Johnny drove through northern New Jersey toward upstate New York. In Tuxedo he pulled over on the side of the road and turned on Marissa’s cell. In her dialed call log he found dad cell and clicked message. He sent Adam Bloom the text saying he’d kill the little bitch if he didn’t call back within a minute. Johnny wouldn’t’ve really killed her- why kill her before he got paid?- but, man, it was a rush to mess with Adam like that, to be in total control.
Naturally Adam called back, sounding desperate. Yeah, Johnny could hear the terror in his voice, and he knew he had him by the balls. Man, it felt so great to have all the power, to be the guy calling the shots. Knowing how much Bloom hated him made it even better. Johnny was the last person in the world Bloom wanted to talk to, but he had no choice but to stay on the phone and listen and do whatever Johnny told him to do.
After he gave Bloom the instructions, he ended the call while Bloom was still talking and turned off the phone. Then he wiped off all the prints and tossed the phone into the woods as far as it would go.
He drove another hour or so to a small town called Accord. When he was growing up at St. John’s, Father Hennessy would take Johnny and the other kids up to an old bungalow colony called Max’s for one weekend every summer. Although the bungalows were falling apart and the grass was overgrown, the kids loved getting out of the hot city and running around all day and breathing in fresh air. Johnny loved it, too, except when Hennessy took him on long hikes in the woods and raped him. He told Johnny that if he didn’t keep it a secret God would punish him. Johnny never told anyone, but not because he was afraid of God. He just didn’t want the other kids to make fun of him and call him a faggot.
Johnny figured that one of the bungalows would be the perfect spot to hide out with Marissa. He remembered Hennessy telling him the place was always empty during the off- season and there was no one around for miles.
They drove along the narrow, winding country road. There were so many weeds and overhanging trees in front of the max’s sign that Johnny missed the turnoff and had to make a U-turn and go back. The road going up the hill to Max’s used to be gravel, but it had become almost completely overgrown, and it was hard to even tell that it was a road. Johnny had thought the orphanage was still using Max’s, but it seemed like the whole bungalow colony had been abandoned, like no one had been up there for years.
Johnny parked where Father Hennessy used to park the mini school bus, at the bottom of the hill near the old barn. The barn had been dilapidated and bat- infested back then, but it was where Johnny and Carlos and the guys used to hang out at night and watch TV and play poker and blackjack.
When Johnny cut the headlights it was pitch- dark; he couldn’t see Marissa or the dashboard or anything. Then he turned on the flashlight he’d brought, and maybe the light startled Marissa or she just happened to wake up at that moment because she started moaning, “Where… where am I?… Where am I?” and Johnny said, “Someplace safe, go back to sleep.” Then she said, “How come we’re-” and Johnny said, “Just shut the fuck up and sleep,” which was probably a mistake because she suddenly started screaming. Johnny wasn’t very concerned- they were in the middle of nowhere, and no one had been to Max’s probably for years- but the screaming was loud, hurting his ears, and he just wanted her to shut up.
“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled, but she was fighting back, trying to scratch his face. Then she knocked the flashlight out of his hand, which really pissed him off. He fumbled around on the floor while she continued screeching in his ear, “Help me! Help me!” and then he grabbed the flashlight and smashed her in the face with it. He hit her harder than he meant to- he heard bone, probably her nose, breaking- and it didn’t shut her up at all; it made her scream even louder.
He found a rag he’d brought on the floor and poured some more chloroform onto it and then pressed it over her face. He was pushing down hard, right on her probably broken nose, which had to kill, but after about ten seconds she stopped fighting back and then passed out again.
He waited several seconds, enjoying the sudden silence, and then he put on his backpack and dragged Marissa out of the car. It was about ten degrees cooler up here than in the city- it felt like it was in the low forties, maybe the upper thirties. He should’ve brought a warmer jacket or a sweater and blankets and, oh yeah, food and water. But, come on, he couldn’t think of everything, right? Besides, they were only going to be here one night.
He dragged her up the rickety steps to the porch of one of the bungalows. It was the one he used to stay in with Carlos and a couple of other guys. Some of the floorboards were so loose, probably rotting away and eaten by termites, that he thought the whole floor might cave in. When he pulled on the handle of the front door it was stuck at first, and when he yanked on it the upper part of the door came off its hinges.
