She'd expected to hear something coming from the basement, but either this place was more soundproofed than it looked or Carlos had chosen not to hurt Eric. Vanessa wished she knew his plan. Then perhaps she could help, could offer some insights.
Of course, banished to the bedroom, she could do nothing.
She couldn't stand it any longer. She crept to the door, turned the knob. Unlocked, because Carlos knew she would do what he'd told her to do. And she would. Normally, she would. But her entire life hinged on what happened tonight. If she couldn't prove herself helpful, how would Carlos ever come to depend on her, ever make her an equal partner? And now that Kelsey was coming, Vanessa needed to prove her worth more than ever.
Because what if Carlos decided he didn't need her anymore. What if he replaced her with Kelsey, sent her down to live with the girls?
She thought of that place, the tiny locked closets for the girls still being broken, the odors and screams. The dorm where the compliant girls slept. The filth and drugs and despair. She couldn't go back there. She wouldn't.
She had to stay with Carlos. She had to prove her worth. She would find a way. She just needed more information.
She turned the knob and stepped into the dark hallway to listen.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
There was no clock to count the minutes.
Eric focused on the far wall. Behind him, the space had looked like a bedroom—sheetrock, paint, and ceiling on three sides of the bed. But the part of the room that would be out of sight of the cameras, the part that he could see now, was all basement. Concrete walls to each side and in front of him, concrete floor below, rafters and pipes and ducts above. There were full-sized windows near the ceiling. Beyond them, he could see only darkness, but he figured each was just inches above the ground outside.
Eric found a spot on the wall across from him and focused on it. It looked like someone had drilled a bolt in the concrete there. Water had come in through that hole, dripped down the concrete and left an ugly rust-colored stain.
Silence filled the space.
Surfer Dude was standing by the door, arms crossed. The kid was bored.
Eric's shoulders ached, and the plastic ties binding him to the chair were cutting into his wrists. Eric shifted, a futile attempt to get comfortable. The chair creaked beneath him. The thing would probably collapse any minute.
Yeah, focus on the furniture. Don't think about Kelsey. Don't think about what Otero is planning. If Surfer Dude had been given the go-ahead to torture Eric to get information, Eric would feel better about the situation. But he hadn't been. Which meant they didn't need to use pain as a motivator. Which meant they had a better motivator.
Kelsey.
Not that it looked like Surfer Dude's punches would hurt much, but Eric was used to being beat on. As the youngest of four brothers, he'd gotten beat up plenty in his life. And this guy had nothing on Eric's oldest brother. On TV, all the thugs were skillful and brutal fighters. In real life, most people, even thugs, didn't get that much opportunity to practice their fighting skills. Eric figured Surfer Dude spent more time working on his tan than on his boxing skills.
He didn't know where Daniel was—for that he was thankful. But he needed Otero to believe Daniel had been given up for adoption and lost forever. Only that would protect the boy. Maybe Eric wouldn't survive this. And what would become of Kelsey?
He wouldn't let himself imagine the possibilities.
But if Eric could protect Daniel, then maybe, maybe all Eric and Kelsey had lost—their marriage, their lives together, their future—maybe all that loss would matter.
Footsteps sounded on the ceiling above him, then on the stairs.
The door opened, and Otero stepped in. He wore a satisfied smile. Eric itched to punch it off the guy's face.
Clenching his fists only made the plastic dig into his flesh more.
"Dude, you gonna let me hit him?" the surfer asked.
"I'm not your dude," Otero said. "Step away."
Surfer Dude backed to the opposite wall.
Otero stared down at Eric. "Why are you trying to hide a child your wife had with another man?"
"I'm not hiding anybody. I don't know where the kid is."
"Oh, but you do. You know exactly where he is."
"You'll have to kidnap and torture someone from the adoption agency. 'Course, I don't know where she was living when she gave the kid up. It'll be a heckuva search. Maybe you should hire a lawyer."
Otero smiled, chuckled softly. "I don't think that'll be necessary." He stepped out of Eric's line of vision, then returned dragging a chair that matched the rickety one Eric was sitting in. He set it a few feet in front of Eric and settled into it, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You're quite attached to Kelsey."
Eric made eye contact but said nothing.
"I can appreciate that," Otero said. "A man like you. You married her. Where I come from, vows are important. Marriage means something, yes? And you, you have stayed loyal to our Kelsey for nearly ten years."
Our Kelsey. Like they shared her. The words filled him with a fresh rage. He fought the desire to struggle against the restraints, the creaky chair.
Otero noticed the reaction. He crossed his ankle over his knee. "But you must ask yourself, has she stayed loyal to you?" The man made a tsk, tsk, tsk sound. "This, I can answer for you. And I'm afraid you won't like it."
Eric didn't want to hear what Otero had to say. If he survived this, eventually Kelsey would tell him all that had happened between her and Otero. He didn't want to hear it from this man.
But he didn't allow his gaze to falter nor his emotions to show. This was a game of chicken, and Eric couldn't afford to flinch.
