Page 2 of Hidden Depths

She thought she would throw up, but she didn’t. Instead, she nodded.

“I want to hear you say the words.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” He patted her face. “You get to keep your life, and I get to enjoy knowing that we’ve got a special connection, you and I. And just so you know, if I get even a whiff that you’ve given the cops anything, I’ll find you, and I’ll let your nightmares fill in the blanks of what I’ll do to you.”

That was exactly what had happened. Nightmares had been filling in the blanks ever since. But at the time, she couldn’t think about anything. All she could do was nod again, barely holding on to the sob aching for release.

“Give us a few minutes to get out of here,” he said as he stood. “Then you can call the police or whoever. They’ll help you get this mess cleaned up. And have a shower. You look terrible.”

He nodded to the man in the shadows, and they left through the back door.

She didn’t know how long it had been that she remained sitting on the couch unable to move, but when she finally called 911, all she could say was, “They’re dead. He killed them” before dropping the phone and collapsing with a choking wail.

The prosecution had played the call to the court during Lansky’s trial and asked her who the man was she had referred to.

She’d pointed directly at him. It was the only time she could remember feeling strong.

“Him. Sam Lansky,” she’d said.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She blinked back to the present, then closed her eyes in that small bathroom of the houseboat, remembering the look he’d given her. It hadn’t scared her. Not then. She’d been too numb. If only she could get that feeling back.

“That’s all over now.” Her voice was deadened by the thick steam that filled the room.

Slowly, she slipped out of her clothes. Goosebumps covered her flesh despite the heat. She checked the lock again before stepping into the shower and letting the spray swallow her.

Her head dipped, and the water cascaded over her, pulling her hair like a curtain around her face before rushing down the drain in a clear swirl. She could still remember the pink tinge it had had early the next morning after her parents’ deaths when she had finally washed the blood off. She’d hated that he told her to have a shower. Hated that, if she didn’t confess what she knew to the police, then she’d spend the rest of her life following the orders of her parents’ murderer. That’s when she’d known she’d tell. Even if it killed her.

She hadn’t known at the time that she would be chained to him in fear no matter what she did. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it wasn’t.

But it didn’t matter. All she could do was try her best to ignore the past and forget about a future. She’d stretch out this part of her routine in the bathroom like she always did when she woke too early, remaining in this small sanctuary until the sun had risen to bring a reprieve from the dark. And maybe this time, the soap and water would wash away the memory of the sticky blood that had painted the side of her face and arms.

But it never did.

Chapter2

“Ahh!”Tom’s screams were absorbed by the worn brick of the old warehouse walls. Anyone outside the building would hear him, but his captors weren’t worried about that, especially not the greasy, hobbled man who stood only a hair over five feet tall. He was completely engrossed by his work, enjoying the screams that couldn’t be heard by anyone because there was no one around besides the three of them.

“Again,” said the other man, who wore a wrinkled suit. He lifted his arm as he hosed down his prisoner.

His pockmarked face crumpled into a frown as he watched Tom attempt to curve away from the electrified paddle when it was thrust against his side by the short one.

Tom gritted his teeth and grunted as he recovered from the electricity that had flooded his body. His head dropped back, and he tried to focus on his wrists, pulled into the air and locked in a chain.

He breathed in against the pain with a choking gasp and got a mouthful of the fetid air, dense with a mixture of decomposition and burning flesh.

“Have you had enough?” the man in the suit asked after wetting Tom again with the hose. He stepped closer so the toes of his leather shoes dipped into the puddle at Tom’s feet.

Still staring at his restraints, Tom’s eyes tracked each link of the chain as it led up to a massive, weathered beam that traversed the ceiling.

“This can all stop if you just answer my questions,” Suit tried again.

Tom swung his head around so he could look at the man. “Is this any way to treat a guest, Harry?” His voice was coarse from the screaming, but a smirk played at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t easy to pretend you weren’t in intense pain.

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