It was freezing in the bungalow; it seemed colder than outside. It was musty, too, like air hadn’t circulated in this place for years. Coughing, he shined the flashlight ahead of him as he dragged Marissa along toward the bedroom in the back of the bungalow. His feet were crunching against something. He’d thought it was gravel or sand, but then he shined the flashlight downward and saw that the floor was covered with mouse shit.
The mattress on the old single bed, the one he used to sleep on, was covered with mouse shit, too, but what could you do? He rested Marissa on the bed, got the rope from the backpack, and tied her up so tightly that the rope was probably cutting into her arms, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He was about to tape her mouth shut again, but there was so much blood from her broken nose he was afraid she’d suffocate or choke to death. What he really wanted to do was shoot her right now. Yeah, she was a spoiled brat, and she’d tried to scratch his eyes out a few minutes ago, but he really had nothing against her. His grudge was against her father, so the best thing he could do for her was to put a bullet in her head.
But he knew he had to be smart about this, not humane. Besides, she’d be out of her misery soon. If everything went as planned, she had fourteen hours to live. Fifteen, tops.
Johnny woke up thinking, Note to self- next time you kidnap somebody, don’t hide out in a freezing, mouse- shit- covered bungalow. He’d barely slept. He had to get up to chloroform Marissa a few more times during the night, but he probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep much anyway because of the cold and because he was so excited, thinking about the million dollars he’d get and how he’d spend it. He was definitely gonna go somewhere warm, somewhere where there were beaches, there was no doubt about that. If he couldn’t get out of the country, he’d get a new identity and hide out in California or Florida, probably Florida. He had dark skin, could probably pass for Cuban, and he’d clean up with all the girls down there in Fort Lauderdale and South Beach. Put Johnny Long on a South Florida beach and there was gonna be trouble.
It was a cloudy day. It didn’t look like it would rain, but it didn’t look like the sun would come out either. Johnny was on the stoop in front of the bungalow, breathing in some fresh air, trying to get the all that stuffy mouse- shit air out of his lungs, when Marissa started making noise again.
“Pain in my ass,” he said as he went inside. She was screaming, her face red, trying to get loose but not making any progress. Her nose was swollen to about twice its normal size, and there was a lot of blood, some of it brown and crusted, around her nostrils and upper lip.
“Hey, can you shut up?” Johnny said. “I said shut the fuck up!” She wouldn’t, and Johnny grabbed the rag with the chloroform and said, “You have two choices- shut the fuck up or I chloroform you again. Which is it?”
“P-p- please,” she begged, sobbing. “P-pl- please…” “That’s better,” he said. “I mean, why waste your voice screaming? Nobody’s gonna hear you, and you’re just gonna give us both headaches.”
“Where… are… w-w- we?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter where we are,” he said. Then he added, “We’re someplace safe.”
“Why?” she asked, crying. “Why?… Why?”
“It’s complicated, baby,” he said. “But don’t worry, if you stay calm and do everything I tell you to do I won’t hurt you.”
He’d been lying to her since the second he met her; why stop now?
She was sobbing harder, and then he smelled something awful. At first he thought it was something rotting, maybe under the bed, and then he realized she’d shit in her pants during the night. Maybe that was what all the screaming had been about.
“Oh, you had an accident, huh?” he said. “I’m so sorry. Man, that really sucks. I wish I could let you clean yourself up, but you’re nice and tied up now and I don’t want to risk you trying to get away. I mean, I know you wouldn’t get anywhere, because there’s no place to get to, but still.”
“You fucking asshole!” she screamed. “You motherfucking lunatic!”
“You won’t scream again,” he said, dangling the rag over her face to show he was serious. She looked away from him, toward the wall, and started crying again.
“Sorry you feel so shitty,” he said.
He laughed about that one all morning. He really had to start writing this stuff down so he could put it in the Casanova book. It was always good to have a little humor in a story; he couldn’t just go on and on about his sexual conquests for five hundred pages. Well, he could, but still.
