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February 2024
Sunday — 11:07 pm
The slow, throbbing pulse made it difficult for Brook to open her eyes. Consciousness ebbed and flowed like an incoming tide, but she eventually kept her thoughts on the shore. Each wave of pain originated from the side of her head, but there was also a sharp stinging sensation that crept down her neck and into her shoulder blades.
It took several attempts to finally remain aware of her surroundings.
The floor beneath her was hard and unforgiving, and her cheek was pressed against the rough Berber carpet. She purposefully didn’t open her eyes when she realized that her hands were bound tightly behind her back. From the thin pressure, her mind registered that her wrists were fastened with zip ties.
Memories of discovering empty food containers and rolled-up napkins in an attic came flooding back, and Brook suppressed a groan of disappointment that she had allowed Lorena Dobbs to get the best of her. For an individual whose profile suggested she was impulsive and brash, she had been able to remain still and quiet the entire time that Brook had searched the vacant house.
She had let her guard down.
Brook strained to hear any sign of her captor.
There.
A slight thud came from another room. She forced her eyes to open, which instantly caused the ache in her head to increase. The room was blurred at first, but it finally came into focus.
Brook had assessed her situation correctly.
She was on the floor with her hands and ankles bound by zip ties.
Not wanting to be in such a vulnerable position when Lorena returned, Brook ignored the pain while struggling to shift her weight so that she could sit upright against a couch—one that she recognized from somewhere.
Nausea hit her out of nowhere, and it was all Brook could do not to empty the contents of her stomach. Acid was now at the back of her throat, but she managed to reduce the burning sensation by swallowing multiple times. She attempted to focus on a painting of a lighthouse that was hanging at an angle on the far wall so that the spinning of the room would come to a complete stop.
Why did the lighthouse seem so familiar?
By the time Brook had evened out her breathing and was able to stem the queasiness, she had figured out their exact location—Erin Smith’s residence. Who would think to check the one place that was currently sealed off by the police?
Brook berated herself for the carelessness that she had exhibited when searching the vacant homes. While she might have used the penlight to scour the attic, the lack of noise on the upper level had given her a false sense of security.
Lorena must have hidden herself behind the boxes. She had been able to control her impulses and wait for the perfect time when Brook’s attention had been focused elsewhere.
The hard ridges of the zip ties were biting into her skin. Had Lorena fastened Brook’s arms in front of her, she would have been able to easily break the plastic ties. As it stood, she would need access to something very sharp if she stood a chance of freeing herself.
Lorena chose that moment to materialize from the kitchen, and she was holding a butcher knife in her right hand. The blade glinted in the dim light coming from a lamp positioned on a side table next to the couch.
“Look who has decided to join the party,” Lorena said with a laugh that could only be described as fanatical. The woman’s tone was enough for Brook to understand the depths of her derangement. Conforming to society for months while pretending to be someone else would have been extremely difficult for her. The freedom that she was experiencing now might very well be her downfall if Brook could find a way to use it to her advantage. “I’ve got to tell you, I haven’t had this much fun in years.”
“I’m glad that I could entertain you,” Brook said over a sharp pain that shot from her temple down to her jawline. To counter it so that Lorena wouldn’t notice, Brook strained against the zip ties so that they dug into her wrists. “No music this time around? I know you’re fond of music when you get into these moods, Lorena.”
Brook’s statement had brought Lorena up short.
There was a wild, manic look to her, making it clear that she was barely hanging on to her sanity. She was tall and thin, just like her photograph from 2017. She had cut her hair herself, the spikes uneven throughout the strands. Her movements were erratic, but the responses weren’t due to drugs. Her cheeks were flushed, yet her skin was pale. She was practically vibrating with energy as she zeroed in on Brook.
“Jacob said you were smart.” Lorena took a seat in the chair, though Brook doubted the woman would remain that way. “I told him that I could beat you at your own game. Profiling, right? You’re a control freak.”
“You got one over on me, Lorena,” Brook admitted as she thought over how to delay the inevitable. Once Lorena discovered that Sarah Evanston had reentered the witness protection program, there would be no need to keep Brook alive. Jacob wouldn’t have given Lorena such an order, but the woman wouldn’t be able to help herself. “Just like you did with your parents. Right? Which one of them wasn’t surprised when you slit their throats?”
Lorena’s grip tightened on the handle of the knife.
“You relished your mother’s reaction, didn’t you?” Brook inquired as if she were inquiring about a weather forecast. She needed to buy as much time as possible for the team to be able to locate her. Bit would be able to access someone’s home security system, which would show a vehicle leaving one of the vacant properties. “You hated your mother so much that she was the first person you fantasized about killing when you were young. Why? Was she strict? Did she beat you? Did she keep you from hanging out with your friends? Boyfriend? His name was Brad, right?”
“You don’t know anything about—” Lorena had lunged forward, barely keeping herself in the chair before she laughed and pointed the tip of the knife in Brook’s direction. “You’re trying to get me to stop asking about Sarah Evanston, aren’t you? Do you think you’re buying yourself time to be saved? No one is coming. No one.”
“No?” Brook inquired casually as she once again shifted her body to test her restraints. The zip ties were extremely tight around her wrists and less so on her ankles. “And why is that, Lorena?”
