Page 63

SIXTY-TWO

NATALIE

I wake up groggy and in the dark. It takes me a moment to remember where I am—that’s still unknown, but I know who put me here—Nick.

I hear footsteps. Someone is here, though not in the dark space I’m in—a chest or a cellar—but on the other side of the door.

I’m afraid to make a sound. If it’s Nick, this means he’s back, and this time, I’m done for.

But when the door opens, unfamiliar boots step into my vision—work boots, or military, I’m not sure. I’ve never seen Nick wear those.

I squint, forcing my eyes up-up-up the black pants with a tactical belt and a black long-sleeved shirt. The silhouette against the light in the doorway is still blurry, and I can’t see the face of the man who moves and drops to his haunches in front of me.

“I’m going to take out your gag and remove the ties, but you can’t be loud,” the low voice says, slightly familiar, though I can’t place it. “Nod if you understand.”

I nod.

He carefully pulls the gag out of my mouth. Then his gloved hand holds mine as he cuts the zip tie that’s slicing into my wrists.

His gloves are rubbery to the touch, silicone maybe. It doesn’t make sense. Who wears those? Why? What is this supposed to be—another kidnapping? Someone Nick sent? Are they going to kill me?

Thoughts change from one to another as the man removes the ties from my ankles and helps me to my feet. He holds me by the shoulders, steadying me, and I wince from pain in every joint of my body.

How long have I been lying on the floor unconscious?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassures me, not quite friendly, but not threatening either. “Everything is going to be fine. You are all right. Understood?”

I nod.

“I’m going to let go of you. When I do, you will not run, scream, or do anything stupid. Unless you want to get both of us in trouble.”

I nod again, trying to collect the strength in my body.

Everything swims before me, slowly fading in and out of focus. My tongue is thick, my mouth dry. When the man lets me go and steps out of the dark space into the lit-up room, I realize that I was in the closet.

I blink repeatedly to bring things into focus and finally discern his face—it’s Walter, the gardener.