At around eleven o’clock he chloroformed Marissa for the last time. She struggled, screaming and trying to bite his hand- and to think, just a couple of days ago she’d had such good manners. Finally she gave in and passed out. He hoped she’d stay unconscious for a couple of hours. By then he’d have the money, and he could come back and shoot her. If things worked out, she’d never wake up again.
Johnny left the bungalow and walked down the hill to the car. Looking over at the barn, he had a flashback to one night when a couple of guys were picking on him, taunting him with switchblades, and Carlos came over with a gun and ordered the guys to go away. It reminded Johnny of why he was going through all of this. It wasn’t really about the money. It was about revenge, getting even.
At about eleven thirty, Johnny pulled up just outside the parking lot of the ShopRite in Kingston. He didn’t see Adam Bloom’s SUV or his Merc in the lot, but he was mainly looking out for cops. He knew if they were here they’d be undercover and hard to spot, but that was why Johnny had arrived a half hour early. There was a good chance that anyone who was hanging out in the parking lot was a cop. So far the only person who looked suspicious was the grayhaired older woman in the double- parked Lexus. She didn’t look like a cop, which made her even more suspicious. Then an old guy, probably her husband, got in with her and they drove away.
Johnny didn’t think Bloom would bring the cops into this. He wouldn’t want to take the chance of his daughter winding up dead, and besides, it wasn’t Bloom’s style. No, Bloom had showed his cards early, the night of the robbery. He was a take- matters- into- his- own- hands type of guy. He wanted to be the big shot, the hero, and Johnny knew that driving upstate to rescue his daughter from the “maniac” who was holding her hostage would be too big an opportunity for him to resist.
At noon, Johnny didn’t see any sign of cops, but where the hell was Bloom? At ten past, he still hadn’t shown. Johnny didn’t think he’d come late and risk his daughter’s life, but what other explanation was there?
Johnny spotted a phone booth near a pizza restaurant at the other end of the strip mall. He drove over there, left his car running, and called Bloom’s cell- he’d memorized the number before he’d tossed away Marissa’s cell last night. Bloom’s voice mail picked up before the first ring. Had he really turned his phone off?
Johnny got back in the car and waited about ten more minutes, until it became clear that Bloom wasn’t showing. This Johnny hadn’t expected at all. He’d thought Bloom might show up with less money, try to bargain the price down, but he didn’t think he’d get stood up. Who the hell did Bloom think was in charge of this thing, anyway? Who did he think was calling the shots?
Suddenly furious, Johnny drove out of the lot. It was time for plan C, or D, or whatever the hell letter he was up to. He’d go back to Max’s and shoot Marissa. Killing a guy’s wife and daughter was good enough revenge. Yeah, the million dollars would’ve been nice, but Johnny knew money wouldn’t matter once the Casanova book sold, and he’d get hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe millions, someday from the Bloodworks. Yeah, he’d have to let Adam live, but maybe that was a good thing. Living was so much worse than dying. Why give the guy a break?
Then, a few minutes later, Johnny looked in his rearview and saw a red midsize car about a hundred yards behind him. There was another car in between, and it was hard to see the driver of the red car, but then, as they went around the bend, Johnny caught a glimpse of the guy, and he couldn’t believe it. Who the hell did he think he was kidding?
Around sunrise, Adam left Forest Hills. The reporters were finally gone, but he had a feeling that, no matter what happened upstate, they’d be back very soon.
He’d left a note for his mother on the kitchen table: Running some errands. He knew she’d get worried when he didn’t come home and was unreachable, but he had no choice. If he told her he was driving up to the Catskills to try rescue Marissa singlehandedly, she would’ve called the police and possibly gotten Marissa killed.
Adam drove to La Guardia Airport, parked in long- term parking, and then rented a Taurus at Bud get. He knew Xan would be looking out for the SUV or the Merc, and he wanted to be as incognito as possible.
Several times, he almost stopped and turned back. He knew he was taking a huge risk by going up alone, but he didn’t see any alternative. If he called the police it would be the equivalent of gambling that the police would bust Xan before he had a chance to kill Marissa or that Xan had been lying about how he’d kill Marissa if the police got involved. He’d misjudged Xan from the beginning- they all had- and he wasn’t going to do it again.
