with broken radios and sockets. He searched for something inside an old green duffel. I watched his hands… careful, methodical, trembling slightly at the fingertips even as they loaded a magazine with dull, brass-tipped certainty.
“It wasn’t supposed to go this way, you know,” he said, and his voice was softer than I’d expected. “Ten years ago, I was a high school physics teacher. You believe that?” He laughed, and it barked off the cinderblocks. “Matheson handpicked me to keep those in line at the agency. Now even in death, he will get Mia one way or another.”
I stared at him, schooling my face into the same blank patience I used for the wildest kids in my room.
I remembered what Ryker told me—If you're caught, stall. People want to tell their stories before they do something awful. Every second bought is another chance.
“You don’t seem like a killer,” I said quietly.
He smirked at that. “Nobody does. Not at the start, anyway.” He rubbed at a scar under his chin like it itched him. “You’re smarter than they said.”
I said nothing because it wasn’t a question.
He settled onto a battered lawn chair by the freezer, the gun across his knees. “The plan is, we wait. And if your sister shows up, I end it right here. She has three days to show herself. If she doesn’t, we drive out the next day at dawn and see if you’re useful for trade. That’s the only reason you’re alive ” he added as if he needed to clarify. “You’re bait with a pulse.”
I tried not to show him my hands were shaking.
We waited.
For hours, or maybe it was days—I lost all track of time in this cold and dank basement. I slept on the mattress while he dozed in the chair, head lolling back, the gun always pressed firmly in the palm of his hand. I was only allowed to go upstairs when he did and that was to use the washroom. Food was consumed on the mattress and my liquid intake was minimal. If he didn’t kill me, I was certain to die from dehydration or starvation.
When I knew he was asleep, I let my guard down and thought of happy thoughts. Of Mabel, safe and warm, of Royal, teaching me how to pick locks in the motel parking lot. And of Ryker. His voice was rough in my ear as he covered me with his body, and the way I wanted to hear it now, more than my heartbeat.
An alarm went off and Vance bolted upright, both our eyes immediately went to the security camera hung on the wall. He stood up and pointed at the chair he’d been sitting on. “Sit.” That was all he said.
I scrambled to my feet and did as he ordered. He wasted no time in producing a roll of duct tape and began tying me to the chair. Lastly, he placed a strip across my mouth. He walked over to the rack with the peaches and picked up something off the shelf.
My eyes grew wide when I saw the hypodermic needle in his hand. I started to struggle against my bindings to no avail.
“Hush now,” he said, as he approached me, removing the cap from the needle. “This is just a mild sedative, just enough to relax you but not strong enough to knock you out.”
I watched in horror as he placed the tip against my vein and pushed it through my skin. A cold, icy sensation seeped into my arm as the drug flowed into my bloodstream.
“There, that isn’t so bad now, is it?” he grinned, tossing the needle into the corner.
My mind started to go fuzzy and even if my mouth wasn’t taped shut, I don’t think I could have responded.
