It was dark when Gabe woke up. His head ached and his neck felt weird.
Only he realized he hadn’t woken up. Not exactly.
He had come to.
With a rush of panic, he remembered bursting into that room at the Jade Kitchen. The feeling of the arm coming across his throat and squeezing. After that, everything had gone dark.
Now he tried to get to his feet, to run, but found he could barely move. His knees were jammed up against his chin. His arms were pinned behind his back, and his hands were locked together. He was in some sort of small, confined space that pressed in all around him. That reflected every panicked, snorted exhale right back into his face.
Gabe couldn’t scream. He couldn’t even breathe through his mouth. It was sealed shut with some type of tape.
He managed to turn one hand enough that he could run his fingers across the bond that linked one hand to the other. A metal chain. His hands were cuffed behind his back.
Another jolt of adrenaline surged through him. Had he been buried alive?
But wherever he was, it didn’t feel like dirt around him. It was hard and rubbery. And it didn’t smell like dirt. The air was sour and hot, reeking of rot and mold.
He was, he realized, in a garbage can. A big one. Like industrial-size. One they hadn’t bothered to clean before they handcuffed him and dumped him in here. It must belong to the Jade Kitchen.
But what if they had put him in here thinking he was dead? What if they never came back to get him out? How long would it take him to die? Overwhelmed by a fresh wave of panic, Gabe screamed twice, screams that left him shaky and sweating. Even though he had screamed as loudly as possible, he could tell it hadn’t left the inside of his head, let alone penetrated the garbage can and gone out into the world.
He felt a sudden surge of nausea. Closing his eyes in the darkness, he fought it back down. If he threw up now, with the duct tape across his mouth, he would choke and die. He couldn’t afford to cry either. Not if his nose might run and block his only way of breathing.
He had to calm down. He told himself that they wouldn’t have bothered with the duct tape or the handcuffs if they had thought he was dead. And if they had wanted to kill him, they would have done it right away, without bothering to restrain him.
So maybe he was okay. Maybe they were just going to hold him for ransom or something.
But Gabe didn’t really want to hang around to find out what that something was. So where was the garbage can? Was it outside? Was anyone watching him? But any observer would have known he was conscious by now, and no one had kicked the sides or yelled at him to shut up. No one had reacted at all. So maybe wherever he was, he was alone, at least for now. If he could manage to knock the can over, he might be able to crawl out, stand up, and escape. Run clumsily because of his bound hands and numb legs, but still run.
Gabe shifted on his deadened legs, rocking back and forth. He thumped one side with one shoulder, then the other. Each time the garbage can moved a fraction but settled right back into place. Then he tried to stand up, but his legs had gone to sleep and he was too crammed in to get any purchase.
Did he hear something? He held his breath and tried not to panic. Was someone coming? Someone good—or someone bad? Should he try to make noise or should he try to keep quiet?
Make noise, he decided. Because the bad guys were the ones who had put him here. They already knew about him.
He tried again to scream, tried to put power behind it.
And in answer the lid swung back.
Gabe stared up. But he had no idea who the man was looking down at him. Just that he didn’t look surprised.
Gabe realized he should have been ready. Tried to do something. Maybe he could have head-butted this guy. But instead he was just looking up at a short, slender Chinese man. Gabe could tell that he was taller than the man, and with his new physique, he had many pounds on him. Still, this guy was clearly a man, not a boy.
The man’s face was hard. Expressionless. He wore a black eye patch, but it didn’t look funny at all, not with the red divot running down his forehead and then disappearing under the patch. Gabe didn’t want to know what was—or wasn’t—under that eye patch. For a second he remembered the pirate party his mom had put on for his sixth birthday. The guests had all gotten foam swords and eye patches. Gabe had worn a pirate’s hat, and they had followed clues to find a pirate’s hoard of gold-foil-wrapped chocolate coins. Found them right here in the garage he was in now. The garage at his house. Because now he recognized where he was.
Behind the man was a white van with Jade Kitchen written on it. Why had they taken Gabe here?
He was still wondering when the man grabbed the handle of the garbage can and tilted it. Suddenly it went over. Hard. Gabe reflexively jerked his hands, trying to protect his head, but the back of his skull bounced off the side of the can as it hit the floor. While he was still lying there, stunned, the man put his hands under Gabe’s arms and hauled him out. Gabe tried to get his feet underneath him, but his legs were boneless and numb. He lay like a fish on the deck of a boat, his back arched awkwardly over his cuffed hands. He could only watch as the man slipped off Gabe’s Vans, toed off his own shoes, and slipped his feet in Gabe’s.
The man reached out one latex-gloved hand and ripped the tape from Gabe’s mouth. It should have been a relief, and it was, at least physically. He sucked in greedy gulps of air, knowing the man would only have done it if he had no worries about anyone hearing Gabe.
