Morris shook his head. “And there… might have been others. I’m not sure.” He couldn’t bring himself to say she was a sex addict. The words were too ugly. And this guy was a former student-Sheila wouldn’t have wanted someone like him knowing her secret.
Jerry’s expression was hard to read. “Did Mike explain to you that most of the time adults go missing because they want to? Forget what you see on TV. The majority of people who disappear do so on purpose. Considering she left you a message, it sounds like this is the case here.”
“Torrance made a point to tell me all that, yes. Twice, actually.” Morris didn’t bother to mention that he also thought Torrance was a jackass. “But I need answers, Jerry. Isn’t that why people hire you? Because, unlike the police, you can find people who don’t want to be found?”
Jerry smiled.
“I can’t force her to come home, but I need to see for myself that she’s all right. I’ve invested too much of… my time to let it go like this.” Morris had almost said of myself.
Jerry didn’t look happy. For a moment Morris thought he might have offended the former cop. Or maybe he had second thoughts about investigating someone he knew.
But then the PI reached into his drawer and pulled out a stack of yellow forms. He peeled one off the top. “All right then. These are my fees. I need two thousand as a nonrefundable retainer up front, and then I bill a hundred per hour plus expenses-”
Morris put up a hand. “That’s fine, whatever. But I have something else to show you.”
“What’s that?”
Morris reached into his leather bag and pulled out Sheila’s laptop. “Can you hack into this? I’m sure if you do, it will tell us a lot. This is her personal computer. It’s password-protected.”
“Whoa.” Jerry leaned back in his chair again, appraising Morris with narrow eyes. “Computer hacking? That’s illegal, man.”
Morris’s gaze did not waver.
Jerry cracked his knuckles again. “No wonder you want to hire a civilian. All right, I’ll see what I can do. Computers aren’t my specialty, but I know a guy.”
Morris smiled his first genuine smile in days. “I thought you might.”
CHAPTER 26
S heila’s nipple was on fire.
She opened her eyes and found Ethan staring at her. Her left breast throbbed painfully. Looking down, she saw why. Ethan was squeezing her left nipple hard, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger like a stale gumdrop he was trying to soften.
“Stop it,” Sheila said, her voice hoarse. She moved her arms as if to hit him, but the movement only caused her chains to rattle. “That hurts, you asshole.”
“You were really out.” Ethan tweaked her nipple again. “What were you dreaming about? Were you imagining Morris fondling you in your sleep?”
She had been lying in bed all day-or was it night?-and her back ached. With great effort, she managed to sit up, and he adjusted the pillows to support her lower back. It was becoming routine. The bones in her spine cracked rapidly as she attempted to stretch, one pop right after another.
“I wasn’t dreaming.” Her throat was sore and dry. It was always sore and dry. Between her muscle aches, headaches, and fatigue, she felt as if she constantly had a mild case of the flu. “If Morris were touching me, it wouldn’t hurt.”
“He’s moving on, you know.” Ethan stuck a straw in an opened bottle of Evian and put it to her lips. “You were just a little blip in his predictable little life. Happy wedding day, by the way.”
Oh, God. He was right. Today would have been her wedding day. Sheila took a deep breath, trying to control the stampede of emotions that had just been unleashed. She felt as if she’d been stabbed in the heart.
She wondered what Morris was doing right this moment, and her eyes began to moisten. She blinked before Ethan could notice.
Her captor was obviously trying to antagonize her. He knew her fiancé was her most sensitive button. But Morris was a giant sore spot for him, too. For now, Sheila refused to engage. She hadn’t yet figured out how to use Ethan’s jealousy to her advantage, but she sensed it could be a valuable weapon.
Her mouth closed around the straw and she sucked in the cool water. She was still being sedated, but it was all right. Sleep was her only measure of relief in this never-ending nightmare.
“Did you pee?” he asked.
Sheila flexed her abdominal muscles reflexively at the word pee and winced at her full bladder. Her diaper was dry. “No. But I do have to go. Really badly.” It was awful to have to say those words, but she had no choice. “What do you want to do?”
It wasn’t a strange question under the circumstances. Ethan usually changed her diaper when she was sleeping. She shifted in the bed, thinking about how great it would be to sit on a toilet seat like a normal adult. God, the things she’d taken for granted. Now that she was thinking about it, it was starting to hurt. She looked at him, desperate. “I can’t wait for the sedative to kick in.”
“You really have to go, huh?” Ethan’s hand went to the small silver gun in the waistband of his jeans.
“Yes.” She winced again. “Do you think… could I use the bathroom this time? Please?”
“No way.”
“Ethan, please. I won’t try anything. I’m too tired. I’ve barely stood up since I’ve been here.” She rattled her chains again to emphasize her plight. “Just this once, let me use the bathroom like a regular person.”
She knew from his expression that he was seriously considering her request. She opened her mouth to plead her case further, but then closed it again when she remembered he didn’t like to be pushed.
Finally he nodded. “Okay. We’ll try it. You’ve been good.”
Good? What a fucking joke. How was it possible to be bad chained to a bed twenty-four hours a day? “Thank you.”
Ethan took the gun out of his waistband. “You fuck with me-”
“I won’t. I don’t have the energy. Trust me on that.” She meant every word. She was in no shape for a fight.
Ethan fished a key out of his pocket. She caught a whiff of his clean scent as he leaned over and unlocked her right wrist, then her left. When she brought her arms together to rub her wrists, her shoulders tingled with pins and needles.
“Here.” He handed her the key. “Do your ankles. Like last time.”
Sheila bent forward, and her back was instantly on fire from the sudden movement. It took all her willpower not to shriek. She was dizzy from the exertion when she finally got her legs free.
Handing the key back to Ethan, she moved her legs slowly over the edge of the bed, pausing a moment to let the blood circulate. Using small, deliberate movements, she stood up and began shuffling toward the bathroom. Her muscles felt like Jell-O. Looking down, she could see the angry welts on her bare ankles that matched her chafed wrists.
If she could have walked faster, she would have, the urge to urinate was so strong. Ethan followed behind her, the gun in his hand. As she turned down the hallway toward the bathroom, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she suddenly whipped around. Could she disarm Ethan if she took him by surprise? If she did, then what? She’d have no trouble putting a bullet in his head, but what good would that do? She’d still be stuck in this modern-day dungeon. The door had a keypad and she didn’t know the code to get out.
Maybe she could use the gun to torture it out of him. Shoot one limb at a time. It was a lovely thought.
“Holy slow, Batman,” Ethan drawled behind her.
She made it to the bathroom. Like the rest of the basement, the small room had no windows and was completely done in white-white toilet, white sink, white walls, white floors, white tub, everything perfectly clean. The smell of disinfectant was strong, which didn’t surprise her. Ethan was a germaphobe.
Sheila pulled her dry diaper down to her ankles. She lifted the toilet lid and sat down. Almost instantly, the bathroom filled with the pungent odor of urine that had been marinating far too long.