Susan’s smile brightened even further, and she turned to Bill. “See? What did I tell you? I knew it was better not to kill her.”
He seemed suitably impressed, or faked it well, and nodded. “You were right.”
“It’s a little strange,” Susan said, frowning down at her, “because you’re not really her type. Annie tends to go for the cleaner-cut, feminine types. I know, and not just because she went for me. All her previous lady friends were like me. Still…” She stared at Gwen without blinking. “I guess I can see the appeal. You’re a little bit of rough. I get that. And you’re different, too, and not only because of whatever fucked-up gene pool produced you. You’ve got—” She turned back to Bill and gestured vaguely with one hand. “What’s the word?”
He shrugged. “Moxie? Gumption?”
Susan laughed. “Odd choice, but close enough. Yes, it’s that backbone I mentioned earlier. It’s very sexy.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
Susan’s smile evaporated, almost as if it had never existed. Gwen’s stomach dropped with horror. All of her jollity was a ploy, a clever deception. Gwen’s earliest impression had been correct: Susan was a snake, and if she kept trying to fight her, she and Annie would end up dead. She tried to make her face contrite, a little frightened.
“I’m sorry. Tell me what to do.”
Susan gave her a tight, fake smile and nodded. “That’s better. A little moxie goes a long way, as they say. Too much, and you’re going to piss me off.”
“I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t hurt her. Please.”
Susan nodded, once. “Okay. I’ll try. After all, I liked her too. We had some good times together.”
Bill sighed, rolling his eyes, and Susan grinned again at Gwen and winked. “He has no idea.”
“Can we get on with this already?” Bill asked. His face was slightly pink, and Gwen could tell he was more upset than he wanted to show.
Susan was obviously amused by his embarrassed discomfort. “Sure, Bill. Let’s go get ready.” She looked at Gwen again. “We’ll be back soon. We have to set it up first. And for being such a good sport, I’ll leave you like this. I won’t even turn off the light.”
Knowing what was required of her, Gwen managed a quick “Thanks.”
Susan gave her that earlier bright smile. “No problem. We’ll be back before you know it.”
Gwen waited until she heard the door close before turning her head back and to the right again, making eye contact with Annie. She couldn’t be entirely sure that they were alone. Bill could be standing at the top of the steps, listening to them, but she had to risk it.
Tears were streaming down Annie’s face, and her pallor was stark and almost sickly. Gwen couldn’t see any physical damage from here, but Annie’s gag was tight and pulling on her mouth, much as hers had done, and the bonds holding her to her chair seemed much tighter than her own. Gwen had to blink back tears, swallowing her sorrow.
“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
Annie shook her head and then nodded. They hadn’t hurt her, but she wasn’t okay. The angle was awkward, and Gwen was forced to turn away again to spare her neck. Twisting that way put extra strain on her aching shoulder as well.
“Tap your foot once for yes, twice for no. Understand?”
There was a pause, and then a single tap.
“Great. Okay, first question. Do you know where we are?”
Two taps.
“You haven’t been here before?”
Two taps.
Gwen thought for a moment, frowning. She knew Annie had been to Susan and Bill’s house in Dallas, and she’d assumed that was where they were now. Something occurred to her about her own journey here.
“Did they blindfold you on the way here?”
One tap.
“Ah, okay. So maybe I’m right. Maybe we’re at their place. Do you think we’re in Dallas?”
No response. Gwen wrenched her head back around, and Annie lifted her shoulders dramatically.
“Where did they pick you up? How did they catch you?”
Annie’s eyebrows lowered and she shrugged again, clearly confused.
“Sorry—I should stick to yes or no questions.”
Gwen faced forward again and rolled her neck a little to loosen it. With the gag out of her mouth and her thirst lessened, her other pains were starting to clamor for attention. She had to fight through them if she was ever going to get the two of them out of this. To do that, she needed information.
“Yes or no—did they get you in Dallas?”
One tap.
