Chapter 52
FIFTY-TWO
Zoe was already running.
Her boots pounded against the concrete and her breath tore at her lungs. The abandoned building groaned from rusted beams to hanging chains. And then she saw him—a hooded figure, turning around the corner.
Adrenaline pumped in her veins as she picked up speed. “FBI! Stop!”
The man hurried away. Corridors of forgotten junk towered around her. Filing cabinets, broken furniture, half-crushed boxes with numbers faded by time. It was dizzying—she couldn’t work out where she was anymore, as she followed the faint echo of footsteps scattering away like mice.
A flash of movement ahead.
She pushed harder, dodging a tangle of hanging cables, ducking under a half-collapsed shelf. Her hand grazed something sharp but she didn’t care.
A heavy thud. He’d slammed into something. A rusted metal cabinet, shoulder-first. She heard a sharp grunt, low and pained, but he didn’t stop. The sound of his footsteps staggered for half a second but then he was sprinting again, clutching his shoulder.
Then—a sound.
The slam of a door. A bang. Silence. She skidded to a stop in a wide loading bay, straining her ears and eyes. There was only one exit—a side door swinging slowly shut.
Zoe stood there, her chest heaving, scanning every shadow, listening for the slightest hint of breath or movement. The facility backed onto a main street with a maze of alleys.
Nothing. Just the creak of metal. A drip of water. She glanced at her hand. A cut ran through the middle of her palm, scarlet red blood dribbling from it like dew drops. The burning sensation finally hit her. But nothing stung more than the fact that he was gone. He had gotten away.
“Are you up to date with your tetanus shot?” the nurse asked, wrapping Zoe’s hand in a bandage.
“Yes.” She had had to be after her regular injuries at the fight club.
While the nurse made quick work of securing her hand, she swung her legs back and forth as she looked around the cold, sterile hospital bathed in a pale, white light.
Surrounded by tired eyes, half-read pamphlets, and machines that beeped in different rhythms, Zoe loved hospitals.
The smell of bleach and latex mingled into something so distinct and comforting. She saw it as a place of hope.
“All done!” the nurse announced. “The woman you brought in is in room 302 on this floor. She should be good to talk now. She was dehydrated and exhausted but we gave her some fluids and broad-spectrum antibiotics. She’s awake.”
Zoe nodded. “Thanks.” She hopped off the bed and found the room where a guard from the sheriff’s office and Aiden sat. “Where’s Lisa?”
“She’s securing the crime scene and the game.” Aiden stood up and fixed his tie and glasses. “Dawn got wind that the product has been found and wants it back but it’s evidence.”
“At least we found her.” She finally said the words out loud. She stopped outside the door before going in.
“What is it?” Aiden asked behind her.
“I don’t know…” The words died in her throat.
Her surroundings rippled like she was part of a watercolor painting.
She waited for the enormity of the events to hit her.
She knew she felt relief that they’d found Amy; she knew that she felt vindicated after killing Viktor.
But her body wasn’t registering the intensity.
Was she even here?
A solid hand touched her shoulder, tethering her back to reality. “Zoe?”
He rarely called her by her first name. She blinked widely and then shook off his hand before opening the door.
Amy was draped on the hospital bed. Her hair fanned wildly around her face. Her body skinny as a whippet, having lost mass since Zoe last saw her. Her face had shallow bruises, and wires dug into her skin. But it was her eyes that haunted Zoe.
The bewildered, dazed eyes that saw things no one else did.
“Amy, you remember us?” Zoe perched at the foot of the bed while Aiden sat on a stool.
She nodded like it was a chore. “Agent Storm.” Her voice came out rough and coarse.
“Is this real?” She looked around, tears welling in her eyes.
“I can’t tell…” She began squirming and her pulse ticked faster.
“This isn’t real. This isn’t…” She began thrashing her body, jerking against the restraints.
Her fingers tore at the wires digging into her pallid skin.
Monitors blared. A raw, guttural scream clawed its way out of her throat as if her body were rejecting the space around it.
A group of nurses burst into the room, pushing Zoe and Aiden to the back.
Zoe watched in horror as they sedated her. “What was that?”
“A woman who doesn’t know the difference between what’s real and what isn’t. That’s what spending a long time playing that immersive game does.”
Amy’s body slackened. Her screams subsided and her breaths became deeper. The nurses left except for one—a middle-aged, no-nonsense one. “She needs to rest. Have you informed her family?”
“They’re on their way. But we need to talk to her,” Zoe said.
“She’s been through severe psychological trauma,” the nurse countered. “She’s in no state to answer any questions.”
“Look, in such cases the first few hours are critical,” she explained.
“There is a lot of information that is fresh in her brain because she still thinks she’s in that environment.
The more time she spends away from it in a safe place, the more her brain will start to forget the small details and begin the process of acclimatization by suppression.
Whoever did this is still out there.” He had been within reach and he had slipped away.
Zoe wanted to punch herself. “He’ll do it again. ”
The nurse looked unsure, then Aiden spoke up. “I’m a trained psychologist. I know how to handle this.”
“All right. But if this happens again, then I’m kicking you out,” she said before leaving the room.
