The other good thing, and the real reason she’d shelled out the extra dough, was that Hostel Digs provided both free iPads and free Wi-Fi for guests. That meant she didn’t have to risk going back to Get Wired or pay for the privilege of using the Internet. Both the device and the signal came courtesy of a host claiming to be “jazzed” to have her here.
She powered up the tablet then signed on as a guest. The tablet blinked back at her, and she found herself yawning, waiting for the signal to pick up. First order of business was to Google Caitlin and her partner. Laura had heard the park ranger call him Agent Spenser, so Laura assumed both he and Caitlin were FBI.
The signal indicator was still blank.
The tablet was taking a long time to connect, and her eyelids were drooping.
She yawned again, and rolled over on her side, facing the wall.
It had been a long, exhausting week.
The light from the tablet had a hypnotic effect on her brain.
She closed her eyes and felt herself fading.
Don’t fight it, Laura. Just sleep . . .
Her arm jerked, and she drifted off to dreams.
Her core seemed cold, frozen solid. Shivers, originating from deep within wracked her body, and yet her palm was so moist she could barely grip the pen in her hand.
“Get on with it.” That low growl in her ear was all too familiar. So why couldn’t she remember him?
She knew the figure looming over her, but she didn’t dare turn her head. She didn’t dare see.
Not with a knife at her throat.
Where, where, where had she heard that voice before?
“What are you waiting for, Laura. Do exactly as you’re told, or I’ll end you.”
That might be for the best.
He was never going to let her go—not again.
She looked around and saw the cabin walls, looked down and saw her naked body tied to a chair.
So this was why her arms had been bound only to the elbows. It wasn’t an act of kindness so that she could cover herself with her hands. How absurd that she’d ever believed him capable of even a glimmer of humanity.
He’d left her hands free so that she could do his bidding—so that she could write the note.
He was making her complicit in his diabolical plan.
“Kill me, please,” she managed to say. Her words sounded scratchy and weak.
“Don’t worry. You’re going to die. The only question is whether you want it to be a peaceful death, or a slow, agonizing one.”
She swallowed, tasting tears and salt and bitter medicine. Her tongue was thick and dry. Gripping the pen tighter, she began making slow marks. Tears fell on the paper blurring the ink.
Her soul felt so very light, her body, so very heavy.
“No.”
No? She’d displeased him.
She was trying, but she couldn’t remember what was happening.
The knife pressed into her flesh.
“Do not stop writing. How do you want to die, Laura?”
This was a question she’d asked herself many times. More than once she’d hoarded her pills with the plan to swallow them all at once. It would be so lovely to simply drift off to sleep.
“In peace,” she whispered. “I want to die in peace.”
“Then finish it,” he said.
Despite the growing weakness in her arms, the lightness in her head, the excruciating ache in her hand, she did as she was told. Each word he whispered in her ear, she made real with ink on paper. At last, he finished. The pen slipped from her hand.
She was weak, weak, weak.
She didn’t know how, but she knew this note she’d written would help him.
She should’ve been stronger.
If only she had another chance, she would show more courage.
I promise, next time, I’ll be brave.
He grabbed the letter and read it aloud, still lurking behind her to hide his face. She pictured him with horns and red glowing eyes as he sounded out the awful words she’d written.
Her false testimony.
“Good girl.” His terrible voice rumbled through her. “Now you can rest. Now you die.”
Chapter 33
Friday, October 25
8:45 P.M.
Mountain View Hotel
Denver, Colorado
“So.” Spense took Caity in his arms and pulled her against him. For a moment, he just held her, his hand coasting up and down her back in time with the rhythm of her heart as it beat against his.
She sighed, and even though he wanted her badly—he always wanted her badly—he understood how tired she must be. He planted a kiss on the top of her head. Her hair smelled nice, like the balsam shampoo she’d picked up in the hotel gift shop. “It’s been a long couple of days. Maybe we should hit the sack early.”
“Spense . . .” When she tilted her face up, the delicate blue of her eyes seemed muted. “We need to talk.”