Page 61 of Suspicion

There was something unnervingly recognizable about her situation. She certainly wasn’t dangling from ropes in a barn. She was warm and reasonably comfortable—a far cry from the hideous evening she’d spent in Tucker’s outhouse—but being immobilized and anxiety-ridden was all too reminiscent of her time there.

Pulling in a shaky breath, she strained to listen. Was there anything she could hear that would elaborate the situation for her? Any telltale signs of where she was and why she couldn’t move? Listening harder, there wasn’t much to discern, save for the noise of her hammering heart and an infrequent crackle of what might have been a fire, although if such a thing was there, Ella felt none of its benefit.

She forced her head into a neutral position, resolved that there was only one way to know what was happening for sure. She had to be brave, had to open her eyes properly and see where she was.

She had to know for sure.

Time slowed in that surreal way it did sometimes, lengthening each second into what seemed like an hour. She’d lost track of those hours by the time her eyes were ready to open, the sound of her racing heart blocking out the fizzing noises she thought she’d heard.

Come on.

Balling her hands into fists, she willed herself on, but still her eyes resisted. Her lids felt heavy as though they, too, thought it better not to see.

In the end, she forced them open, taking in the sight of a wooden ceiling overhead. When her gaze darted lower and spotted the baby blue blanket she’d clung to before, time appeared to cease altogether.

Shit!

Any semblance of calm shattered into a thousand splinters, each metaphorical shard flying through the air and landing in her skin simultaneously. As though those spikes had really pierced her flesh, she lurched from the bed and let out a cry.

“Ella.”

He emerged in her peripheral vision as though he’d been hiding there all along, just watching and waiting.

No doubt he has.

“Oh God!” She spoke the words that time. “Oh God, no!”

How could this be right? How could she be back here in the shitty hut he called home?

Just like that, the answer came to her, crushing her with the weight of its inevitability.

She’d run! Broken free from the tree and fled before finding the river. She’d been happy there for a moment before he’d arrived. She remembered that much, but she couldn’t recall what had transpired next.

“Do you remember what happened?” His voice was even.

“I…” Her voice trailed away. “I don’t know.”

“What was that?” There was a harder edge to his tone that time. “Do you also need a reminder about how to refer to me, little girl?”

Her blood chilled at the perverted pet name he’d created for her.

Little girl. How could she have forgotten that?

“Wh-why am I here again?” Her voice broke as she asked, her bewilderment unraveling into desperation. The bad dream she thought she’d left behind was real, the reality of it slamming her hard in the face.

“Didn’t you hear me?” He loomed closer, his blue eyes drilling into her face.

“And me?” Trepidation throbbed in her head. “Can you hear me?”

“Oh, I hear you, little girl.”

She shivered at his menacing tone.

“I’m the one who scooped you from the ground when your knees gave way.” He leaned closer, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I’m the one who lured the bear away, so you didn’t get mauled.”

“Bear?” Her brow creased as fleetingly a recollection of the animal exploded in her mind.

“You don’t remember.” He folded his arms over his chest.

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