His basement.
Sam woke with the mother of all headaches. She sucked in air through clenched teeth, blowing it out slowly. With a start, she realized the gag was gone, and her hands were now zip tied in front of her.
She jerked into a sitting position and immediately regretted it. Excruciating pain exploded behind her eyes, and she didn’t bother to stifle the whimper rising in her throat. A wave of nausea followed, and she lowered her head between her knees. Every beat of her heart pounded against her temples, and she prayed for it to end.
Several long moments passed as she remained doubled over. Slowly, she straightened and looked around.
The room was large and filled with an assortment of furniture pieces, cardboard boxes and junk. One dirt-crusted window up high on her right allowed minimal light in. The soft white glow of the single bulb dangling from the ceiling diffused the area with shadows.
Basement? I’m in a basement.
The bindings on her hands and feet made turning around for a better view difficult. A small table on her left held a bottle of water and a convenience store sandwich. Was it there before or did he bring it when he re-did my bindings? She scooted closer to the table and reached for the water, grimacing in pain as the bindings dug into chafed flesh.
After carefully inspecting the cap to ensure it hadn’t been tampered with, she managed to get the top off and took a small sip. A quick swish of the tepid liquid helped alleviate her powder dry mouth, and soothe chapped lips. The moment the liquid hit her stomach, it growled with hunger. She counted to ten and the water stayed put, though the hunger pains increased. Another ten count and a quick inspection of the sandwich showed it didn’t appear to be tinkered with. Praying it was not a mistake, she devoured half of it three bites.
Church bells. She sat up straighter. I’m close enough to hear the chimes from the Methodist Church. The short musical selection preceded peals marking the hour. One in the afternoon. How long have I been here? Since yesterday?
Twenty-four hours. Coop would be out of his mind with worry.
Every movement sent her headache into the stratosphere. She rested her head on the back of the shabby couch and breathed deeply. I’m in town. If I can get free, I should be able to get help. There must be something here I can cut these ties with.
The squeak of a door opening somewhere behind her, followed by heavy steps on wooden stairs, filled her with dread. Too late.
He was back.
The hardest thing Coop ever had to do was remain calm and not rush the process. The fact Sam’s life hung in the balance was the only way he managed.
One call to old Mrs. Dawson in the county clerk’s office, and he knew exactly how many houses in Bakersville had basements. Two.
His prime suspect owned one of them.
He inched through the darkened house toward the kitchen, stopping when cold air surrounded him.
It’s him.
“I know, Peg. I’ll get him” The basement door should be on the opposite side of the small pantry area ahead.
The icy air rushed past him, pushing the basement door wider.
Weapon in hand, he edged through.
“Hello, Sunshine.”
Unable to speak, Sam blinked several times as the deputy rounded the corner of the couch, a pistol pointed at her chest.
JD sauntered closer, hooked the leg of a chair with his toe and drug it forward. He turned it around and straddled it, gun hand draped over the back, a malevolent smile marring an otherwise handsome face. His unnerving silence made him all the more sinister.
She looked down at her hands. “Why? I don’t understand.”
He tipped his hat back with the gun barrel, bright white teeth gleaming in the muted light. “Well, I must say, this wasn’t at all what I had planned, but then, I’m nothing if not flexible.”
He’s wearing latex gloves.
Sam never feared much of anything in her life, but she feared this man with the dead eyes. Each breath was a struggle; her head pounded, and dizziness threatened to overcome her. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the tremble from her voice. “I thought you were my friend.”
“Oh, this has nothing to do with being friends.”
“Y-you’re n-not making any sense.”
Good humor vanished and his dark eyes narrowed. “You saying I’m crazy?”
“N-no…I’m j-just trying t-to understand why. Th-that’s all.”
His wordless glare frightened her, prompting the need to fight back. “Coop won’t rest until you pay.”
One shoulder lifted in a dismissive gesture. “Guys like him are no match for guys like me.”
She studied him, trying to decide if he were serious. He was.
“If he was as smart as he thinks he is, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
When she merely stared, he continued. “I got away with murder. Twice. Right under his nose.” He scratched his cheek with the gun barrel. “I admit that wasn’t the plan, but like I said, I’m nothing if not flexible.”
