“So, how’s the case going?” Paco asked, his voice on speaker, but Kathryn searched for the right words to answer.
Busying herself with the deep-red length of rope, she completed several successive knots, the result looking almost as if a flower had bloomed from her hands.
Beautiful.
Pleased, she tightened it a little around her thigh, and the deep cherry color of the rope became the perfect garter. The color was a beautiful contrast to her fair skin, and she hoped Jake would like the look of it against her light freckles.
“Like I’m a hamster on a wheel, and no matter how fast I move or how determined I am, I end up at the same place,” Kathryn said, a little annoyed as she worked another part of the rope, twisting it, but not quite mastering the look she’d seen on the YouTube video she was watching.
Muting the video on her iPad, she gave Paco her full attention, fiddling with the length of rope to keep her hands busy.
“Did Troy Brooks drink? Like, heavily?”
“He claims he doesn’t. It was one of the conditions of his contract because he’s a recovering alcoholic. No team would touch him without that clause. But you’re hitting on a speedbump in the case. His car won’t start unless he uses a Breathalyzer. It’s always clear when he drives to his locations, but his blood alcohol is through the roof an hour later, when he’s found. Seems physically impossible.”
“If he wanted to get drunk fast, there are ways,” she said. “None that are pleasant. In fact, most are life threatening. Can’t we just ask him?”
“Under the advice of his attorney, he’s clamming up.”
Surprised, Kathryn paused. “Even with you?”
“Don’t mistake my interest in this case for a friendship with Troy. I’m protecting the interests of another party. A community, you could say. Anyway, Scott said you requested pics. He’s only allowed to distribute certain ones, even to you. I can get you any others you might need.”
“The ropes. If you have more images of the ropes and knots from his first kidnapping attempt, it would help,” Kathryn said, now unknotting what she’d done so she could start again. Backing up the footage on her iPad, she picked up at the critical knot-tying point of the YouTube video.
“Let me dig through the stockpile and send you everything I have. Is there anything else you need?” Paco’s all-knowing smile had a way of beaming through the speaker on her phone.
I could use any blueprints you have to figure out this frigging knot.
Kathryn huffed in despair. “Okay, Fort Knox, how about you give it to me straight. We’ve known each other a long time. The cops have always brought me all the way in on a case, and now I’m having to go through you because you have photos that they don’t. A pro basketball player is mildly drugged, and somehow a woman who he claims he doesn’t know was able to subdue him. A drug that apparently spikes his blood-alcohol reading? Feel free to let me in on what’s really going on.”
Paco pulled in a breath before answering. “I’m protective about this community.” The seriousness of his tone caused Kathryn to stop fiddling with the ropes and listen. “People who play in this world—our world—are vulnerable. Exposing themselves more completely then they ever otherwise would. I might have taken extra precautions where I don’t need to.”
“I understand.” And in the same way that she had been privileged with the confidence and privacy needs of the patients she’d served, she did. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me everything.”
“But I do. Because if I don’t, you could miss something. Something that might be important. Something that everyone else has probably already missed.”
Silently, Kathryn agreed. “Is this one of those situations where if you tell me, you have to kill me?”
“If that were the case, what method would you prefer for your demise?”
Without batting an eye, the answer was automatic. “Death by chocolate.”
“That was fast.”
“I’ve thought this through. A sugar coma of delectable dark chocolate seems to be the way to go. Seriously, you can tell me anything, Mr. Robles. Nuclear codes. What’s really going on in Area 51. Who D. B. Cooper really is. I’ll keep it all locked up tight.”
Paco explained a little more about Troy’s background, giving Kathryn the excuse to resume her fascination with knots. “Troy made one of those rookie mistakes that I was worried about you making. He put an ad on Craigslist.”
“For what?”
“For a sub.”
Her fingers stopped abruptly as she tried to process this.
Troy was an epic celebrity. A professional basketball player. She understood the stigma that would go along with this information getting out.
Hell, Kathryn had been worried about bumping into Andi at the club. What she must have thought. What it meant as part of the dynamic of their teacher-student relationship. And that was just one person. It wasn’t as if the whole world was watching, like it would be with Troy.
It pissed Kathryn off and made her wish she could grab a newspaper and take out a full-page ad that had only two words on it. No. Judgment.
Paco told her more, sharing details about Troy’s attack. Her hunch was right. It was outside a club. Kathryn only gave half her attention to her next knot.
Her head shook slowly with realization as she tackled a particularly difficult knot to blow off a fraction of her steam. “That’s why he’s in the ropes. It wasn’t a kidnapping attempt. He was a willing participant . . . maybe a switch? Or at least at some point he was. So, he knows who it is.”
“Partially true. It was consensual to a point, until she attempted to drug and kidnap him. And he has no idea who she is. A petite woman with no distinguishing marks, average weight, average height. A wig and colored contacts that changed each time they met, completely transforming her look. Hell, for all he knew, they were completely different women. He was naive enough to think that his brute strength would protect him from a total stranger.”
“He should know men can be outsmarted or overpowered by a woman. The show Snapped should be mandatory viewing. Does his girlfriend know?”
“She does now. Making the breakup partially true too. She needs time to process it.”
“Process it? Or kick his ass for not telling her the truth.”
“A little of both. She still loves him. Even accepts him. Just taking a good long look at what this means and what she’s really in for.”
Kathryn studied the knots covering several areas along her legs. “Join the club.”
With the ropes binding her like a dark cherry web, Kathryn bent forward, securing one of the last knots with her teeth, tightening the hold as best she could. Which was pretty good as far as she could tell.
Both of her upper arms were tethered to her sides, with her wrists and hands mostly free. She’d also managed to anchor her forearms to her thighs, under-weaving the rope in roughly the same spots the video had pointed out.
Her iPad had gone black, and it was just out of reach. As was her phone.
Shit. How do I get out of this?
“Um, Paco, can I call you back?”
“Everything all right?” he asked, because he was freaking clairvoyant.
Should I ask for help?
“Everything’s fine.” Straining her arms upward, she meant the forceful move to give her arms just enough room to pull free. But when the motion had the opposite effect, tightening the rope around her, she decided to bury her shame and ask Paco for advice. “Uh—”
“Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow.” The line disconnected.
Dammit.
Kathryn gave a mournful look at the clock and icons staring back up at her from the home screen of her phone.
The ropes were definitely tightening with each pull, so she stopped. If she wasn’t careful, parts of her hands, wrists, arms, or legs risked falling asleep. But the thing that always stayed awake was her nervous bladder. Unless she was prepared to wet herself all over Jake’s office chair, she had about two hours max to figure something out.
Call Jake?
It was always an option, but these were his ropes. They were private, apparently. She and Jake had lived together for months. If he’d wanted to share them with her, he would have, but he didn’t.
Maybe that said something about their relationship as a whole, or his trust in her.
And as she’d rifled through his cabinets, mucked around with his ropes, and might have actually considered cutting them with the scissors that remained thankfully out of reach, who could blame him? Kathryn hadn’t exactly earned her pass on the two-way street called Trust.
When her phone screen went black, panic set in. She’d wasted five whole minutes thinking through this, which meant five minutes less time to keep Jake’s chair pee-free.
“Alexa? Call Spouse.”
“Okay.”