He unlocked the door and swung it open. The space behind him was dark, giving away nothing of the layout of the building. She’d been so drunk or stoned when he’d led her down here, she couldn’t remember a thing other than going down a long flight of wooden stairs.
He stepped inside, and she could see he had a plate of food with him.
Thank God. She was starving.
He stood there as if waiting.
He was a handsome man, well dressed. But it was his confidence that had attracted her to him at Sally’s. He moved like the earth was his domain and he was just letting everyone else live here out of the goodness of his heart.
If only Ashley had realized that it was all an act. There was no goodness in him. How could there be when he held women against their will? When he did to her whatever it was that made her cry out in pain?
Ashley prayed he wouldn’t do the same to her—that she’d find a way out before he could.
His dark hair was neatly trimmed, neatly combed. Everything about his grooming was fastidious—nothing at all artistic or expressive. Except for his eyes. He had the oddest-colored eyes—golden, yet dirty, like sunlight reflected off an oil spill. They seemed to glow from inside, but they only did it when she was afraid.
Demon eyes.
“Are you ready to apologize?” he asked.
Ashley had never been the smartest person in the crowd—in any crowd—but she was smart enough to know that playing along was her best shot at getting out of this mess.
She looked down at the floor, hoping she seemed apologetic enough. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? You won’t learn if you don’t know what you did wrong.”
She was sorry that she’d let him come on to her. She was sorry she’d been stupid enough to drink whatever it was he’d drugged her with. She was sorry that she’d let him bring her home with him.
“I’m sorry I hit you.”
“Apology accepted. Now, come and eat. We have plans for tonight.”
Hope soared inside her. “We’re going out?” She could run away, jump out of the car. She didn’t even care if it was moving at the time.
He set the tray down on the small table and motioned for her to sit first. “In a manner of speaking. There’s someone here I’d like you to meet.”
Ashley sat down, watching him slide gracefully into the chair across from her. It took all her willpower to pretend her skin didn’t crawl getting this close.
She took a bite of the sandwich, wondering if it, too, might be drugged. At the moment, she was too hungry to care, and too worried she’d piss him off to lift the bread and check for signs of drugs. “Who?”
“You’ll meet her soon enough. Slow down. You’re eating too fast, chewing like a cow.”
Ashley slowed down.
“How long have I been here?” she asked.
“Why? Don’t you like your room?”
She swallowed her sarcastic comeback along with a dry bite of bread. “It’s not that. I’m just curious. It’s odd not being able to tell time.”
“I’m giving you the gift of timelessness. You don’t have to worry about anything here. There is no work, no school. No bills or obligations. You’re free.”
“Free? But I can’t go anywhere or do anything.”
“You’ll be busy soon enough.”
She looked up to see him smiling. His eyes were glowing, making a sick sense of dread pool in her stomach.
The food in her mouth turned to putty and threatened to choke her. She took a sip of water, hoping to wash it down. He watched her struggle. She could see his amused enjoyment lifting the sides of his mouth.
He was toying with her, and heaven help her, she didn’t know if she would be better off feeding his enjoyment or trying to destroy it. The idea of making him angry again scared the hell out of her.
After another drink of water, she finally won the battle with her food and asked, “What does that mean?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
His smile fell away. “Are you complaining? Whining? Perhaps you need a few
days
alone this time to think about what you’ve done, rather than a few hours.”
So, that period of confinement hadn’t been days? It had only been hours? If so, there was no way she’d survive longer. “No,” Ashley shouted. “Please. Don’t leave me alone again. I’m sorry. I won’t complain anymore.”
“See that you don’t.”
After a moment of silence, Ashley decided she was safer if she got him to do the talking. Her mouth was bound to get her into trouble. “How was your day?” she asked.
He settled back in the chair, pulling the king-of- the-world cloak around him again. “Tedious. I’d hoped to come home early to see you, but I had paperwork to do.”
“What do you do?”
“I work at a bank.”
“Which one?”
He shook his head slowly as he stared at her. “This is beginning to sound like an interrogation.”
“I was just trying to make conversation.”
“Idle conversation is for women. Come with me and I’ll give you someone to talk to.”
“Really?” she asked, putting down the last few bites of her sandwich.
He gave her a magnanimous smile and reached out to stroke her cheek. Ashley managed not to flinch away from his touch, but it left her feeling dirty and used.
“You’re beautiful like this. Perfect. I may have to give you gifts more often.”
She almost asked him to give her the gift of freedom, but she didn’t want to come across as whining again and risk losing her chance to talk to someone else.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist in a painfully tight grip and led her down a dark hall. There was just enough light to see doors lining either side of a long hallway. Ashley counted five more besides her own.
At the end of the hall was a wider door. He unlocked it and led her inside. He flipped on the lights, and bright whiteness stabbed at her eyes. She blinked fast, hoping to help them adjust. If there was some way of getting out of this place, she didn’t want to miss seeing it.
The room was large, tiled completely in white. It had a distinctly medicinal smell, and beneath that was the familiar sharpness of bleach. The walls were lined with stainless-steel cabinets and shelving. Two video cameras were aimed at the center of the room, pointed directly at the woman who was strapped to a complicated chair.
She was in a hospital gown. Her arms and legs were held down by wide straps. At her left was a small rolling table covered by a blue cloth.
The woman’s blue eyes were wide with fear, and tears streamed down her temples, wetting her blond hair. A wadded rag hung from her mouth, muffling the sounds of her terror.
“Ashley,” said Gary, “I’d like you to meet Constance.”
