Page 9 of Unhinged

Her lips parted on a silent scream but he covered her mouth and nose with a gloved hand, one knee pressing into the soft cavity of her stomach. She thrashed beneath him, eyes rolling in terror, and he climbed atop her, using his weight to pin her to the mattress. Incoherent sounds came from low in her throat as she tried to scream, call for help, plead for her life.

Pulling a roll of duct tape from the pocket of his sweatshirt, he glared down at her. “I’m going to move my hand now. Scream and I’ll kill you. Nod if you understand.”

Her head moved briskly up and down, and he lifted his hand. Her words came out on a whisper. “Who are you?”

Ignoring her question, he tore a strip of tape from the roll. “Lift your hands.”

She did as he asked, and he looped the strip around her hands.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice shook, and he pressed his lips into a firm line as he wove the tape in a figure eight around her wrists.

“Do you know what happens to cheaters, Monique?”

She blinked up at him, her entire body shaking with fear. “Wh-what?”

“You’re a dirty slut. Aren’t you?”

“No!” She shook her head furiously. “No, I⁠—”

He made a tsk-tsk sound low in his throat as he pulled another strip of tape from the roll. “Come now, Monique. I’ve been watching you.” Her eyes widened, and a grim smile cut across his face. “Oh, yes, I’ve seen you with both of them.”

“N-no, I…” He placed the duct tape over her mouth. A gamut of emotions flashed in her eyes: fear that he would kill her, despair that she wouldn’t see another day, hope that he would let her go. His free hand lifted the fabric of his ski mask so she could see his face, and recognition dawned across her beautiful features.

“Yes, Monique.” A cold smile curled his lips. “It’s me.”

Reaching into his black boot, he retrieved the knife and held it up, the long blade glinting in the moonlight. Her eyes widened, and she fought in earnest, swinging her bound hands like a club. The blade slashed against her forearm and blood trickled from the wound as a thin red line appeared.

Her voice was muffled as she tried to scream, hampered by the tape. She yanked her arms away and he shoved them over her head, digging the blade into the fleshy part of her upper arm before slicing into the soft skin. A strangled cry came from beneath the duct tape and he smiled.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Monique.” He smiled before pulling the ski mask down once more and raising the knife, dousing that last vestige of hope she harbored in those wide green eyes. “You must be punished for what you’ve done.”

Nearly two hours later, he picked up the woman’s phone sitting on the nightstand and used her lifeless hand to bring up the main screen. Tapping in the number he knew by heart, he placed the woman’s hand at her side on the bed and waited for the call to connect.

His heart leaped in his chest when she answered, her voice husky with sleep, but still his favorite sound in the whole world.

“This is Dr. Whitmore. How can I help you?”

A slow smile spread over his face. “Hello, Carrie.”

CHAPTER

FOUR

The ringing of the phone jarred her from a sound sleep. Bleary red numbers on the digital clock relayed that it was just shy of four a.m., and Hannah rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Propping herself on an elbow, she disconnected her phone from where it lay plugged in on the nightstand. An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen as the phone pealed its third ring. Biting back a yawn, she swiped her thumb across the screen and held it to her ear. “This is Dr. Whitmore.”

Deep, raspy breaths filtered through the phone, and she waited a beat, but the caller remained silent. Fatigue pulled at her, and frustration rose to the surface. Keeping her voice as even as possible, she tried again. “How can I help you?”

The man’s voice was low and dangerous, and she had to strain to make out his words. “Hello, Carrie.”

Oh, God.

Hannah’s blood ran cold, the unmistakable sound of the man’s voice transporting her ten years into the past. Her heart thudded heavily against her ribcage, her pulse thrumming wildly as her lungs seized with fear.

Swallowing hard, she tightened her grip on the phone. “How…” Her voice cracked, and she tried again. “How did you find me?”

A cruel laugh crackled over the phone line, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. “Still so naïve, aren’t you?”