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Glen had pissed his own pants. He’d always looked down on his dates when they had done the same thing. When the fear got to them.
He lay face down on the green carpet of the old Chrysler van and prayed to a God he’d never believed in that Lou wasn’t as insane as he appeared.
But what kind of man dumped his bleeding friend out on the lawn of a damned house?
He never should have taunted this man. Glen should have seen how screwed up Lou was. The sonofabitch had almost killed his own daughter. That should have told Glen something.
His head throbbed where Lou had slammed that gun into his temple. He had been lucky it hadn’t killed him outright.
Maybe. Glen half wished Lou had killed him then.
Lou had seemed so calm when he’d approached Glen in the general store parking lot. Almost friendly and confident.
Lou had stabbed him, right in the palm of Glen’s hand when Glen had tried to get the door open. And Glen had wet himself like a child.
Glen tried moving. He couldn’t. Lou was bigger, stronger, and a hell of a lot meaner than Glen. And he had the gun he’d already struck Glen with. It hadn’t taken long for Lou to have Glen secured.
He was stuck right where he was, face down on the carpet, wrapped in his own damned urine.
“I bought this specifically for you, Glenny boy.”
Lou had laughed like an idiot at his own joke. After a few minutes of driving, he pulled over. “You stink.”
Lou dumped the bottle of water over Glen’s face.
Then had wrapped him up again.
Lou had wrapped another layer of plastic wrap around his face and head.
Lou ripped a small hole in the plastic. Glen pulled in as deep a breath as he could.
And then the other man had tightened the plastic around him again. Then he’d made another hole.
He did this four more times. Each time he’d leave the plastic over Glen’s nose even longer.
Just like Glen had threatened to do to Lou’s daughter.
And then Lou yanked him to his feet. “You’re going to go see Bailey now, Glenny boy. Just like you’ve always wanted.”