Chapter 32
I woke to a pounding headache. My eyes were still closed, and at first, I thought I was waking up with a massive hangover. Only I wasn’t lying on a bed—I was sitting up, and I couldn’t move my arms and legs.
Where was I?
I tried to open my eyes, but they were too heavy, and when I got them open to slits, I saw a dimly lit room. Everything was gray.
I stopped trying to pry my eyes open. I could go back to sleep and wake up later.
Only my shoulders were restrained, and my palms and knees stung.
I worked harder to open my eyes. I could make out a figure in a chair about three feet in front of me, but then my eyelids sank shut again.
“Time to wake up, Harper,” a man said in a soothing tone. “I’ve got a busy night ahead of me, so I don’t have much time.”
Who was that? My brain was still sluggish, and I wondered if that was why I couldn’t place him. But I had to know him, right? Otherwise, why would he be sitting in front of me while I was sleeping?
The ache in my shoulders was becoming unbearable. I released a low groan and tried to move them, but they were stuck.
I forced my eyes open again, getting a better glimpse of the man in the chair.
He was wearing dress pants and a button-down shirt with a tie.
He looked to be in his forties, with thin, dark-blond hair trimmed short.
He was sitting in a chair, turned slightly to the side as he watched me like I was a still life he wanted to draw.
I tried to move my hands again and realized they were tied behind my back. I no longer had my jacket, and my wig had been removed, my real hair brushing my shoulders. My feet were bare, and my jeans, which had concealed my gun, were torn up to my calf.
Panic swept through me and I jerked harder on my hands and legs, but my arms didn’t budge, and my legs were tied to the chair as well. Terror burned off my grogginess.
“I’m sure it’s disconcerting waking up to find yourself in this position,” he said in a dull tone.
“Who are you?” I demanded, but I already knew. I also knew I was screwed.
If I’d met him out in the world, I would have taken his smile for a friendly gesture. But I was tied to a chair in the center of a concrete room of about ten feet by ten feet. His smile was pure evil.
“I think you know who I am. I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
I tried to shrug, but my bound arms made it impossible. “Who knew the big bad Gerald Knox was really a scared little boy who hides in the dark?”
He laughed and shook his head. “You’re one to talk. Didn’t you run off to Lone County to hide and lick your wounds?”
“Been stalking me?” I asked in defiance.
“If you wish to call it that.” He shifted in his seat. “Where’s my accountant, Harper?” His voice was icy.
“How the hell would I know? I’m not your assistant.”
“You and Malcolm paid her a visit, and now she’s gone.” He leaned closer. “What did you do with her?”
“I didn’t do anything with her,” I said in a flippant tone. “Maybe she was tired of working for you and quit.”
He lifted his hand and slapped me hard enough across the cheek to make my teeth rattle.
“What?” I asked with a small laugh. “Does it hurt your feelings when someone doesn’t want to work for you?”
He slapped me again, this time a backhand to my other cheek, but I didn’t regret provoking him, because his violence meant I was getting under his skin.
“I heard you had a mouth on you,” he said, all politeness gone. “Back when you worked with him before.”
My brain still wasn’t operating at one hundred percent, but even if it had been, I wouldn’t have had a clue who he was talking about. Keith? One of my uniformed partners?
I couldn’t imagine any of them telling anyone I was mouthy, because I’d been known for quietly observing.
“Bottom line,” I said, tasting metal in my mouth. “I don’t know where your accountant is.”
“What about my handler?” he asked, his voice tight with unrestrained anger. “And my girl?”
“That child was not your girl,” I spat. “And she’s somewhere you’ll never get to her again.”
“And my handler?”
“I have no idea,” I said truthfully. “And frankly, I don’t give a fuck.”
His palm cracked across my face, this time making my ears ring. It took me a second to push the fuzziness in my head away.
“I’ve heard you’re big on demanding respect,” he sneered. “But it’s your turn to learn some.”
Again, I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, and I had no idea why he would say that.
“Where’s Malcolm?” he demanded.
“Handing over enough evidence to put you away for life.”
He hit me again, and I struggled to keep my head upright because it was too early to start fading. I needed to stay focused. My time with Knox was just beginning.
He grabbed my face in his hand, his thumb and index finger pinching my stinging cheeks, and leaned over me, his face inches from mine. His eyes were dark with hatred. “Where’s Malcolm?”
“I have no fucking idea,” I said. “And that’s the God’s honest truth.”
