Chapter Seventy. Riley, Present Day
CHAPTER SEVENTY
RILEY, PRESENT DAY
Sandra blinks hard as she raises her head. Blood runs down her cheek like slow teardrops from the small cut on her temple.
“Do you know how to use a gun?” I ask Betty.
She nods. “My father kept one over the mantel. He taught all of us to shoot.”
“Good.” I gingerly pass it to her. “Because I don’t.”
“Toss me the handcuff key,” I instruct Sandra.
She hurls it at my head and I duck to avoid getting hit. Her eyes are narrow and her face has hardened; she looks like she’d love nothing more than to tear me apart. It’s hard to believe this is the same woman I found aspirational.
After some fumbling, I manage to uncuff myself.
“Watch her. I need to find the Wi-Fi booster so I can call the police,” I instruct Betty as I hurry toward the door.
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Sandra asks. A taunting note in her voice pulls me up short.
“You could look for the booster … or you could look for Alex,” she continues. “Her situation is a little time-sensitive.”
My stomach plummets. Alex was here, probably restrained in this very room while I drank wine with Sandra in the kitchen. Perhaps those chimes on Sandra’s phone were a warning that Alex was stirring.
“What did you do to her?” I demand.
“Alex is the subject of an experiment right now. I set it up while you were sleeping.” Sandra smiles. “Do you know how long someone can endure the Ganzfeld experiment without going insane?”
Betty gasps.
“Neither do I,” says Sandra. “But we’re going to find out.”
“What have you done?” Betty cries.
“You’re familiar with it, Betty. Alex is tied down, wearing a special blindfold that Dr. Trimble himself created—the same one you wore in the library basement.
I took it from Sam’s house a while ago; it has really come in handy these past few months.
Anyway, Alex can’t see or hear anything.
It’s been over an hour. Do you think she’ll be able to make it to two or will she snap?
Oh, and I gave her a little dose of LSD.
Our government used to do it to subjects all the time. ”
I shudder, sickened at the thought of Alex’s disorientation and terror. “Where is she?”
“Really?” Sandra laughs.
I can’t believe it—she’s enjoying this.
My mind whirls, weighing the variables. Sandra’s house is huge, and the booster could be anywhere since it’s probably not much bigger than my cell phone, but it’s a lot harder to hide a person.
I think I could find Alex within half an hour if she’s in here.
The land is a different matter. If Alex is being held outside on this huge property, unable to hear or see, it could take hours to locate her.
“Why are you doing this, Sandra?” Betty cries.
“Maybe you were right when you tried to psychoanalyze me. It’s a way to achieve immortality in a cold, lonely world.” Sandra’s lips tremble; she actually looks vulnerable.
Then she winks and I realize it was only another act. “Or maybe I’m really good at the long game.”
Betty keeps the gun aimed at Sandra as she twists toward me. “Find Alex,” she says.
I’ve just come to the opposite conclusion. “If I can get the police here, there will be a lot more of us searching.”
Betty shakes her head. “Trust me, Riley.”
I meet her eyes and after a beat, I nod.
“One other thing,” Betty continues. “Handcuff Sandra to the chair before you go.”
I do as she says, cuffing Sandra’s hands behind her and linking the chain through the chair slats. As an added precaution, I take the pillowcases off the bed and use them to tie Sandra’s legs together.
“Alex isn’t in the house,” Betty declares.
“Are you sure—”
Betty cuts me off. “Hurry, Riley, search outside! She doesn’t have much time!”
So I run.
The woods surrounding Sandra’s house are dark and silent. I don’t even have my cell phone to use as a flashlight.
“Alex!” I yell, spinning in a circle.
She could be anywhere—tied to a tree, beneath a shrub, even back in the house. I plunge ahead, branches slapping at my face as I push through them.
Finally I see something glowing just ahead.
I trip over a rock, landing hard on my palms as I catch myself against the unyielding ground.
I stagger to my feet and push on. With every second that ticks by, Alex’s torture is worsening.
I reach the bright spot and my heart free-falls.
It’s just a path of fungi lit by bioluminescence.
“Alex!” I yell every few minutes, even though Sandra said Alex wouldn’t be able to hear me.
I can’t trust a word out of that woman’s mouth.
I run until my breathing is jagged and my lungs hurt, stumbling over tree roots, my head constantly swiveling.
I’m searching for a glimpse of a clue that could lead me to her, like a scrap of clothing or the tip of a shoe sticking out from beneath a bush.
I don’t know how many minutes pass, but any one of them could have tipped Alex over the edge. I’m panting and completely disoriented; this patch of trees is so thick I can’t even see Sandra’s house anymore.
Tears gather in my eyes as I envision Alex tied up with that blindfold that looks straight out of a horror movie. The adults she was supposed to trust—her therapist and her professor—both abused her. I should have done more to help her when we met. Now it’s too late.
I squat down and drop my head into my hands, trying to receive whatever message Betty may be sending me, but the only thought that comes through is this one: I’ve failed Alex.