Seconds to Live(27)

Disgust curled inside him. “You are a dirty, dirty girl.”

She’d been clean when he’d taken her from the shower. Well, she could just as easily be clean again. With a gloved hand, he turned on the faucet. Old pipes groaned. Water rained down on her, and mud sluiced from her bony frame. A few droplets bounced off the tile and onto the legs of his coveralls.

She was pale and thin-skinned. Makeup and clothes usually gave her an attractive outward appearance, but without the commercial beauty trappings, her true ugliness shone through her facade. She had no fat over her bones. Blue veins streaked across her body and the outline of her ribs was clearly visible. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think she was a corpse.

This was the real Dena.

Pathetic. Weak. Deceptive. She was no better than the rest.

How would she handle the test he’d designed for her?

A sob seeped out from behind the gag in her mouth. Her eyes pleaded.

“I told you what would happen if you didn’t cooperate. You’ve given me no choice. It’s all your own fault.” Grabbing the showerhead, he lifted it from its hook to better direct the spray. Sturdy nylon rope bound her ankles and wrists, making it difficult for her to worm away from the cold water.

He’d learned his lesson tonight. Missy had been more compliant, but then she’d broken quickly. Perhaps Dena would be harder to crack. Excitement hummed in his blood. Would she be The One? So far, his efforts had provided nothing but disappointment. But he’d known from the first time he’d seen Dena that she was strong.

He chased her with the spray until she hit the corner and curled into a fetal position. Goose bumps erupted over her skin as the freezing water beat down on her.

“You should have thought of the consequences before you escaped, but you never think of the consequences of your actions, do you?”

She would learn all about repercussions now.

Pale pink colored the water as some dried blood washed from her nose. She closed her eyes as he rinsed blood and dirt from her face. He returned the showerhead to its hook and wheeled a janitor’s mop and rolling bucket onto the tile. Soapy water churned as he loaded the mop. He brought it around and began to wash her.

“This is going to take all day,” he chastised.

But there was no help for it. He would have none of that filth under his roof, and with the resilience she’d shown, she might be here for a while.

“I can’t believe you made me chase you through the storm. What if I hadn’t found you?” But he supposed that had been her intention, hadn’t it?

Seemingly resigned to her fate, she lay still, shivering.

She deserved no pity. She was the one who refused to comply with his polite requests. He hoped she hadn’t run out of fight. She’d need to be tough for what he had planned.

“Why is ‘If you don’t cooperate, I’ll hurt you’ so hard to understand?” His voice rose with his temper.

Some people never fucking learned.

He moved down her body, suds gathering around her on the tiles.

“Turn over.”

She didn’t move.

“I said turn over.”

When she didn’t respond, he set down his cleaning implements, grabbed her feet, and flipped her body. She flopped and twitched as she resumed her fetal position on the opposite side.

The bottoms of her feet were stained dark greenish brown. He applied more pressure to the mop. The grass and mud stains refused to yield. He traded the mop for a scrubbing brush. She whimpered as he leaned into the strokes. Anger leant strength to his arm, and the stains slowly faded, revealing small cuts she must have sustained during her flight though the woods.

She deserved every wound.

He turned his attention to her hands, making sure to clean thoroughly under her nails. She’d managed to scratch his back when he’d put her in a fireman carry. He’d have to clip her nails tomorrow just to be sure none of his DNA remained.

A final rinse sent the suds scurrying down the drain. Satisfied that she was clean, he turned off the water and moved her to a tarp. Leaving her to air-dry, he dumped his bucket and used the mop to scour the tiles until no trace of her presence remained. Then he sprayed the shower down with bleach and rinsed it again.

Finished, he turned to her. She was curled on her side. Her body was still, but her gaze followed him. He breathed deeply, welcoming calm into his lungs and exhaling his anger. Such a wasteful emotion. Its energy was better spent on action.

“I really wish you’d behaved,” he sighed.

She inched away from him as best she could, but her bound arms at the base of her spine limited her mobility, just as he’d planned. He reached for her. Her chest heaved, and her eyes widened.