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Grady paced his prison cell, flopped onto the mattress, got up, paced some more. Tried to sleep. His brain whirled like a flock of birds circling, swooping, darting in all directions, but an action plan didn’t seem to be part of the mix.
How would anyone find him? He had no clue where he was, if anyone was even looking, and how they’d know where to look in the first place. All Grady could think of was that this room would be full of his DNA, and that would prove he’d been taken captive. Assuming anyone found the room, and Enrique and Xiang didn’t destroy the evidence. Of course the hitch was, Grady’s DNA had never been collected, so even if the cops found this room and checked for DNA, it wouldn’t match anything.
Unless they got a fresh sample from Grady. He’d be happy to donate one if the cops didn’t believe his story. He hoped they wouldn’t be matching it to DNA from his dead body.
How could he convince Enrique to let him out? To move him to their mansion, where he’d have contact with other people?
He’d have to earn the man’s trust again, which meant playing by Enrique’s rules for a while, hoping to get back into the man’s good graces. Anything so he’d let Grady off the leash. Or at least give him a longer one.
The first step to earning his trust was to come up with a way to lead him on a wild goose chase for the missing cell phone. One that wouldn’t end up with Grady being plucked, trussed, and served as Christmas dinner when they realized he was leading them in circles.
Where could he send them? Someplace where they’d believe the phone could be hidden, but obscure enough so he’d have to lead them to it.
Then what? He’d get there, and what would he say when there was no phone? Someone must have found it?
Would Enrique and Xiang be the ones to accompany him, or would they send Grady with colleagues? If so, would he be able to convince them to lie to Enrique and Xiang?
What were Enrique and Xiang doing now? Discussing how they were going to torture him? Or had they already decided, and Enrique had fed Grady a line about not coming to a decision until morning to make him worry?
If that had been his plan, it was working. His head hurt, and not from Xiang’s punches.
He ran through all the places he was familiar with in Colorado Springs. What about the place where Enrique and Xiang had been arrested? They might not want to revisit it. Could he convince them he’d hidden the memory card, not the entire phone? Wait. He thought about what he’d already told them. Had he said he hid the phone? No, only the pictures. Which might mean he took the memory card out of the phone and hid it. Having them look for something as small as a memory card might work. Easy for that to be overlooked, or be moved around.
Outside the door, the latch snicked. Grady jumped.
When the door slammed against the wall, and Xiang, fire in his dark eyes, stormed into the room, Grady instinctively drew the blanket around himself.
What? You think it’s a shield? Get real. You’re not playing some stupid video game. This guy’s knife is real.
“Hello, little one. I know Enrique spoke to you, but I have questions of my own. What Enrique says you have told him sounds like so much bullshit.” Xiang closed the door and hovered over the bed. “Maybe you will be honest with me.”
Xiang gripped Grady’s chin. Raised his head. It took every bit of Grady’s willpower to meet the devil’s eyes, but he refused to cower.
“Would you like to cut me, little one?” Xiang asked. “Would you like to see how it feels to command the knife? Hold the power?” He dropped the weapon onto the bed. “Pick it up. Feel its weight, its shape. Think of what you would like to do with it.”
Grady reached for the knife. Would he be able to stab Xiang with it? He hefted it, imagined the steel blade penetrating Xiang’s chest, puncturing his heart. Imagined what it would feel like, cutting through flesh. Imagined the shock on Xiang’s face.
Yeah, right. As if Xiang wouldn’t know how to defend himself. Grady noticed the man was just out of reach, his dark eyes mocking him. Grady dropped the knife.
Using a handkerchief, Xiang picked the weapon up by the blade. “I know you too well, little one. You are not the killing type. Now, I have what is called leverage. Your prints are on this knife, and this is the knife used on the women when you were taking your pictures. You give the police the pictures, I give them the knife.” He made a tsk tsk sound. “It will be hard to part with such a good friend, but you know I will do it to protect my life, and that of Enrique’s. A knife, beloved as it might be, can be replaced.”
Xiang slapped Grady across the face again, his rings opening cuts that had begun to close. “Good night, little one. Sleep well.”
Xiang left the room. The sound of the bolt sliding into place proved the guy might be a whack job, but he was careful.
Grady wiped the blood with the sleeve of his hoodie. Another source of useless DNA. Curled up on the mattress, he resumed his ponderings. Enrique assumed Grady had hidden the phone. Which he had, but it was in the Triple-D guesthouse closet. If Grady could get another phone, take out its memory card, break it, and through some masterful sleight-of-hand, pretend to discover it, he might be able to convince Enrique and Xiang the pictures were gone forever.
Piece of cake, right. Someone was bound to come in here before morning and leave their phone behind. Right about the same time pigs would start flying, camels would walk through the eyes of needles, and snowballs wouldn’t melt in hell.
He laughed out loud. He must be getting punchy. Forget the memory card scheme. If someone came in with a cell phone, he’d call 911 and get out of this mess.