Page 43 of Claiming His Bunny
Fortunately, my precious bunny caves in to Michelle’s begging. “Fine. But just for tonight. I’m going back home tomorrow. If Adams shows up, he’s getting a face full of mace and a knee in the balls.”
I can’t help but grin. My bunny’s got sass. I have to be careful when I finally approach her in person. I’d hate to have my crown jewels kneed.
Michelle laughs as well. “You’re crazy, girl. I think the tow truck is here.”
I keep the listening program on, letting Kayla’s voice fill the uneasy silence in my car as I approach Oberman’s fishing cabin.
The police are looking for Cindy around her hometown, but that’s a hundred miles from here. They’ll never find her. I could have tipped them anonymously, told them about the cabin, but then they would have arrested Oberman, and I couldn’t get to him anymore. He’d get a few years in jail, tops. With a good lawyer, he could even avoid prison and spend a few pleasant years in a nice mental hospital. I won’t let that happen.
Chapter 25
Ethan
I park a gooddistance away from the cabin and cautiously sneak the rest of the way, but I might as well have brought a marching band. Oberman is passed out on the bed, snoring so loudly the whole cabin shakes. Even in his sleep, he’s pawing at the small figure next to him.
I’m relieved to see that Cynthia Parker is alive. That doesn’t mean she’s unharmed, though. She’s naked in Oberman’s bed. Even if that was all she went through, it’s already too much.
I can’t see all the details as I peer into the bedroom through the window, but it seems her hands are tied behind her back, and a piece of duct tape covers her mouth. My fists clench as I fight off the urge to smash the window and barge in, guns blazing. I don’t want to traumatize the girl further, so I pick the front door lock and tiptoe across the cabin’s living room.
Cynthia is awake.
The second I open the bedroom door, she stops trying to squirm out from beneath Oberman’s body and watches me with wide eyes.
I put a finger over my mouth. “Shh.”
She gives me a jerky nod and closes her eyes.
I don’t waste any more time. The needle slides into Oberman’s thigh with no resistance. Before he stirs awake, a massive dose of the paralytic drug is already coursing through his system.
I shove him off Cynthia so hard he rolls off the bed, his body thudding on the floor. Oops. Sorry, not sorry, bastard.
I make quick work of the ropes binding Cynthia’s wrists, careful not to touch her too much, and pull the tape off her mouth. She looks at me with those wide, teary eyes. “I want my mommy,” she whimpers. “Please.”
“I’ll take you to your mommy,” I promise, wrapping a blanket around her bare shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
Cynthia shakes her head. “N-no. I want my mommy.”
“Of course. Here,” I say, handing her a juice box. “You must be thirsty.”
She slurps the box down in record time, unaware of the sleeping drug I put inside. I hate to be drugging her, but it’s for her own good. It’s going to be a few hours before I can deliver her to the police, and she doesn’t deserve to spend that time frightened. Besides, I need some alone time with Oberman, and I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it knowing she’s in the next room, crying and scared out of her mind.
Once she’s fast asleep, I wrap the blanket tightly around her and carry her to my car. Gently, I lay her across the back seat and drive back to Oberman’s cabin. She doesn’t even stir. The dose I gave her should keep her under for five or six hours. Plenty of time for me to play with Oberman and bring her to safety before she wakes up.
Even just looking at her makes my guilt nearly unbearable. If she weren’t here, I’d probably kill Oberman, then put a bullet through my head, because I don’t deserve to live after I fucked this up.
I suspected Oberman. If I had just focused on him, dug deeper, done something… Cynthia wouldn’t have to be traumatized for life now. I’ll never forgive myself.
I pull out the skinning knife, tapping the pad of my thumb against the blade. It’s sharp. Deadly sharp. I’ve never skinned someone alive before, but I’m about to give it a shot.
Oberman will pay, in life and in death. Because this time, I won’t be disposing of the body. He doesn’t deserve to go down in history as a respectable family man who simply went missing one day.
I’ll leave his body here for the police to find, along with the proof of his previous crimes. The parents of those dead children deserve to know that the monster who hurt their kids is gone forever and that he suffered immensely before he died. I’m sure the media will be happy to spread that story.
The sun has risenand is now setting again. Not that I care.
I’m almost back home. I don’t care about that either. In fact, I can’t find it in me to care about anything at all. The rage, guilt, the darkness…they all disappeared, leaving nothing behind.
I feel empty. Like a husk, a robot going through the motions.
