Page 47 of Already Lost

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Laura opened her eyesslowly, immediately wanting to close them again as the light shot pain throughher nerves. She felt sick. Like she had the most epic hangover of all time,from the kind of drinking where you were still kind of drunk when you woke upthe next morning.

But she hadn’t had adrink. She hadn’t had a drink in a very long time. She was in AA. These factsfiltered through to her slowly. She was lying on the floor. She should get up.The floor was cold. Where was the floor?

She opened her eyesproperly this time, managing to blearily squint around the room. The light wasgone, thankfully. The room was dim now. She was in some kind of large space,one she didn’t recognize. Where was she?

It came back to her inpieces: bridge. Nate. Killer. Song.

She had been standing onthe bridge talking to Nate. She remembered talking on the phone. Looking forthe killer but not seeing him.

He must have seen her.

She moved her head tolook up, towards another part of the room, and saw the gramophone.

He had her.

Laura’s mind struggled towork through the fog that seemed to hold her in place, slowing down herthoughts and making her so heavy and tired. After-effects of the drug he hadused to knock her out – that information floated through her brain like acloud, clearing out whatever else she had been trying to think. No, she had toconcentrate. She had to focus.

She’d been taken by thekiller. That meant she wasn’t far away from death, herself, if she couldn’t getout of this. She moved her hands and feet experimentally and found them bothbound tightly by ropes. Running was not an option, and neither was fightingback. That didn’t mean she couldn’t find a way to buy time or even get away,though.

Nate was on his way toher – but, no, he was on his way to the bridge. Not to wherever they were now.She was on her own. If she wanted to survive this, she was going to have tofigure a way out herself. If she didn’t think of something, and soon, throughthis fog that seemed to be filling her head, then she was going to die. He wasgoing to stab her through her heart and it would be over within seconds, withno hope of even waiting for an ambulance to arrive.

If she didn’t figure thisout, she was dead.

She had one advantagethat none of the other victims had had, at least.

She knew what was comingnext.

There was a sound nearbyand then she heard it: the song, playing just like it had with all the otherwomen. Laura looked up again, craning her head, and saw him. He had his back toher, bending over the gramophone. He seemed to be enjoying the music for amoment, savoring it.

He straightened up, tookwhat seemed to be a deep breath, and then turned towards her.

And Laura wanted to kickherself so hard, because she could have stopped all of this long ago.

“Hello, agent,” Artur Oreyo said, takingcare to smooth down his hair on one side as though he thought it might be outof place. The antique music store owner was dressed formally, in a black suitwith a long black jacket. With his dark hair and pale skin, it made him looklike an undertaker. He sketched a bow as he stood over her, then held out ahand. “Will you give me this dance?”

“Dance?” Laura looked up at him, hardlycomprehending. She couldn’t believe she’d missed it. The mistake he’d made mixingup phonographs and gramophones – it hadn’t been a mistake at all. He’d beendistracting them. Sending them on a wild goose chase to keep them busy. Andthey’d fallen for it. “My legs are bound. My hands, too.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, almostpleasantly. He’d been so sketchy when they met him in the store. She’d thoughtit had been about tax evasion, or maybe illegal smuggling of prohibitedmaterials, the kind of thing you found in antique places. But it hadn’t beenthat at all. He was their killer. He’d been standing right in front of her, andshe had ignored him and gone off in the direction he sent her. She’d wastedtime, and another victim had died. “I’ll support you. Here.”

He reached down and did something behindher back, and Laura felt a release of tension. Her arms were free. But shewasn’t stupid enough to think that they were free completely: she rememberedthe other victims. Bound just so they could bring their arms to their sides,and no further. She tested the ropes before bringing her hands around in frontof her. They were tight still, the bindings just out of the reach of herfingers at the longest stretch.

“What about my feet?” Laura asked,chancing it just in case.

“You’ll be fine,” Oreyo said. There was akind of dreamlike quality to his voice, almost as if he wasn’t sure this wasall real. Or like, Laura realized, he was acting out a scene. Whatever fantasyor ritual this was, he was lost in it.

“I don’t fit your pattern, Artur,” Laurasaid, trying to appeal to that, trying to break him out of the dream somehow.“I’m not one of your girls from the song.”

“I didn’t think you would be, either,” hesaid. “But I saw you there talking to your lover on the bridge. That was when Iknew. You’d been sent to me. Sent to finish it all. How could it be moreperfect? To complete the circle with the one person who might have been able tostop me?”

There was one more person. There was Nate.And beyond him, even, there was the police force – though Captain Kinnock hadcome to them for help and didn’t believe that Maverford was the wrong man,Laura knew that every single person on his force couldn’t be incompetent. Butshe didn’t point any of that out. Better for him to think she was the only one.Better for him to let down his guard.

“You heard wrong,” Laura said. “I wasn’ttalking to a lover.”

“You can’t talk your way out of it now,”he frowned. “I’m not listening to you. I heard what I heard, and I know you’rethe last one. I won’t let you stop me from saving her.”

“Saving who?” Laura asked.

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