Meet Me In The Dark: (A Dark Suspense) (7 page)

That’s it. I sob uncontrollably. It hurts so much. My whole body is on fire from the raging water hose.

But then, as quickly as it started, it turns off. I can hear the water in the pipes still, so I know it’s only temporary.

“I’m going to wash you now.” And even though it was my first image when he said that earlier, I’m more surprised at the hot rag dragging down my skin at this point than I was the fire hose.

He is gentle. He dips the washcloth into a tub of water, squeezes it out, and then caresses my whole body with it. He washes me everywhere. But there is no hint of sexual meaning behind this gesture. He never says a word and neither do I. He just swipes away the filth of me and replaces it with something new. Something fresh.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I say, hoping he will untie me and give me some clothes.

“I have to rinse you off now. Feel free to relieve yourself as I do it.”

“How?” I ask, before I can stop myself. “Please, not that hose!” I choke on a sob as the word comes out.

The ice water is my only response. It pelts me, erasing any soothing sensation from the washing. I close my eyes tight and let him do it this time. The piss leaks out of me from the fear and the need. I don’t even try to move my body away. What’s the point? I’m spreadeagled on top of a wooden table. I’m going nowhere. He’s made that very clear.

I lose time from the punishment, but eventually it does stop. I am not even crying now. I’m freezing. I’m in pain. I’m scared. I’m hungry. And I have no fight left. A chill runs up my body and I take deep breaths to keep the cold from taking over.

His footsteps appear again. Only this time they are not boots. Bare feet.

He comes up next to the table and stands quietly.

My whole body begins to shake uncontrollably again. My teeth chatter and all my muscles tense up as the fear takes over.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

I can’t even make myself relax enough to answer, but I grunt out a response to keep him happy.

And then his hand is on my stomach. It’s so warm, like he just pulled it back from a fire. Nothing—and I do mean nothing—has ever felt so good to me.

“Is that better?” he asks.

I nod and open my eyes. It’s still black in this room. But I don’t want him to pull his hand away. It’s the only place on my whole body that feels good right now. And then he lays his chest over mine. His whole body feels like it was warmed from a fire. I crave the heat. I need it so bad.

“Do you want me to stay here with you? Wrap you in my arms and warm you up?”

“Yes,” comes out immediately. There is no hesitation.

He climbs onto the table and presses his body next to me for a moment. Then he sits up and leans forward. The tension holding my left leg open wide disappears. The same thing happens on the right side.

I close my legs and bring them up to my chest, trying to get warm. But he gently repositions them. He slides his body up next to mine and we scissor our legs together. He’s bare-chested, but he still has his jeans on. His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me in tight against his body.

Everything else disappears. The thirst. The humiliation. The smell. The hunger. The cutting. The bath. The cold. It all goes away in a single moment. The moment when Merric Case leans in my ear and whispers in a deep throaty growl, “I own you. I think you forgot that, Sydney. But I’m patient. I will remind you. Over and over. Until you come to terms with what that means and I can finish what I started eight years ago.”

“Do I believe in right and wrong? Sure. As long as we understand I’m always right.”

– Case

S
he lies completely still as the words sink in. Silent. I reach up and pinch her nipple, making her squeal. “I never talk for the sake of hearing myself, Sydney. When I talk, even if there is no question, you will respond to me. You can choose the way in which you respond. I’ll correct you if it’s wrong. But you will always respond.”

“OK,” she whimpers.

“Now that you’re comfortable”—she lets out a tiny huff of air to let me know she disagrees, but I ignore it this time—“let’s talk about Garrett. Where is he?”

“You killed him.”

“I did not kill him. But I’d very much like to.”

“He disappeared years ago. And if you’ve been watching me, and I know you have, then you already know this.”

She’s brave, I’ll give her that. Because that was a statement of defiance. Arrogant, almost. But she is also stupid.

I sit up and remove my body heat from her. She takes a few quick breaths, but then calms herself and whispers, “Wait.”

“Too late, cowgirl. Or should I just start calling you wildcat? Hmmm? Too fucking late. You’ll learn. Eventually.”

I get off the table and walk over to the water hose and turn it on again.

She does not move as I spray her a third time. But she bites her lip hard enough to draw blood and when I turn the water off, she is practically convulsing, she is so cold.

I drop the hose on the floor and walk back over to her.

“I thought you killed him, Case. I swear to God. I thought you killed him and my father. I don’t know where he is.”

“I did kill your father. Right here on this table.” That makes her whimper. “But Garrett got away. Where did he go and what is he doing?”

She squints her eyes and shakes her head a little. But she knows what will come if she doesn’t answer now. She knows I’m not fucking around. I’m not here to coddle her through this. I’m not here to pry it out of her. So she gulps down some air and responds.

“Maybe he went to our cabin?”

