Caitlin had stopped crying hours ago. At least she guessed it was hours: keeping track of time was difficult, counting away the seconds only possible when conscious. Her water must have been spiked because she’d never have fallen asleep willingly. She blinked then winced when the blindfold scratched her eyes again. She had only the vaguest idea how she’d got here; no idea where ‘here’ was. Nor, more pressing, how she’d get out. Not with her ankles lashed to wooden chair legs, the tight white cable cutting into her flesh. More cable bound her wrists at the small of her back. She’d stopped struggling too; movement only exacerbated the pain.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she croaked, her throat sore.
‘Button it, girlie, or the gag goes back.’ The soft mocking voice sounded sibilant, slightly muffled. She had a sudden vision of Hannibal Lecter in that god-awful mask in Silence of the Lambs. If her abductor’s aim was to increase tension, hike the fear factor, it so wasn’t needed.
Caitlin licked already dry, cracked lips. God knows what the cloth had been used for before, but the inside of her mouth tasted vile; bits of fluff stuck to her tongue, lodged between her teeth. She felt a slight movement of air. He must be closer. Yes, his breathing sounded louder, more laboured. Something touched her face. A finger. Now slowly tracing her jaw line, then her neck. She stiffened but the stink made her flinch: stale smoke, vinegar, something rank she couldn’t pin down.
Warm breath near her ear and the soft humming started again, the harmless tune creepier than his direct threats. She pictured him crouched over her, ogling, mentally stripping her, all the while hum, hum, humming.
‘De-dum-de-dumdum-de-dum-de-dum. Dum-dum-dum-de-dum-de-dum.’
The damn thing rang a distant bell, a kids’ song she thought, couldn’t remember what it was called. Christ on a bike. As if it mattered. She sighed, impatient, tried blanking it out, concentrated instead on why he’d brought her here. What he intended doing. She’d caught no more than a glimpse of his face; he’d gone out of his way not to show it. Surely that was a good sign? If she couldn’t describe him, he was more likely to release her. Wasn’t he?
‘Please … tell me …’
He pressed his finger hard against her lips. ‘When I’m good and ready, girlie. De-dum-de-dumdum …’
The tune ran in her head now; she doubted she’d ever get it out. ‘Please, look, my mum …’ Will be going out of her mind.
‘Don’t you worry about a thing, babe. Momma knows you’ve been – how shall I put it – detained?’ He’d contacted her? Had she called the police? ‘I let her know you’re … tied up, as it were.’ His snigger in her face released a wave of toxic breath that made her gag. ‘What’s up, missie? Feeling a bit queasy, are we?’
She nodded, retched violently, this time for effect. Hopes rising, she made to straighten in the chair. The restraints cut deeper but the pain would be a small price if he untied her, removed the blindfold. At the very least she’d be able to scope out the place, work on a way of getting out.
‘Please. I need the bathroom fast.’
‘I think not.’
‘But—’
‘But nothing. If you barf, you can sit in it and stink. I don’t give a monkey’s. Momma won’t be too happy though. She’ll think we’re not looking after her pretty little girl, won’t she?’
Caitlin frowned, myriad thoughts racing. Why was he doing this? Did she know him? Did he know her? Or had she just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? For once, she was glad of the blindfold; it concealed her confusion and concern. More than that, her increasing terror.
‘Lost your tongue, missie?’ She recoiled when his fingers chucked her chin. ‘Hope not. You’re gonna need it in a minute.’
Her tongue? Why? His voice was still muffled, but sounded further away. She heard a zip? Opening? Then clicks, metallic clicks. What the hell was he doing? ‘Please, please, I need the loo.’ This was no act.
‘De-dum-de-dum-de …’
‘For God’s sake, tell me what you’re doing.’
‘… de-de-de-dum-de-dum-de …’
‘Please!’ she screamed. No way could she hide the panic now. ‘Let me go, I won’t tell—’
‘Ready? Steady?’ Trembling, she braced herself, eyes squeezed tight. ‘Go!’ Her head snapped back when he snatched the blindfold. She stayed completely still, whimpering. ‘Open your eyes.’
If she saw his face …
‘Open your fucking eyes.’ Saliva hit her cheek. She gasped when he grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked it back.
‘Please, no.’ The intended scream lodged in her throat, she stared wide-eyed, open-mouthed. The mask hid all but dark pupils glinting through holes in thick black fur. Had she not been scared beyond belief, the gorilla mask might almost have been funny.
‘What do you want from me?’
‘Watch the birdie, little girlie and say … cheese. A snap for the family album, eh? Another little surprise for momma.’