Cassie had spent the better part of forty-eight hours strapped to her bed. That was her best guess. She’d lost all concept of time the moment she woke up in the horrid place. She’d freed herself from the restraint, but didn’t risk spending much time untethered. Novak came and went at irregular intervals, and he rarely made much noise when he did so. Last night had been an aberration. His slurred words were all she needed to hear to know he was drunk or high. And he’d done the same to Alice. The young woman had actually laughed.
Cassie wondered whether she ever would again. There was nothing that could make her feel that way now. Maybe the sight of Novak’s rigid body, his chest and head riddled with bullet holes. That, she thought, would elicit a joyous response.
She’d been ready for him last night. Her sweat-soaked body felt like forged steel as she lay there, waiting for him to enter her room. All he had to do was take eight staggered steps in her direction. She planned to feign resistance. And when he least expected it, she’d take him on.
But it wasn’t meant to be. She could only hope Alice was okay now. Normally the two would communicate minimally throughout the day. It wasn’t much. After all, Novak might be sitting outside their doors listening, so the women found ways to let the other know they weren’t alone.
Cassie glanced at the shadow cowering in the corner of her room. She was never alone. Doubts crept into her mind as she watched the spirit. Was it really there? Were the things that had happened to her since that night in the graveyard really happening to her? All the evidence in the world pointed to the answer being yes. Hell, she’d converted non-believers with the information she’d gleaned from her helpers, passing it along to law enforcement agencies and family members. The NSA had even contacted her for help.
Where were they now?
She sunk her head into the pillow and stared at the dim overhead light.
Tell me you’re out there, Mitch. I’ve heard your voice before. Talk to me again.
She waited for several seconds, studying the subtle movements of the shadow. There was no response from Mitch. Or anyone, for that matter.
A door beyond hers slammed shut. Cassie closed her eyes and tuned in to the dank environment. The smell of stale urine was strong. It was something she just couldn’t get used to. She shook her head and ignored the odor.
Was Novak in Alice’s room now? She counted the seconds. Novak rarely went more than a minute without speaking once he entered in a way that let them know he was present. It was as though he had the inability to do so, even when he knew the women would say nothing back to him.
More noise coming from outside her door caused her to muscles to clench. What was he doing? Something was dragging on the floor. Not a body. She doubted she’d hear that. This sounded like metal scraping on the concrete. Chains, perhaps? Were the ropes not enough?
She tugged her left hand toward her waist.
No, the ropes were most certainly not enough.
Keep cool, Cass. Don’t give it away too early. You’ve only got one shot at this.
And it was a shot she could not afford to screw up. Death would be the immediate and permanent response for doing so.
Several minutes passed with no activity in or outside of the room. The shadow had moved on to elsewhere. She hated when they came and observed without attempting to make contact with her. Who had sent it? What purpose did it have visiting her?
She heard faint humming. What was the tune? She couldn’t quite place it. Something she’d heard before, though. The tempo was fast, upbeat. Maybe a song from the seventies.
What was taking him so long? Was he doing it on purpose? Novak never lingered in the background for long when he was deliberately making himself heard.
Then she realized, it might not be Novak. There was the other man. “Hello, Detective.” At first she’d thought him to be a hallucination, but knew that was not the case. Was he going to become a frequent visitor? What did he want with them?
Her chest tightened, constricting her breaths. No panic, not now. She needed to have her wits about her. There could be no delay in her attack, either. Novak had developed a habit of sticking her with a needle anytime he got close. The drugs acted quickly enough that she would not be able to take him down if she were sedated.
The overhead light cut off and a moment later the door cracked open. A thin beam of light knifed across her stomach for a moment before it was blocked out by his body. He stood there for a minute, silent, unmoving. She resisted the urge to yell at him. She fought back the tears that tried to push through in waves. Hell no. She was too strong for that.
Cassie eased her left arm back. Her fingertips rested inches from the bedpost. A simple arch of her back would provide the necessary adjustment for her to wrap her hands around the hunk of broken wood.
Novak pushed the door open further, but he didn’t advance. More light flooded in, scratching across the floor, up the bed, over her bare skin. His breathing was heavy, ragged. Had he been with Alice? This was unusual behavior, even for Novak. Something had happened. She felt the pressure in the room change, acknowledging her fears.
“I’ll be back soon, my dear Cassie.” Novak swung his arm around as he turned and slammed the door shut, casting Cassie into darkness once more.