Page 72 of Corrupting Ivy

What happened?

This is a question I find myself asking all the time these days. A dark form moved against the wall in front of me as I groaned.

“Hell—” I cleared my throat. “Hello?” My scratchy voice brought up memories of a time when I went hiking and forgot to bring water. Billy refused to share any of his, and by the time we reached the bottom, my throat hurt from dehydration. He claimed it taught me an important lesson about the need to always be prepared.

“Take it slow. Ketamine is a powerful drug.”

I flinched in my seat. That’s when I noticed my hands. “Oh, God,” I said, sobbing. He’d tied my wrists down to the armrests using thick white zip ties that cut into my skin. Pain slashed through the sides of my head like glass bouncing around inside when I shook my head, tugging on the restraints. “Let me go.” Warm tears wet my cheeks as I whispered, “please don’t do this.”

The shadowy figure sat across from me, his hands crossed in his lap.

How did I not see him there?

I blinked, attempting to dispel the haze with little luck. Instead, I rubbed my eyes as hard as I could on my shoulders and upper arms the best I could. When I returned my attention to the obscured figure, his face came into focus, and I gasped. “What is this? What am I doing here?”

“I thought that was obvious. I’m cashing in my rain check for the lunch date.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I looked around the circular table, which had a white cloth thrown over it, with two long-stemmed lighted candles on top, and what appeared to be beautiful porcelain dishes waiting to be used. I glanced down at my legs. “Where are…” He’d replaced my shorts and t-shirt I’d worn earlier with a white sleeveless lace dress that covered my legs down to my knees. I bit back a sob, wishing my new nightmare would end.

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited a friend.” He reached over to the chair beside me and patted the hand of the woman seated there.

Her crimson fingernail polish shimmered in the candlelight, giving her complexion an unsettling gray color. The stunning, soft, pale blue gown fell to the floor, concealing her toes as her lace sleeves sat tight around her unbound wrists. Vomit surged up the back of my throat as her eyes drew my attention.

The woman’s lifeless, milky eyes sat wide open, watching me.

I clenched my eyes shut and tried to scream, but the sound froze in my throat. She’s dead. A dead woman sat at the table with us, looking as lively as the day she died, minus the poor attempt at makeup. Why? Why would someone do that?

Is this what he did? Desecrated bodies by dressing them up and playing tea parties?

Mr. Grady smiled at her as if she were the love of his life. Which was strange, given that he had asked me out on a date. “What’s going on, Coen?” I said, opening my eyes one lid at a time.

“I already told you.” He turned to face the deceased woman. “She doesn’t listen very well. Does she, Veronica?” He chuckled as if she agreed with his observation and then moved his hands up her leg.

Bile pushed its way up higher into my throat till it burned my tongue, forcing me to grind my teeth. Thank God I didn’t eat breakfast. Nothing beats witnessing your favorite cuisine turn to mush and stomach acid.

“You might learn a thing or two from Veronica. She’s a fantastic listener.” He stared at the corpse before setting his sights on me. “Well, then, I hope you’re hungry. I prepared steak and salad.”

“Pleaselet me go, Coen.”

He tensed up. His brows squeezed, his mouth taut. “That was hurtful.”

“Hurtful? You kidnapped me so I could eat supper with your deceased girlfriend like it was nothing out of the ordinary—”

Mr. Grady rose from his chair and leaned over the table, his hands resting on the table’s edges, careful not to touch the flickering candles. His stature appeared to triple as he towered over me. “Say that again, and I’ll sew your lips shut as you scream.” My stomach twisted and then lurched. I’d twisted to the side just in time to puke on the hardwood floors and not all over myself. “And it’s lunchtime. Not supper,” he said, as my stomach contents splattered on the rug under his table.

Of all the threats I’d heard in my life, this one topped the cake. “You? You’re the one who killed all those innocent women?”

“I wouldn’t say innocent, but yes.”

My stomach tightened, causing a huge knot to form inside of it. “But why? Why them? Why me?”

Wasn’t that the important question? Everyone wants to know why things are the way they are. I wanted to know what made me so fucking unique that he saw me and thought I needed to be his dead plaything.

I wiped my mouth on my shoulder, then glared. It was my only weapon, and giving him a fraction of attitude made me feel empowered.

“Because you’re so lovely, both of you.” I noticed the similarities when I gazed at the body he called Veronica. “Did you know green eyes are rare?”

I shook my head when the pain in my brain rattled. “I don’t understand.”

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