Her Last Day (Jessie Cole #1)(10)

She forced herself to sit back down and think for a minute. Instinct insisted she stay calm. The oil lamps had been turned off, but Erin could still see shadows and hear the crunching of straw whenever Garrett moved.

“You have to kill me,” he said. “The boss is angry, and that means he’ll be back.”

“I won’t kill you, so stop asking. We need to save the battery power and use the Taser on that monster when he returns.”

“You don’t have to use the Taser on me. You’re young, and you haven’t been here long, so you’re still strong. Wrap your fingers around my throat, and press your thumbs against my trachea. If I struggle, don’t let go.”

He crawled close enough to her that she could see the whites of his eyes. “I’m begging you,” he said. “Please. I can’t do this any longer.”

“I won’t do it.”

“You don’t have to use your hands. I’ll lay flat, and you can use your knee to do the job.”

Erin ignored him as she went through the backpack for the third time, making sure she hadn’t missed any secret compartments. So far she’d found a few bottles of water, a granola bar, a pen and paper, a quarter, a nickel, and two pennies.

She heard slurping. Garrett was munching on a sardine. Gross. She tossed the backpack away from her. “There’s nothing in there.”

Garrett scrambled across the floor and began his own search through the bag. His body was skeletal, his skin almost as white as the paper in the notebook she’d found. She squinted and held the notebook inches from her face as she tried to read the madman’s writing. The first person listed in capital letters was ANNA WOOD. Under “Description” he’d written: dark hair, blue eyes, round face. Twenty-six years old, five foot five, with buck teeth and a large forehead. In the margins were drawings with arrows and labels pointing out freckles, moles, and unusually long toes.

Disgusted, Erin turned the page. The next five pages described all the things the sicko had done to Anna Wood, complete with dates and times. She’d died fourteen months ago, right here in the same cell where Erin was being kept.

Her stomach churned.

There were more victims, too. More than a dozen. Men, women, children. He seemed to have no preference as to race, gender, or age. He liked to exploit their worst fears and then torture them to see their reactions.

Erin closed her eyes and thought about her parents and siblings. She’d always hated being the middle of six children, but now it seemed so petty. She was one of the lucky ones. Her parents loved her. They doted on every one of their six kids. She missed her brothers and sisters, and if she ever saw them again, she’d never think a bad thought about any of them for as long as she lived.

A sharp noise came from the third cell in the underground room, making her jump. It sounded like a barking dog. She couldn’t see inside because that cell was enclosed, the walls made of cement instead of rebar. Whoever was inside was barking. Every third or fourth bark sounded like the howl of a wolf. “What is that?”

“That’s just Dog. Get used to it.”

“Is it human?”

“It’s an old man. If you stick around long enough, I’m sure you’ll get a chance to meet him.”

“The guy who has us. Do you know his name?”

“Sir, Master, Boss—take your pick.”

Erin watched Garrett for a minute. He was working hard to rip the backpack to pieces. She wondered what he was doing but didn’t ask. “How long have you been here?”

“Too long,” he muttered. After a long pause, he said, “Three months and three days.”

Chills raced up her arms.

“For the first twenty-eight days, I was here with my wife.”

Hope blossomed. “Did she get away? Where is she?”

“No,” he said. “She’s gone.”

Erin’s shoulders sagged. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what had happened to his wife, but she found herself asking, “How did he manage to get two of you?”

“We were enjoying a picnic in a remote area. There was a stream and wildlife, a beautiful day. And then this guy comes along, out of the blue, and starts chatting about something. I don’t remember what exactly. My wife, a stranger to no one, began conversing with him. Like her, he had majored in social work. Or so he said. I grew bored and took a short walk to the edge of the stream. Less than five minutes later I returned, and they were both gone. Everything else was still there—the blanket, the basket, the food. Panicked, I think I ran back to the stream and called out her name. Hell, maybe I ran in circles. I don’t remember. Next thing I know, I’m being Tasered. While I was on the ground, he poured something into my mouth. A clear liquid. No taste. I don’t recall anything after that. I woke up here.”

“And what about your wife?” she asked, unable to let it go.

“You don’t want to know.”

“He killed her?”

“I did.”

It wasn’t fear that had her stomach in knots, but surprise. It was clear that Garrett had loved his wife. She watched him and waited, unwilling to press him further.

Garrett remained focused on ripping the backpack into pieces, but it wasn’t long before he continued with his story. “I had to kill her,” he said. “He kept insisting that my wife do things to me that she could never do. And every single time she refused, she was punished for her disobedience, as he likes to call it. On the seventh day, she asked me to put her out of her misery. She wanted to die rather than suffer another day. On the twenty-eighth day, I did as she asked.”