Page 48 of Already Lost

“My grand- stop that,” he said, frowningat her. “Stop it. Stop trying to talk your way out of this. We have to dance.That’s how this starts.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Laura said. Hertongue tasted strange inside her own mouth. She felt like she was trying totalk with half a mouthful of dry cotton. She wiggled her fingers behind herback, turning her wrists in clockwise movements, repeating the gesture over andover to try to get some purchase.

Artur made a gesture of annoyance,twisting his face at her. “You’re doing it again,” he said. “And we’re wastingtime. Now, listen. We’re going to have to start the song again.”

As he walked away, Laura listened to therefrain playing out.Oh, my man and the rose, Oh, how the story goes…

All she needed to do was keep himdistracted, keep him talking, stop him from doing what he said he needed to do.If she managed that, made him keep going back to start the record again, shecould keep buying herself time. One minute, two minutes, here and there.

With his back turned to her, Laura startedreaching, trying to see if she could bend her body far enough to touch theropes around her ankles.

There was a sudden abrupt silence. Oreyoset the gramophone up again, ready to play from the beginning. There was apregnant pause and then the song began again, slowly filtering up through theair, lending far more of a languorous mood to the occasion than Laura actuallyfelt. Oreyo straightened his back and turned to her, walking over, and holdingout his hand.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, andLaura knew what she had to do.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Laura reached up her hand. “You may,” shesaid, trying to take on the same kind of tone that he had – formal, polite, asif this was a real dance and not the twisted vision of a killer.

He took hold of her hand and hauled her toher feet in a way that was none too dignified, making her stumble and twistuntil he caught her in his arms. It was grotesque. Like a parody of somethingfrom an old romantic movie, but so far removed from it that it made her feelsick.

She didn’t want a man who had alreadykilled three women to put his arms around her. But then he shifted, drawing oneof her hands out to the side with his own and helping her rest the other nearhis shoulder – not quite on it, given the restrictions of the ropes. His handswere cold and clammy. He supported her with an arm circling around her back,and then they were in position – the position they might take if they werereally going to dance together.

And like that, he began to move.

Laura found herself dragged along withhim, able to only control the very tips of her toes, trying desperately tobalance and not fall as he took long and leisurely sweeps forward and back.There was no way for her to move her feet correctly to be able stabilizeherself, not with them tied together as they were. She was at his mercycompletely. That, she supposed, was probably the point.

“Your grandmother is sick,” Laura said, akind of guess. She didn’t want to make it into a question, because if it was aquestion, he would know she knew nothing about the situation. She wanted him tothink that she did. That was crucial, if her bluff was going to work.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But not for long.”

“Why is that?” Laura asked. In this case,she didn’t think she could bluff that she knew what was going on inside hishead. And though she suspected she might know the answer, she couldn’t riskputting her foot in it and getting it wrong, which might anger him.

“Because I’m saving her,” he said again.“I’ve already covered the rest of the song. You are the final one. Tonight, shewill come home and everything will be back to normal.”

It sounded like a mantra, like somethinghe had been telling himself for weeks – or maybe even months. That was a verypowerful thing. She wasn’t going to be able to break it just by talking to himreasonably. It was a belief he was going to hold onto until the end. No, if shewanted this to work, she was going to have to try and discredit some other partof his plan. He had already shut down her insistence that she was the wrongperson. What else was left?

“Are you sure it will work?” she asked,just to buy time so that she could think.

“I know it will,” he said. A dreamy smilecrossed his face, almost at odds with his sharp, gaunt features. “I’ve seen italready. She’s improved so much every time. The doctor doesn’t know what he’stalking about.”

“Which doctor is that?” Laura asked. Theywere approaching the end of the first chorus. It wasn’t a long song. She knewthat there was only the length of a few stanzas and then one more chorus tofade, and she would be out of time. If that was how it worked. She knew thesong was still playing when they found the body, but… surely, if he wanted herfound before the end, he ought to have killed her already?

But no… the rope burns. The other victimshad them, and Laura could feel the material chafing against her skin with eachawkward step. This dance was part of his normal ritual. It was what he alwaysdid with them.

Did he finish the song? Let it play again?How long would they have to do this for? There was no indication of how longany of the women had stayed with him before he killed them. A minute, an hour –they had no way of knowing. He could easily start the song again when she wasdead.

“At the hospital,” Oreyo frowned, as if hethought she ought to know that already. “The idiot one. He says she’s going todie soon. From the dementia. But it’s all going away. Tonight, she’s going tocome back home and she will be just fine. Even better than before.”

“I see,” Laura said. A plan was forming inher mind, a kind of Hail Mary. She wasn’t even sure it would work. Maybe itwould backfire spectacularly. But what choice did she have? If she did nothing,he was going to kill her. Might as well try something to change the outcome. “Ihave some bad news for you, Artur.”

“What?” he snapped, his eyes going to herswith a speed that seemed somehow dangerous. Like he was just about to snap.

“It’s about your grandmother,” Laura said.“I was just coming back from the hospital when you saw me on the bridge.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why were you at thehospital?”

“Because we were investigating you, ofcourse,” Laura said. She tried to keep her voice gentle and calm, so as not toset him off any further. She was weaving a lie from threads of the truth,trying to make him believe it. “Why do you think we came to your store?”

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