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37
The light was back on when Alex woke up. She immediately pulled herself to a sitting position and looked down at her feet. She was still wearing her boots, but she couldn’t continue to sleep with them on. They might get suspicious.
She glanced around the room. Another camera had been mounted on the wall. She could take it down, too, but if she was going to make her abductors think she was through fighting them, she’d have to leave it alone. She’d just need to be careful when she removed the knife from her boot to hide it in a better place. It galled her that she had to be more cooperative, but if she had any chance of getting these women home, this was the price she had to pay.
The camera was the same model as the last one. No speaker. Alex had a hard time believing the kidnappers didn’t want to listen to the women. Why weren’t they monitoring their conversations? As soon as she asked herself the question, she realized why they had no interest in what they might say. Because it wasn’t necessary. They knew the women couldn’t escape, and they didn’t believe it was necessary. Still, if they were looking for a particular person, wouldn’t they wonder if one of the women might say something that would prove they’d found her?
Unless that’s what the date was for. If only she could learn more about the woman he was looking for. If she could convince him she was that person, would he let everyone else go? Or would he kill them? She had no way of knowing.
But right now she needed information about the UNSUB. She trusted the profile she’d given to Jeff, but being here should tell her even more. Knowing he wasn’t working alone changed things.
Alex needed to understand the guy in charge. Why did he need help? Was it because he was housing the women for a while rather than killing them immediately? She was still surprised by the clean rooms, the good food—all the effort that went into meeting their basic needs. Where was the anger that usually marked the psyche of a serial killer? She did consider him a killer now since it was obvious most of the women were gone. This guy didn’t make sense. Of course, he’d cut off the food and kept the women in the dark to punish them. But in anger? Or just to keep them in line?
She stood but then immediately sat down again when a wave of dizziness hit. The drug in the tea, whatever it was, had side effects. She was thankful she hadn’t ingested it all.
After a minute or two, she stood more slowly. This time she was okay. Then she noticed the tray inside the door. She took it to the table and pulled off the cover. Scrambled eggs and sausage with hashbrowns and toast. Wow. Also a small carafe with hot coffee. She quickly poured some into the provided cup and took a small sip. No odd taste, nothing chalky. Just coffee. She wondered if drug addicts felt the same way she did when she drank it down. Wonderful.
She used the bathroom before eating, and when she was done, she washed her face and hands. Then she looked around to see if she could conceal the knife anywhere back there, but she couldn’t find any place that made her feel secure. She might be able to hide it at the bottom of the box with the plastic bags, but how long would that last? And what if they brought in a new box? No, she needed something better.
She returned to the table and ate her breakfast. It was hard to believe there were only two men here. Two men taking care of all these women? Washing their clothes. Serving them breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Washing their dishes. Keeping their rooms clean. She’d noticed that someone had even cleaned up the mess she’d made last night.
Once again Alex realized her fear of germs hadn’t been triggered. Why? It was a mystery to her. It should be driving her crazy by now, but she wasn’t thinking about it at all.
Strange.
She set the tray on the floor by the door, then opened the panel at the top, determined to get a better view of the man who came for the trays.
“Is anyone up?” she called.
A panel screeched open. “I’m here,” Tracy said.
“Is everyone else still here?” Alex asked.
One by one Marla, Merrie, and Amy checked in. Then the sound of the door opening at the end of the hall made everyone stop talking. Alex heard the small panels closing, but she kept hers open again.
She could hear something squeaking, like the wheels on a cart. Probably to gather the trays and remove them.
Alex stood on her tiptoes and pressed her face against the slot, trying to see the man as he approached. But just as he reached her, the opening suddenly banged shut. She jumped at the suddenness and tried to reopen it, but it was locked. Her tray was pulled through the bottom panel and then closed. She thought about saying something but decided to stay silent.
After he picked up all the trays and she heard the hall door close, she tried again to open the small panel, but it wouldn’t budge. She wanted to talk to the women again. She needed more information, but it was pretty clear they didn’t want her speaking to anyone.
She returned to the little table, sat down, and bowed her head to pray. They were probably watching her, laughing as she called on God for help. Little did they realize prayer was what they should fear the most.
Logan tried to open his eyes, but someone had apparently glued his eyelids shut. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get them open. Then he realized the doctor had probably placed some kind of covering over his eyes during the operation, so he quit struggling. She’d remove it when she was ready.
He felt a wave of pain in his head that took his breath away. He cried out, hoping someone who could help him was nearby.
“I’m in a lot of pain,” he managed to say even though his voice was weak. At first there was no response. Where was he? Where was his doctor?
“I’m here,” a voice said. He recognized it. Nurse Donna.
“Donna, I’m in so much pain,” he said, gasping because of the horrific throbbing in his head.
“Hold on,” she said. “I’m giving you something now.”
Logan held on with everything he had, but the pain barely subsided. “Could you double that, please?” he whispered. “I ... I don’t think I can take this much longer.” He’d experienced pain in his career, but this was beyond a broken ankle ... or even a gunshot. It was also much worse than the headaches he’d had before the surgery. But then the pain began to wash away like waves on the ocean. Within a minute or two, it was completely gone. “Thank you,” he whispered. His mouth was so dry he could barely get out the words. “Can I have some water?”
Donna patted his shoulder. “Not quite yet. Let’s get you out of recovery and back to your room first.”
