Chapter 33
“I should not be longer than half an hour,” I tell Jim as I step out of the car.
Heading into the office wasn’t on the agenda for me today.
At least, not before I knew my wife was back at home, safe and sound.
But then, my CFO called, insisting there was an urgent matter we needed to discuss, and that it could only be done in person due to the delicate topic.
So here I am, but not before I doubled the size of Iris’s security team for her trip to the hospital with her mother.
I’m about to enter the building when my phone goes off with an unmistakable ring. Theo is calling me.
Every time I hear the custom sound I set up for Iris’s driver slash bodyguard, I tense.
Theo’s calls are always his regular check-ins, keeping me informed about Iris’s plans or changes to their anticipated route.
Yet the possibility of bad news is always at the back of my mind.
That fear is irrational, but it is constantly present when I don’t have my eyes on my wife.
It doesn’t matter that there haven’t been any incidents since our wedding day; I still feel like the other shoe is about to drop.
I hit the green button and press the phone to my ear.
“Sir.” Theo’s voice carries across the line before I say a word.
I freeze. That single syllable is steeped with an alarm that has never before been present in the man’s always calm demeanor.
“Mrs. Ruffo is missing, sir.”
The ground disappears beneath my feet. Although I’m rooted in place, I feel as if I’m plummeting into a dark abyss. My lungs scream for air because I have forgotten how to breathe. My heart thunders against my ribs.
“We are searching the premises. Hayden and his team are in the hospital’s security office, poring over the feeds to track her movements.”
“What the fuck happened?” I roar.
“I take full responsibility, sir. Mrs. Ruffo was waiting for her mother outside an exam room. Although our team was not permitted in the vicinity, I had a visual on her, other than when she used the women’s facilities, and was no further than fifty feet away at all times.
After using the restroom, she was speaking with a doctor who approached her when a commotion broke out in the waiting room, where I maintained my post. A man came in and began attacking people.
He charged me, and my attention was pulled away from Mrs. Ruffo for the brief span of time it took to subdue him. But by then, Mrs. Ruffo was gone.”
I turn around, running back to the car.
“I thought that, perhaps, she headed into the exam room to be with her mother,” he continues.
“But Mrs. Fabbri and Dr. Nolan exited only moments after, without your wife. At this point, I disregarded hospital protocols and brought in all of our teams. We’re currently searching the entire building and covering all exits. ”
I throw open the driver-side door and, fisting the front of Jim’s shirt, pull him out of the seat. “Anything on the cameras?”
“Still working on that, sir,” Theo replies.
“Mr. Ruffo?” Jim shouts at the same time as I shove him out of the way and slide behind the wheel.
Horns blare around me, people toss insults as I peel away from the curb.
None of that distracts me. Not even a glimpse of my driver in the rearview mirror as he picks himself up off the ground and narrowly manages to get out of the way of an oncoming bus.
I step on the gas, weaving in and out of traffic, running lights, and dodging pedestrians.
“If my wife isn’t found by the time I get to the hospital, Theo, I will personally put a bullet in the head of every man on her protection team, starting with you.”
I disconnect the call and toss the phone onto the passenger seat. My hands grip the steering wheel, and if it wasn’t for that contact, I have a feeling they would shake. I’m flying down the road to my wife’s last known location, yet it feels like I’m barely moving at all.
My worst fucking nightmare is coming true.
Iris, baby, where are you?
Could she have simply headed down to a café to grab a snack, and the idiots missed her somehow? Or maybe she went back into the restroom?
No.
I know none of that is likely. But I’m grasping at straws. I need a sliver of hope to cling to. Anything…anything or I’ll lose my mind.
Because I know. I can feel it. The rhymey motherfucker got to her.
The pressure in my chest builds and builds until my fucking heart feels like it’s going to explode. Until drawing a breath becomes an impossible feat.
I’m going to kill him.
I’m going to kill everyone.
If my Little Iris gets so much as a scratch, I’ll level this entire city. Not a goddamned soul will be left alive.
I’m maneuvering through yet another intersection, while running yet another red light, when a notification pops up on my phone. A single ping. A text message.
