Run From Fear (44 page)

Eugene.

She let out a little cry as she remembered the evil light in his eyes as he’d held Rosie’s phone to taunt her.

“Talia?” a voice croaked softly.

“Rosie?” Talia said, turning in the direction of the voice but unable to see anything in the absolute darkness,
so dark she thought she must be wearing a blindfold. She lifted her hands to her face and realized they were bound with plastic ties wound tightly around her wrists. She felt her face. No blindfold—the darkness was that profound.

Rosie started to cry, and the burst of relief was swallowed by blind panic as reality fully set in. She was locked up in a dark, cold room, her hands bound and—she shifted and felt the rough floor against the bare skin of her legs—her pants had been removed.

It was happening all over again. And this time Rosie was with her.

Memories of what Nate Brewster had done to her flooded her brain, unimaginable pain and degradation and the certain knowledge of her own death. But at least that time she had taken some peace in knowing that Rosie was safe, that Jack had gotten her away and made sure no one could touch her.

Rosie’s sobs sounded very far away as Talia felt a swallowing sensation, as though she were sinking into herself. Pushing the real world away, she retreated to a place in her brain where no one would ever find her. It was what she’d done so many times in the past. It was the only way she could get through this.

No!
The same voice that had unfrozen her the other night and urged her to fight, the voice in her head that sounded remarkably like Jack’s, snapped her back to reality.
It’s not just you this time. You have to think of Rosie. You have to do whatever you can to get her out of here.

She pushed herself woozily to her feet and stayed along the wall as she felt her way in the direction of Rosie’s sobs. The concrete was icy cold against her feet, and her teeth started to chatter almost immediately. After
a dozen shuffling steps, she felt her toe hit something that felt like a bare leg.

She sank to the floor and leaned into her sister, sobbing with relief as Rosie slumped against her. “Oh, God, Talia, I’m so scared. I’m so scared.”

“Shhh,” Talia said. “Tell me what happened.”

“One second, I was talking to Eugene about my physics midterm, and the next thing I knew, he was shoving me into the trunk of his car. Then I woke up here. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in here.”

“It’s Sunday night,” Talia said. Or at least she thought it was Sunday night. She had no idea how long she’d been out. “Do you know how long ago he brought me here?” Talia asked. She wondered how long it would take for anyone to notice they were missing.

“Maybe a couple hours?” Rosie sniffed. “I’m not sure because I might have fallen asleep.”

So it had probably only been a few hours since she’d been taken. Jack, the only one likely to care if she didn’t pick up the phone, was still in custody. A shiver that had little to do with cold shook her to the core.

She and Rosie could be raped, tortured, and killed before anyone even noticed they were gone.

“I think the police were wrong about that Sutherland guy,” Rosie rasped. “I think Eugene is the one who’s been hurting those women. He has all these pictures.” She broke off and Talia felt her tremble against her.

“Has he… did he…” Talia broke off, not knowing if she could stand it if he’d raped her.

“He hasn’t raped me…”

Yet.
Though unspoken, Talia knew it was only a matter of time unless they found a way out of here.

“He comes a few times a day and he… touches me. It’s just like the women described in the news. But it always happens. It’s going to happen.”

“Shhh, it’s going to be okay—”

Talia’s pitiful reassurances stuck in her throat as a loud, scraping sound echoed through the room. A split second later, a light switched on, searingly bright. It took Talia several seconds to focus but she knew Eugene was there. Dressed in jeans, a button-down shirt, and Converse All Stars, he looked exactly like the harmless physics PhD candidate he presented himself to be.

But there was a gleam in his eyes, a sick anticipation on his face that Talia had seen in only one other place.

On the man who had tried to kill her.

“I’m so glad you’re finally awake. I was afraid for a minute I might have given you too much Rohypnol.”

Talia scooted in front of Rosie in a protective crouch. “You can do whatever you want to me, but let Rosie go.”

He chuckled softly. “Of course I’ll do whatever I want to you. I always do whatever I want.” He gestured to the walls.

So focused on him, Talia hadn’t noticed the horrific images papering the walls of the chamber. Her stomach churned and she was afraid she was going to throw up, unable to look away from the close-ups of pale, smooth skin carved with deep, bloody gashes.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” He sauntered around the room as though studying the walls of an art gallery, occasionally reaching out to run his fingers down one, tracing the pattern of the bloody furrows. “But this one, this one is my favorite.”

She didn’t want to see, but she couldn’t stop her gaze
from following his hand as it traced down the close-up of a woman’s back. The picture was different from the rest, grainier and pixilated, but no less shocking.

“This inspired it all. The clean cuts. The sheer perfection.” He sounded almost wistful. Then he turned to her and pinned her with his flat, reptilian gaze. “Don’t you recognize it?”

Even as she shook her head, she noticed the familiar, honey-colored tone of the woman’s skin. The dark red slashes standing out in bright relief. The scars on her back began to burn.

He smiled when he saw the dawning recognition on her face. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

“Why?” Talia choked out. “Why those other girls if you only wanted me?”

“Practice,” he said simply. “Practice makes perfect, right?” He held up his hand, and the glint of the steel blade made the blood roar in her head as her breath came in sharp pants.

He knelt beside her and raised the knife. She tried to shrink away but couldn’t escape cold metal as it pressed against her cheek. “And when I finally finish what the Seattle Slasher began, I want everything to go perfectly.”

He withdrew the knife. Talia’s breath slowed a degree, then went back into overdrive as he moved it to rest against Rosie’s neck instead. “But I’ll do the Slasher one better. This time you’ll get to see firsthand exactly what’s going to happen to you when I do it to your sister first.”

