Watched (14 page)

Hunter scratched his head, shivering in the gray drizzle outside the apartment. There was the wire, exactly as Elise had said. It was spliced neatly into their cable line, painted the same color as the brick wall to mask it. It ran along the side of the building until it reached a small pile of scrap wood Hunter kept covered for minor repairs. There, lurking in the darkness like a cornered rat, was a small black modem. He’d sent Mrs. Dail to fetch the younger woman as soon as they found it, because the old woman was practically begging for something to do.

Elisa hurried over, flanked by an increasingly interested Mrs. Dail. “Good timing, I had just finished installing the programs I needed.” She plugged a cable into the router and began to type.

Mrs. Dail’s flower dress swayed as she peered over Elise’s shoulder. “Oh, how interesting, I’ve seen stuff like that in movies, my grandnephew knows how to do all that stuff, sometimes he tries to help me with my computer but I really can’t seem to get the idea, are you a computer expert or something?”

“Or something.” Elise pulled out her cell phone. “I need to call one of my contacts, he can get us more precise information now that we’ve done the legwork.”

Hunter nodded. His skin felt too tight, like he’d been sitting still for too long. He wanted to do more to help, but it was probably best if they just found out whatever they could and called the police.

Mrs. Dail patted him on the shoulder. “Now don’t you worry, I watched a show once and it said people can do amazing things with computers, you can even drop a bomb on someone if you know what their cell phone number is which is a little scary, but that works for us, not that I’d want to drop a bomb on Alexandra.”

Hunter doubted they had the ability to drop bombs on anyone. Not that he’d tell Mrs. Dail.

Elise hung up and closed the laptop. “Alright, we have a specific address.”

Hunter nodded. “Now we call the cops?”

“No,” Elise said, looking uncomfortable. “The information I just got wasn’t obtained by - entirely legal - means, so they won’t be able to act on it necessarily unless it comes from an anonymous tip. By the time they move, Alexandra could be long gone.”

Hunter crossed his arms. “What do you intend to do? Go charging in, guns blazing?”

The stern look she gave him would have silenced hundreds of schoolchildren all at once. “The most dangerous time for any hostage is during an armed rescue attempt. So no, my guns will not blaze. I’ll sneak in, get Alexandra, and sneak out. If you wish to call in an anonymous tip, feel free to do it after I’ve left. I’ll be out of there with Alexandra safely before they arrive. They can do the SWAT team nonsense.”

“Oh no, you’re not going without me.”

One dark brow arched in response, then she nodded. “Alright, suit yourself. But you do exactly as I say. Not one millimeter less or more.” She waited for him to nod, then turned toward the driveway.

“Wait,” Mrs. Dail said. She hurried toward the front door of the apartment complex. “I’ll get my purse.”

Before either of them could argue, the old woman was inside and headed up the stairs.

“You know,” said Elise, “she’s amazingly spry for her age.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Alexandra

Dust and mildew assaulted Alexandra’s nose as she awoke, and she cracked her eyes open. It was dark. Only a glowing computer monitor on a table in the corner provided any light, and its screen was dim. She lifted her head, and a surge of nausea gagged her despite the tape over her mouth. Alexandra dropped her head, letting the nausea pass.

Memory of the sickly sweet scent came back. Chloroform. John must have knocked her out with it, then probably injected her with something to keep her unconscious. Now she was laying on her side, her wrists tied behind her. Alexandra’s right arm was numb, and her entire body felt stiff. How long had she been unconscious? She tried to move her feet without success. They were tied at the ankles.

She rolled onto her stomach, working her right arm and forcing some feeling back into her fingers. The pins and needles prickle helped clear her mind, and she looked around again.

Boarded windows, bare walls. No furniture but the table and a few boxes. She was in an abandoned apartment. Chanmali lay nearby, propped up against a wall. Her arms were bent behind her back at an unnatural angle, and her ankles were tied. The tape over Chanmali’s mouth looked old, and her head lolled to one side. Alexandra wasn’t even certain the other woman was still breathing. A shudder radiated out from between Alexandra’s shoulders.