He studied me a few seconds longer, then shoved my face away. My chair rocked as he took a step back. “Not to worry. We’ll find him soon enough.” He flashed me a smile. “We don’t need him for our talk.”
I remained silent, running through my options but coming up short.
My hands were bound behind me, my legs tied to the chair.
I wasn’t getting out of here, and the man in front of me would make sure I didn’t.
My only hope was that Carter could still see my location and would send help.
Because, while I’d given him Knox’s address, I doubted his home had a concrete dungeon.
Of course, Carter might send his men to the wrong place.
I had no idea when they’d stripped off my jacket or taken my phone.
“Where’s your mother’s file?” he asked.
“Somewhere you won’t get it,” I said with a bitter laugh.
Another slap.
“Let’s try that again,” he said. “Where is the—”
“You’re wasting your time and breath,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m never going to tell you.”
He punched me in the stomach this time, knocking the wind out of me. I wasn’t sure why it caught me by surprise. I expected it to get a lot worse.
I wasn’t wrong. Several minutes later, I still hadn’t told him, and my left eye was swollen and my stomach ached.
Knox was getting frustrated and apparently worn out, based on his heavy breathing. He stepped away from me, beginning to pace as he rubbed his raw and swollen knuckles.
He stopped and turned to face me. “Where have you been the last few years?”
I was pretty sure I was concussed, because his question didn’t make any sense. “I was in the Little Rock Police Department,” I said, surprised to hear it come out slurred.
His eyes narrowed. “How did you coordinate your role as the Lady in Black while working for the police?”
“What are you talking about?” I said, shaking my head slightly and regretting it.
He took a step closer. “You’re not her, are you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His eyes widened slightly. “You don’t know about the Lady in Black?”
My vision was fuzzy, so I closed my eyes for a second and opened them, hoping it would clear. I was getting under his skin, and right now, that was my only defense. “What is that? An urban legend? Is she like Batman?”
A door on the far wall opened and Nicole Knox walked in, wearing a light blue tweed jacket and skirt with a white blouse. Her right arm was in a sling, but a black handbag hung from the crook of her left arm. Her two-inch heels click-clacked on the concrete floor.
Her sharp gaze landed on me. Hatred oozed from her.
I was in real trouble now.
“Did you find out where she’s keeping the file?” Nicole asked her son.
“No,” he said, breathless with frustration. “She won’t say.”
“You didn’t try hard enough,” she said.
“Look at her,” he said, flinging a hand toward me. “She’s not cooperating.”
A slow, evil smile spread across Nicole’s face. “She will once we give her the right motivation. Did you find Malcolm yet?”
“No.”
Nicole frowned. “Your father would have found him a week ago.”
“Thank you for the reminder, Mother,” he said, his words tight.
Nicole strode toward me. “Not so tough now, are you, Ms. Adams?”
I looked up at her, refusing to show any sign of anger or fear. “I’m not scared of you.”
“You should be.” She slipped her handbag down her arm so she could reach inside with her left hand and pulled out a small handgun. Then she set her purse on the empty chair. “Maybe I should shoot you in the arm. You know the saying, ‘an eye for an eye.’”
The look in her eyes told me she’d do it in a heartbeat. But I suspected she wouldn’t stop with one shot. I also suspected she wouldn’t be calling 911.
“I don’t seem to be in a position to negotiate,” I said. No sense pretending otherwise.
“Not true,” Nicole said, bending at the waist to look me in the eye. “All you have to do is answer my questions.”
“I’m not going to tell you where my mother’s file is,” I said, holding her gaze in defiance. “She died to keep it from you. It would be like spitting on her grave.”
Nicole laughed. “She wouldn’t have suffered to protect you.”
Her words sank into my skin like a knife. “You didn’t know my mother.”
“Didn’t I?” Her thin brow lifted. “She was my friend for a month. She told me things.”
A chill went through me. “I don’t give a shit what she told you. I’m still not giving you the file.”
“You were a disappointment to both of your parents. Your mother told me in the strictest of confidence that she wished you had been kidnapped and murdered, not your sister.”
While my mother had never outright said this, I’d still known. So why did it hurt so much hearing this sociopath say it?
“Old news,” I said, trying to sound bored, but my lips and cheeks were swollen enough to make it sound like I had a mouth stuffed with cotton. “If you’re trying to break me, that’s not going to do it.”
“Your father hated bringing you back to Lone Creek two months ago.”
I’d figured that out days ago, so that shouldn’t have hurt either.