Before she could react, he grabbed her and shoved her down to the floor to lie on her stomach. He straddled her hips and shoved her shirt up her back. “Oh, God, I’ve been waiting so long to touch you.” His hands traced along her
scars in a parody of a lover’s touch, making every cell in her body revolt.

She bucked her hips, trying to get him off, then froze as his fingers were replaced by cold metal. Oh, God, he was tracing the knife along the scars. Scraping the oddly sensitive, raised flesh with the razor-sharp tip. She held her breath, waiting for the first slice.

Fight!
Instinct took over and she bucked and heaved, trying to dislodge him even though she knew escape was unlikely.

“Stop struggling,” he growled.

Ignoring him, she pushed up on her bound hands and threw her head back, hoping to catch him in the face.

He jerked to the side and she felt the hot sting of the knife slicing into the skin stretching across her rib cage. She rolled to a seated position and tried to move her hands to assess the damage.

Blood welled and dripped down her side, but it didn’t look too deep.

“You stupid bitch!” The openhanded slap caught her unaware. Pain exploded across her face as her head whipped around and her mouth filled with blood. “Look at what you made me do!” He jerked the shirt out of the way and looked at the slice, shaking his head.

“No, no, no,” he moaned. “It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be perfect and you made me mess it up.”

He shoved her to the floor and raised the hand with the knife above his head. She heard Rosie’s terrified scream and saw her struggle to her knees, as though she could somehow save her.
It was happening again. Except this time there would be no Jack to come to her rescue.

Tears stung her eyes as his image filled her head and she braced herself for the fatal blow. At least she would die knowing she’d been loved by the best man on the planet. Her only regret was that Jack would never know how much she’d loved him back.

But to her shock, she didn’t feel the icy pain of the blade sliding across her throat or stabbing into her chest. She looked up and saw Eugene slumped in a corner, the knife hand hanging loosely at his side as he muttered to himself. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he was saying. “We’ll fix it. We’ll fix it and when it’s fixed, we’ll start over.”

Without so much as a backward glance, he turned off the light, plunging them once again into complete darkness. She snuggled up against Rosie as she heard the door shut and the lock slide home.

“Are you hurt bad?” Rosie asked.

“No.” Her head throbbed and the cut on her side stung, but Talia clung to the pain. It meant she was still alive. And as long as they were alive, there was a chance they’d make it out of here.

Jack was arraigned and had posted bail by 1:00 p.m. Monday. He called Danny to score a ride back to his hotel only to discover his friend had spent the weekend in the hospital at Caroline’s side. She was coming home today, but he would need to pitch in at home for the next several weeks.

“I’m going to need everyone to pick up some slack at the company,” Danny said around a yawn. “Unless I can get some new hires, we’re going to have to put the Seattle
expansion on hold for a bit and have you stay here for a little while longer.”

“You sure you want someone who’s just been charged with murder working for you?”

“Ah, that bullshit will be cleared up in no time,” Danny said.

“Let’s hope so. In any case, I’ll stay as long as I’m needed.” Truth was, he was in no hurry to get back to Seattle. Not when things were so unsettled between him and Talia.

As though he’d read his mind, Danny said, “Talia was great, by the way. She took Anna Saturday when Caroline went into the hospital, spent the night, the whole deal. Maybe she’s worth all the trouble after all.”

“Yeah, now all I have to do is get her to talk to me.”

With Danny unable to pick him up, Jack decided to take a chance and call Talia. The call went straight to voice mail like she was on the other line. He left a message to let her know he’d made bail and was hoping to see her later.

He finally called a cab to drive him back to the Four Seasons, where he showered and changed out of the suit his attorney had brought him for the arraignment. Despite Danny’s assertions, Jack wasn’t so sure he’d be able to get out of this murder charge so easily. The surveillance tapes showed him entering the hotel around the time Sutherland was killed.

But in the ten minutes he’d spent in the hotel, the surveillance cameras on Sutherland’s floor had inexplicably stopped working, so there was no footage of Jack leaving the building. And since he had no alibi and so far the cops had no other suspects, they were going to do their
damnedest to take that surveillance footage all the way to trial.

Jack went to the Gemini Securities offices, where he could use their state-of-the-art technology and connections to dig deeper into Margaret Grayson-Maxwell’s dealings. He’d already found several links showing payments to Sutherland. The woman wasn’t nearly as good at covering her money trail as her husband had been. He’d forwarded all of the information to Cole and the Seattle PD, confident they’d have the old harpy back in jail where she belonged in no time.

Still she was denying she’d sent Sutherland and denying she’d sent anyone else to finish Sutherland off when he decided to roll over on her. But so far Jack hadn’t been able to uncover anything in her records to support that theory.

He worked for several hours until he finally gave up in frustration.

Even more frustrating, Talia hadn’t returned his call. Was she avoiding him? She’d freaked out again after they’d gone at each other like animals on her living room floor. He got it. She didn’t like to lose control, and some deeply scarred part of her was convinced that if she let down her guard too far, she’d find herself trapped again, living under the thumb of another man.

Jack couldn’t prove her wrong if she wouldn’t even return his damn calls. Irritated, he sent her a text.
Understand you might not want to talk. But msg me back so I know you’re OK.

He went out to get a bite to eat and was back at his hotel by ten. Still no message from Talia. He was starting to get that tight feeling in his gut like something wasn’t right. He
was grabbing the valet ticket for his car, ready to drive to her house—to hell with the fact she might be pissed off at him checking up on her—when he finally got a reply.

Sorry. Just need some space. Talk soon.

Jack’s mouth pulled in a tight line. Just two days ago she’d been tearing at his clothes, as desperate for him as he was for her.