Adam exited the New York State Thruway in Kingston and, using directions from a map he’d printed, found the ShopRite. It was early, before ten o’clock, but he was glad he was here, relieved he’d avoided the nightmare scenario of getting stuck on the road and missing the noon meeting time. He didn’t want to stay in a static position, though, and risk being spotted by Xan, so he drove around the area and then parked for a while in the lot of a nearby strip mall. At eleven thirty, he headed back to the ShopRite. As he entered the lot he spotted Xan in his parked car just outside the lot. He was pretty sure that Xan hadn’t seen him, but it was a close call- too close. If Xan had spotted him that would’ve been it; the whole plan would’ve been shot to hell. He should have waited across the road and watched with binoculars or something. He was angry at himself for making that slipup, and he was aware of his raging pulse. In his rush to leave the house he’d forgotten to take the Klonopin with him, and he hadn’t had a pill since last night. Klonopin was supposed to have a long half- life but, maybe because he’d doubledosed yesterday, he was already aware of possible withdrawal symptoms- severe anxiety, irritability, panic. He once had a patient who’d had a seizure when he went off Klonopin too quickly. That was all Adam needed right now, a goddamn seizure.
He pulled into a spot between a pickup truck and an SUV. This was perfect because, while most of his car was out of sight from where Xan was positioned, he could still see the back third or so of Xan’s car and he’d know when he pulled away.
Adam didn’t stop staring at Xan’s car, not even to look at his watch. He was trying to blink as little as possible, to the extent that after a while his eyes started to feel irritated.
Adam had no idea what time it was, but it had to be after twelve o’clock. Xan was probably starting to get impatient, slowly realizing that he was getting stood up.
Then Xan left, pulling away suddenly. Adam had been idling the engine of his car, but a woman was walking by in front of him, pushing a large wagon full of groceries and holding a little girl’s hand. She had another child in a BabyBjцrn.
“Move it!” Adam yelled. “Come on, move it already!” He would’ve been better off saying nothing. His tantrum made the woman stop and stare for a couple of moments, like she was looking at an insane person.
“Come on, come on!” he yelled, waving his arms frantically, and then the woman finally moved out of the way and Adam peeled out of the lot, nearly colliding with a car that was backing out of a space near the exit.
Adam spotted Xan’s car up ahead and followed from a distance as Xan made several turns. Then Xan got on a ramp and sped up as he entered US209. Adam entered as well, but he couldn’t see Xan’s car any longer, and there was a limit to how fast he could go because there were cars ahead of him on the two- lane road. He weaved in and out, into the opposing lane, but there was too much oncoming traffic to risk trying to pass the other cars. Even more troubling, he couldn’t see Xan’s car. If Xan had turned off the road that would be it- Marissa could wind up dead.
“Please, God, no,” Adam begged. “No, no, no…”
Klonopinless, Adam took deep breaths, trying to get hold of himself.
There was a break in the oncoming traffic, and Adam accelerated past three cars, barely making it back into the right lane and avoiding a head- on collision with a van. His heart was beating furiously when he spotted Xan’s car, about one hundred yards ahead of him.
It was hard to feel any real relief, though, as he knew that this was probably the riskiest part of his entire plan. He had to stay far enough behind that Xan didn’t realize he was being followed, but at the same time he couldn’t lose him again. It didn’t help that US- 209 was a winding road and around every bend Xan’s car seemed to disappear. After about thirty minutes, Xan turned right onto a narrower, bumpier, even curvier road. Adam lost track of Xan’s car as they passed what seemed to be an old bungalow colony. He went past a rundown tennis court and over an old, very small wooden bridge but didn’t see Xan’s car anywhere. He had a hunch that Xan had turned off the road, and he made a fast U-turn and headed back past the tennis court. He knew if his hunch was wrong it could turn out to be a fatal error, as he could have lost Xan for good, but then up ahead to the right, on top of the hill, near several decaying bungalows, Adam spotted Xan’s car.
Suddenly Adam was confident again. Following Xan rather than paying the ransom or calling the cops had been the right move after all. Everything was going the way he’d planned it last night and early this morning. He was going to save Marissa and drive her back to the city. Tonight she’d be home, safe in bed where she belonged.