"Most of my girls, I don't even know their names," Otero said. "I don't bother with them. These days, I usually don't even see them. They are merchandise, valuable only as long as they can bring income. But your Kelsey, she was different from the very start. Back then, I examined all my girls. And when I examined her..." Otero smiled. "I knew she was different from that first day. I kept her for myself. I didn't even allow the other men to break her. No, I wanted that pleasure to be mine." He shook his head sadly. "It wasn't as much fun as I'd anticipated. Do you know why?"
Eric wouldn't respond. Wouldn't react.
"Because she didn't fight me. Not once. She was as compliant as a trained dog from the first time. Not just compliant. No, no. Your Kelsey, she was eager."
"You're lying."
The man had the audacity to chuckle. "Of course you would think that. Only a short time before, you had pledged your undying love to her. For her to move on that quickly—"
"She was trying to save her sister."
"Yes, I can imagine this is what she told you. Of course she had to come up with a story. But she never asked me to have mercy on her sister. Never even mentioned her. I think she liked the power."
"You're a fool if you think I'm going to believe a word you say."
"One of us is definitely a fool," Otero said. "But it is not me."
"Kelsey is pure and precious and brave."
Otero laughed. "Kelsey is none of those things. Pure? Let me tell you how pure she is." And then Otero launched into a story, sharing details Eric never wanted to know about what he'd done to Kelsey, what he claimed Kelsey had done with him. Eric would have blocked his ears if his hands had been free.
The surfer leaned in for every disgusting word.
Kelsey is pure and precious and brave.
Pure and precious and brave.
But Otero's words brought images that caused nausea to rise in Eric's throat. He couldn't help but see the pictures the words described.
No.
He couldn't allow himself to think of her the way Otero saw her. Because Otero didn't know her, couldn't know her, and certainly had no right to define her.
The thought came gently, fell like the snow beyond the windows.
Kelsey was pure and precious and brave, and nothing
Otero had done, nothing he said, nothing he believed could change who she was. Because nobody had the right to define Kelsey except her Creator. And her Creator saw her very differently.
"Kelsey is pure and precious and brave."
Otero stopped his story, frowned. "You are a fool."
"You are a monster."
Surfer Dude stepped forward. "Lemme have a go with him."
Eric wasn't afraid of the surfer. He barely gave him a glance before he focused on Otero again.
Otero continued to stare at Eric. Seconds ticked away before he stood, shook his head. "No need." He threw the words at his thug without breaking Eric's eye contact. "If he won't tell us, Kelsey will. I'll have her brought here right away."
No. No. Kelsey had to be safe. If she wasn't safe... "You're lying."
Otero smiled. "I always wanted a lake house."
Lake house. He knew where she was.
"But of course, I live on the sea, and that is better, no?" Otero turned to the surfer. "Make yourself comfortable. I may need your services when she arrives."
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Kelsey and Magic had resumed the pacing. Every time she reached the window, she shifted the curtain and looked outside, just in case.
The driveway was always empty.
She glanced at her watch for the thousandth time. Nearly an hour had passed since Eric's call. "Where is he? He said fifteen minutes."
"Maybe the snow slowed him down." Rae's words were placating, but her voice carried traces of fear.
Because if the roads were the problem, Eric would have answered his phone. But every call had gone straight to voicemail.
Donny finished a whispered phone call and slipped the phone in his pocket as he stepped around the bar from the kitchen into the small living area. His uniform still looked as crisp as if he'd just put it on, but his face reflected the worry in Rae's voice, in the dog's expression, in Kelsey's heart. His glance skipped past Rae and landed on Kelsey.
"What?"
"No sign of him or the truck."
"Did they check his house? Maybe he went home to get something."
"Not enough manpower. They're stretched thin with the explosion and the storm."
"So that's it?" Her voice rose, and she didn't even try to lower it. "He's just gone?"
Magic whined as if she knew.
Donny shook his head. "'Course not. They're looking for him. For Otero, too."
She turned, started pacing again.
The dog matched her, step for step.
Rae and Donny were silent, though she imagined that when she turned her back on them, they were sharing looks, silent conversations.
After a few circuits across the small room, Magic whined again.
Kelsey knelt and pet the dog. "I know. I'm worried, too."
Magic looked at her with frightened eyes. Kelsey couldn't comfort the dog. She had no comfort to give. She resumed her pacing.
As the minutes ticked away like the final heartbeats of the condemned, Kelsey paced and prayed to the God Eric was convinced was not only watching, but cared.
Kelsey couldn't make herself believe it, but for Eric, she tried.
She'd believe anything, if only Eric would walk through that door.
She peeked out the window again. She didn't see Brady's silver truck, but something did catch her eye.
She gasped, stepped back. "Someone's out there!"
The dog growled, focused on the front door.
Donny yanked Kelsey away from the window, pulled out his gun, peeked outside. He spoke into the radio attached to his uniform, then looked at Kelsey and Rae. "Get into the bedroom and lock the door. Backup's on the way."
They both headed that direction.
A knock on the door had them freezing. Kelsey turned, looked at Donny. He pointed to the bedroom, but she shook her head.
Rae stood beside her, held her hand. They watched Donny.
Magic growled again. Her hackles rose. She barked once. A warning.
