“You’re going to have to set multiple alarms for tomorrow morning,” she told him. “I’m worried I’ll sleep right through my normal one.”
“Already done,” he assured her, smiling. “In addition to your phone and mine, I reset both our bedside alarm clocks. I also texted the overnight desk sergeant and asked him to give me a wakeup call in the morning. So I think we’re set.”
“My knight in shining armor,” she said, batting her eyes and planting a quality kiss on him.
“Just taking care of the people I love,” he said, before hastily adding, “You better get ready for bed. That pill is going to kick in fast.”
She started toward the bathroom to get cleaned up, then turned around.
“I love you too,” she told him.
He smiled broadly before hopping on the bed and pulling up the covers like an eight-year-old giddy to secretly read a comic book he had hidden under the pillow.
“See you soon,” he said.
She could already feel the pain medication kicking in within just a few minutes of swallowing it. Her eyes felt heavy as she brushed her teeth and changed for bed.
When she got out of the bathroom, Ryan was already out. His soft, rhythmic breathing worked on her like a metronome. As her head hit the pillow, she wasn’t worried that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. She was afraid of what nightmares awaited her when she did.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Jessie woke up with a start.
She tried to open her eyes, thick with sleep, and found it to be a challenge. Then she remembered why. She’d taken the pain pill, which had knocked her out almost immediately.
So why am I awake?
One of the major reasons she was reluctant to take the pills in the first place was how groggy and unfocused they made her feel. She felt certain that between that and the day she’d had, she’d stay dead to the world until her alarm went off at 7 a.m. But something had awakened her.
She couldn’t hear Ryan’s quiet breathing so she gently reached a hand across the bed and felt his familiar, warm body beside her. Forcing her eyes open, she glanced over at him and saw that he was lying on his back. His eyes were wide open and he was staring at the ceiling.
Maybe he should have taken a sleeping pill.
“Bad dream?” she whispered to him.
He didn’t respond. She leaned over and spoke a little louder.
“Did you see a ghost?”
Still no response. He gave no indication that he’d heard her.
Jessie propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. Something was wrong but she couldn’t tell what it was. He was breathing, if silently and shallowly. She put her finger to his neck and noted again that he was warm. He had a pulse, though it was faint. But he was unblinking, entirely unresponsive. She shook him aggressively. Nothing.
Her whole body went cold as a surge of panic gripped her. She could feel her mind starting to spin out of control and tried desperately to reel it back in. Though everything in the bedroom was still, it seemed as though the walls were closing in on her.
She ordered herself to stop, to focus. She pushed up onto her knees and looked around the room. Nothing seemed out of place. Still, she reached over to her nightstand to grab her phone. It wasn’t there. She opened the drawer where she kept her handgun and found it was gone too.
She turned her attention to Ryan’s nightstand and saw that his phone and gun were not resting in the spot where he normally left them. But there was something in their place: a syringe.
She was about to jump out of bed when she had a ridiculous thought.
Am I having a nightmare?
She reached down and actually pinched the back of her left hand hard. The sting was real. Suddenly alert, she jumped out of bed and flicked the switch on her bedside lamp. Nothing happened. Then she realized the noise machine they used to block out the sounds of downtown L.A. at night was off too. The power was out. She darted around to the bedroom door, about to go check on Hannah, when she stopped.
Someone did this; if not Kyle, then one of his lackeys. He’s probably on the other side of this door.
She hurried back across the room and grabbed Ryan’s baseball bat from the closet. As she returned to the door, she glanced at her boyfriend, half-expecting him to give her a displeased look at having commandeered his precious bat. But he continued to stare blankly at nothing.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered in case he could hear her. “I’ll be right back.”
She yanked open the door and stepped out into the living room, her hands tightly clasped on the grip of the bat, fully aware that she was a sitting duck. The room was mostly dark. The only light came from small slits in the curtain along the far wall, where the bright nighttime city lights managed to dully illuminate portions of the room.
She was just starting to steal across the room to Hannah’s door when she heard a jangling sound coming from the couch. Jessie strained to see what it was. Slowly, Hannah stood up. She was holding something in her right hand. It took several seconds of squinting for Jessie to identify what it was: handcuffs.
She opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on when Hannah beat her to it.
“Don’t move,” her sister said. “Don’t call out for help.”
“Hannah, what are you doing?”
“I need you to put these on,” Hannah said, ignoring the question.
Her voice was flat and emotionless. Jessie felt her knees buckle. Had it finally happened? Had her fears about her sister’s capacity for darkness been realized at last? Was it possible that she had waited until the people caring for her fell asleep, then gone into their bedroom to drug one of them and handcuff the other for god knows what purpose?
Hannah had seemed to be doing so well. Jessie could have sworn they were connecting; that the girl, despite what had happened to her, was learning to embrace being part of a family unit again. Was it all just a charade? Had Bolton Crutchfield, the serial killer who abducted her, really turned her into someone who shared his bloodlust?
“Hannah,” Jessie said, making sure her voice betrayed none of her shock and horror, “we can find a way to work this out. You don’t need to do this.”
Hannah stared back at her in the dark, her expression hidden in shadow. She said nothing.
“Unfortunately, she does need to do this.”
It wasn’t Hannah speaking, but a deeper, male voice, one Jessie recognized instantly. Before she could reply, there was cracking sound and a large, red glow stick dropped to the floor, illuminating the room in a dull, bloody light. A second later, a figure emerged from where he’d been crouching behind the couch.
Despite the terror rising in her chest, Jessie made sure her words came out clear and calm.
“Hi, Kyle,” she said.
“Hi, Jessie,” he replied. “Don’t you love a reunion?”
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
He was even bigger than she remembered. He’d always been a physically imposing guy. But he’d clearly been taking advantage of the prison weight room. Underneath the police officer uniform he was wearing, his muscles were bulging. She suspected he’d chosen a too-tight shirt for exactly this moment, in order to either intimidate or impress her.