“You shouldn’t waste that, going to be awhile before you get more.”
He threw the bottle into the corner of the room near the door. Then he grabbed my arms and dragged me to my feet, walked me toward the end of the bed. He set the fabric down on the blanket, put the rope around my neck, like a lasso, and tied the other end to the bottom bedpost, wrapping it around under where the railing joined so I couldn’t slide it up. He checked the length to make sure I couldn’t reach the door or the stereo, pushed the bucket between me and Crystal, who was tied to the same side of the bed but on the opposite end.
“Here’s your shitter.” He stood in front of me, grabbed my face again, squeezing with his hands. “Where’s your car?”
“I hitchhiked here. It ran out of gas in town this morning.” I said it fast, my words mangled because he was still squeezing my face. “I left it on the side of the road.” I had another idea. “The cops will probably impound it.”
“Bullshit. You were in my house all night.” He shoved his hands in my pockets, grabbing at my ass and crotch, his face so close to mine I could see every bead of sweat, the dark stubble, the faint scar on his chin, his bloodshot eyes.
He pulled out my keys, jingled them in front of my face.
“You think I’m stupid?”
I shook my head. “No!”
“I pulled my truck behind the shop to grab some tools. If I hadn’t come back in, you’d have screwed everything up.”
“I just wanted to find my aunt,” I said.
“Well, you found her.” He smiled. “Now where’s your fucking car?” He gripped my face again, making tears come to my eyes.
“I told you. It’s in town.” The car was my last chance at being found.
He let go of my face, and for a second I thought it was going to be okay, he’d believed me. But then he walked over to Crystal, spun her around, and bent her over the bed. He pulled hard on the leash around her neck, making her back arch. She was making horrible sounds behind her gag, muffled screams and cries.
“You want to try again?” he said over his shoulder to me. He gave the leash another tug.
“It’s on the side road!” I shouted. “Let her go!”
He yanked on Crystal once more, then released her. She collapsed onto the bed, slid down to the floor.
“What road?” He turned back to me. “Don’t lie to me again.”
“It was on the other side of the main road, close to the driveway.”
He nodded, like he knew the spot, then picked up the bundle of fabric and walked toward me.
“I won’t scream,” I said when I realized he was going to gag me again.
“You girls always scream,” he said.
He shoved the fabric in and tied a long strip around my head, holding it in place, then knotted it at the back of my head, pulling it tight. It made my lips feel like they were being stretched wide. I gagged a few times, choking on the cloth.
He stepped back, looked at the both of us, and smiled big, showing all his yellowed teeth. “I’ll see you girls tonight after work. We’ll have a party.”
He walked over to the stereo, which was an ancient-looking ghetto blaster covered in beer stickers, and turned up the country music, then gave a little jig at the door and pretended to tip his baseball cap at us.
He flicked off the light and closed the door. I couldn’t hear him locking it but I saw his shadow under the door, then it disappeared.
I turned to Crystal, who was still sitting on the floor. I could just make out her shape in the dim light—some sun was streaming through the cracks in the boards on the window and underneath the door. My eyes were adjusting to the dark and I could soon see her better. She looked defeated, her shoulders slumped.
I tugged at my hands, twisting them in different directions, straining at the tape, but he’d tied me tight. I tried to walk closer to Crystal, hoping she could use her hands to untie the gag around my neck, or my rope, but he’d been smart and only given me enough to get within a foot of her. I met her eyes.
She was shaking her head, her face sad. Then she screamed into her gag, a harsh, raw animal moan of despair. Her face red, and tears rolling down her face.
I dropped to my knees and gave over to my own tears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JAMIE
The boys were working on a truck, both their heads bent over the engine. They heard our feet on the concrete and looked up.
“Can I help you?” the dark-haired boy said, wiping his hands on a rag. He had to be Riley. I couldn’t get over how much he looked like Skylar, the way he moved, how his mouth lifted when he spoke. He also looked like Brian, but softer somehow. Dallas was staring at his face too.
Riley looked confused now, waiting for us to speak. I found my voice.
“We’re looking for my daughter—her name is Skylar.”
His eyes widened, and he glanced at his friend, then back at us.