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“Did she help bring me here?” I asked.
“Oh, that. No. I’m afraid I had to convince her to come in the same manner I did you. Both of my little sisters are on the stubborn side.” He grinned. “You’re a lot alike, I can tell you that. I’m going to have my hands full with you two.”
My heart sank. He’d taken another woman prisoner. Was she really my sister, or was this all his delusions? And,hands full? How long did he intend to keep us here?
He had a strange, old-timey way of speaking. It gave the feeling of someone rehearsed or practiced—almost like a theatrical actor. Had he gone to acting school?
“Heather hasn’t said so, but I’m sure she’s dying to meet you.” Russo gestured toward the other room.
“Where are we exactly?” I managed to ask. I’d started trembling and unfortunately, terror had crept into my voice.
“This is my uncle’s fishing cabin. Whitefish, Montana. You appearing in Montana was just meant to be.”
“Whoisour father?” Despite my fright, I had to know what he knew. “Did you know him?”
“He’s dead.”
“Did you kill him?” I asked.
He made a face, as if the idea were ridiculous. However, he was holding me hostage, so what was I to think?
“What? No. He died three years ago. In prison. Right after he told me about you and Heather. He wanted me to know I wasn’t alone in this world. He asked me to look after you both.”
I felt as if I might be sick. My father had been a criminal. With three children. All different mothers, I assumed.
“He was one of those hired killer types. Went up for murdering some rich jerk’s wife, then got stabbed in jail.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked. “Did you live with him as a kid?”
“Nah. My mother wouldn’t let me see him. She knew what he did for a living and didn’t think he would be a good influence.” His eyes flashed with anger. “I made her pay, eventually, but as a kid, what are you gonna do, right?”
“What did you do to her?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you all about that over dinner. I got a nice bottle of wine and some fried chicken from that store in Bluefern. We can catch up. Get to know each other. Plan our future.”
“Are you out of your mind? You shot my…the man I love.” As soon as I said it, I knew it was true. The realization brought tears to my eyes, but I brushed them away. Showing weakness was a mistake.
I must appear strong. Bullies hated strength. It scared them.
Aunt Biddie would tell me to act tough even if I wasn’t. “I’m not eating dinner with you. You’re letting me go immediately.”
“Don’t be like that. Heather’s waiting for us in the kitchen. Don’t you want to know everything?”
I did actually. And the longer I kept him talking, the more likely I was to think of a way out of this.
“Yeah, okay,” I said. “But I need to use the restroom first.” I’d check out the bathroom for any escape routes. Plus, my bladder was uncomfortably full.
“Right this way, madam,” Russo said.
He forcedme to move by poking the gun against the small of my back. The fact that he could pull the trigger at any moment was not lost on me. First, he let me go to the bathroom but kept the door cracked and stood right there waiting. I had to go, so I had no choice but to use the toilet anyway. While I did so, I looked around the small bathroom for ideas. There was no window. Only a toilet, small sink, and bathtub/shower.
I washed my hands and looked at myself in the mirror. The spot where he’d stabbed me with the needle had turned black and blue. Other than that, I didn’t appear to have any other injuries.
“Come along now,” Russo said.
I followed him down the narrow hallway out to the main room.
A young, dark-haired woman sat at a crude table. Her left ankle had been handcuffed to the leg of the hardback chair. She lifted a tearstained face when I sat in the chair next to her. We shared the same brown eyes and a dark complexion, but she was a small woman, petite like Sammie. Tangled and matted long hair hung down her back. Blood stained one shoulder. The way she cradled her left arm against her chest made me think it was broken. What had he done to her? How long had she been here?
