Page 177 of Cold, Cold Bones

I remained coiled and ready, chained to my tumbled mooring.

Time seemed to stop.

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Something clattered to my right.

Panicked, I raised my gaze to Katy.

Henry leaped the chair, flexed one leg, and kicked me hard in the throat. The sudden blow sent my jaw up, my lungs into spasm.

Tears ran my cheeks.

Breathe!

My burning lungs took in no air.

“Let it go!” Henry shrieked.

I refused to yield the shaky grip I had on the garrot.

Breathe!

The black clouds began to gather again.

Breathe!

“Do it! You’re finished! Thiswillhappen!” A note of hysteria now sharpened Henry’s tone.

I refused to acknowledge her commands.

I refused to acknowledge the searing fire in my chest and throat.

I tried to inhale. Felt the tiniest easing. Tasted the first molecules of oxygen.

“You have a gun,” I managed to croak. “Shoot me.”

“No! No! No! This has to go downexactlyas planned.” Henry now sounded like a madwoman. A madwoman caught in a crazed delusion. “You die. Then the truth of what you really are, of your arrogant judgments and the pain they’ve caused, will be revealed to the world.”

“I won’t watch,” I said. “You can’t force me to be a player in your sick theater.”

That seemed to catch her by surprise. Then, “Good idea about the gun. What say I cap one of your knees, then get you back into your front-row seat? You refuse to view the performance, I cap the other.”

Icy fingers ran my spine.

What to do? What to say?

Before I could act, Henry grabbed the chair by its back and wrenched it upright. My eyes took in an arcing kaleidoscope of grays and blacks interspersed with spots of color. The concrete walls. The two pits. The green of Katy’s shirt. A flash of blond hair.

Stepping to face me, Henry drew the Glock and pointed it two-handed at my knees.

“Got a fave, Doc?” Waggling the weapon back and forth. “Righty or lefty?”

“If you harm my daughter, you will spend the rest of your life behind bars.”

“That’s a stupid threat. I will anyway.”