She studied his outfit, trying to fixate on small details like the name tag that read “Smith” so that she didn’t completely succumb to the sense that she was falling into a dark well with no bottom. As she did, something Hannah texted earlier that night, something she’d barely even registered, came back to her.
Cops didn’t find anything suspicious. One is staying outside our apartment. Another is downstairs in the lobby with the guards. The other one left.
The other one left. But neither Nettles nor Beatty had mentioned another officer helping out with either the search or security. Kyle must have somehow learned her address and, using the uniform as a ploy, insinuated himself into the condo. Then Nettles and Beatty arrived. When they left, Hannah likely assumed that “Officer Smith” had gone as well.
But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d been lying in wait this whole time as a real cop stood right outside. He’d been only feet away from Hannah while she watched TV, waiting for her sister to return. Maybe he’d hidden under Jessie’s bed or in her closet or in the storage closet in the living room. Wherever he’d settled, he’d remained there for hours, patiently waiting for everyone to return and fall asleep. Then he made his move.
“Were you in my closet the whole time?” she asked as casually as she could.
“Under your bed,” he admitted. “I didn’t know your bedtime routine these days and couldn’t risk you hanging up a shirt or something. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was when I didn’t get to be up close and personal for a little hanky-panky. I thought for sure there’d be some after the exchange of I-love-yous. But I guess you guys were just too wiped out, what with investigating those beach murders, including your senior citizen buddy and your boyfriend’s near-death experience this afternoon.”
“You’ve been busy, Kyle,” she noted dryly, deciding to fake a lack of fear in the hopes that her body would follow suit. “What did you inject Ryan with?”
“I’m so glad you asked,” he admitted, oddly exuberant at the chance to reveal the particulars. “It’s a specially formulated paralytic, originally designed by an eastern bloc security service back in the 1980s in order to stimulate…cooperation with people in their care. Later it was adopted by other unscrupulous organizations…”
“Like say, drug cartels?” Jessie volunteered.
“Now you’re getting it,” he replied. “Through trial and error, they’ve managed to formulate it so that they can give the perfect dosage.”
“The prefect dosage for what?” Hannah asked, somehow managing to sound petulant, even under these circumstances. Kyle seemed oblivious to her tone.
“For keeping him from moving while still allowing his lungs to function just enough so that he can breathe. It’s a delicate balance. Not enough and he can move around. Too much and his lungs shut down completely. The beautiful part is that he’s aware of everything. He can hear and see and feel pain. He just can’t do anything about it.”
“Sounds like the kind of thing you’d be into,” Jessie muttered.
He looked at her with unblinking eyes for several seconds before replying. His stare was icy and she felt like a gust of frozen wind had passed through her.
“Don’t be snide, sweetie. You’re in no position,” he said darkly before regaining his chipper tone. “Anyway, it normally wears off in a few hours, not that he’ll be around to feel it. That reminds me, your little sister here is going to put those handcuffs on you. So throw the bat over here. Please don’t try anything or I’ll have to shoot her with your gun.”
He produced the weapon to show he meant business. Hannah looked helplessly at Jessie, who tossed the bat in his direction.
“It’s okay,” she told her sister gently. “Go ahead and do it.”
Hannah walked over. Jessie held out her hands in front of her, smiling at her sister as if she had this under control. Hannah returned the smile, though she didn’t look as reassured as Jessie might have hoped.
“Cuff her behind the back, please,” Kyle instructed sharply.
Jessie turned around. As Hannah leaned in to attach the cuffs, Jessie bent back slightly and whispered.
“Be ready when the moment comes.”
When the cuffs were attached, she turned around and glanced at her sister, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. Jessie, who was being watched closely, didn’t react.
“What’s next?” she asked as if they were all on a tourist trip and Kyle was their guide for the day.
“Oh yes,” he said, sounding almost overwhelmed with excitement. “Big plans, happy to share them. First things first though. Jessie, I need you to sit down in that chair. Hannah, please grab a bunch of plates from the kitchen for me, like a dozen. All china, no plastic, please.”
While Hannah did as instructed, Kyle stared at Jessie. She wasn’t sure if his expression was one of longing or hatred. She imagined they were much the same for him these days. He sat down on the couch while they waited and leaned in, speaking to her like they were co-workers trading gossip in the break room.
“You’re not the only one who studies serial killers, Jessie,” he said. “I was watching this documentary on the Golden State Killer. You know what he did? Of course you do. But I’m thinking of one specific detail.”
Jessie was overcome with dread. She looked over at Hannah, collecting an armload of dishes, and knew exactly what he was referencing. The Golden State Killer was a serial rapist and killer in the 1970s and ’80s in California. One of his hallmarks was to tie up a husband, make him lie face down, and put china on his back. Before he went to rape the man’s wife, he warned that if he heard any of the plates fall, he would kill her.
“Who are you tying up?’ she asked once she was sure her voice wouldn’t break, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a direct answer.
He smiled, clearly tickled that she understood.
“I have my own variation on the theme,” he promised.
When Hannah returned, he instructed her to place half a dozen plates on Jessie’s lap. Then he had her put the others on the couch and lie down on her stomach. When she was settled, he placed the remaining plates on her, from her neck down to the small of her back.
“Be right back,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”
He walked into Jessie’s bedroom, leaving her to ponder what moves she might have. She’d told Hannah to be ready when the moment came. But that was more to keep the girl calm. She had no plan for any upcoming “moment.”
Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud. The cause became clear a few seconds later when Kyle came out, dragging Ryan by the feet. He dropped him next to where Jessie sat and returned to the couch. Looking down at her boyfriend, Jessie stifled a gag as bile rose in her throat. She could taste her own fear.
“So,” he said, as if resuming a pleasant conversation they’d be having. “You’re probably wondering how this is going to go down. I’m happy to share. It’s currently two seventeen a.m. That might make it seem like we have all night together, but we don’t. Detective Hernandez here is expecting that wakeup call from the desk sergeant at seven a.m. I suspect that multiple unreturned calls would result in one of your cop buddies downstairs being sent up here pretty fast. And who knows if one of them might come up on his own before then, just to be extra helpful. Time is our enemy, or at least mine, so we’re going to have to move fast.”