blandness told a story, the space devoid of personality unless you considered the conditions a personality. The furniture matched. Dirty, stained, but it matched. Most likely purchased at one of those shops where a whole ugly room could be delivered.
She knew the specs on Tremain. Quiet. Kept to himself. Seemed nice, but when pressured neighbors finally admitted that he’d always given them the creeps. But Elise knew people were prone to those kinds of comments after a kidnapping. After someone did something horrific. In retrospect, every criminal was an oddity once people understood that the guy they said hi to on a daily basis was some murdering psychopath.
“Wanna talk about it?” David asked.
She remembered little of those last hours at Tremain’s house. Maybe because she’d lost so much blood, maybe because she’d simply blocked it out. But she remembered David. Running his fingers down her face. Covering her, wrapping a blanket around her. Telling her everything would be okay. That she would be okay.
She’d asked him about Audrey, and he’d said she was fine. And she may have apologized for being so stupid, for walking into a trap. And he may have shushed her, telling her it was okay.
“Is he dead?”
That had been her next question.
And she remembered the hesitation in David’s eyes. And his reluctant reply. “No.”
She’d let out a sob because she couldn’t stand the thought of that monster being alive. But if he ever came out of the coma, he’d go to trial. He’d go to prison. He might be put to death. Thank you, Georgia.
“You think that’s why I wanted to come here?” Elise asked. “To talk about it?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
They moved down the hall. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined visiting him in the hospital and finishing him off,” she said, trying to keep her mind from returning to the days she’d spent here. She could allow herself to recall before and after, but not during. Not yet. “But then I think about Audrey. I think about going to prison for murdering him. He’d win if I did that.”
David paused and turned to her. “I actually went to the hospital. I was going to remove his oxygen and smother the bastard.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I didn’t.” There was regret and frustration in his voice.
The David she’d first met would have killed him. He was learning. He was practicing self-control.
“Once he had me . . . I didn’t know,” Elise said, getting back to the surface facts of being captured by Tremain. “I didn’t actually know if Audrey was still alive. That’s all I could think about. What he did to me didn’t matter.” She swung around. “Don’t tell Audrey. I don’t want her to know I came here looking for her.”
“For what it’s worth, I probably would have done the same thing. I would have lost my head. But you should have called me. Why didn’t you call me?”
He was hurt. They were partners. Friends. And she really couldn’t say why she hadn’t called him. “I don’t know. Maybe I was afraid that you’d be the voice of reason.”
“That doesn’t happen very often. Me and the voice of reason.” He perused the room. “God, this place is a hole.” And she suddenly had the idea that it was just as hard for him to be there as it was for her. “Sorry,” he said, his voice catching. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”
“I’m alive.”
He stood up straighter, and pulled in a deep breath. “Yeah.”
They reached the bedroom, the lair, the place where Tremain had spent a lot of his time. Bookshelves lined one wall, and Elise leaned her crutches against a shelf and began pulling out hardcovers one at a time, turning pages, because books were a popular hiding place.
“You aren’t the only one who thinks about quitting,” David said, hands on his hips, coat hanging open as he stared at the disgusting mattress with no sheets. A double bed, two flat pillows, a nasty, stained
She knew the specs on Tremain. Quiet. Kept to himself. Seemed nice, but when pressured neighbors finally admitted that he’d always given them the creeps. But Elise knew people were prone to those kinds of comments after a kidnapping. After someone did something horrific. In retrospect, every criminal was an oddity once people understood that the guy they said hi to on a daily basis was some murdering psychopath.
“Wanna talk about it?” David asked.
She remembered little of those last hours at Tremain’s house. Maybe because she’d lost so much blood, maybe because she’d simply blocked it out. But she remembered David. Running his fingers down her face. Covering her, wrapping a blanket around her. Telling her everything would be okay. That she would be okay.
She’d asked him about Audrey, and he’d said she was fine. And she may have apologized for being so stupid, for walking into a trap. And he may have shushed her, telling her it was okay.
“Is he dead?”
That had been her next question.
And she remembered the hesitation in David’s eyes. And his reluctant reply. “No.”
She’d let out a sob because she couldn’t stand the thought of that monster being alive. But if he ever came out of the coma, he’d go to trial. He’d go to prison. He might be put to death. Thank you, Georgia.
“You think that’s why I wanted to come here?” Elise asked. “To talk about it?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
They moved down the hall. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined visiting him in the hospital and finishing him off,” she said, trying to keep her mind from returning to the days she’d spent here. She could allow herself to recall before and after, but not during. Not yet. “But then I think about Audrey. I think about going to prison for murdering him. He’d win if I did that.”
David paused and turned to her. “I actually went to the hospital. I was going to remove his oxygen and smother the bastard.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I didn’t.” There was regret and frustration in his voice.
The David she’d first met would have killed him. He was learning. He was practicing self-control.
“Once he had me . . . I didn’t know,” Elise said, getting back to the surface facts of being captured by Tremain. “I didn’t actually know if Audrey was still alive. That’s all I could think about. What he did to me didn’t matter.” She swung around. “Don’t tell Audrey. I don’t want her to know I came here looking for her.”
“For what it’s worth, I probably would have done the same thing. I would have lost my head. But you should have called me. Why didn’t you call me?”
He was hurt. They were partners. Friends. And she really couldn’t say why she hadn’t called him. “I don’t know. Maybe I was afraid that you’d be the voice of reason.”
“That doesn’t happen very often. Me and the voice of reason.” He perused the room. “God, this place is a hole.” And she suddenly had the idea that it was just as hard for him to be there as it was for her. “Sorry,” he said, his voice catching. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”
“I’m alive.”
He stood up straighter, and pulled in a deep breath. “Yeah.”
They reached the bedroom, the lair, the place where Tremain had spent a lot of his time. Bookshelves lined one wall, and Elise leaned her crutches against a shelf and began pulling out hardcovers one at a time, turning pages, because books were a popular hiding place.
“You aren’t the only one who thinks about quitting,” David said, hands on his hips, coat hanging open as he stared at the disgusting mattress with no sheets. A double bed, two flat pillows, a nasty, stained
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