Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
For some reason, Roma couldn’t stop counting in her head.
As soon as the car pulled onto the road away from the dock, she started counting, and now, after losing her place a few times, she was nearly at three hundred.
Around two hundred thirty, deep in the recesses of her panicking mind, she realized that what she was doing was pointless because Harper hadn’t blindfolded her.
She was copying what she had seen in movies where someone is thrown into the trunk of a car and can tell the cops where they were taken based on how long they had been driving…
So, why was she still counting?
Three hundred and four.
The anxious voice had completely dissipated, replaced by the shrieking voice of panic. Because you’re going to die!
Daring to glance into the rearview mirror, she felt relieved she wasn’t met by Harper’s piercing stare.
In fact, as the woman drove at a safe and steady pace, she appeared completely normal, like someone Roma might bump into at a grocery store or hold an elevator door for.
Would Nate even look for her? Would anyone even think to?
She was supposed to be back at the office soon, but Cynthia had given her until lunchtime to finish the shopping because she planned to wrap up the pre-first-date interview with… Oh, geez, what was his name?
Why couldn’t she remember? Why did she care?
Dang it, she thought, realizing that she had lost count again.
Just as she reached eleven, the car slowed down and turned onto a gravel track.
Roma had no idea where they were on the island, but this road looked almost exactly like every small path she had taken to the shoreline since her arrival.
The thought made her chest tighten, and she refused to explicitly consider why, even as her mind flooded with unwanted images of Harper holding her underwater while she struggled.
Maybe she really would be sick…
“Do not puke in this car,” Harper said sharply. “For crying out loud, have some dignity, would you?”
“I beg your fricken’ pardon? I’ve never been kidnapped before,” Roma snapped, regretting her involuntary outburst as she saw Harper’s eyebrows raise at her in the rearview mirror.
Finally, Harper smirked and looked away.
“Well, you’re doing all right for your first time,” she said, snickering. “Let’s not make it your last, huh?”
The taxi stopped on a patch of concrete in front of a small cove with a tiny boat ramp and a charming shack at one end.
Roma had never seen anything like this on the island before—she was pretty sure building right on the shoreline was against the rules, thanks to the sea birds that also influenced the local cat laws.
Harper got out of the taxi, and Roma debated whether to open the door herself and risk Harper’s temper, or wait for the crazy gangland hit woman to open it like a chauffeur—both options seemed equally risky.
“Out,” Harper barked. “Now.”
Roma scrambled for the door latch and followed Harper down the beach. Surely she shouldn’t let Roma walk behind her? Wasn’t that, like, asking to get hit over the head with…whatever?
Clearly, Harper didn’t see her as even one-tenth of a threat.
Not that she was one, but it somehow made her feel worse about everything, just knowing that her kidnapper had no worries about her at all.
A flicker of anger sparked an idea—maybe she should use this blind faith in Roma’s uselessness to her advantage and actually hit her with something.
She looked around. She could stoop and pick up a rock, but they were all pretty small, and she’d only have one shot.
The only wood nearby was half-rotted driftwood, but ahead, she saw a very out-of-place garden gnome by the front door.
She’d picked up one of those before; they were heavy.
By the time they reached the little shack, Roma’s unexpected bravado waned as she gained on Harper, and the woman’s height, capable build, and demeanor reminded her that the consequences of underestimating each other were far more serious for her than for Harper.
As Harper held the shack door open, a sudden image of her parents’ front door in San Francisco flashed through her mind, with two police officers waiting for her mom to open it. Her eyes filled with tears, and her throat tightened painfully.
“Sit,” Harper instructed, pointing to an armchair in the corner of the room with several rips in the leather. “Don’t talk; only answer.”
Roma glanced around the room and observed the mild disrepair of the building—tape holding a ragged newspaper over the glass in the window behind the indicated armchair, a torn section in the corner fluttering in the breeze from a clearly broken pane, and a sun-worn bed sheet draped over one of the other chairs.
It was obvious to her that this place had been abandoned, as she shuffled over to the chair and sat down.
What chance did she have of being found in an abandoned shack?
She fought back the stinging in her eyes as she watched Harper pick up a shiny red apple from the bowl on the table and study it.
“So…” Harper said after a long stretch of silence. “Why do you think I had something to do with your little boyfriend going bye-bye?”
“I never said?—”
“Sorry, let me be clear.” Harper pulled a small knife out of her pocket and flicked it open, causing Roma’s heart to clench. “Don’t talk, don’t lie, only answer.”
