Page 81 of Man of the Year

I nod.

He carefully pulls the gag out of my mouth. Then his gloved hand holds mine as he cuts the zip tie that’s slicing into my wrists.

His gloves are rubbery to the touch, silicone maybe. It doesn’t make sense. Who wears those? Why? What is this supposed to be—another kidnapping? Someone Nick sent? Are they going to kill me?

Thoughts change from one to another as the man removes the ties from my ankles and helps me to my feet. He holds me by the shoulders, steadying me, and I wince from pain in every joint of my body.

How long have I been lying on the floor unconscious?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassures me, not quite friendly, but not threatening either. “Everything is going to be fine. You are all right. Understood?”

I nod.

“I’m going to let go of you. When I do, you will not run, scream, or do anything stupid. Unless you want to get both of us in trouble.”

I nod again, trying to collect the strength in my body.

Everything swims before me, slowly fading in and out of focus. My tongue is thick, my mouth dry. When the man lets me go and steps out of the dark space into the lit-up room, I realize that I was in the closet.

I blink repeatedly to bring things into focus and finally discern his face—it’s Walter, the gardener.

SIXTY-THREE

NATALIE

Yeah, Walter is not a gardener—that’s pretty clear.

“Did he hurt you? Besides the sedative he gave you?” Walter asks as he helps me to the couch.

“Definehurt,” I say.

The room is fairly big and looks like a rental—no personal belongings, no framed pictures, no clothes, and standard furniture. The shutters on the windows are tightly closed, but the room is brightly lit.

Walter takes a seat at the computer desk, which features multiple monitors that resemble a professional IT setup. He fires up all of them at once and puts in the passwords.

That’s not what surprises me though, and not the number of computers in this place, but why he knows the passwords. Is this his place?

A suitcase in the corner catches my eye, then the blue sneakers next to it. Nick’s. This must be Nick’s place! But if this is Nick’s place, then I must be at the guest house. That means Nick might be somewhere around. This guy, Walter, has the key to this place, knows the passwords to the computers. He looksat homehere.

I shift my feet to steady myself, even though I’m sitting, because a wave of nausea makes me dizzy.

Is Walter in on it with Nick? No, he can’t be. Nick sedated me. Walter just took off my restraints.

I rub my wrists that hurt from the zip tie. I swear, if I see Nick again, I’m going to knock him out with… I don’t know. An axe? A baseball bat? I wish I had one. I scan the room, trying to figure out if I should find a weapon in case Walter tries something funny, too, though he seems uninterested in me.

A muffled beep cuts through the silence, and Walter presses his finger to the hem of his shirt, the push-to-talk mic clipped to it.

“She is okay, boss. Yes, she’s fine…” He lifts his eyes to me while he listens to someone on his earpiece. “Okay… Yes…”

“What’s going on?” I mumble, trying to get my tongue moving, though it still feels like a giant toad.

He ignores me. “Okay, boss. Got it… No, I didn’t. She doesn’t know… Okay. I’m getting them ready for you.”

A chill goes through me. Who is the boss? If it’s Rosenberg, I’m screwed.

“Who are you talking to?” I ask, dreading the answer.

Walter doesn’t answer but starts typing away at the computer desk.

---