Page 77 of Brutal Ice

Dammit.

The moon and stars shone down on her. She didn’t see anyone around. Not for miles and miles.

But I’m not alone. Royal is here.

Her finger swiped over her phone’s screen once more. She called Simone and?—

Violet stiffened. She could hear a phone ringing. Simone’s phone. The ringtone her friend had assigned for Violet ages ago. Turning slowly, Violet looked again at the old station. Part of the building had one of those big, sliding doors on the side. Like you’d see at a repair shop. A garage door that lifted up so you could drive your vehicle inside for maintenance work.

Back in the day, maybe the place had been a full-service shop. Get gas. Get a quick tune-up.

The phone kept ringing.

Violet shuffled forward. She used the light from her phone to illuminate that big, sliding door. Through the dark, dirty glass, she could just make out a car inside.

A sedan.

Her shuffling steps stopped.

The ringing stopped.

“Hi, you’ve reached Simone. I’m out dancing my life away…”

Violet lunged forward. She slammed her hands into the glass of that sliding door or garage door or whatever the hell it was. “Simone!” She didn’t see her friend beyond the glass. Just that damn car. The sedan. The car he took me in.

She slammed her hands into it, harder. “Simone!” A desperate scream.

And then…

Then the glass started to lift. The door started to rise. A grinding filled her ears even as Violet stumbled back a step. The gas station had appeared abandoned. But someone was raising the old garage door. And someone had parked the sedan.

Someone had taken Simone.

Higher, higher it went and then…

It stopped.

About two feet off the ground—maybe even just one foot—such a tight fit, the garage door stopped rising.

“You bastard!” Violet screamed. She knew what he wanted. For her to crawl under and go inside. He was opening the door just enough for her to fit through the gap.

He wants to make sure I go in alone.

Simone’s phone had pealed from inside that garage. Probably from the trunk of the sedan. Maybe her friend was trapped in the trunk, just as Violet had been trapped.

And maybe Simone had watched the freak take Violet from the theater on that terrible night. Maybe she had just stood there and watched…

But I’m not going to do that.

“I’m coming, Simone!” Violet yelled. She dropped to her stomach. She crawled beneath the door. She held her breath and prayed the ancient thing wouldn’t come crashing down on her. And she prayed that she and Simone would get out alive. “I’m coming!”

He understood exactly why Violet hated being stuck in a trunk. Who the hell wouldn’t hate being enclosed in the dark back of a vehicle? Being trapped in the trunk was damn well like being buried alive.

But as he heard Violet’s steps retreat and then the banging of her hands on what sounded like some kind of door or window, Royal pulled the small, glowing lever in the back of the trunk. He’d made sure she’d taken this ride deliberately. One, because the trunk was big enough to hold his burly ass. And two, because the Lincoln had the perfect, easy-to-see trunk release lever. One that was inside the cavernous interior of the trunk. Some people didn’t know that every car built after 2002 had to include a release lever inside the trunk.

That’s why the SOB used that freaking ancient sedan. He wanted a ride that didn’t have a release lever inside. No way for his victims to get out. So he’d deliberately used the old sedan to trap them.

After Royal tugged on the small lever, the trunk lid slowly rose, but he grabbed the edge, making sure it didn’t pop open all the way. Then he slithered out, touching down soundlessly and lowering the lid back in place.

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