Chapter 42
Palmer
My body didn’t feel like mine.
That was the first thing my mind latched on to as consciousness clawed its way back through the thick, heavy fog in my head.
Something was wrong.
Where was I?
A dull pounding throbbed behind my eyes, making my stomach roll. The ceiling above me swam in and out of focus. A dim light flickered from somewhere, and the stench of dust and old oil filled the air.
My tongue felt thick and dry, my mouth coated with the bitter aftertaste of something chemical I couldn’t place.
I tried to move, but the room tilted. Sharp pain shot through my shoulders. My muscles screamed in protest, stiff and cramped. My wrists and ankles throbbed.
My thoughts stuttered, dragging sluggishly as I tried to focus.
For a few disorienting seconds, my brain couldn’t make sense of what my body was trying to tell it. My limbs wouldn’t move the way they should. My arms were trapped close to my body, my legs pulled tight together.
Rough fibers scraped my skin, digging into my wrists. Rope. Panic flickered through me as I realized my wrists were bound.
My ankles were tied too, the coarse strands biting into the thin bones there.
Another length of rope connected them, running between my wrists and my ankles, forcing my body into an awkward position that kept me folded and helpless.
My tongue pressed against thick cloth wedged between my teeth. The fabric tasted stale and dusty. The material cut into the corners of my mouth.
A gag.
For a moment, my mind refused to process it all. The thought hovered out of reach, blurred and distant, like everything else in the room, until it slammed into me.
My heart lurched into my throat. The fog in my head shattered.
This was how the victims were held. The Shadow Stalker’s victims had been tied up and gagged like this.
A cold wave of panic surged through my body. My breathing sped up, each breath shallow and uneven around the cloth in my mouth.
I was lying on something hard, though I wasn’t on the ground. A desk maybe? An old wooden one that was large and heavy. My shoulder ached from the way my weight pressed on it awkwardly.
My head throbbed as I turned it to the side.
The room around me swam, but the shapes began to sharpen as my vision adjusted.
It was an office of some kind, but it was filthy.
Papers littered the floor in curling yellow piles.
Filing cabinets leaned crookedly against the walls, and several drawers hung open like broken jaws.
Dust clung to everything, thick enough to choke on.
The entire front wall of the office were panes of streaked and grimy glass.
Beyond them, a massive open space stretched out below.
It looked like an old factory of some kind.
Rusted machinery sat frozen in place along the cavernous floor.
Broken equipment lay scattered between dark oil stains.
A metal catwalk cut across one side, its railing bent in places, stretching below the room I was in.
Movement caught my eye, and I tensed. Near the corner of the office, someone paced back and forth, muttering softly.
Nolan.
His boots scraped on what was left of the peeling flooring as he dragged his hands repeatedly through his hair.
I stared at him, my thoughts still slow to catch up.
This was Nolan. Roman’s brother-in-law. Hailey’s uncle. What was he doing here?
I shifted, my muscles screaming from the strain and the discomfort of the position. The wood creaked beneath me, the sound echoing through the room.
Nolan’s head snapped toward me.
We stared at each other, his body going rigid. Nolan’s expression twisted into something sharp and frantic.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “Of course he didn’t give me enough of that tranquilizer shit to keep you down longer.”
My pulse roared in my ears. The pieces refused to fit together. My thoughts scrambled wildly, trying to make sense of how I had gone from leaving the bed-and-breakfast to waking up like this.
Why was he here, and why was he talking to me like that?
The panic surged, and I started to struggle, twisting against the ropes that bound my wrists and ankles.
The movement only made everything worse.
The ropes bit deeper into my wrists as I pulled. My chest heaved as I tried to breathe through the gag, but the cloth blocked everything, pressing against my tongue.
I couldn’t take a full breath.
My lungs burned as I tried to inhale, desperate for air that wouldn’t come. The rope connecting my wrists to my ankles kept my arms pinned too low to reach my mouth, but I tried to lift them anyway, my shoulders straining in protest as the muscles stretched.
Air.
I needed air.
My heart pounded faster and faster as the panic spiraled out of control. The room spun, the factory floor beyond the windows blurring and tilting as my vision struggled to stay steady. My breaths came faster and shorter, each one scraping down my throat.
Pressure wrapped around my throat like an invisible fist.
A choked sound escaped me. The gag shifted deeper into my mouth and suddenly I was coughing around it, as my body jerked against the bindings.
Full-blown terror collided into me.
I was suffocating.
Nolan swore loudly. I barely registered the movement before the room tilted. One second, he was across the room; the next, he stood over me, his shadow falling across the desk.
“Calm down,” he snapped.
His hands moved quickly, tugging the gag loose and yanking it free from my mouth.
“Easy,” Nolan said, his voice lower now, almost reluctant. “You’re panicking. Take some deep breaths.”
It took several tries before the air stopped catching in my throat. My body trembled as oxygen started to reach my brain, the spinning easing as my breathing evened out.
My vision cleared, and I stared up at him.
“Why?” I croaked, my voice thick from tears.
Nolan’s jaw tightened, his gaze dropping away from mine. “It doesn’t matter.”
It didn’t matter? Of course it mattered. None of this made sense. I wasn’t even sure how I got here. No one was supposed to even know I was at the cabin.
The blood drained from my face. The only people who were supposed to know my location were the security team and the Ramseys.
“How did you find me?”
I flinched as he grabbed my coat and tugged, revealing some of the lining on the inside. His thumb touched the jagged place I’d repaired the silk.
“I slipped a tracker in here when I broke into the house,” he said.
My mouth fell open. “That was you?” Another stab of betrayal shot through me.
He stepped back like the question physically hit him, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Anger flashed across his face, sharp and defensive.
“You think I wanted to do that?” he spat. “You think I wanted to set those fires, too?”
Nolan slapped a hand to his chest and returned to pacing, like he couldn’t stand still. “I didn’t have a fucking choice!” he snarled. “Amos Anderson is a bastard. I—I couldn’t let him ruin my life. Not after all these years.”
My mind reeled. What was he talking about?
Before I could ask another question, a sound cut through the room.
The office door opened.
Nolan halted his nervous steps, his body going more rigid. A man entered the room.
“Come on now,” a calm voice said with a hint of amusement. “You have to admit…it was a little fun, wasn’t it?”
The man walked farther inside, his head tilting toward Nolan as if he were studying something mildly interesting.
“Like old times.” The man grinned, and then his gaze shifted, landing on me.
Ice flooded my veins as recognition struck. I knew those eyes.
The hair that had once been mostly silver was dyed completely black. A thick beard hid most of his jaw. His skin was strangely smooth, almost shiny, like it had been pulled too tight across his face. His lips were fuller than they should have been.
But those eyes. I’d seen them in every documentary. They’d been in every old news report and crime scene breakdown that had featured his picture.
Amos Anderson. The Shadow Stalker.
He was looking directly at me.
I stiffened more as he walked closer. I wanted to scoot away, but there was nowhere else to go. I would fall off the desk if I tried. Part of me wouldn’t mind as long as I could get some distance from that stare.
He tsked under his breath, a cold smile parting his lips. “Looks like I’ve caught another little butterfly.” His head cocked to the side. “What ever shall I do with such a pretty, delicate thing?”
My entire body shuddered. And as he came ever closer, so close I could almost feel the heat from his body, there was only one thought in my mind. One name I shouted over and over inside my head.
Roman.