“There. That oughta hold. And second,” he said as I writhed silently on the end of the chain, whimpering into the muzzle, “she told me to torture you, as she put it, ‘slowly, carefully, and methodically, with a thousand cuts.’”
Okay. Sure. Fine. I was praying for death now. Happy? Betweenthisandthat,instant death would be an absolute day at the goddamn beach.
“But,” Noam said, “I’ll level with ya. I don’t know what the fuck that means. It’s hot as a rattlesnake’s gooch out here, and I don’t got the patience for a thousand anything. Plus, I get paid either way. So I’ll throw ya another bone, mutt.”
He casually raised the pistol, racked the slide, and shoved its barrel under my chin.
Well, shit.
My first thought:Of all the times to be wrong.My second, for some reason:Where’s Obadiah?
HER
After an hour of sleep and no more, I reluctantly opened the door to an unmarked black leather passenger seat of a brand-new, unmarked, gleaming black Ford SUV to find Wheatley—changed from the windbreaker into an expensive-looking black turtleneck under a suit jacket—behind the wheel waiting for me, his eyes behind dark, luxurious shades as shiny as the vehicle’sexterior. He raised them as I got in, wondering what the cop would think of the three-inch blade shoved in the waistband of my black leggings.
“Miss Wainwright-Phillips?—”
“Louisa, and save it.”The new Louisa.The old Louisa—drilled in manners and propriety by my father—would have driven herself into a blind panic to speak to an authority figure this way. But there was kind of no going back now. “I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for us so far, assuming it’s for the right reasons, but I’m not setting foot inside this vehicle until you tell me two things.”
He paused but nodded seriously.
“One, I want to know if Erica, Ivy, Alma, and the kids are safe.”
He didn’t miss a beat answering. “They are. Whoever their visitor was, once he saw the squad car, he wasn’t keen to come back. And if he does, we’ll move them.”
I nodded. “And two, I want Maeve and Sloane un-detained.”
“Who?”
I rolled my eyes. Okay, so he wasn’t quite all the way there yet. He was still further than I’deverexpected a cop to be. “The two slaves. From Resi’s. Maeve was supposed to have been on the plane, but sincehewasn’t, I can only assume she wasn’t either, and that both girls are still in the detention center. I understand the safety concerns,” I continued. “Erica explained them to me. But I want to see the wheels in motion.”
“I’ll get them in motion,” he said sincerely.
“Thank you,” I said. “Now how far is the field office?”
“Well, that brings us to what Iwasgoing to tell you when you got in,” he said patiently as I hoisted myself up and back down into the dealership-scented leather seat. “Don’t tell Labrecque, but we’re not going to the field office.” He turned and caught my eye, ever so slightly. “We’re going to find 773496S6.”
My stomach lurched, half from shock, half from being jerked forward when he released the brake and stepped on the gas pedal, and the SUV’s engine kicked up with a roar, speeding me away from my neighborhood, again. Back to the boy I’d now been ripped apart from forever, twice.
In whatever condition he was now in.
From a compartment near his seat, Wheatley handed me an unlocked phone displaying a GPS tracking app. With trembling hands, I zoomed in on coordinates in a regional park near Lake Pleasant, about half an hour north of the city, one I’d visited often as a child on picnics. And whathewas doing there, I had no idea, but it was a good bet it wasn’t a goddamn picnic.
I glanced back at Wheatley. “But Labrecque said the only way to unfreeze the chip is if you can prove a person is in immediate danger,” I said, adding darkly, “A free person.”
“True.”
“Then how?—”
He depressed the gas pedal further and guided the SUV out onto the freeway, smoothly merging us into northbound traffic.
“I lied.”
Oh, I did like this guy. I liked him a lot.
14
HER
