“I’m here, now what?” I said.
“Drive.”
“Where?”
“Let’s take it one street at a time, shall we? Wave goodbye to your sister and then back out and make a right at the stop sign.”
I reversed the car and turned right. Sam made a sound like the ticking of a clock and said, “Shame, shame. Not waving to your own sister. All this time, I thought she meant more to you than that.”
“I left your grandmother out of it, now you extend me the same courtesy,” I said.
“See how much we’re alike Sloane?”
“I’m nothing like you.”
“Oh, but you are. Aren’t you interested in how I know? I’ve watched you. Yes, that’s right. Don’t look so alarmed. At work, at home, out with your friends. I’ve been there, and I know everything. So much more than they know. Do you really think your friends know the real Sloane? Well,” he whispered in my ear, “would it surprise you to find out that they don’t?”
“Why are you so interested in me?” I said.
He inched back from me but remained close and said, “Make a left at the next light.”
“I asked you a question.”
“You’re in no position to make demands, but okay—I’ll bite. At first I was intrigued by the resemblance between you and your sister. Oh…I forgot, no talking about sis. I followed you, I watched you put that board up in your office and then cover it so no one else could see. It was like our little secret. You returned to it time and time again and posted all the things you collected about me: the newspaper articles, the photos, and then the note I wrote you. They were all there on one beautiful board. I became the center of your life—you cared about me like no one else ever had.”
Cared about him? He was more delusional than I thought, and I didn’t know whether to play into his emotions or balk at them. The fear was gone, and my thoughts didn’t center around what was to become of my life anymore. I was angry.
“Don’t want to join the conversation?” he said. “That’s okay; we have plenty of time for that.”
“What did you do to the others?”
“Those men who followed you like lost lambs? I put them to sleep.”
“You didn’t kill them?” I said.
“They are of no interest to me. Why would I bother?”
I felt a sense of relief and hoped he spoke the truth. I didn’t want anyone else to die because of me.
“There is the matter of that boyfriend of yours we’ll have to deal with.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“You’ll have to tell him it’s over so we can be together.”
“I won’t.”
He was in my ear again. “So defiant. So different than the others. I like it!”
And I’d like it if he rotted into the fabric of the deepest depths of hell.
“Take the next left please,” he said.
I may have been showered in darkness, but I knew what part of Park City we were in and the neighborhood. Decklan’s. But Decklan said he hadn’t seen his son for years.
My phone vibrated.
“Who would call at this hour? It’s late, and you need your rest,” he said.
I reached for it.
“You’re not going to get that are you? Pass it back to me. And don’t be foolish or try to be brave or this needle goes all the way in.”
I handed the phone back, and he pressed the flashing green light on my screen.
“Sam Reids here, who am I speaking with?”
Someone responded and Sam said, “Sloane can’t come to the phone right now. What’s that? Oh, it’s you—the soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. We were just talking about you. Tell me, were your ears ringing?”
The noise coming from the other end of the phone grew louder.
“Do not speak to me in that tone,” Sam said, and then a moment later, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut this call short. I’m sure you understand. Sloane’s with me now, so you can just go back to your life of petty crime and find someone else.”
Another pause.
“Anger won’t help you. Nothing will. You’ve lost her. Deal with it.”
Inside my head I had a screw this moment. My mind flashed back to a class on self-defense that I’d taken. The instructor said if I was ever abducted the best thing I could do was not to let the abductor reach their final destination and instead to ram the car into another—this was supposedly the best option for survival. There were no cars on the street for me to plummet into so I went with what was available and headed straight for it.
CHAPTER 54
When I woke, one of my wrists was chained to a metal bar on a bed in a room. The other wrist was unrestrained, which confused me. Why would he allow me that small bit of freedom? My plan had failed and no one knew my location, I was sure of it. I looked around. The room was decorated in the same colors and style as my room at home. Even the furniture was the same. The desk had several pictures on it of me with friends, family, and one with Sam. He’d cut out a photo of himself and stuck it next to my head to make it look like we’d posed for the photo together. To say he was out of his mind no longer applied—he was far worse than that.
I lay still on the bed and tried to figure out my next move. Did I even have one? I had no idea how long I’d been out for: an hour, several hours, days?
I heard something. At first it sounded like a wounded dog, but the more I listened the clearer it became. It was a person—a woman, and she was crying.
“Hello,” I whispered. “Can you hear me?”
Silence. And then more whimpering.
“Who’s out there?”
After another pause the voice said, “Who are you?”
“My name is Sloane. What’s yours?”
“Angela.”
“How long have you been here?” I said.
“I—I don’t know. I just want to go home.”
“I’m going to do everything I can to make that happen.”
“You can’t. He’s going to kill both of us.”
“Angela, listen to me. I need you to tell me what you can see.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can. Just try. Anything you can tell me will help.”
“No I mean I really can’t. There’s a blindfold over my eyes.”
A door opened and footsteps descended the stairs.
“Be quiet,” Angela said. “Don’t speak to him or he’ll cut you—he doesn’t like it when we talk.”
Finally that part of the puzzle came together and I knew why some of the women had cuts on their legs. Maybe one gash for each time they spoke as a way to silence them. I didn’t care—I wasn’t about to keep my trap shut.
Sam walked into the room and sat at a desk across from me.
“Sorry about the handcuffs,” he said. “Or should I say cuff. I didn’t want to restrain you like that, but we need to have some kind of understanding.”
“Like what?”
“No more running cars into trees and trying to hurt yourself. I need to be able to trust you.”
I couldn’t believe he thought I was trying to hurt myself.
“Why is the room decorated like this?”
“It’s our room, Sloane. Don’t you like it?” he said.
Every time he said my name I wanted to projectile vomit all over him.
“I’ll admit, at first when I followed you I was just going to kill you. But over time I developed feelings. I wouldn’t say love—what is love, really? And what do people mean when they say they’re in love. Do they even know what that is? What we have is more real than any kind of simple love. We admire each other. Me from afar watching you, and you stopping at nothing to find me. I’m meant to have you. Wouldn’t you agree?”
At some point his fantasies convinced him that we shared the same obsessions.