“Who are you?” Gabe said. “What do you want?” He wanted to sound strong, like a man, but his voice came out weak and hoarse. Were there other men here? Or was it just this one man?
“That does not matter. All that matters is that you caused a big mess and now I have to clean it up.”
“Just let me go and I won’t tell anyone what happened.” The man didn’t even bother to answer Gabe’s plea. He tried another tack. “Whatever you do, you shouldn’t try to kill me.”
One side of the other man’s mouth lifted at that. “And why not?”
“Because my mom is a King County prosecutor and her friend is a homicide detective. If you kill me, they won’t rest until you’re on death row.”
“Oh, I know your mother, Gabe. Her name is Mia Quinn.”
To hear his name in the other man’s mouth made him flinch. And why wasn’t this guy wearing a mask as well as those translucent latex gloves? Gabe could easily identify him. Especially with that eye patch.
At least he could if he were alive.
“Your mother has become a thorn in my side. That is what they say in America, right? She will not stop asking questions. Each time she takes away a little piece of information. Maybe the tiniest crumb. But she keeps coming back. Well, we have another saying in China. ‘An ant may well destroy a whole dam.’ ” His mouth twisted. “So who else lives here? And do not lie to me, or it will go very badly for them.”
Unable to work out if a lie was better, Gabe went with the truth. “Besides my mother, there’s my little sister, Brooke. She’s four. And my friend Eldon and his mom.” What was going to happen to them? He prayed that none of them came home now. Because he realized they couldn’t save him. And he couldn’t save them.
“And where are they all now?”
“My mom’s at work. My sister is at daycare. And Eldon and his mom are at the doctor’s.”
“How long until they are back?”
He still couldn’t see any point in lying. “An hour or too. Maybe less.” But not Brooke, he realized with relief. Because Gabe wouldn’t come to pick her up.
The man put his foot on Gabe’s hip and pushed him to one side. He leaned down and plucked Gabe’s phone from the back pocket of his jeans.
“What do you have on here?” He swiped sideways, looking at all of Gabe’s apps. “Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. And what kind of texts do you send?” He scrolled up and down. “Very good. Fully spelled-out words. I dislike the way Americans always have to have shortcuts.”
Gabe didn’t say anything. How could he get his hands on his phone? If he had it, he could try to dial it behind his back or press buttons with his nose. He was sure if he tried hard enough he would succeed.
“I think first we shall have you send a message to your mother.” The man spoke aloud as he continued to type. “ ‘Mom come home right away. Something bad happened.’ ” He hesitated. “No, if it ends there she might call the police when you do not answer your phone. So we shall make it”—he started typing again—“ ‘Something bad happened that I need to tell you about.’ Perfect. Just enough to make her curious. To make her hurry. To make her think it is something she will want to keep private.” He tapped the bottom of the screen, pressing the Send button.
“What are you going to do to her when she comes home?” Because the man was right, Gabe knew. His mom would hurry home. She would be distracted. Worried. What would she be imagining? That he had been suspended at school? That he had taken some kind of bad drug?
“It is a sad story, really. A story about a boy who becomes addicted to steroids. You know what steroids make people do? They can make them get angry. Very angry. And so one day this boy snaps. He lies in wait and kills his family members one by one as they come home. And finally he turns the gun on himself.
“Then I will go to all your applications. What shall I say? ‘I can’t take it anymore’? ‘It’s all over’? ‘They are better off now’? ‘I’m so sorry for what I have done’? Or maybe something that sounds more angry or crazy. Perhaps—‘I am the angel of death’? With a photo of your mother’s body?” He gave Gabe a cold smile, as if pleased with his cleverness.
“They will never figure out where you got the gun, but kids have a way of finding the things they really want, do they not? Just like you figured out how to get steroids even though they are illegal.” He stuck out one Vans-shod foot and regarded it. “And in case I go tracking blood, I am wearing your shoes. The story without words has to match the story I will use your phone to write. That is why you must die last. In case they can tell the order things happened in.”
He picked up a roll of duct tape. Before Gabe could react, the man duct-taped his legs together at the calf. Then he tore off two new strips, which he slapped against Gabe’s mouth.
With dawning horror, Gabe realized that it would work. Even if anyone tried to run, even if they fought back, even if they tried to hide—they would do all those things whether they were running from Gabe or Kenny. The evidence wouldn’t change.
His mom was going to die today. Maybe Eldon and Kali. And of course Gabe himself. And it would all be his fault.
But at least Brooke would be safe. His mom would think Gabe had already picked her up and she wouldn’t go by the daycare. So his little sister wouldn’t die today. He tried to hold on to that thought as the man turned off the light, closed the door, and left Gabe alone on the garage floor.