Page 111 of Coordinates of Death

“That didn’t sound good.” Kordell inspected the tiny room.

Various medical supplies and machines lay scattered in the corners. Open pipes jutted out from the wall above a sink. A three-legged metal chair leaned against a table, its rusted frame splattered with dark blotches. Dried blood from years gone by?

Kordell shuddered. “What was this room used for?”

“I don’t want to know.” She pointed. “I think the suspect left us another clue.”

An older tape recorder sat on the table. A note rested on top.

Play me.

“Not sure we should play this game.” Something told Kordell whatever message was on the recorder wasn’t good.

Aurora pressed the Play button.

Seconds later, water gushed from the pipe above the sink like Niagara Falls—quick and forceful.

They gasped simultaneously.

“Are you ready to play, Kordell?” a robotic voice asked. “Or will you drown?” Silence answered as if the recorder had paused for dramatic effect.

Kordell’s pulse jackhammered. “Why address only me?”

“No idea,” Aurora said.

“Here’s how it works,” the voice continued. “Time for confession. Kord, you have secrets. Secrets you’ve never told Rory. It’s time to spill the beans . . . or . . . she dies.”

No! Kordell’s hand shook, his grip on his Glock loosening. He regained control and holstered his weapon. Something told him guns wouldn’t work to his benefit here. Only the truth would.

A haunting laugh blared through the speaker. “Well, you both die. Tell her what you witnessed. Tell her everything. Remember, I’m listening. You confess, the water stops, the doors open, and you can find Ginny.” Another eerie stillness. “Will you keep your secrets, or will you let Rory and Ginny die? Your choice.”

The recording ended.

“Kord, what is he talking about? What secrets?” She stowed her weapon.

Kordell bit his lip.

The water continued to gush in, swirling around their ankles and rising quickly. It wouldn’t take long to flood the small room, and they’d be underwater within minutes.

Their earlier kiss returned as if haunting him of what would probably never happen again once she discovered the truth. How could he tell her and maintain any type of relationship? She’ll hate me.

But her life was more important. Even if she refused to talk to him or never see him again, so be it. He couldn’t—and wouldn’t—let her die. It was time. He owed her the truth.

“Let’s lean against the wall.” Kordell guided her toward the door.

She jerked free of his hold. “Tell me! What’s SBK talking about?”

He puffed out a breath. “The only way I can think of telling you this is to just spit it out.” Another breath. “I knew you had been raped before you told me.”

“What?” Her face blanched.

“I, too, was hit over the head that day. When I woke up, I was in the haunted mansion, strapped to a chair in the room next to you. There was a window similar to your interrogation room. Probably appeared as a mirror to you. Cain gagged me and drugged me so I couldn’t move.”

The water swished at their kneecaps. Hurry, Kord. You’re running out of time. “He made me watch as his boys raped you. Yes, it was Sebastian and Sheldon, Rory.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she remained silent.

“I tried to look away, but he held my face in a vise grip pointed directly at you, so I closed my eyes. I didn’t see anything, only heard your screams, even over the rap music.”