In truth, water would be heavenly, but I wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of asking for it, even if he did offer.
"The guys who attacked me," I asked, "where are they now?"
"Trust me," he said, "It's better if you don’t know."
"Trust you?" I rattled the handcuffs. "You're joking, right?"
"Believe what you want."
His calm demeanor grated on me. "How long are you going to stand there?" I asked.
"As long as you're here," he said.
My tone was brittle. "And how long will that be, exactly?"
He glanced at his wrist. "Another half hour should do it."
"Do what?"
"Again," he said, "better if you don't know."
My stomach dropped. What was he saying? I forced down the panic. "So you're saying you'll let me go in a half hour?"
At this, he glanced away. "Probably."
Shit.
Chapter 58
I felt myself start to shiver. The adrenalin was wearing off, leaving me too hollow to fight the creeping sense of despair, not to mention the cold, damp basement air that had been gnawing at me with more persistence as the minutes wore on.
At first, I'd been positively burning up with panic, then rage. But now, as my rage settled into a quiet loathing, I felt all the discomfort of my situation more keenly than ever.
I tried to pull my knees up to my chest, but with my hands secured behind me, I couldn't get in a decent position, and my feet kept slipping off the chair-seat. Finally, I gave up. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, trembling from the cold, and probably more than a little exhaustion.
"You want a blanket?" he asked.
I didn't bother opening my eyes. "Fuck off," I said.
"I'll take that as a no."
"Whatever."
I must've dozed off, because I slowly became aware that I was no longer cold. Somehow, a blanket had been draped over my lap and tucked under my legs. Another one covered my shoulders. Correction – my aching shoulders. The handcuffs were still there, and everything from my shoulders to my wrists hurt like hell.
Slowly, I opened my eyes. Lawton was still there, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth tight. How long had I slept? I had no idea. It might've been minutes. It might've been hours. Honestly, I couldn’t believe I'd slept at all, given the circumstances.
And then Lawton spoke, his voice soft and eerily calm. "Why'd you do it?" he asked.
"Do what?" I mumbled, still sleep-addled, or maybe just exhausted.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an unfamiliar cell phone. He fumbled with it for a few seconds, then held it with the screen facing me. The screen came to life in the form of a video, shaky, but clear enough.
It was Brittney's friend, the guy who attacked me. His face was a mass of blood and bruises. I heard Bishop's voice, off-screen. "Go ahead," he said. "Say it again, just like you told me."
The guy took a ragged breath. "It was Chloe," he said. "She paid us a couple hundred bucks to you know, pretend to kidnap her, maybe rough her up a little bit."
"Why?" Bishop's voice asked.
