Page 38 of Pieces of Her (Andrea Oliver 1)

She could run. She could justify leaving because her mother would want her to leave, to be safe, to get away. That’s all Laura had wanted in the diner. That’s all that she would want now.

Andy turned back toward the kitchen. She was inside of her body but somehow outside of it at the same time. She saw herself walking toward the phone at the end of the counter. The cold tile cupped her bare feet. Water was on the floor by the side entrance, probably from Hoodie. Andy’s vision tunneled on her mother’s cell phone. She gritted her teeth to keep them from clicking. If Hoodie was still sitting in the chair, all that separated him from Andy was three feet and a thin wooden door. She reached for the phone. Gently pulled out the charging cord. Slowly walked backward into the shadows.

“Tell me,” Hoodie said, his voice carrying into the kitchen. “Have you ever had one of those dreams where you’re being buried alive?” He waited. “Like you’re suffocating?”

Andy’s mouth was spitless. The pneumonia. The collapsed lung. The horrible wheezing sounds. The panicked attempts to breathe. Her mother had been terrified of suffocating. She was so obsessed with the fear of choking to death on the fluids from her lungs that the doctors had to give her Valium to make her sleep.

Hoodie said, “What I’m going to do is, I’m going to put this bag over your head for twenty seconds. You’re going to feel like you’re dying, but you’re not.” He added, “Yet.”

Andy’s finger trembled as she pressed the home button on her mother’s phone. Both of their fingerprints were stored. Touching the button was supposed to unlock the screen, but nothing happened.

Hoodie said, “It’s like dry waterboarding. Very effective.”

“Please...” Laura choked on the word. “You don’t have to do this.”

Andy wiped her finger on the wall, trying to dry it.

“Stop!” her mother shouted so loudly that Andy almost dropped the phone. “Just listen to me. Just for a moment. Just listen to me.”

Andy pressed home again.

Hoodie said, “I’m listening.”

The screen unlocked.

“You don’t have to do this. We can work something out. I have money.”

“Money’s not what I want from you.”

“You’ll never get it out of me. What you’re looking for. I’ll never—”

“We’ll see.”

Andy tapped the text icon. Belle Isle dispatch had adopted the Text-to-911 system six months ago. The alerts flashed at the top of their monitors.

“Twenty seconds,” the man said. “You want me to count them for you?”

Andy’s fingers worked furiously across the keyboard:

419 Seaborne Ave armed man imminent danger pls hurry

“The street’s deserted,” Hoodie said. “You can scream as loud as you need to.”

Andy tapped the arrow to send.

“Stop—” Laura’s voice rose in panic. “Please.” She had started to cry. Her sobs were muffled like she was holding something to her mouth. “Please,” she begged. “Oh, God, plea—”

Silence.

Andy strained to hear.

Nothing.

Not a cry or a gasp or even more pleading.

The quiet was deafening.

“One,” Hoodie counted. “Two.” He paused. “Three.”