Adam parked off to the side of the road at the bottom of the hill. He checked to make sure his Glock was loaded and he had more ammo, three more clips in his jacket pocket, and then he got out of the car, closing the door as softly as possible.
He didn’t want to go up the hill in plain sight along the dirt road, so he walked through the shrubbery alongside the road, crouching to stay low. He knew time was a huge factor now. He hadn’t shown up at the meeting spot, and, for all he knew, Xan was going to do exactly what he’d said he was going to do and kill Marissa. Adam had a vision of Xan with a knife, like the one he’d used to kill Dana, and he started moving fast, jogging and then running up the hill while still staying low, trying to remain out of view.
He reached the edge of the shrubbery; his arms were cut up by thorns, but he barely noticed. He took a quick look around and didn’t see Xan by his car or anywhere else, so with his right hand in his jacket pocket gripping the handle of the Glock, he jogged through the high grass and weeds toward the bungalow near where the car was parked. He went up to the side of the bungalow and waited a moment. He didn’t hear anything- not a bad sign, as anything was better than hearing Marissa’s screaming- but he hoped that he was in the right place, that Johnny and Marissa weren’t in some other bungalow or someplace else. There was also a possibility that Marissa wasn’t even here, that Johnny had come to this decrepit bungalow colony for some other reason. This would be awful, because if Johnny returned to his car alone now and drove away, Adam wouldn’t be able to make it down the hill to his own car in time to follow him.
Adam took a few steps toward the back of the bungalow and then peered through a dirty, cobwebbed window. He looked in at an old kitchen but didn’t see anyone. Then he heard a noise- it sounded like a floorboard creaking inside the bungalow- and he backed away.
He knew someone was inside the house, and he didn’t want to waste another second. He went back to the front, holding the gun out ahead of him. He hadn’t fired the Glock, or any gun, since the night he’d killed Carlos Sanchez. He saw a flash of the scene- the sound of the shots in the dark, the way the recoil had felt- but he shook it off quickly.
The front door was ajar. He opened it farther, just wide enough to get into the bungalow. He was making noise, the floorboards were creaking, but it didn’t matter anymore. His index finger was on the trigger, ready to fire.
“We’re back here, Doc.”
It was Xan’s voice. At least he was here, in the bungalow- and he’d said “we’re,” which seemed to be a good sign, too. But he sounded very casual, almost like he’d been expecting Adam. That wasn’t a good sign.
“Marissa, are you there?” Adam said. “Marissa?”
After a short pause, he heard Marissa say softly, “Yes, Daddy.”
Her voice was very weak. She sounded terrified.
“Don’t worry, honey. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”
He approached the back room slowly, knowing this was probably some kind of trap. He knew Xan wouldn’t have told him where they were if he didn’t have something planned. Whatever it was, Adam was ready for it. There was no way he was going to let this son of a bitch hurt his little girl.
Suddenly Xan appeared ahead of him. Adam nearly fired, but just as his finger was about to squeeze the trigger, he realized that Xan wasn’t alone. He was holding Marissa in front of him, as a shield, pressing a gun up to her head.
“Hey, take it easy there, Doc,” Xan said. “Now’s not the time to get triggerhappy, if you know what I mean.”
Marissa looked absolutely terrified. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips were trembling, and her nose was bloodied.
“Let her go,” Adam said.
“There you go again,” Xan said, “telling me what to do. When’re you gonna learn that that’s not the way this thing works? I’m the one who tells you what to do.”
Adam was aiming his gun at Xan’s head, or at least he was trying to. It was hard to keep his shooting hand steady.
“Don’t worry,” Adam said to Marissa. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
“Where’s my money?” Xan asked.
“Let her go first, then I’ll give it to you.”
Xan pressed the barrel of his gun harder into Marissa’s cheek. Marsissa started to scream, then seemed to stop herself.
Xan said to Adam, “Don’t make me ask you again.”
“It’s in my motel,” Adam said, “down the road. If you let her go we can go together, you and me, take your car if you want. Just let her go. That’s all I care about.”
“You must think I’m a real idiot, don’t you?” Xan said. “I’m some kind of moron, right? Just because you got those letters in front of your name, that makes you, what? Better than me?”
