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47
Alex sat at the table, picking at her dinner. She couldn’t think about anything except Tracy’s return. The silence in this place was disturbing. She usually enjoyed the quiet, especially when working a case. She didn’t like distractions when she was creating a profile. But the silence here was ... forced. The three women still behind the doors in the hallway were wondering if they’d ever see their families again. Contemplating what that meant. Trying to be brave. Attempting to believe there was a chance that life would go on after this place. But from experience, Alex knew they would never be the same even if they survived this.
She had to drink the tea eventually, unwilling to risk the consequences that could occur if she disobeyed. Maybe she could drink it and then go behind the curtain and force herself to throw up. But more than the tea could come up and clog the sink. The best idea was the one already in place. Wait for her date. It was the only way. And after tonight, it was bound to come quickly.
She waited as long as she could, then drank the tea before turning the cup upside down to show the camera it was empty. Were these men skilled at drugging them? What if they gave one of them too much? It worried her, but she couldn’t do anything about it now.
After covering the tray, she carried it to the door and placed it in front of the panel at the bottom. Then she went behind the curtain and changed into the nightgown they’d given her. She wanted them to think she was beginning to acquiesce to their scheme. Flannel. She hadn’t worn a flannel nightgown since she was a child—before her mother killed herself. She brushed her teeth and then her hair. After that she got into bed and pulled up the sheet and blanket.
She began to think about their host, again wondering if this guy had already killed the woman he said he was looking for. Alex had actually worked a case once where a killer had spent his time searching for a woman he’d already murdered. He’d stabbed several other women who’d reminded him of her. The anger he’d felt toward his ex-wife didn’t disappear after he took her life. He kept going, driven by the rage that still burned inside him. Was this the same kind of thing? It was a possibility, but it was also likely that the woman he was looking for was still alive. Which was it? She just couldn’t be sure. And what would happen if he was confronted by someone saying she was the woman he’d murdered? Was the truth buried deep within his psyche? Would it come out when his reality was challenged? Would he react violently?
She needed to be ready for anything.
The personalities of the two men still bothered her. The abductor, the man taking the women out on these so-called dates, was described as nice. Kind. Even gentle. And Andy seemed almost sorry for his role in their abductions. Both men seemed rather docile. Yet that didn’t make sense.
So where was the Ghost Rider? The violent personality in charge? She hadn’t seen him yet, and none of the women reported being confronted by him.
A thought struck her. What if Andy and the abductor were the same man with two personalities? No, that couldn’t be it. One man wouldn’t be able to do all this on his own. And that still left the Ghost Rider.
Then a new possibility drifted into her mind. What if there were three men? If that was true, this whole situation was even more complicated than she’d thought. Could she take down three of them? Were they all in more danger than she’d ever imagined?
When he came back from his phone call, he sat down but didn’t seem very interested in his food. He ate about half of it and stared at the rest like he didn’t know what it was.
“Is everything okay?” Tracy asked.
“I hope so.”
“Can you talk about it?”
He shook his head and took another bite of his hot dog, then put it down and looked at her. “The women really are released,” he said. “I know it may not sound true, but when they’re taken away, they’re drugged and dropped off far away from here. Since they don’t know where they were, they can’t lead the police to this location. And they stay quiet because they’re afraid of being recaptured or their families being hurt.”
“You can’t really believe that. It doesn’t make sense. Someone would have spoken up. And there are only two of you—”
He glared at her. “That’s enough. I mean it.”
“Okay, okay.” Tracy slowly ate her hot dog. It was really good, even if it didn’t compare to the meals they were being served inside the house.
When she finished, she decided to try one more time to reach him.
“Look, I don’t want to speak out of turn,” she said, “but you don’t seem like the kind of person who would normally do something like this.”
His expression tightened. “I’m not. That’s why I made him promise—” He shook his head. “Never mind.” He pointed at her food. “Finish up. Then we’ll get some cotton candy.”
She forced a smile. “Sorry, but I’m not big on cotton candy. Too much sugar for me.” The truth was she loved cotton candy, but she needed to get back to Alex so she could tell her what happened.
“Okay.” He shrugged. “Would you rather go back, then?”
“Yeah, I would. And it’s not because of you. To be honest, I’m not feeling great. Sometimes that stuff you put in the tea makes me nauseated most of the next day.”
“Sorry. Not my idea either. I hope you enjoy the food when you feel better, though.”
“It’s very good. Do you do the cooking?” She tried to look like she didn’t already know the answer.
He nodded. “I used to be a chef. That was a long time ago. Before things went wrong for me. I enjoy cooking again. I just wish it was under different circumstances.”
Tracy frowned. “Why don’t you do something about this? Call the police? Help us?” She tried to blink away the tears that filled her eyes, but failed.
“There’s really nothing I can do. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I really can’t talk about this anymore. I guess we need to go.”