I grab the phone; its weight in my palm feels like an acid burn on my skin. As soon as my eyes land on the screen, the written words send me into sheer terror. Panic rises within me, clawing at every part of my body as if it’s a wild animal tearing at my flesh.
16:13 Unknown:
You lost what you never dared to claim
Spare me the blame for this nameless game
I tried to warn you, you chose not to listen
Now witness the fear thicken and glisten
You ignored the truth, but I’ll force you to see
There’s another way for you to be
Come alone or lose her twice
Either way, you pay the price.
Below the rhyme is a set of GPS coordinates, and a location pin overlaid on the map.
That red marker blazes like a bright drop of blood on the outskirts of the city.
An area I haven’t been to in some years, but am familiar with all the same.
It’s been about a decade, yet I recognize the indicated location as the abandoned gravel pit where I found Barty with a shotgun shoved under his chin.
While I’m trying to process the significance of the location, my phone lights up with an incoming call. Theo’s name flashes across the screen.
“Sir. It appears your wife voluntarily left with the doctor she was speaking to earlier,” he says. “They were spotted on the security camera as they entered the freight elevator.”
“ID?” I growl. The ability to form a full sentence has left me.
“Only a visual at this point, sir. I’m forwarding it to you now.”
Finally! Finally, I’ll see the face of the shitstain who’s been fucking with me all this time. The man who threatened my wife and has now kidnapped her.
A dead man walking.
But when the image arrives, it’s as if I’m the one who has received a deadly blow. It takes me several heartbeats to comprehend what I’m seeing.
A picture of a very familiar face. Belonging to the only man I dared to consider a friend.
And he’s smiling boldly straight into the camera.
“I sincerely apologize for causing you any discomfort. Unfortunately, it was necessary.”
I thrash left, then right, trying to loosen the straps around my wrists. The binds are not particularly tight, and neither are those around my ankles or chest, but they stay in place even when I continue jerking around.
Bartholomew tsks. That disturbingly kind, considerate smile remains on his face as he wraps a soft blanket around my shoulders and tucks it under my chin.
I lean back, as far away from him as my current position allows.
Which means no more than a mere few inches, considering I’m tied to a vintage cushioned chair that seems as far out of place in this derelict trailer as the man pretending to care for me.
I jerk again when he tries to pat me on the shoulder.
“Please, stop. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Gow to hahl,” I mumble around the gag in my mouth.
“I probably will. And shortly.” The older man winks at me. “Are you feeling alright? The dizziness should have passed by now. Let me get you some herbal tea.”
I watch as he crosses to the other side of the crumbling space and crouches by a large duffel bag near the far wall.
When I came to about twenty minutes ago, I found myself tied to the ornate Victorian-style chair, positioned in the middle of a long but narrow room, in what seems to be an abandoned mobile office.
The faux-wood paneled walls might have been white once, but now range in shades from beige to dark brown, covered in stains of unknown origins.
The cracked linoleum floor shares a similar fate, coated in dirt and grime after years of neglect and exposure to the elements.
Other than the chair I’m sitting on, there’s no other furniture.
“I truly am sorry that I had to drag you into this.” Bartholomew’s cheery voice seems to echo through the space while he fumbles inside the bag. “You must understand, I would never have resorted to inconveniencing you in this manner if there was any other way.”
I keep silent, not that I have much choice with the gag shoved into my mouth.
My eyes are trained on him, waiting for the jolly old man to produce a gun or something worse from the bowels of that duffel.
He is obviously crazy; a tidbit I should have realized sooner, like when he seemed thrilled to share the details of that human experiment of his. But he acted so…nice. So…harmless.
Christ. If I weren’t scared to death right now, I’d laugh. I obviously haven’t learned my lesson on appearances since the last time.
“Here.” He stands up so abruptly that it makes me jump in my seat. “I hope chamomile is okay. Sugar?”
I gawk at the white bone china teacup and saucer, gold-rimmed and decorated with intricate roses, in his hands. Another relic from the sixties, complete with a delicate golden teaspoon.
“Now, I’ll remove the gag so you can drink. But please don’t do anything stupid, like scream. There’s no one around for miles, so all you’d be doing is straining yourself for no reason. Alright?”