Alexandra flexed her fingers, testing the rope. It was too tight around her wrists to slip out of, but maybe if she could reach her ankles - Alexandra stretched her arms down, and bent her body into a C to reach. The ropes were in reach, but barely. She yanked at the knot with her fingertips, twisting and pulling in little jerks to loosen it.

It was slow work, and it didn’t seem to work. Once she had exhausted one approach, she felt along the tangle of rope to find another loop she could tug away from the main knot. Was she loosening it, or making it tighter? Alexandra’s thighs cramped as she bent herself backward farther, but she couldn’t see any sharp objects to cut the rope, so this was her only chance.

Light rose in the room as she worked. It crept in through a small skylight and around the edges of boards on the windows. Everything turned silvery as she pulled and tugged on the knot. Even the computer screen brightened. As the light changed from silver to golden, she squinted at the monitor in surprised recognition. Was that her living room on the screen?

The sun was rising on the screen as well, displaying a familiar couch and balcony. A line of smaller images at the right of the screen showed views of her bedroom, Simon’s bedroom and the bathrooms. The sluggish light of dawn filled her home, and Alexandra swallowed against a surge of bile. Her entire apartment was bugged. How long had John been watching?

Rustling froze Alexandra’s movements, and she turned her head. Chanmali was awake, watching. Alexandra’s stomach tightened. Was it fear or loathing written across the other woman’s features? Did it matter?

Chanmali looked down at the knot Alexandra was fighting with, and jerked her head backward. Chanmali’s fingers peeked out from behind her back, and wiggled to beckon Alexandra closer. Alexandra didn’t move.

John could have placed Chanmali here to lure Alexandra into trusting her. As Alexandra’s hesitation stretched from moments to seconds, she felt foolish. Would someone agree to this kind of treatment? Even if Chanmali hated her, they had a common enemy.

Chanmali’s spine straightened as Alexandra wriggled over and offered her feet. At least the other woman could see what she was doing. Alexandra tried to control her panicked breath while her fellow prisoner tugged at the ropes. Surer and bolder tugs than hers had been, like Chanmali was more desperate to get out of here than Alexandra.

The ropes loosened bit by bit, and the cold feeling in Alexandra’s stomach gave way to a wash of joy. Just a few more pulls, and she could stand. Belatedly, she realized she should have had Chanmali untie her hands first. The knot fell apart, and Alexandra pulled her feet apart until the ropes dangled loosely between her ankles.

The clack of a deadbolt cracked through the silence, and both women jumped. Chanmali’s visage crumpled in fear, and she flailed to signal Alexandra to go back to her place. A few quick flips of the other woman’s wrists wrapped the rope around Alexandra’s ankles again. Alexandra rolled onto her side and ignored the protests of her stiff muscles. She tried to arrange her body in the same position as she had been in before, closing her eyelids all but a sliver as the door handle unlocked and turned.

Alexandra could barely see, but dared not move for a closer look. Besides, she knew who held her captive. She just hoped the rope around her ankles was coiled enough to keep John from noticing it was untied. They felt loose enough to give way if she needed to get to her feet in a hurry. Her wrists were a different story, but one step at a time.

The rustle of shopping bags hitting the ground called her attention to John again. He was turned away, leaning his hands on the table as he watched the monitor. What was he watching? Alexandra wasn’t there anymore.

A whimper from Chanmali made John stand up straight. Alexandra closed her eyes and let her face relax as he stomped over to Chanmali. She screamed as he approached, loud even through the tape.

He stepped over Alexandra. The thump of something solid striking soft flesh tensed Alexandra’s muscles in shock. John had never struck her, or any woman. She had thought he knew better. Another thump and Chanmali’s whimper confirmed her suspicion. Alexandra’s teeth ground together as she scanned the room for anything she could use as a weapon.

The computer screen in the corner captured her attention. She caught a glimpse of people wandering around in her apartment. Hunter and Elise? Why were they there?

“Shut up,” John snapped. “I don’t want you waking my wife. I’m not wasting any more tranquilizers on you, do you hear? No one cares about your whining.” Alexandra feigned sleep again as John turned to walk back. “If you’d just done your job instead of going all high and mighty, you’d be a rich woman and free. I don’t want to hear it.”