Ashley stood in shocked stillness. She couldn’t seem to make sense of what she saw. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she was in a hospital. It certainly looked like one.
Gary tugged her wrist, jerking her forward. “Constance, this is Ashley.”
Constance’s eyes pleaded with Ashley for something, but she had no idea what it might be. Or what she could possibly do to help.
“What’s going on here, Gary?” she asked. “What is this place?”
He ignored her questions and waved to a stainless-steel stool on Constance’s right. “Sit there. Comfort her. Your job now is to take care of her.”
Ashley still didn’t understand. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s afraid.” Gary stroked Constance’s cheek, his touch a mockery of gentleness.
Constance’s eyes closed in defeat. Ashley didn’t know what to do, so she covered the woman’s chilled fingers with her own, hoping to offer some kind of comfort.
“That’s good. You two are going to get along perfectly. I can tell.” Gary snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and pulled the cloth off the table, revealing a tray filled with gleaming metal surgical instruments.
Next to them lay an equally sinister handgun.
Gary looked across Constance’s body to where Ashley sat. “If you move from that chair, I’ll kill her first, then you. Do you understand?”
No. She didn’t understand any of this, but his threat was clear, as was the fact that he was deadly serious.
Ashley gave a numb nod and squeezed the woman’s hand.
When Gary made the first cut along Constance’s wrist, Ashley screamed right along with her.
Elise was dressed to kill in a short blue dress with way too many tiny buttons holding it closed. It had taken her ten minutes to get the thing on, but it went with the shoes she’d picked out for tonight. They were a bit more sensible—still heels, but they laced up her ankles, so if she had to run in them, at least they wouldn’t fly off her feet.
And the chances she’d need to run were going up by the day.
Elise knew what they were doing was dangerous; she simply didn’t care, not if that’s what it took to find Ashley.
Sally’s was nearly as crowded as it had been the night before. The music seemed louder tonight, the lights brighter. Maybe it was just her fatigue and constant worry that made everything harsher.
Elise shielded her eyes as she made her way across the dance floor toward the bar.
“Let me ask the questions,” said Trent, right by her ear. The feel of his warm breath sweeping over her skin made a shiver run through her limbs.
She was sleeping at his place tonight. She wasn’t sure if it had been smart to agree to that, but she hadn’t been able to tell him no. She hadn’t wanted to even try.
Truth was, she liked the idea a bit too much.
Elise nodded and handed him the photo. She didn’t mind letting him take the lead at all, especially since he hadn’t tried to make her sit at home while he came and did the dirty work himself.
As if she would have let him. He probably guessed as much and saved himself the breath.
Trent slid the photo across the bar toward the bartender they’d spoken to last night. A twenty-dollar bill peeked out from beneath the edge. “Have you seen this man?”
The bartender ignored Trent and smiled at Elise. “Hello, Miss Threesome. What can I get you?”
Elise couldn’t bring herself to flirt with him. “Look at the photo,” she ordered in a cold, no-nonsense tone.
The bartender picked up the photo with the bill, pocketed the money and brought the picture to his face to make it out better in the dim light. A frown pulled his brows together. “Nope. Sorry.”
“Thanks anyway,” said Trent.
The bartender walked away, moving to the end of the bar to wait on another customer.
“Now what?” she asked him, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“Now we go see if the guys you talked to last night are here. I’d like to know if this is the guy Ashley left with.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then we start looking for the guy who walked her out of here Friday, and hope he can give us something more to go on. He’s likely the last person to have seen her.”
Elise hoped that the man who’d watched Ashley leave had been paying enough attention to tell if the man in the photo had been with her Friday. At least then they’d have another piece of the puzzle.
Trent put his hand at the small of her back and they made their way across the crowded dance floor.
Steve slipped into the back room to make a phone call.
“Yes,” answered Lawrence on the first ring.
“They’re here again, asking questions.”
“I already paid you for that information. I’m not paying again.”
“This time, they have a photo of Gary.”
Steve could practically hear Lawrence giving him his full attention in the stunned silence that followed. “A photo? How?”
“It wasn’t from any of my cameras. I swear. I took care of all that just like you asked.”
“You’d better have been thorough. For your sake.”
“I was. The photo wasn’t very good. I could only see part of his face, but I know it was him. He was standing behind a tree, so most of it was hidden. They don’t know who he is—that’s why they’re asking around.”
“You mean they’re showing that photo to other people?”
“Yeah. Right now. Do you want me to stop them?”
“No, it will only draw unwanted attention. I’ll deal with it.”
“What about my money?” asked Steve.
“You’ll get it.”
The line went dead and Steve hurried back out to the floor. He wanted to keep an eye on that couple, just in case. So far, they’d been worth a small fortune. If he played his cards right, he might be able to cash in even more.
Gary finished the surgeon’s knot, stripped off his gloves and answered his brother’s call. “It’s a little late for a social call, isn’t it?”
“I knew you’d be up. I assume you’ve still got company.”
“In a manner of speaking.” Gary looked down at his creation and smiled. He’d taken the best parts of dozens of women and sewn them together into a beautiful body for Wendy to replace the one crushed in the accident.
The head and the left hand were Wendy’s, dug up after her burial, but the rest had been taken from the women he’d met over the years. Each little stitched slice of flesh was a thrilling reminder of time he’d spent with them. A sweet memory of their fear, their perfection. The pieces fit together in a beautiful patchwork—his wife’s hand stitched to Jackie’s right forearm, stitched to Melinda’s elbow, and so on.