“Just give him the money!” Marissa yelled. The she said in a quieter, shakier voice, “Please, Dad… just give him the money. Please… please just give it to him.”
“He can’t give it to me,” Xan said. “You know why? Because he didn’t bring it, that’s why. Why don’t you tell her the truth, Doc? You didn’t bring any money, did you?”
Trying to aim his gun between Xan’s eyes, Adam said, “I told you, the money’s in my room.”
“You’re a lying bastard,” Xan said. “You didn’t bring any money because you wanted to handle it your way, didn’t you? You thought you could get off cheap, save your spoiled brat daughter, be the big hero. Now give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill her right now. Give me one reason.”
“Give him the money, Dad,” Marissa said, crying. “Just give it to him… Please, just give it to him… Please… Please…”
Part of Xan’s head was now behind Marissa’s head. Adam wasn’t sure he had a clear shot anymore.
“The police know I’m here,” Adam said because he was desperate and couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Now that I seriously doubt,” Xan said. “If you called the cops they would’ve been here a long time ago, and they sure as hell wouldn’t’ve had you follow me in a bright red rental car. You really thought I wouldn’t notice you, huh? You should’ve just had a big sign on top of it-It’s me. Here I am.”
Marissa was sobbing.
“The cops,” Xan continued, smiling. “Come on, I knew you’d never call the cops. That isn’t your style, is it, Doc? Nah, you’re a handle- it- yourself type of dude, right? Who needs cops? Get your gun, get your name in the paper- Dr. Bloom saves the day. Except it doesn’t always work out the way you want it to, does it? Yeah, it’s just like that night in your house all over again, when you killed my brother, Carlos. He wasn’t really my brother, but he was part of my family. You know what it feels like to lose part of your family, Doc? Well, maybe you do.”
Adam wanted to shoot him, squeeze off ten rounds like when he killed Sanchez, but he remained calm, as calm as he possibly could, and said, “You can’t get away. The cops’ll be here any second. Just let her go- this is between you and me. It has nothing to do with her.”
“I’ve listened to enough of your bullshit,” Xan said. “Drop your gun or I shoot the little bitch in the head.”
Xan had shifted a little. Adam had a clear shot at his right eye.
“Let her go,” Adam said.
“Listen to you, still thinking you can tell me what to do,” Xan said. “It doesn’t matter that your daughter’s about to die. You just have to be right, don’t you?”
“Drop your gun, Dad!” Marissa shouted. “Just fucking drop it!”
Adam knew he couldn’t drop his gun. If he did, Xan would shoot him, then shoot Marissa. He was sure of it.
“If you shoot her, I’m gonna shoot you,” Adam said.
“So you really think I give a shit about that?” Xan said. “What kind of shrink are you anyway? You really have no idea who I am, do you?”
Adam thought about all those times in the range when he’d hit the bull’s-eye, and the targets were much farther away than Johnny was right now. All he had to do was hit that bull’s-eye one time…
“You think I’m messing with you?” Xan said. “As you know, I had no problem killing your wife, who really wanted me, by the way. Man, she was so hot for me. I really wish I had a chance to-”
Adam fired. During the millisecond between when his finger pressed the trigger and when the bullet left the gun, he was aware of his shooting hand shifting slightly downward and to the right. But it was too late to do anything about it, and he had to watch helplessly as the bullet entered Marissa’s chest.
The rest seemed to happen in super slow motion- Marissa falling, all of that blood, his realization that he’d shot his daughter. Maybe Adam had started to scream, No, or maybe he was just thinking about screaming it, when he heard the second shot.
Marissa had been thinking one thing all along: Stay alive. On the way to wherever she was now, most of the time she didn’t know whether she was asleep or awake- everything was blurred, part of the same nightmare. A few times the confusion lifted and she realized what was going on, that for some reason, Xan, her Xan, had drugged her and was taking her someplace. What the fuck? She also knew that he’d probably killed her mother, but this concept was impossible for her to comprehend. She had no idea what the hell was wrong with him, how any of this could possibly be happening, but she knew she had to do whatever she had to do to stay alive.