“I checked. And then I burned it down.” She sucks in a breath at that. And why does she care? It makes me wonder. It pisses me off, actually. “So try again.”

“Camping somewhere?” she offers.

“Where?”

“The campsites don’t have names that make sense to anyone but us. I could show you—”

“Wrong. Try your best, Sydney. Tell me where he camps and I won’t have to spray you again.”

She draws up her knees, since her legs are still untied, trying to cover herself from the thought of the ice-cold water. And then she squints her eyes again. I realize this means she’s thinking. But I haven’t had enough personal contact with her to discern if it means she’s thinking up a lie or just regular thinking.

“Always up in Yellowstone. Purple Mountain is where we start. And then we veer off at the second switchback, and continue to climb to the top of the mountain, and then double back on the opposite side. There’s a deer trail—”

“Do you think he’s there?”

“No,” she answers immediately, and I smile.

“No, he’s not. I followed the two of you there several times. So I’ve checked, and had others check, repeatedly over the years. Where else?”

She continues to list their camping spots and each time she says no to my question. I know he’s not camping, but this gives her time to think about how she wants this to go. And since I’m a reasonable guy, I give her this time.

“That all?” I ask, when she’s finally done. Her teeth have been chattering for so long I think she’s probably losing weight before my eyes, that’s how tense her muscles are.

“That’s it, Case. I swear.” It comes out
Cccc-aaaase
and
swww-eeee-aar
.

I believe her. I’ve checked all of them several times over the years. It’s like the man really does know how to vanish. Of course, the world is big and I am just one person. I have a partner, but even two people can miss a few places when you have to cover the whole earth looking for someone.

But none of this makes any sense. And it’s all pointless right now anyway. I’m only here to establish control, and I think I’ve succeeded in doing that. “Well, I’m tired. And hungry. So you get some rest.”

I reach into my pocket and withdraw the syringe, uncapping it with a flick of my thumb, and press it into the fleshy muscle of her upper arm. “You can sleep too. But food, Sydney, food is a reward. Not a right. You can go a few more days before I really need to feed you.”

She whimpers, but cuts it off almost immediately. “I’m cold.”

“You’re supposed to be.”

“Pppp-lease,” she stutters, her lips trembling and her legs shaking. “Warm me again. Please.”

I place my hand over her belly like I did earlier, and she relaxes with a long breath of air. “I like to see you suffer, Sydney. Make no mistake. I didn’t warm you earlier to make you happy. I did it to confuse you. I’ll give you a tip. To help you get through the next few days before I kill you—”

“No,” she says, begging. “No, please.”

“I hate your fucking guts. I have been dreaming about killing you for years. Just like I dreamt about how I’d kill your father. I tortured him on top of this very table. It’s stained with his blood. And yours will add to it. So if you want it to go easy, do what you’re told. Don’t lie. And don’t expect me to give a shit. Because I’m more than happy to fuck with your head for a few days as I pry this information out of you. Information I
know
you have. And I
will
get it.”

She cries then. Full-on sobs. I wait for the drugs to take over and then I cut the rope that binds her to the wall at the head of the table. She tries to sit up and fails, and then the sleepiness overtakes her pathetic attempt at a fight and she curls into herself like a baby, desperate to find some warmth.

I take a deep breath and walk over to the hose, roll it up and place it on the hook in the connecting utility room, then close and lock the door behind me. I remove my night vision goggles before I flip on the light, and then I place those in the little cubby of gear before walking through the next door and back out into my cabin.

It’s cold in this room. I’ve been with her for at least two hours so the fire has died down. I throw some wood on it and change out of my wet clothes and stir the stew that’s been cooking over the flame all day to stimulate her hunger response. I spoon some into a camping bowl and sit down on the couch a few feet away from the hearth and eat.

When I’m done I stretch out, pulling the bearskin that hangs over the back of the couch over me, and I think about what to do next.

I think up all the ways I might break her. I have no shortage of ways. But even though I knew how I’d kill her father, Senator Channing, from the moment he fucked with my life, I have no such plan for Sydney. I have run it all through my mind over and over again, but how to do it so it’s satisfying? I’m not sure.

Strangulation during sex is currently at the top of my list. But I’ve always enjoyed slitting throats. It’s quick, which I hate. But messy, which I love.

Then there is my specialty, of course. Assassination-style. Bullet to the back of the head.

I don’t know. I can’t decide. If I get her to take me to Garrett, I could do them both each way. I know exactly how I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.

I smile at the thought and then I turn over and close my eyes, enjoying the warm fire and the stew in my stomach.

It surprises me how satisfied I am with her first real day of questioning. I broke her quickly. A lot quicker than I expected. She’s grown weak, perhaps. He beat her down pretty good, but his absence makes her weak. He must know this. She’s been away from him. Living her seemingly normal life in Cheyenne. Running her little country western bar. Theme nights and live bands replaced her militia training.