Without taking her eyes off the polished blade as it easily slipped in and out of the apple, Roma tried again. “I know he used to date your boss, and I know that you followed him here. That’s all. It was just speculation until, well, now.”
Harper cocked her head to the side and asked in a childish, faux innocent voice, “What about today suggests your little theory isn’t just conjecture?”
Pressing her tongue against her teeth to stop herself from blurting something out, she managed to control her first instinct. “You kidnapped me. Why would you do that unless you had a reason? A reason like you had already kidnapped Matthias, and now you think I’m onto you!”
“Oh,” Harper said, her voice rising in mock awe before dropping back to normal. “Well, I definitely have a reason, but that’s not it. Now, I’m going to simplify this. Tell me everything you know about Matthias Walsh.”
Feeling like her blood pressure was spiking behind her eyes, Roma pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to stay calm. “Why? It’s not like it’s going to change your mind!”
As Harper pursed her lips in annoyance, she flicked the knife in her hand open and closed. With each metallic swish, Roma flinched.
“Don’t talk, don’t lie, just answer—it’s not hard, honey. Let’s try that again.”
The knife snapped open again, and Roma started talking, telling Harper what had happened from the beginning and explaining everything she knew about Matthias without mentioning any of her friends.
Harper seemed to actually listen—she didn’t interrupt with snide comments or ask any questions.
Occasionally, she would stand and wander around the room, flicking at unresponsive light switches and moving books around on the shelves, all the while twirling and snapping her knife.
“And when I found out he used to date your boss, I figured all of this must have something to do with…you know, all that.”
Harper carefully pressed the blade tip into the table, causing the wood to splinter beneath it. “And just how did you find out that he had once dated, as you put it, my boss?”
“I saw a photograph,” she answered, not liking the way the woman stared blankly at her as she waited. “And I knew who she was from the news. Then I happened to see you on some CCTV at the dock, following him.”
“How’d you know who I was? To look for me out of all those people who surely arrived on the same boat as he did?”
Roma racked her brain, trying to find a way to explain it without mentioning Shar. Daisy had said that the pair were friends, but if she could convince Harper that she knew nothing at all about what was going on, maybe she could persuade her to let her go.
“I had seen the picture in the news when I was looking up your boss to see if I was right about recognizing her in the picture with Matthias.” None of it was completely false—it just wasn’t the full truth.
At that moment, she wasn’t feeling very confident in her ability to lie, and she needed to explain all of this without putting Daisy or Nate in danger.
Oh, Nate. What if the last thing she ever said to him was a snarky one-liner meant to provoke him?
The very idea made her throat tighten with a sob, and she pressed a hand against her neck in an attempt to ease the tightness.
A dull ache in her lower back caused her to shift in her seat.
They couldn’t have been there for more than an hour, and yet her body was already protesting.
Harper looked almost like she was in a trance, staring at the bowl of apples for a long moment before choosing another and polishing it on her shirt.
As warm sunlight streamed in, softening her features and dulling the harsh brightness of her platinum blond hair, Roma realized Harper was older than she appeared.
The room was warm; in any other situation, she might even find it cozy.
Any situation where no one was being held hostage by a knife-wielding psycho, she thought.
A wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she yawned involuntarily.
How was she so tired? Was this a defense mechanism?
The uncomfortable chair pressed into her hip.
However, the fabric was soft and… Her eyelids grew heavy, and she yawned again as they fluttered shut.
Only then did she notice how itchy her eyes had become.
Maybe she could just keep them closed for a second—wait, could she smell apples?
“Boo!”
Roma yelped and jerked away from Harper, who had knelt beside the chair and brought her face within an inch of Roma’s before startling her. Heart pounding and adrenaline rushing through her, Roma felt like her bones were on fire as Harper cackled with maniacal laughter.
“God, you should’ve seen your face!” Harper said while laughing. Then she wiped her cheek with the back of the hand holding the knife. “You’re so funny…”
Still giggling, Harper bent over and leaned her elbow on the chair arm, resting her chin on her fist, which was clenched around the knife handle. Roma hadn’t seen it so close before, but now she noticed the sharpness of the blade and the cruel-looking serrations running along one side.
“Okay, fun. Now, let’s try this again,” Harper said sweetly. “Tell me, again, from the beginning, what happened and how you ended up thinking that I’m the big bad wolf.”
“What? I just told you!”
Harper straightened to her full height, her smile fading. Now at Roma’s eye level, the mirror-like metal of the knife blade reflected her almost perfect, terrified face in the light.
“Well done, you remembered,” Harper said condescendingly. “But I need you to tell me again.”
Eyeing the knife, she took a deep breath and started from the beginning—again.