Gwen’s body flushed with frustration. Why the hell had Annie come to Texas? She’d been safe in Roswell—no one would ever have found her there.
“After they got you, after they blindfolded you, was it a long trip? Were you in the car for a while?”
One tap.
“More than an hour?”
Two taps.
“Okay—so we’re probably at their place in Dallas. It takes forever to get around the city, and they might live in a suburb or something, so we’re probably still close to where they caught you. You’ve been here before. Do you think we’re in their house? In the basement or something?”
No response, and when Gwen turned back that way, Annie’s expression was still confused and a little frightened.
“Do you think this is their place?”
Annie shrugged yet again.
This was getting them nowhere. Annie was obviously overwhelmed and not thinking clearly. If the trip had taken less than an hour, logic suggested they were somewhere near the city. Had they picked up Annie at the airport? Had Annie arranged to meet with one of them? Gwen froze. The timing was strange. Unless Gwen had been unconscious far longer than she thought, things didn’t add up.
“Was I already here when they brought you down here?”
Two taps.
“You mean you saw them bring me down here?”
One tap.
Gwen frowned. None of this made sense. If Gwen had been here before Annie, then she could blame the time confusion on unconsciousness, but if she came after Annie, that meant they’d caught her before Bill brought Gwen here. Annie had been in Roswell when Gwen had been captured—they’d talked on the phone less than an hour before he knocked her out. How had she gotten to Dallas ahead of her? But again, maybe she’d been unconscious longer than she thought. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the puzzle. No use harping on any of that right now. Annie couldn’t explain with that thing in her mouth.
“I don’t know what to do here. If I had enough time, I could probably get out of this chair, but then what? Would we try to escape? I can’t imagine we’d get very far.” She turned her head back. “Did you and Trixie get any of the money?”
Annie shook her head again before raising her thin shoulders dramatically. Gwen sighed, looking away again. “Well, that sucks. I was hoping. Then you’d have something to negotiate with. I’m sorry, Annie, but I think we’re totally fucked.”
Annie moaned loudly, and when Gwen looked back at her, she was shaking her head, almost violently.
“What? What is it?”
Annie emitted only a muffled jumble of sounds but kept shaking her head back and forth.
“I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”
Annie paused, clearly trying to enunciate as best as she could. “Nrrrrr Annnn,” she said.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Nrrrrrr Annnnn!” she said again.
“What?”
They both froze at the sound of the door opening, and Gwen turned back around, hoping they hadn’t heard the two of them trying to communicate. The footsteps approached, leisurely, it seemed, and Susan and Bill finally appeared in front of her once more. Their casual pace was, Gwen could tell, another of their games.
“Okay, Gwen,” Susan said. “Tit for tat. You give me something, and I give you something. Deal?”
“What happens after that
? Are you planning to let us go?”
Susan and Bill shared a glance. “Maybe,” Susan said. “It depends on how well this goes.”
Gwen didn’t believe her. In fact, she didn’t really understand what all this cloak-and-dagger was about. Why capture them? Why hold them down here like this? After all, if Annie and Trixie hadn’t gotten the money, why not simply kill her and Annie now? Still, she had no choice but to cooperate, at least for now.
“Okay.”
Susan gave her that Cheshire, empty grin again, and Gwen’s stomach dropped with dread. The next few hours or minutes could very well be the end of her life. Once Susan had what she wanted, whatever that was, she would kill her and Annie, both. The thought of her hurting Annie scared Gwen worse than she’d ever been in her life.
“Please,” she said. “I’ll do anything. Just tell me what you want.”
Susan nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good. First, we’re going to take you upstairs. Bill and I had to set up a special, unlisted phone. You’re going to call that clever computer friend of yours, whoever he is, and tell him to give us our money back.”
Relief filled Gwen, so overwhelming she almost wept. Trixie had managed to get the money after all. They might survive this ordeal. Gwen had to look down at the ground to hide her pleasure, pretending to think it over.
