Page 73 of Corrupting Ivy

“That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time together. You’ll understand it all in the end.”

He walked down the shadowy corridor as I pulled on my zip ties while keeping an eye out. I twisted my arms from side to side, but it only dug into my flesh, causing me to bleed. I bit my lower lip to stop my cries as the scarlet blood trickled down my wrists. This was getting me nowhere. I needed a weapon.

I tugged while searching for a weapon and a way out, while the hairs on my neck stood from Veronica’s milky eyes.

We were staying in a cabin. The timber walls and low ceiling made this clear. It was dark here, which meant there was no electricity. There wasn’t a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling that I could see which backed that up.

I used to build cabins with Billy during our first year of marriage. But when he beat me, leaving me with a black eye and a swollen lip, he’d notified his supervisor that I’d quit to stay at home.

Cabins are commonplace in Montana, but I couldn’t believe they were popular here in Texas, particularly without power. The summers must be stifling.

There were no windows, simply a door and the corridor in the area I was sitting. There was a tiny futon next to the entrance, and against the wall, catty-corner, was a bookshelf from floor to ceiling with small jars containing liquid and things too difficult to see in the light. He used them as bookends for what appeared to be big textbooks. Definitely not what you would find on a bookshelf in an average home.

A tiny table with a battery-operated Police Scanner sat by the bookcase, with two antennas stretched in opposite directions and a wind-up record player beside it. He was clever. I’ll grant him that.

When you listen to the police scanner, especially in a small town, it offered you a tremendous advantage. You’d know the cops were on their way before they even started their cars.

My wrist ached as I yanked it to turn back and gaze behind me. There was nothing but the log cabin wall and another little shelf with four candles in additional glass jars. That meant that I had less room for my escape to the front door.

Mr. Grady came back out of the dim hall with a roll of paper towels in hand, then began cleaning the puke off the floor while I battled hurling for the second time.

He wasn’t an unattractive man, but he wasn’t particularly handsome either. I’d just arrived in town when I first met him, and he was friendly to me, like everybody else. He was one of those people who wanted to understand why I selected Cavil, Texas, as my new home. Now I see that for more objectionable reasons.

I’m sure all these months later, he’d noticed that I didn’t have anybody, and I wanted to keep it that way... until Randall.

As I watched Mr. Grady clean, a spark of optimism sank in my bones. I had someone now, or so I hoped.

Randall would come back—he always did. It was his thing to leave.

But would he look for me? Would he know that I was missing? What if he assumed I fled, terrified because of what he did? I’d be in this psychopath’s hands, with no one searching for me.

“There. Good as new.”

I studied the damp floor where he had cleaned. Dark spots littered the wood floors. They were more apparent now that he wet down the wood.

He proceeded back into the hall, but he didn’t completely vanish; instead, he came to a halt, tossed the napkins to the left, and walked back.

“Now we can eat,” he said as he took his seat. “Sorry about that interruption, Veronica. I hope you two are hungry?”

Mr. Grady patted the dead woman’s knee again, then pulled off the silver dome, keeping the food hidden and warm.

A vision of him putting a woman’s face on my plate, or perhaps a body part he wanted me to eat, flashed through my head. I chewed on my cheek. It was the closest I’d ever get to cannibalism. Instead of the body part, Mr. Grady revealed steak and salad, just as he’d said before.

Leaning forward to get a better look, he grabbed his fork and knife and started cutting. I looked down at my plate, where I noticed the same silverware set placed in front of me and… Veronica.

“I can’t eat with my hands tied.” He wouldn’t put them in front of me if he didn’t expect me to use them, right?

He peered at the steak as he slid the knife between the fork tines, sawing it back and forth until the knife scraped against the China plate, causing it to screech like nails on a chalkboard.

I winced as the sound pierced my ears, making me cringe.

“I thought it would be more romantic if I fed you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I pressed my brows together and nibbled my bottom lip, wishing the revolting nightmare would go away.

“What… what kind of meat is that?”

“Oh, you’re going to like it. I caught it myself.” My gut churned once again. He was feeding me human meat from his newest victim. “You know these things run rampant in Texas.”

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