She was afraid to nod under the pressure of the gun, so she simply said, “Yes.”
“If you’re good, I might even let you take a bath and brush your teeth. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
There was a bathroom here? Then why the fuck was she in this diaper?
“Now where was I?” Ethan said. “Oh, right. After I uncuff your hand, you can do the other one, then you can do your legs. Once that’s done, we’ll walk over to the next room, and I’ll show you what it is you’re so eager to know. Capiche? ”
“Capiche.” She was beginning to wonder whether she even wanted to see what was in the next room, but she sure as hell wanted to get out of this awful bed.
He pulled a key out of his jacket pocket, the gun never leaving her forehead. Leaning over her, he unlocked the cuff of her right hand. She could smell the cologne he always wore and couldn’t stop herself from shuddering.
Was it really only a few weeks ago she’d had fantasies about being draped in his scent?
“Take the key,” Ethan said. “Move slowly. No sudden movements.”
“As if I could overpower you.”
“The gun keeps you from trying. Which makes it easier for both of us.” He held out the key. “This ain’t my first time at the rodeo.”
It was something Morris would have said.
She took the key from him with an arm that was practically numb. Her shoulder muscles screamed when she moved her left arm toward her right. She bit her lip in pain.
“I guess I could give you longer chains.” Ethan had a funny expression on his face. He looked almost sympathetic.
“How about no chains?” Sheila wanted to cry. “It’s not as if I can beat you up.”
She finally got her left hand free, then attempted to bend forward to her ankles. Every muscle and nerve in her back was instantly on fire.
“Does it hurt?” His concern seemed genuine. “Your back?”
“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Take your time, then. After you’ve unlocked yourself, I’ll let you stand up. You can stretch, get the blood flowing. It’s about time we did this, anyway.”
She managed to get her ankles free, sweating from the exertion. He offered her his hand, and she moved her bare legs carefully over the edge of the bed so her feet dangled.
Taking a deep breath, she stood. A million burning needles flooded through her body. In desperation, she gripped Ethan’s arm for support.
“Take your time,” he said again.
After what seemed like a lifetime, relief set in. She put her arms over her head and stretched. The bones in her back cracked and the sound was like microwave popcorn.
“Better?”
“A little.” She had never before despised another human being this way in her life.
“Walk over there.” He pointed to the far wall she’d spent almost every waking hour staring at. A doorway was to the left, but no door. “Remember, you move funny and I’ll have no choice but to blow your head off.”
The gun looked too small to blow anyone’s head off, but she wasn’t going to argue semantics with a murderer. She didn’t doubt the little gun could punch a nice, neat hole in her skull, the bullet bouncing around, shredding the very essence of who she was into pulp.
She shuffled toward the wall, feeling the blood rush through her legs and feet. The pain was finally subsiding and it felt good to move. They passed through the doorway, and she wasn’t entirely surprised to find a long corridor behind it.
She couldn’t believe how large this place was. She’d come to assume she was in a basement, but now that she was getting a better idea of the size, it seemed too big for that. The house above them would have to be huge. Maybe a warehouse of some sort?
Two doors were at the end of the corridor, one with a keypad bolted beside it, and one without. Sheila wondered if the door without the keypad was the bathroom.
“Stop,” Ethan commanded. With the gun trained on her head, he reached past her and punched a code into the keypad. His arm was in the way and she couldn’t tell what he’d entered. After a short beep, the door popped open.
“Go on,” he said, nudging her lower back. “Go see. Everything you wanted to know is inside.”
Sheila shuffled forward.
The room was dark and Ethan reached past her again. The lights came on suddenly, glaringly. It took her a moment to focus on what she was looking at. Even then, she didn’t know what to make of it.
It was a room wrapped entirely in plastic.
She blinked, trying to take it all in. The space was large, approximately twenty by twenty feet, about the same size as the area where her bed was. In the middle sat a folding table resembling something a traveling massage therapist would tote, only it was wrapped snugly in some kind of cellophane. The walls were also covered in plastic and, through the transparency, she could see stained concrete cinder blocks underneath.
Against the wall to the right, a six-foot-tall stainless steel cabinet showcased a bevy of weaponry. It was mostly guns and knives, but she could also see a small ax, an ice pick, and a sledgehammer. A large freezer sat beside it. Leaning against that was a chain saw, and a few feet away was something that looked like a mini-forklift.
Her bare feet felt cold, and she looked down. Unlike the wall, the cement floor was exposed and pristine. He followed her gaze.
“You’re right, I have to remember to lay down fresh plastic.” He sounded pleasant and matter-of-fact. “You can’t get blood out of concrete.”
Though she hadn’t entirely processed what she was seeing, she felt faint. Her knees buckled and Ethan placed an arm around her waist to keep her steady.
“Welcome to my workroom.” His lips were at her ear. “This is where I get rid of the mess.”
Sheila tried to speak, but no words came.
“That’s Marie.” Ethan looked directly at the concrete wall. “Say hello, Marie.”
Only two of them were in the room.
“Who’s Marie?” Sheila whispered, dazed.
He took a few steps forward, gesturing with the gun for Sheila to follow. He stared at the wall, eye level. “If you look close enough, you can see part of her hand.”
Sheila followed his gaze to the plastic covering the concrete. What the hell was he talking about?
Then, suddenly, like one of those 3-D stereogram pictures you had to stare at cross-eyed for the image to appear, she saw it.
A hand. Small, with long fingernails, clearly belonging to a woman. The fingertips jutted out about an inch from the concrete, brushing up against the plastic covering. The skin had a bluish tint.
With her eyes now knowing what to look for, the scene in front of her unfolded all at once.
She saw a foot. Several feet actually, spread out over the wall. Pink toenail polish. Gold toenail polish. Blue toenail polish.
A hand with short red fingernails. An elbow. A knee.
A swatch of brown hair.
It was a wall full of dead bodies.
“Guess the evil spirits thing doesn’t work after all.” Ethan’s voice was detached.
She hadn’t noticed that he was behind her once again.
“It didn’t work for Marie, and you’re wearing her amulet. Do you see them, Sheila?”
She managed to nod.
“You asked me if I was jealous. That, my darling, that isn’t jealousy.” She felt his hot breath on her cheek. “That’s rage. That’s what I’ve been filled with every day, since the day you ended it with me.” He pointed to the wall. “And that, my love, is what you have to look forward to.”
His fingers touched her throat, and the last thing Sheila heard before she passed out was the sound of her own screaming.
CHAPTER 20
S heila was really gone.
She wasn’t returning his calls. She wasn’t at home. She wasn’t at work. Morris had staked out every place he could think of and there was no sign of her. She had meant every word in that awful message she’d left.
He’d never gotten the chance to tell her what he’d decided. Or to wish her well. Or to say good-bye. Now she was out there somewhere, trying to get better, with no idea that he still loved her and wanted to make it work. She was all alone, probably terrified, and whatever she’d done, she didn’t deserve that.