Chapter 62
The root cellar, Cort’s abandoned cabin, Wonder Valley, California
When the door of the cellar opens after an indeterminate amount of time, we are ready. Antoinette and I have positioned ourselves like we’re still tied up.
The plan – if it can even be called that – is actually very simple.
Ambush.
I’m pretty sure the pair of us can take him down. Especially when one of us has a knife and we also have the element of surprise.
The footsteps sound heavy.
‘Cort,’ I mouth to my sister.
She nods.
And then Cort slides into view. He’s wearing a pair of track pants, a white T-shirt and his bun looks like it’s been freshly styled.
It takes all my self-control not to launch myself at him right away.
‘Ladies,’ he says. ‘I hope you’re enjoying your stay?’ I notice that he’s carrying two pale green Stanley cups, one in each hand. ‘I’ve brought you some refreshments.’
‘We didn’t order anything,’ Antoinette snarls.
Cort shoots me a look. ‘I hope you’re going to be a better guest than your sister. She’s been nothing but a giant pain in the ass.’
I give him a sweet smile.
‘You drink some first,’ Antoinette says to him.
Cort rolls his eyes. ‘Do we have to go through this every time I bring you water? I told you already. Why would I bother drugging you when you’re already tied up in the cellar?’ He gives Antoinette a little smile and takes a sip out of each of the cups. ‘Happy now?’
‘Just delighted,’ she says.
Cort gives me a look like he’s saying what is she like?
Then he squats down to place the drinks in front of us.
And that’s when we strike. Antoinette leaps up and claws at his face while I use my new signature move and bring my foot up to his crotch.
He yowls and falls to the floor, not knowing whether to clutch his face or scrotum.
I immediately straddle him, holding the knife to his throat.
‘How does this fit into your theories of fake feminism, Cort?’ I say.
He’s winded but, unfortunately for me, I seriously underestimated Cort’s strength and he manages to push me off. I fly backwards, the little paring knife scuttering across the floor.
He laughs as I land on my back with a thud. It’s cold and brittle.
‘When will you sluts learn your place?’ he says with a shake of his head. ‘Now I’m going to have to hurt you, aren’t I? I really didn’t wanna do that. I was going to get rid of the two of you quickly. But I’ve changed my mind after that little display.’
He lunges at me and suddenly his hands are around my throat. They feel rough and dry, which surprises me because I thought Cort would be the type of guy who takes care of his hands. I guess the brutal business of murder has roughed them up a bit.
He holds my eyes as he throttles me and I can see that he’s enjoying it.
It’s always sexual for male killers, isn’t it?
Perverts. I try to gasp for breath but he’s gripping me too tightly.
I start seeing stars in my peripheral vision, but just as I’m preparing myself to black out I see Cort’s eyes glaze over and he slumps heavily on top of me.
‘What took you so long?’ I ask Antoinette as I wriggle out from underneath him. ‘I was on the verge of unconsciousness there.’
‘The knife went under one of the shelves, couldn’t reach it,’ she says as she inspects the knife, which is now covered in Cort’s blood. ‘What is this anyway? A vegetable peeler?’
I stand up and look down at Cort, who now has a puncture in the side of his neck that he’s bleeding out of.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ I say and Antoinette nods her agreement.
We stumble up the steps and into the main body of the cabin. I’m not sure how long I was knocked out for but the rooms are now bathed in a dim smoky light, which suggests it’s somewhere in the early hours of the morning.
‘We need to find what he’s done with Lauren and then—’ I don’t finish my sentence because I’ve spotted a bundle in the corner.
A bundle that looks very much like an injured person.
I edge closer towards them and can see a puddle of blood spreading out from what appears to be a stab wound in their abdomen.
I lean in closer.
It’s Travis.
Travis has been stabbed.