Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CARA
I rest my cheek against my bicep, gently tugging my arms that are pinned above my head.
The cold bite of the metal cuffs against my wrists chafe with every small movement I make as I blink back at the searing light overhead that distorts my vision with black spots.
Dazed and confused, the delayed intensity of every ache in my body hits me all at once in a rush.
A crackling fire in the corner sputters as the looming presence with his back to me feeds it with bricks of wood, stoking it with a poker, the flames breathing with new life as the heat in the room intensifies.
I struggle to push myself up to my knees, my legs numb from the awkward position I’ve been left in, the radiator at my back unforgiving as it presses against my spine.
The pounding in my head is like the aftermath of a three-day pill binge.
Desperate measures for a girl who’s been used, lying on her back, at the mercy of cruel men—but here in the basement of Blackwood, the chilling realisation that a handful of codeine isn’t going to be enough to get me through this settles in my leaden bones like arsenic.
The bitter taste of blood coats my tongue as I tug at my restraints, the clang and scrape of metal softening every harsh panicked exhale that leaves my lips.
The slow, measured staccato clack of heels striking the floor out in the hallway echoes like a countdown, each step deliberate like a predator proudly announcing their approach.
The sultry, measured cadence of her voice when she fills the doorway and says my name feels caring, but I know better.
The comfort I feel right now is jarring, but knowing who put me here fills me with an odd sense of relief. It’s easier to play the game when you know who you’re up against.
She rests on her haunches at my side, wide assessing eyes trained on me.
“I’ll never get that stain out,” Lenora crows like we’re old friends discussing a splash of wine on a tablecloth.
She tugs at the collar of my uniform, the blood trail from the wound at the back of my head soaking the fabric a ruby red.
If this bitch rattles off that ‘creative expression’ bullshit, I'm going to scream.
“I didn’t see blindsided with a bat as one of the interaction classes listed on my employee itinerary; I would have planned a little better and worn a bib.
It’s messy work being attacked by your pet,” I sass back, glaring at Simon who rolls the bat stained with my blood between his hands.
A shudder works its way through my body as he purses his disgusting lips and blows me a kiss.
The sensation of his touch even as just a memory is enough to have my belly roiling as snippets of him hauling me over his shoulder and carrying me down here creep forward to fill in the blank spots of time, my woozy head piecing it together like a warped Salvador Dali inspired puzzle.
“Curiosity k?—”
“Killed the cat, I know,” I interrupt in a snarky tone as she rises on her feet.
“That’s gonna leave a mark,” Simon adds cockily as he steps over to me and drags his finger over my wound, making me wince. Pulling it back, he pops his blood-soaked appendage into his mouth with a slick smile as I divert my gaze back to the woman in charge.
“It seems you’re just too nosey for your own good, Cara. I had such high hopes for you,” Lenora explains with a faux pout, the sincerity lacking by a mile.
“I didn’t see anything,” I protest—knowing full well I saw everything .
Except the bat coming at your skull. I groan at the thought, the flash of pain renewed as I rest my head back.
“Awww, no need to lie, dear. I have eyes and ears all over this place,” she says soothingly like she’s trying to spare my feelings. “Plus, you’re shit at it,” she adds.
I rub at my sore neck with my forearm, my limbs uncooperative as the blood migrates south and what fingers I have left tingle.
I glare at Simon as he picks his teeth with the sharp end of a hunting knife; is it too much to hope he trips over his own feet and impales himself on it? Now that would brighten my day.
What I don’t understand is why Lenora wanted Ezra’s father dead. Framing Ezra so she wouldn’t get blamed was the only part that made sense to me.
“Storytime.” He grins, using the end of his bat under my chin to raise my eyes to meet his.
I smile as he itches at the skin under his eyepatch with his free hand.
When he’s satisfied with my level of attention, he shuffles over to stand beside me on guard as Lenora lowers herself into a chair and crosses her legs.
She readies herself for what she’s about to say, straightening her skirt over her knees, that cruel glimmer of sick satisfaction ingrained in the smile lines around her soulless blue eyes.
“Isadora Cardeen was the only detective I couldn’t get on my side that night; like a dog with a bone, she refused to accept that Ezra was the culprit.
