Page 102 of Sycamore Circle

Those photos told a story all on their own. Anthony had been stalking her for years.

She shivered again, this time not from the cold as much as the knowledge that she’d been oblivious to him all that time. She’d been living, dreaming, driving, helping him... all while he’d watched and documented. It was frightening how oblivious she’d been—that he’d fooled her so well.

She needed to get out of here.

Gathering her strength, she scooted across the concrete floor. Her back and sides protested the efforts; the bit of warmth she suddenly felt illustrated that her wounds were bleeding again.

She ignored the pain as best she could, intent only on getting closer to the edge of the twin bed—she needed something to help her up, and that bed looked to be the most stable thing in the room.

After several excruciating minutes, Joy gripped the corner of the mattress, pulled, and was able to sit upright on the second attempt. Sweat ran down her back as she sighed in relief. All she had to do was use the mattress to get to her feet, and then get to the door.

Then, somehow, she was going to get out of there. She was just going to need to pray harder.

The door opened behind her. “You woke up.”

Still kneeling next to the bed, she jerked to face him. Anthony’s face was calm and impassive. He was eyeing her with a look of concern. “You are really hurt. And you’re bleeding bad, Joy. Do you hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Poor Joy.” Regret, laced with something that looked a lot like satisfaction, shone in his eyes.

Desperate, her mind raced. Joy had no experience or knowledge dealing with being kidnapped and beaten, but then again, who really did? Anthony was obviously confused and evil. “I need to leave, Anthony. I can’t stay here.”

A line formed between his eyes. “Yes, you can. This is where you will live now.”

“No. I have my daughter. She needs me.”

Looking obstinate, he shook his head. “I’ve seen Chloe. I’ve watched her too. She’s old.”

“No, she’s just a girl.”

He shook his head again. “No. She has your husband. She doesn’t need a mother.”

“She does need me. I need her.”

“No. You need to stay here.” His voice became firmer. “You are here now.”

Her mind spun. A dozen excuses and protests came to mind, a dozen things to try to convince him to let her go. None of them seemed like they would make much of a difference, but she had to try. She had no choice.

“Anthony, please. I... I’m bleeding. And I’m hurting.” She frowned, hoping she looked as awful as she felt. “It’s not safe for me to be here. I could get an infection or bleed too much. I need to go to the doctor.”

“I will fix you.” He held up a gray-looking towel. “I’m going to wipe up your clothes.”

No way did she want him coming near her again. No way did she want him touching her, not with his hands or with that grungy towel. Thinking quickly, she added, “If you wipe the blood with the towel, then your towel will get dirty and red. You don’t want that, do you?”

Looking confused again, Anthony stared at the towel in his hands.

“Will you let me go to the bathroom at least? Then I can wash up.”

When he hesitated, Joy pressed on. “If we’re going to live together, you’re going to have to let me go to the bathroom to get clean, right? I mean, that’s what friends do.”

“Right.”

“Then let me get clean now before I get sick.”

He licked his bottom lip. “You don’t get to stay in there very long. I’m going to time you.”

“I don’t want to. Only long enough to get clean and go to the bathroom. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

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