Trying to seem frightened, she met Susan’s eyes. “All right. But what will you give me?”
Susan laughed. “Getting out of that chair isn’t enough?”
“It’s a start. But what about Annie?”
Susan frowned. “What about her?”
“Are you going to untie her, too?”
Susan seemed confused, but Bill laughed. “Do you mean you think she’s—”
Susan silenced him with a sharp gesture. “Of course we will, but only after you make the phone call.”
Gwen hesitated long enough that Susan shifted her weight to her other leg. Gwen knew she had to agree—even with the money to negotiate with, she could do very little. Still, the best way to make a deal was to ask for more than the first offer.
Susan chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Okay, Gwen. I can see you’re not a person to fuck around with. I’ll sweeten the deal a little. You make your phone call, and I’ll untie her and give you both some medical attention. That wrist has to be killing you.”
Gwen waited a beat, still playing their game. She wanted to look reluctant. “Okay, deal.”
“Untie her,” Susan said to Bill.
Bill undid the leather straps holding her in place, and despite the fact that they hadn’t been very tight, the blood noticeably rushed back into her arms and legs. It took her a few tries to get to her feet, and the world gave a stomach-flipping lurch when she was finally standing. Both of them grabbed her elbows to stop her from falling over and then began to lead her toward the stairs. It took her a long while to climb them, her legs so stiff and unwieldy, she felt almost detached from them. Whatever Bill had given her, the aftereffects were still here. Standing up had sent whatever drug he’d administered coursing through her once again. She felt high.
The ground floor was nice, tasteful, every bit as comfortable as the mountain house near Santa Fe. The decorations here were less Southwestern and more genteel Southern, every corner of the house suggesting wealth and comfort. It was dark outside, further confusing Gwen’s sense of time, but the clock on the wall suggested that she’d lost about twelve hours since the gas station this morning, provided this was the same day she’d been drugged.
She was led into an enormous living room and steered toward a lush armchair near a strange, overlarge telephone. She collapsed into the chair, her head whirling, and noticed that her vision had slight trailers as she moved her eyes to the phone. She closed them, the room still spinning, and fought against her lurching stomach.
“I told you, you gave her too much,” Susan said, nearly snarling.
“Sorry. How was I supposed to know?”
“Exactly, you idiot. You didn’t. Therefore, you shouldn’t have tried to drug her on your own.”
“Could I have a glass of water?” Gwen asked. “It might help.” While her thirst was better than it had been before she’d been doused, that metallic taste was strong and bitter in her mouth.
“After. Make the call. When he answers, tell him who you are and then give the phone to me. Understand?”
Susan had said this, but Bill moved slightly, thrusting a hip toward her enough to draw attention to the gun holstered on his belt. Gwen nodded and reached for the phone, missed it, and reached again, aiming slightly to the left of one of the many phones floating in her vision. Her fingers finally touched the receiver, and she picked it up and held it to her ear. The numbers were dancing around before her eyes, and she closed them, fighting against the dizziness that threatened to pull her under.
“Jesus Christ,” Susan said. “Tell me the numbers, and I’ll dial.”
It took her a moment to remember, and she said each one as loudly and clearly as she could. The beeping sound of each number was terribly loud in her ear, and she held the phone slightly away from her head as Susan finished. It rang on the other side several times before Trixie answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Trixie. It’s me, Gwen.” Her voice slurred slightly, but she couldn’t help it.
“Gwen? Holy shit. Are you drunk? What’s wrong with your voice? I was so worried. Where the hell are you? Your last call was almost eighteen hours ago. Annie—”
“Trixie, listen. Susan is here, and she wants to talk to you.”
Gwen heard Trixie curse before Susan took the phone from her. Gwen settled back into the comfort of the chair, closing her eyes. In her current condition, she could do very little to help the situation. She could only hope that Susan would uphold her end of the bargain and bring Annie upstairs once she was off the phone. For now, she could only let herself sink into a peaceful, painless oblivion.