I think she was secretly in love with him.
She’d been a family friend for years, covering up his misdeeds where she could.
He’d never taken a shine to her, to anyone really—not until you.
” She eyes me quizzically as though I’m a magic ethereal being with untapped powers she can’t quite fathom—ready to sharpen her scalpel to cut me open and study my insides in a bid to see what makes me tick.
Thoughts of dissection and mutilation aside, my heart swells in my chest at the thought of Ezra taking a shine to me.
I quickly lose the small smile tugging at my lips when Lenora sneers her displeasure at my reaction.
I could tell her I have no fucking idea who Isadora Cardeen is, but this doesn’t feel like a lecture where audience participation is welcomed.
The slap of her palms draws my attention back her way.
“Where were we?”
The urge to snap back with something sarcastic creates a knot in my throat, but my desire to walk away from here with all my limbs intact is stronger, so I swallow it down and lock eyes with Lenora. Giving her the attention she so sorely desires.
“Miss Cardeen had been snooping around at the house, and when she’d left, I had Simon tail her to see what she knew.
To my surprise she came here, looking for Ezra, demanding I let her see him.
I refused, of course, and then she blurted out the whole thing, what she had found.
I almost wanted to call her bluff when she detailed what was on that silly little DVD.
I entertained her moment of madness, ready to send her on her way.
But then she had to start hollering that she knew the truth about everything and that she wouldn’t stop until everyone else knew the truth too.
That simply couldn’t happen. Miss Cardeen had to die. A chase ensued.”
“I can’t imagine you in hot pursuit of anyone.”
Lenora cackles at me, extending her legs out and admiring her shoes.
“I don’t run, dear,” she titters like the mere thought of her doing her own dirty work is unthinkable.
“A part of me always wondered if she stashed the evidence here somewhere. I knew she wouldn’t have come here without some sort of proof.
I looked high and low for it but could never retrace her steps.
When we found her down in the wellness centre, I assumed it was in there, but again—we never found anything. ”
“That’s why you closed it down?”
“Couldn’t have someone come across it accidentally.”
“You killed her?” The question is a stupid one. I’m handcuffed to a radiator bleeding from the head; Lenora Blackwood clearly isn’t a let’s discuss and move past this sort of person.
Leaning in closer, her beady eyes trained on my face, she states, “We cut her up into little pieces down here and buried her beneath the fountain out front, so I could walk across her remains every day when I looked out at the lily field and drank my morning coffee. Safe in the knowledge that no one would ever know what nosey Isadora Cardeen had discovered.”
The flicker of excited callousness that twists her lips when my mouth gapes at her admission makes my stomach plummet.
“And then you came along. Just as enticing, just as belligerent, just as nosey ,” Simon adds as he steps up to flank Lenora.
“Big words for a dickless bag of shit. Your queen bitch here let you kiss her feet too?”
That earns me a slap. I hadn’t even seen her approach she moved that quickly. I know it was worth it when Lenora grinds her teeth in frustration as she rubs at her stinging palm. I decide I'd happily throw all the belligerence I can muster her way if it means royally pissing her off.
Simon approaches the TV on the wall opposite me and slides the silver DVD I’d found in the records room into the player, cranking up the volume to the maximum.
I watch as the heavy-set man chases the scantily clad girl around his office, pulling on her pigtails and yanking her back to his body as he tightens the noose of her school tie around her throat.
She’s wearing a shirt tied in a knot above her belly and open enough to expose her cleavage, the obscenely short skirt barely covering her arse, but it’s clear this is a woman in her late twenties.
She outruns him, and he settles in his chair in defeat.
‘Play with me, Daddy, please. I’ve been a very bad girl,’ the auburn-haired woman on the screen whines petulantly with a thick brogue accent when the balding man widens his legs and beckons her over, done with the chase as he lets out heavy rasping breaths.
Nursing his glass of whiskey, hungry eyes hooded as he watches her seductively bend over so her arse is presented to him, offering herself up for a pretty price I’d guess.
The man’s sickly green aura stinks of ill-gained riches and abuse of power at every turn.