Gwen woke up in a bed. The sunlight hitting her face was warm but filtered through a pale scrim over the window. She frowned, not remembering a window on that side of the bed, and when she tried to sit up, she moaned and sank back into the pillows. Her head was no longer spinning, but she ached all over. Still, the pain reminded her of where she was. She wasn’t in her room in Colorado or California. She was back in Texas.
By turning her head slightly to the right and left, she could see most of the room. She was in a nicely appointed but rather small bedroom, a guest room, judging from its plain style and lack of decor. She saw a small dresser across from the foot of the bed, but no other furniture. The bed was soft and, for the summer season, overly dressed, with a thick duvet and a folded flannel blanket lying under her feet. Bill or Susan hadn’t bothered to undress her; they’d simply laid her on top and left her here. Tilting her chin down to her chest, she could see the cause of the discomfort on her right ankle. It was fastened to the bed stand with a chain.
She sighed and let her head relax back again, closing her eyes. Crossing her hands over her stomach, she realized with surprise that her right wrist was in a cast. She looked at it, holding it up and twisting it in the dim light. When had that happened? Her memory after the phone call to Trixie was basically nonexistent. Like the time between the trunk and the basement, she’d lost it entirely. Whatever they were drugging her with completely anesthetized her. Gwen used her left hand to explore the various cuts and scrapes on her face, most of them bandaged, and all of them cleaned up. Her fingers came away without a trace of blood. The cast was expertly done, obviously by someone who knew what they were doing. Had there been X-rays? Was Susan a doctor?
Gwen let this subject go, closing her eyes again. Either she would be told, or she could ask, but right now none of this mattered. She was tied up again, and though she felt better than she had riding in the car with Bill whenever that had been, the pain was here, whatever she did, no matter how she moved or tried not to. Judging from the light outside, it was much earlier in the day than when she’d made the phone call, which meant she’d lost at least another twelve hours lying here.
Her mouth was so dry it hurt, and the realization made her suddenly and rabidly thirsty. She snapped her eyes open, searching around herself wildly, and when she saw the pitcher of ice water next to her on a little table, she sat up quickly, forgetting her other pains, and grabbed it, almost knocking it over. Ignoring the little glass, she brought the pitcher to her mouth and started drinking, trails of water leaking out of the corners of her mouth and drenching her shirt. She had to pause halfway to gulp down air, and the break suddenly sent a shooting pain through her head from the ice. She ignored it and continued to drink, stopping only when her stomach started to heave. She set the rest of the pitcher back on the nightstand and lay down on the bed, almost crying with relief. Nothing, she knew, would ever taste as sweet and pure as that water.
She heard the snick of a lock, and the door opened a moment later. It was Susan, alone. She was wearing more casual clothes than before—a plain burgundy button-up and dark jeans. She tied her hair back, loosely, but a stray curl lay across her face on either side, by design, Gwen guessed.
“Oh, good. You’re awake.”
Gwen didn’t reply, and Susan smirked. “I guess you’re not in the mood for small talk.”
“No.”
“Good. Neither am I.”
“Where’s Annie?”
“She’s sleeping in the room next to this one. I had my personal doctor treat both of you earlier this morning. He still makes house calls, if you can believe it, and he doesn’t ask questions.”
Gwen tried to struggle upward again, feeling distinctly vulnerable in her prone position, but the chain at her ankle didn’t allow her to do much beyond sit up, straining her back and neck, so she had to lie down again.
“He came this morning?” Gwen asked. “What time is it?”
Susan glanced at her watch. “Going on noon now.”
Gwen’s stomach dropped, the excess water giving an uneasy lurch. She’d lost almost a full day. That, coupled with her lost time in the trunk of Bill’s car, meant that, except for the hour or so she’d been awake last night, she’d spent most of the last thirty-six hours unconscious. She would have to do everything in her power not to let them drug her again.
Susan, as if reading her thoughts, grinned and sat on the edge of the bed. It was all Gwen could do not to kick her with her free foot.
“Listen,” Susan said, “I get it. You don’t trust me, but you’re going to get through this. In a couple of hours, Bill and I plan to take you and Annie to the rendezvous we set up with your little computer friend, Trixie. She’ll give us the money, we’ll give her the two of you, and we never have to see each other again.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Susan lifted one shoulder. “No reason, really, except that you have no other choice.”
Gwen nodded at once. Of course she was right. And after all, Gwen thought, she might be telling the truth. If all Susan wanted was the money, and not some petty revenge, it was possible she’d let them go. Gwen and Annie would have to hide out for a while, maybe a year or more, just to be safe, but Gwen knew plenty of places they could do that. Everything, however, hinged on whether Susan would be satisfied with the money.
“Okay,” Gwen said. “What do you need me to do?”
Susan smiled, the expression more genuine this time. “Not a thing. Go where I tell you to go, and don’t try anything. Do that, and this will all be over by dinnertime tonight.”
Susan got off the bed, stretched her long, trim body, and then, as if remembering something, shook her head. “I almost forgot. You haven’t eaten in a while. Do you want me to send up some food?”
As if the word “food” had brought her hunger to life, Gwen’s stomach seized with deep, famished pain. She opened her mouth, ready to beg, but snapped it closed a second later. When Bill had drugged her, he’d used a needle, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t put another dose in her food. If she hadn’t been so parched, she would have thought twice about the water pitcher, too. She had to fight with herself for several seconds to recognize the sense in this thinking.