Chapter Twenty
Gwen woke up in a bed. The sunlight hitting her face was warm but filtered through a pale scrim over the window. She frowned, not remembering a window on that side of the bed, and when she tried to sit up, she moaned and sank back into the pillows. Her head was no longer spinning, but she ached all over. Still, the pain reminded her of where she was. She wasn’t in her room in Colorado or California. She was back in Texas.
By turning her head slightly to the right and left, she could see most of the room. She was in a nicely appointed but rather small bedroom, a guest room, judging from its plain style and lack of decor. She saw a small dresser across from the foot of the bed, but no other furniture. The bed was soft and, for the summer season, overly dressed, with a thick duvet and a folded flannel blanket lying under her feet. Bill or Susan hadn’t bothered to undress her; they’d simply laid her on top and left her here. Tilting her chin down to her chest, she could see the cause of the discomfort on her right ankle. It was fastened to the bed stand with a chain.
She sighed and let her head relax back again, closing her eyes. Crossing her hands over her stomach, she realized with surprise that her right wrist was in a cast. She looked at it, holding it up and twisting it in the dim light. When had that happened? Her memory after the phone call to Trixie was basically nonexistent. Like the time between the trunk and the basement, she’d lost it entirely. Whatever they were drugging her with completely anesthetized her. Gwen used her left hand to explore the various cuts and scrapes on her face, most of them bandaged, and all of them cleaned up. Her fingers came away without a trace of blood. The cast was expertly done, obviously by someone who knew what they were doing. Had there been X-rays? Was Susan a doctor?
Gwen let this subject go, closing her eyes again. Either she would be told, or she could ask, but right now none of this mattered. She was tied up again, and though she felt better than she had riding in the car with Bill whenever that had been, the pain was here, whatever she did, no matter how she moved or tried not to. Judging from the light outside, it wa
s much earlier in the day than when she’d made the phone call, which meant she’d lost at least another twelve hours lying here.
Her mouth was so dry it hurt, and the realization made her suddenly and rabidly thirsty. She snapped her eyes open, searching around herself wildly, and when she saw the pitcher of ice water next to her on a little table, she sat up quickly, forgetting her other pains, and grabbed it, almost knocking it over. Ignoring the little glass, she brought the pitcher to her mouth and started drinking, trails of water leaking out of the corners of her mouth and drenching her shirt. She had to pause halfway to gulp down air, and the break suddenly sent a shooting pain through her head from the ice. She ignored it and continued to drink, stopping only when her stomach started to heave. She set the rest of the pitcher back on the nightstand and lay down on the bed, almost crying with relief. Nothing, she knew, would ever taste as sweet and pure as that water.
She heard the snick of a lock, and the door opened a moment later. It was Susan, alone. She was wearing more casual clothes than before—a plain burgundy button-up and dark jeans. She tied her hair back, loosely, but a stray curl lay across her face on either side, by design, Gwen guessed.
“Oh, good. You’re awake.”
Gwen didn’t reply, and Susan smirked. “I guess you’re not in the mood for small talk.”
“No.”
“Good. Neither am I.”
“Where’s Annie?”
“She’s sleeping in the room next to this one. I had my personal doctor treat both of you earlier this morning. He still makes house calls, if you can believe it, and he doesn’t ask questions.”
Gwen tried to struggle upward again, feeling distinctly vulnerable in her prone position, but the chain at her ankle didn’t allow her to do much beyond sit up, straining her back and neck, so she had to lie down again.
“He came this morning?” Gwen asked. “What time is it?”
Susan glanced at her watch. “Going on noon now.”
Gwen’s stomach dropped, the excess water giving an uneasy lurch. She’d lost almost a full day. That, coupled with her lost time in the trunk of Bill’s car, meant that, except for the hour or so she’d been awake last night, she’d spent most of the last thirty-six hours unconscious. She would have to do everything in her power not to let them drug her again.
On the Run Page 20
