Page 108 of D for Dead

She went back to her magazine, and tried to ignore the fact he was there in the room. She glanced up occasionally to seeing him tapping away either online or on his cell phone. A couple of times he looked up and caught her watching. Eyeing her suspiciously, he angled the laptop away so she couldn’t see the screen.

Amy rolled her eyes. Like she gave a shit what super important FBI stuff he was working on. The paper bag he’d brought contained a selection of goods from the local bakery, which he ploughed his way through as he worked. His appetite amazed her; the man was a pig. He ate at least six or seven pastries and didn’t even offer her one. Not that she was bothered. The last thing she wanted was to share food with Special Agent Rivers.

The sooner today was over, the better.

* * *

The first thing Wes Peterson was aware of when he woke up was the blistering pain in his head. The second was the feeling of something wrapped snugly around his throat.

He tried to move, groaning as he raised his head slightly, banging into something.

Christ his head hurt.

He tried to open his eyes, found them stuck.

What the fuck?

And tried again, aware something was covering them.

What was it? Tape?

And it wasn’t just on his eyes. As feeling came back, he realised it was covering his mouth too. And his body; when he tried to move a second time, he found his arms were strapped tightly against his torso. He attempted to roll to the side, and felt whatever was around his throat starting to tighten.

A noose.

Where the hell was he? What had happened?

Resisting the urge to panic, he forced himself to breathe through his nose. He couldn’t get stressed if he wanted to get himself out of this situation. Slowly his last memories came back: saying goodbye to Amy, leaving her with Special Agent Rivers. He had made his way down to the garage, was about to get in his car. Something, someone, had attacked him from behind, by hitting him over the head.

So where was he?

Start with the basics.

He was lying flat on his back, possibly outside, but where he wasn’t sure. He listened for any giveaway sounds. In the distance he heard a car. His torso was taped up, but his legs weren’t. He wriggled them, aware of something around his ankles, holding them together. He tested the bond again, felt metal cutting into his skin. His cuffs, he suspected.

Peterson weighed up the situation. This wasn’t good. He was completely immobilised, couldn’t see or shout for help. That left his brain and he needed to use it, to think of a way out of this situation fast, before whoever had left him here came back.

* * *

Amy finished reading her magazine, bored and frustrated that she couldn’t write. Picking up her cell phone she checked it for missed calls or messages. She’d left a couple for Ryan, but had heard nothing back. She sent him another text.

Please call or text me when you get this. I want to know you’re safe. Xx

Where was he? Why wasn’t he returning any of their calls?

She set the phone down, glanced at Rivers again. He had yet to remove his suit jacket, even though it had to be ninety degrees outside, and he sat there all prim on her couch, back ramrod straight and not a hair out of place, not a crease in his clothing.

No wonder she couldn’t relax around him. He was so stuffy. And he kept making an irritating popping noise, sucking in his cheek. It crossed Amy’s mind he was doing it on purpose to annoy her.

She picked up her phone again, bored. Still nothing from Ryan. She knew because it hadn’t beeped, but she checked anyway.

Her thoughts wandered to Sullivan and she wondered what he was up to. Was he still looking into Danielle’s murder? She hadn’t seen him since Special Agent Hickok had shown them the photograph of the two of them on her balcony. From what Detective Angell had said, she suspected Hickok was intentionally keeping them apart. It was stupid. Nothing had happened.

Playing with her phone, she clicked open a new message, started to type.

I can’t believe I got stuck with Rivers. He’s driving me nuts.

She tapped her finger against the side of the phone, debating for a moment before entering Sullivan’s name and clicking send.