Page 17 of Threads That Bind Us

You fell asleep in the car last night, so I brought you here.

The cabinet under the sink has towels and toiletries.

Make yourself at home.

Again, I apologize.

-C

He could still be playing some sort of horrific mind game, but the longer I think about it, the less likely that seems. Wouldn’t someone who wanted to manipulate me into complying with his demands use my vulnerable state to his advantage? I grab my coat from the chair in the corner of the room and fish in the pockets for my phone, coming up with only another little envelope.

I put your phone on the charger in the bathroom.

-C

A chivalrous murderer, fantastic. I step into the ensuite and snag my phone from the counter, a voice in the back of my mind reminding me that I amalsoa murderer and can’t be all that judgemental.

It’s nearly eight in the morning, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Knowing how late it was when I left Catalina’s, there’s no way we got here before three in the morning. There’s a few texts from Kenzie checking in on Ana’s radiation therapy appointment times and offering to cover my shifts. A slew from Ana, letting me know Gray’s parents are taking them to one of those medieval jousting performance things in northern Maryland. I text her back, telling her to be careful of her stitches and to call me if she needs anything.

Ana

She lives!

When’s the last time you slept in past 7?

Me

In the womb, I think. You sure you’re feeling okay?

The little typing bubble pops up, disappears, and starts again. She’s typing for a long time, but when the message comes through, it’s short.

Ana

Yeah, I’m all good.

Obviously that’s not true, but pushing her now while she’s out with Gray will not help. She’s been a little withdrawn since the surgery, but that’s to be expected, right? She may be upset right now, but she’s safe. I trust Linda and Paul with her more than anyone other than myself, and they’ll keep her distracted and cared for.

In the meantime, I’ve got a proposition to hear out.

I take less time in the shower than I want to, but invest a significant part of my time under the hot water trying to compartmentalize all my emotions. The confusion, the hope, the anger, the fear, and the tiny thread of lust wrapping them all together.

When I step out of the shower and reach for a towel under the cabinet, my hand lands on another little envelope.

What is this, Clue?

Extra clothes in the dresser.

-C

Short and less than sweet, but I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. When I’m dried off and my teeth are brushed, I open the drawers of the dresser in the bedroom.

They’re all empty, save for the top center one, which contains what looks like a men’s t-shirt and sweatpants, a camisole top, and a pair of thick socks.

Strange. Mildly creepy. Are these the clothes of hisprevious victims? If Dr. Spencer Reid has taught me anything, it’s that some people go through some serious rituals before they commit crimes.

Guess there’s only one way to find out. I drag on the clothes and gingerly peek out the door.

There’s noise coming from the end of the hallway, soft scraping and the rattling of dishes. I pad down the hall until I can see into the living area.