An Honest Lie(76)

When she woke, the window on the wall above Braithe was dark. She had the strong urge to pee, and her mouth was so dry she had to work her tongue free of her teeth. What time was it? He must have put something in her water.

“Braithe...are you awake?” Her voice cracked; she scooted her butt forward in an attempt to get her blood moving and tented her knees. “Braithe...I need you to wake up,” she called louder. No answer.

“Hey! Hey! Can anyone hear me? Help! Help!” She rocked against the table, trying to move it, but Rainy knew it was no use; it was bolted down. “Hey!” she yelled again. “Help us!

“Braithe!” she called. “Wake up! We need to get out of here.”

“You can’t.” The words preceded his footsteps like he’d been just around the corner, listening. Rainy went so still she could hear her own raspy breath. A few seconds later, Paul walked into view, carrying a large paper bag that smelled of food.

“This—” he said, after setting the bag on the table that separated her from Braithe “—is in the new wing of the hotel. Construction is only set to resume in a few months, and by then we will be long gone, won’t we, B?” He tossed his keys on the counter. “No one can hear you, Rainy—these professional kitchens are well insulated. Chefs like to be able to scream at their kitchen staff without the dining room hearing.” As he spoke, he stacked containers on the table, his movements fast and jerky. Rainy could smell him from where she sat. Had he just left a shift?

She glanced at the window and saw that the sky was lightening to an indigo. When she looked over again, he was unlocking Braithe’s handcuffs. He pulled her to her feet, where she swayed, unsteady, and then he led her to the food. Rainy watched as he sat her on a stool and placed a fork in her hand. It was the first time she was seeing Braithe’s face since the night of the dinner. Her hair was still in the topknot she’d worn that night, but it sagged off the side of her head like a piece of fruit past its prime. A few strands had escaped their pins and hung limply around her face. She didn’t have bruises, not that Rainy could see, but Braithe was so gray she matched the concrete floor. Her eyes looked swollen, but that could have been from crying. She didn’t look up when Rainy said her name.

“She’s so zonked out she doesn’t know who you are,” Paul said, stroking her head. She was staring down at whatever was in the container, the fork poised above it. “Go on, be a good girl and take a bite.” When Braithe didn’t move, he spoke again. “Hey! I’m talking to you, you ungrateful shit, eat! God!” Throwing his hands up, he paced behind her chair.

“You said it yourself, she’s drugged. Untie me and I’ll feed her.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “We’ve already been through this, Rainy.” He took the fork from Braithe and speared something in the box. Braithe opened her mouth and Paul spooned what looked like pancakes through her lips. She chewed unenthusiastically, her eyes on the table. He handed her the fork and she took over, robotically.

“Braithe wouldn’t eat at first, you see. She can be really stubborn, as I’m sure you know. Anyway, we came to a deal—she eats what I bring her, and I don’t leave her in the freezer all day.”

“You fucking psycho.”

“Now, now, Rainy, it’s right over there—” he pointed to his right and Rainy followed his gaze to two large steel doors with what looked like vault handles on the front “—waiting for a new bitch to freeze. You’re up next!” he said cheerfully. “I brought you bacon and eggs.”

He hummed as he unwrapped her food, setting it on the counter. He glanced over every few seconds to make sure Braithe was eating.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Rainy said.

Paul nodded. “Soon as she’s done.”

Rainy searched Braithe’s face, looking for something—a message or a plea for help, anything—but her head remained bowed, her movements mechanical. Rainy sighed, frustrated.

When Braithe dropped her fork to signal that she was done, Paul led her to the bathroom, where she spent no more than five minutes. He had her handcuffed back at her spot with not a peep. She was as docile as a deer.

He came toward Rainy with his keys. As he crouched behind her, she felt the pressure on her shoulders ease and the handcuffs release, and she was able to move her arms forward. It took her a minute to get up, the feeling slowly moving back into her limbs in needlelike pricks. Paul’s presence behind her made her move forward, her steps an awkward shuffle. She didn’t want him behind her, she needed to see what he was up to. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that he was smiling.

“Move,” he said, shoving the barrel of the gun into the small of her back.

“Did you see that in a movie?” she asked. The blow felt sharp, and then wet; he’d struck her on the back of the head. Rainy fell, sliding across the floor as her vision flashed to bright white and then black. Was there blood? She felt for it, and her fingers came away sticky.

“Get up. You have two minutes.”

She did as she was told, pulling herself up by the bathroom door handle and glancing back at him.

He was still smiling.

Rainy peed with her eyes closed. When she was finished, she washed her hands and then wet a paper towel, dabbing it on the back of her head as gently as possible. She was going to have the king of headaches. When she walked out of the bathroom, Rainy didn’t think—she just walked toward him until she was standing right in front of him. He was taller than her, but only by a few inches. She took a natural stance, tucking her head down and clenching her jaw. Then she said something in barely a whisper. Paul cocked his head and then leaned toward her to better hear her. “What was that?”