“I’m impressed,” Aiden said. “You’ve been reading up on your psychology?”
“I was just improvising. Can we get anything out of her?” She tipped her chin toward Amy, who was sleepy but alert. “She looks beat.”
“It might work out for us. She’s sedated, which means lower stress and fear. Though we’ll have to talk to her again to get her signed statement.”
“One shot is good enough for me,” Zoe decided and softened her voice. “Amy, how are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” she whispered, her blinks lazy. “Where am I?”
“You’re at the hospital. You’re perfectly safe, okay?” Zoe clasped her frail hand in hers.
“Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” Aiden said. “This will be hard but whatever you can tell us now will be very helpful.”
She shuddered. “I don’t know… I woke up in the woods and it was like I was being hunted.” Her eyes were still glazed over, seeing images that were not real.
Zoe looked at Aiden, whose mouth was pursed tight. “Amy, I’m Dr. Wesley. I think you remember me. You were shown intense images and videos for hours on end. They weren’t real.”
“But they could have been… I felt it all.”
“Do you remember what happened at the gas station?”
She closed her eyes. “I’d stopped to get gas. I stepped out but I don’t remember anything after that. I think he came up from behind and put something over my mouth. I… I tried to fight him. I swear I did. But I couldn’t. Everything went black.”
“He probably used chloroform,” Zoe said. “Did you ever see his face?”
“No. When I opened my eyes I was at Fun House. Lights were flickering, things were breaking, people screaming… it was awful. It just kept going on and on for so long. I would pass out and when I woke up, I’d be there again.”
Zoe clicked her tongue and turned around, running her hands through her hair.
“Did you hear his voice or feel his touch?” Aiden’s patience hadn’t thinned.
“I don’t know…” She groaned. “No… I think there was some grunting. Maybe a voice here or there. He kept apologizing to me.”
“Apologizing?” Zoe chewed on the pad of her thumb. Her eyes flew to Aiden. Did the killer feel guilty or coerced? “Did he say why he was doing it?”
“No, it’s all a blur now…”
“I know this is going to be hard, Amy, but I want you to focus,” Aiden said. “When he took you, do you remember anything at all? The car, his scent?”
She shook her head. “It’s all a blank. Trust me, I tried hard to fight the chloroform or whatever he used. But all I could sense was that it was a man. Though…” She squeezed her eyes. “I think he took me somewhere else first.”
“Where? Do you remember anything?” Zoe said.
Aiden raised a hand to stop her talking. “We’re going to do a light memory technique. You don’t have to close your eyes unless you want to. Just… let yourself be back in that place again. Can you do that for me?”
She nodded sleepily.
“Let’s start simple. The first time you gained consciousness. What did you feel? Describe it.”
“There was… a chair. Metal. Cold. I was tied to it at first. It was bright. I could tell from the blindfold but it wasn’t enough to see anything.”
“Do you smell anything?”
“I… The woods. It smells fresh. Outdoorsy.”
Zoe’s breath trapped in her chest. They had located Amy in a storage locker—which meant that she had been moved.
“Did you hear anything?” Aiden pressed.
“I heard his boots when he walked in.” The space between her eyebrows wrinkled. “I asked him why I was there. And he… mumbled something under his breath but I didn’t quite catch it. I was about to pass out again but then I heard a foghorn.”
Aiden frowned. “A foghorn?” She nodded, her eyes still closed. “Okay, just once?”
“I heard it again when he was loading me into the car. It was very clear, very distinct, which I thought was odd since I couldn’t smell or hear the ocean.” She opened her eyes, tears glistening. “And then I was in that new place that smelled like a basement. Who is he? Did you catch him?”
“Not yet…” Zoe said, remembering how she’d almost had him. “But the sheriff and her team are on site looking for any clues that might lead us to him. Did he say anything about putting that headset on you? Did he do that before in the woods too?”
“Only in the next place, not in the woods.” Her voice was breathy. “But I know he wasn’t comfortable in the woods. I could tell he was always pacing, mumbling. I don’t know why.” Her breathing began to even out as the sedative took over.
Aiden walked out of the room—too fast. Zoe excused herself and followed him outside into the hallway. His jaw was locked tight and eyes ablaze. “Aiden, what are you thinking?”
“Jackie killed Annabelle but this killer, maybe Spector, killed Jackie. And he hesitated with Amy.”
“Maybe it was easier to kill Jackie because she was also a killer. Does that mean Spector didn’t help Jackie kill Annabelle?”
“I don’t know…” Aiden rubbed his forehead. “I would say he was more a passive participant or a witness. He was enticed by the violence.”
Zoe shifted on her heels, impatience clawing at her when her phone rang. “Ethan, what’s up? Find anything?”
“Agent Storm, have you heard from Lisa?” His voice was urgent and wavering.
“No… Isn’t she at the scene with you?”
“Damn it!” he growled. “She never made it here. I’ve been trying her cell but it’s turned off and she isn’t at the station. But her car is still there. A deputy told me a letter arrived fifteen minutes ago.”
Nerves rattled in Zoe’s stomach. “What letter?” Aiden’s eyes flew to Zoe.
“‘Ticktock goes the clock. No more truths and no more lies. Only silence and goodbyes.’”