In the car, she tried to beg him to let her go, but he put that rag over her face, and when she woke up again, tied to a bed, she screamed and he hit her and drugged her again. She had to go to the bathroom so badly, she could barely breathe, her nose was probably broken, and he still wouldn’t let her go. She knew it was pointless to try to fight it anymore. He was too strong and she was too weak- there was no way she could possibly win. Her only option was to stay alive, to wait. Either he would kill her or someone would come to save her, but nothing she did would change the situation.
She woke up alone, dazed, tied to the bed, her nose hurting like hell, lying in her own feces, the ropes cutting into her arms, and she was afraid that he’d left for good- that he was going to let her die like this. Her throat was already dry as hell from all the screaming and crying she’d done, but she yelled for help until she could barely make any sound.
Then, finally, Xan returned. Weirdly, she was actually glad to see him. At least he hadn’t abandoned her.
Then she saw he had a gun, and she screamed, or tried to scream, “Don’t shoot me.”
“I’m not gonna shoot you, baby. Relax.”
He was such a total maniac, the way he sounded so calm, so detached. How could this be the same guy who she’d thought was so great, who- Jesus Christ- she’d said “I love you” to?
He started untying her, saying, “You wanna live, just do what I say, you think you can do that? I don’t think that’s so hard, just to keep your pretty little mouth shut.” Then he winced and said, “Man, you stink. If there was a shower here I’d let you clean yourself off. I’m really sorry. I know how uncomfortable this must be for you.”
His face was near hers as he untied the rope over her chest, and she wanted to bite into his cheek, hear him scream. But she restrained herself, thinking, Stay alive. Just stay alive.
As he finished untying her, she asked, “Where are we going?” and he said, “Nowhere.”
His tone was ominous, threatening. He lifted her out of bed and held the gun to her head. Was he going to shoot her now? Why untie her just to shoot her?
Then she heard a noise, a door opening.
“We’re back here, Doc,” he said.
Was it really her father? Then she saw him, aiming the gun. She figured he must’ve called the police. The whole building was probably surrounded. In a few minutes, even seconds, this nightmare would be over.
But why did Xan still seem so cocky? And why would the cops have sent her father in here alone? With a gun?
It started to hit her that her father had done it again. There were no cops.
Xan told her father to drop the gun or he’d kill her. She knew he meant it, and she screamed at her father as loud as she could to drop his gun.
Of course he didn’t listen. Her father never listened.
Then he shot her. It happened so fast. One second she was standing, the next she was on the floor, bleeding, pain ripping through her chest.
Then she heard another shot and with blurry vision saw her father, part of his head missing, lying on the floor.
Was this really happening?
The pain was getting worse and she was getting weaker, but she was thinking, Stay alive. Just stay alive.
She knew if she moved or screamed or said anything, Xan would kill her. She saw him walking away, past her father. He probably thought she was dead. With the pain she was in, it took all her strength to stay still, to not even moan. She was shivering, and the blood, her blood, was spreading closer toward where her face was pressed against the floor.
Stay alive. Just stay alive.
She heard the front door open, then close. She spotted her father’s gun a few feet away from her, still partially in his hand.
Marissa crawled through her blood, through her father’s blood, toward the gun. Every moment and every breath was total agony.
She heard noise from outside, footsteps on the porch, and then the door opened. She grabbed the gun. There was blood on the handle, and it was hard to get a grip. She dropped it once, as she heard footsteps getting closer, and then she grabbed it again.
She looked up and saw Johnny looking down at her. He was aiming his gun at her face.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
He took another couple of steps toward her, stopping at the edge of the blood puddle.
“Oh, man, look at you,” he said, smiling. “You look so beautiful right now. I really hate to do this.”
Maybe he didn’t see that she had a gun, too, or maybe he just didn’t care.
“I’m gonna paint a picture of you tonight,” he said, “the way you look right now. I want to remember you like this forever.”
He was still smiling when she squeezed the trigger and a bullet struck him in his right shoulder. His gun fell, and Marissa kept shooting. She’d never shot a gun before, and the next few shots missed. Then she hit him in the upper thigh, close to his crotch. As he started to keel over, she held the gun steady with both hands and shot him in the middle of his chest. He fell to his knees facing her, blood dripping and then gushing from his still smiling mouth. She tried to fire again but was out of bullets. It didn’t matter, though. He collapsed face first onto the floor.