Chanmali’s quiet weeping cut through the gloom, and Alexandra’s throat burned with anger. All of the harassment had been bought. Alexandra’s mind shot back to the time he’d called Alexandra after her first police report. He’d asked why would he bother with bricks and slashed tires.

It was technically true. John always got others to do his dirty work.

He was back at the computer now, watching the tableau on the screen. Flexing her fingers, she tried to reach the knots holding her hands. If she could get free, he wouldn’t be a hard fight. The bound rope might as well have been on the moon for all she could reach. Her fingers groped, useless.

Loud curses from John froze her movements, and Alexandra’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Those idiots! I told you! I told you to hide it better!”

Something metallic slammed against the table, and Alexandra’s eyelids cracked open. What she saw churned her stomach. He was holding a gun. Elise’s copper-complexioned face filled the screen in front of him. She must have found the camera.

His footsteps advanced on Alexandra, and she tried not to tense. If she moved, he’d have a warning before she could get away. But what if he’d decided to shoot her? She forced her muscles to relax, despite a pounding heart.

John stepped over Alexandra, stopping right in front of Chanmali. The other woman screamed again. She sounded feeble, sobs breaking her screams and tearing at Alexandra’s stomach. The other woman’s fear ignited a flare of indignation. How dare he dispose of Chanmali like a rusty tool? Alexandra coiled herself to spring, moving by inches.

“You deserved this,” John said. “I should have done this a long time ago, when you started to question me, but I was too kind to you. Now they might find us, and you’d only slow us down. This is the only way.”

Alexandra surged to her feet. The ropes clung, hindering movement. Alexandra’s lunge became a stagger. Not heroic, but she could work with it. She rammed into John, her shoulder stinging with the impact. A loud bang erupted beside her as he fell. Alexandra’s ears rang, and she stumbled among the ropes as they fell from her ankles.

John lifted his gun, but Alexandra kicked at his hands. The gun clattered to the ground, and she stepped on it and kicked it away. Chanmali was screaming, incoherent. A little surge of triumph went through Alexandra. Not dead. At least, not yet.

“Stupid bitch!” John rushed her, head down and aimed at her abdomen. Alexandra’s back hit the wall hard, and his head pushed the air from her lungs. Her chest seized with the lack of breath, but anger flared stronger than any blow. Alexandra yanked her knee up to hit him squarely in the middle of his chest. His breath rushed out with a wheeze, and he doubled over. Alexandra allowed herself a smug smile.

See how you like it.

He sprang for the gun, but Alexandra was faster. A solid kick to the neck and John collapsed, folding up like a paper doll. She shoved him away, watching to make sure he wasn’t faking.

Mrs. Louangrath’s screams had devolved into wails. Alexandra pushed the gun aside, but kept it close in case she needed it. She didn’t know how she’d use it, but a girl could dream.

Blood was flowing too fast from a wound in Chanmali’s leg. Not fast enough to indicate a damaged artery, but Alexandra needed to stop the bleeding. When the other woman looked up, Alexandra twisted and held up her tied hands. A slow nod was enough answer. Alexandra plopped down next to the other woman, and turned so she was back to back with Chanmali.

Half an hour later, John groaned from his new spot over by the table. “Where are my clothes?” He wriggled against the ropes which held him.

“Needed them for bandages,” Alexandra replied. She tried not to smile as she wrapped another strip of cloth around Chanmali’s wound. “It took forever to clean this wound, and I wasn’t putting dirty bandages on all my work. Your clothes were the cleanest.” She glared at him. “You’re lucky this bullet hole didn’t nick the artery, or you’d face a murder charge.”

John lapsed into sullen silence. The only sound was Chanmali’s light breathing, finally at rest thanks to a light dose of the drugs John had brought to keep them both sedated. Alexandra tied off the last strip of bandage, then sat back to inspect her work. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the best she could do with what she had. She’d already called 911, and they should be there any minute. Chanmali was dehydrated and weak from blood loss, but she would live.