than twenty-three—because Brad recognized his voice. He’d said something when he opened the door, like, “You sure?” Then he tossed in several firecrackers and closed the door.
It was Donny’s watch that gave him a good basis for tracking time, and he figured it was between nine and ten about now. Maybe a little later.
His back ached from where Elise cut into him. If they didn’t kill him, he’d probably die from an infection. Elise had used a pocketknife, laughing that she was branding him for her family.
He tried to shake his chains, see if he could get loose, but the connection was solid and the desk he was tied to wasn’t budging. He moved around as much as he could. The chain was about ten feet long, and there was a small bathroom right next to him. No electricity but the bathroom at least provided him water—metallic tasting water that dribbled out of an old sink, but it was better than nothing and he had to keep up his strength. When Elise had been down here carving his back, he’d memorized the layout. It looked almost like a den—nothing inside, everything built into the walls. There was padding on the walls—soundproofing—but it looked old, like it had been installed years ago. A window looked out into another smaller room—dark. No chairs, no pictures, no windows. Beyond that was a door. He hadn’t been able to see on the other side of the door, even when they opened it. The other room was dark, but based on the smell he thought it might be a garage.
A residence? Whose? Donny’s? A property they’d missed when they seized of Nicole Rollins’s holdings? Were they still in San Antonio? Out of town? It was an older home in a quiet area—he didn’t hear traffic or kids or neighbors. They hadn’t gagged him, which told him Elise was right and she wasn’t worried about any sound he might make. Possibly because of the soundproofing. Possibly because they were in the middle of nowhere. Or both. Besides, screaming would deplete his strength, and he needed every ounce.
Other than the bathroom, he couldn’t reach anything else in the room, including the door that was locked from the outside. He didn’t have a mattress, blanket, or pillow, but he didn’t care about comforts. He’d already searched the bathroom—it was bare. He’d felt around for anything he could use as a weapon—there wasn’t even a towel rack attached by the sink and the toilet didn’t have a water tank.
He didn’t hear anyone unless they came into the room.
He was cold because he was still mostly naked. At one point an hour ago he heard the AC turn on; it was still on and he was even colder. Did they want him uncomfortable? Or were they not even thinking about him anymore? Drug withdrawal also might have affected his body temperature. They’d taken his shoes and his belt, though he didn’t remember when; he still wore his pants. He could tell by the lack of weight in his pockets that he didn’t have his wallet, badge, or gun. He vaguely remembered pulling his gun when his car was shot at, but he didn’t remember what happened to it. Everything was fuzzy.
He drank some more of the foul-tasting water, then sat down. His back smarted. But that was the least of his concerns.
What the hell did she want?
He heard someone talking—not Elise—it was a male voice and another female voice. He couldn’t see them, and he wondered if he was imagining things. He heard words here and there, but couldn’t put them in context.
He must have dozed off for a while because he woke to a click of the lock, then blinding light. He blinked, couldn’t see who’d come in. His body was sore, telling him he’d been asleep for some time.
There were at least two of them in the room, maybe three. He narrowed his eyes, but was still nearly blind from the light.
He heard voices, one definitely Elise’s.
“Ready, set, go!” she said.
Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain hit him all over. He had no idea what the hell happened, but it was like every nerve burned him, and he couldn’t help but scream out. It was so sudden, so unexpected … another bright light, this he now knew was a flash, and then icy cold water was poured over his body.
A moment later, the room went dark, the door shut, and the lock engaged. The last thing he heard was