Donny kept his gun at the ready and stood behind the wall beside the door. "Who's there?"
"I'm not gonna hurt you," a man said. "I just gotta show you somethin'."
"What is it?"
"I'm gonna leave it on the porch, then I'm gonna walk to the road. Then you can open the door and grab it."
"What is it?" Donny repeated.
"A photograph. We need the woman, Kelsey, to look at it. Like I said, I mean you no harm."
"How do I know it's not a trap?"
"We don't wanna hurt a cop or the wife of a cop. We don't want trouble."
Donny turned, met Kelsey's eyes.
Yes, she'd heard what the man hadn't said. They didn't want to hurt Donny or Rae. Apparently Kelsey was a different story. She nodded anyway. She needed to see that photograph.
Now.
She stepped forward. "Tell him to leave it. I'll go out for it."
"No." Donny stared at her, then at the door. He was silent so long, her chest started to burn. She realized she was holding her breath and forced herself to inhale and exhale.
Rae squeezed her hand, held her in place.
Donny glared at her. "Go in the bedroom."
But she didn't move. She couldn't move.
Donny spoke to the man on the other side of the door. "Leave it, then."
There was no answer.
Donny shifted to the window, inched the curtain aside, and looked out. "He must've already left it. He's standing in the middle of the road, hands up."
Kelsey started toward the door, but Donny held up his hand. "Don't move. We'll wait for backup."
"I need to know what he left."
Donny pointed again to the bedroom. "Backup will be here any minute."
Kelsey looked at the closed and locked door, then at the policeman whose job it was to protect her. That was the problem, wasn't it? Donny wanted to protect her, but she wanted to protect Eric, and they both needed to protect Daniel. She took a deep breath. "It's not going to hurt to see what it is," she said. "Just let me..."
Donny blew out a breath and inched the door open. He kept his gun at the ready, crouched down, reached out, grabbed something, and then slammed the door.
He held up a clear plastic bag. Kelsey got just enough of a glimpse beyond the plastic to get her moving. It was a photograph. She crossed the space and snatched it out of Donny's hand.
And stared at her husband's face. He was sitting in a wooden chair, glaring at the camera. His hands were pressed unnaturally to his sides.
Tied to the chair.
Otero had Eric.
Her fingers were trembling as she flipped the plastic bag and looked at the back of the photograph. In his neat penmanship, Otero had written a short message.
First, we will kill your husband. Then we will kill the cop and the woman protecting you. When it's over, you will still be mine. But if you come out now, nobody has to die.
Two minutes.
Yours,
Carlos
Before Donny or Rae could stop her, before she could think about what it would mean, she lunged for the door.
Donny reached for her, but Magic stepped between them. The dog snapped at Donny, slowed him just enough.
Kelsey reached the door, opened it, and stepped into the blowing snow.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Eric watched, waited. Prayed. Because he couldn't let Kelsey be hurt. He couldn't bear it. He feared what he would do, what he would say, if they brought Kelsey here, if they threatened to hurt her.
They very thought of it terrified him.
Surfer Dude sat between Eric and the door in Otero's chair. He still wore that red parka. Eric was still wearing his jacket, too, and glad of it. There was no heat in this basement.
For a few minutes, the surfer had watched Eric, but he'd gotten bored with that quickly. Now, he was scrolling on his phone, chuckling occasionally. Eric's whole future was in question, and that idiot was checking Instagram.
And the surfer w
as an idiot. Eric had thought Otero would send the chubby guy back down, but he hadn't. Eric and this guy were alone. Unfortunately, Eric was strapped to a chair.
A rickety chair and creaked when he moved. A chair that felt like it might collapse under him.
Was it as fragile as it felt?
He glanced to his left and saw a metal post between him and the concrete wall. But to his right, the way was clear. If he could just...
It was an insane idea, but it was all he had.
He took a deep breath, sent up a prayer, and clenched his fists.
This was going to hurt.
With his bound hands, he gripped the chair legs. In one swift motion, he stood, lifting the chair with him, turned, and launched himself backward as fast as he could. A second later, he smashed against the concrete wall.
Pain shot through his back and shoulders.
The chair shattered.
He shook his hands free. His left wrist came up with the chair's support beam attached, but the right one slipped free.
With the wood gripped tight in his hand, he lunged forward.
Surfer Dude was on his feet, phone in one hand, nothing in the other. Jaw dropped in shock.
Reflexes like a sloth.
Eric lifted the chair leg, swung it toward the surfer's head. The man ducked, but not in time. The wood made contact with a thunk. Dazed, he stepped back. Eric grabbed his shirt, launched him into the corner.
The surfer stumbled, collapsed.
Eric kicked him while he dislodged the wood from his left arm and looked for the man's the phone. It had skittered out of his hands when Eric had hit him. He didn't see it anywhere.
Surfer Dude was moving.
A man called down the stairs. "You okay?"
No time to find the phone. Eric ran to the window, pushed it open, and climbed outside.
He bolted into the woods. Brush scraped against his face, his clothes.
Shouts behind him, a screen door opening and closing. But Eric had the advantage now. He knew these woods, and if nothing else, the darkness would hide him.
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