She licked her lips and tried to steady her voice. “No, but thanks. I could use a shower and change of clothes. And a toothbrush, if it’s not too much to ask.”
Susan’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but she nodded. “Sure. I’ll have Bill take you to the washroom down the hall. You’re thinner than I am, but I should have something you can borrow. I’ll give you some plastic wrap for that cast, too.”
“Thanks.”
Susan nodded and turned to leave, but paused in the doorway, glancing back. “I hope you listen to sense, Gwen. Don’t fuck this up. I meant what I said. I just want the money. I don’t want to have to kill either of you. Annie meant something to me once, and since she likes you, I don’t want to hurt her that way.”
Gwen nodded. “Okay. I believe you.”
Susan lifted an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but said nothing more, closing and locking the door behind her.
Bill arrived about half an hour later to escort her to the shower. Unlike Susan, he didn’t bother making nice, not saying a word and holding a gun on her the moment he unlocked her ankle. She managed to stand up, wavering as her head reeled and she found her equilibrium. She felt incredibly weak, and the various pains in her body were screaming for attention, but her head was definitely clearer than last night—the drug now out of her system.
In the hallway, they passed another closed door, and Gwen almost asked to stop and see Annie. One glance at Bill’s face and she knew he would deny the request, so they continued without pausing. Bill seemed to think he was going to come into the bathroom with her, but once she stared at him without moving, he blushed a little and gestured with his gun.
“Go ahead, but don’t try anything. I’ll be standing out here listening. I hear anything, I’m coming in, so don’t even try to lock the door or go out the window.”
“I’m done with jumping out of windows. Did enough of that the other night.”
He didn’t smile at this joke, and Gwen eased into the bathroom and closed the door. There was, in fact, a lock here on the inside, but he was right. She had simply no reason to try anything. She hadn’t gotten a good look outside, but they were at least a story off the ground. With all her various injuries, it would be stupid. Anyway, she would never leave Annie. But how would he know that? She started to take off her clothes.
She stood as long as she dared under the hot water, worried he would burst in. Everything was awkward with her cast, which, as directed, she’d wrapped in cellophane. She’d never realized how difficult it would be to wash her hair one-handed. The hot water, however, was wonderful, almost a revelation. She let it stream down her face and back, trying to loosen her sore shoulder. If she’d been awake when the doctor had been here, she’d have told him to check it out, as it hurt now even more than her wrist. Blood and actual dirt came off her body in surprising volume, and when she finally finished, she was grateful to see some clothes, a toothbrush, and new bandages waiting for her on the vanity by the sink. The clothes were, as Susan had predicted, almost clownishly large, but she’d been given a belt to hold up the pants, and at least they were clean. As she was fixing the last of the new bandages to her eyebrow—a deep cut that needed stitches—Bill pounded on the door.
“Hurry up in there. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
“Okay. Almost finished.”
She leaned down to the sink and drank as much water as she could, cupped in her hands. She was still dehydrated and didn’t want to have to ask them for any food or drink if she could help it. If Susan was telling the truth, Trixie could take them to the nearest restaurant for a big meal later. She smiled, not believing it for one minute. They’d be lucky to live that long.
When she finally opened the door, Bill and Susan were waiting for her in the hall. Susan smiled at the sight of her.
“Much better.”
“Thanks.”
“Bill—go get Annie. We need to get moving in case we hit traffic.”
Bill walked over to the closed door, drawing out a key before unlocking and opening the door.
“Where are we going?” Gwen asked. She had to fight not to watch Bill in her eagerness to see Annie again.
“A state park outside of town. It should be fairly empty on a weekday, and it’s close. I didn’t want to drag this out more than necessary.”
Bill and Annie appeared a moment later. Like Gwen, she was clearly wearing Susan’s clothes, and the size difference was even more extreme on her. Now that she could see her clearly, Gwen thought it looked as if she’d lost some weight—her face was wan and sallow, seemingly thinner than before. Of course that was impossible, and probably an illusion brought on by the overly large clothes, but she nevertheless looked unwell. Her hair was dark with grease and sweat and tied into an unflattering knot on top of her head. The worst part of seeing her, however, was noting the fact that Annie’s hands were bound in front of her. She was also still wearing a gag.
“What the hell?” Gwen said, taking a step toward them. “Why is she still—”
Susan put a hand on her arm, lightly. “Calm down. She’s fine—aren’t you, Annie?”
Annie’s eyes met Gwen’s, clearly terrified, but they flickered over to Susan, and she nodded.
“See?” Susan asked. “She’s fine.”
“You bitch,” Gwen said.
Susan waved a single finger. “Uh, uh, uh. You said you were going to be a good girl, Gwen. Is that how good girls talk?”
Gwen had to fight back a retort, and she clenched her fists against her side, the fingers on her right hand digging in her cast. “No. I’m sorry.”
Susan gave her bright smile. “Okay, then. We’re keeping Annie tied up so the two of you won’t talk. We have our reasons, and I don’t have to explain myself. Just do as you’re told, and you can untie Annie yourself later when we have the money.”
As much as Gwen wanted to argue, she saw no point. She and Annie were close now, close to whatever was going to happen. They would either be free and eating shitty diner food in a couple of hours, or dead. Either way, fighting now would help neither of them.
“Okay. Tell us what to do.”