CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
The camera's red light blinked on.

Vincent circled around me like he was deciding where to start. The guards stayed by the door. Silent. Professional. They'd probably seen this before.

"Let's begin with something simple," Vincent said. He was talking to the camera now. "Detective Elise Grant. Former LAPD. Disgraced after the Tommy Reyes case. How's sobriety treating you these days?"

I couldn't answer even if I wanted to. My jaw was locked tight.

He leaned closer. Studied my face. "You know what's interesting about you, Detective? You came to Windermere Bay to hide. To drink yourself to death quietly. But then you found that girl on the beach and suddenly you had purpose again."

He touched my chin. I turned my head toward the camera.

"Purpose is dangerous. It makes people do stupid things. Like breaking into my home. Like thinking they can expose me." He let go. "I'm going to show Antonio what happens when people have too much purpose."

He picked up something from the table. A knife. Small. Sharp. The kind surgeons use.

My heart pounded but my body wouldn't respond. Couldn't run. Couldn't fight. I was trapped inside myself.

"Don't worry," Vincent said. "I'm not going to kill you. Not yet. But I need Antonio to understand what's at stake. What happens if he doesn't cooperate."

He grabbed my left hand. The zip tie cut into my other wrist as he pulled my hand forward.

"This might sting a bit."

The blade touched my palm. Pressure. Then burning pain that exploded up my arm. I couldn't scream. Couldn't even whimper. Just had to sit there and feel it.

Blood welled up. Ran down my fingers. Dripped onto the concrete floor.

Vincent wiped the blade on his pants. "There. Not too bad. Just a reminder that I'm serious."

He turned back to the camera. "Antonio, if you're watching this, you have twelve hours. Agree to my terms or the next cut goes deeper. And there will be many more cuts after that."

He switched off the camera. Set his phone down. Then he looked at me with something that might have been pity.

"Nothing personal, Detective. This is just business."

One of the guards stepped forward. "Boss, the lawyer's here. He want to talk about the festival permits."

Vincent sighed. "Of course he does. Can't get anything done in this town without permits and bribes." He looked at me. "Take her back to her cell. Clean up the blood. And make sure she and Antonio can't communicate. I don't want them planning anything."

The guard cut my zip ties. My hands fell to my sides. Still couldn't move them. The drug was strong.

They half-carried, half-dragged me back through the corridor. Past Hank's cell. I tried to look through the small window in his door but they moved too fast.

My cell door opened. They dropped me on the floor. Not gentle but not violent either. Just efficient.

The door slammed shut. Locked.

I lay there on the cold concrete. Feeling slowly started to return to my fingers. Pins and needles. Then burning. My left palm throbbed where Vincent had cut it.

"Elise?" My mother's voice came through the wall. "Was that you? What happened?"

I tried to answer but my mouth wouldn't work yet. The drug was wearing off but slowly.

"Elise, please. Say something."

Finally, my jaw loosened. "I'm okay." The words were thick. Slurred. "Just drugged. Give me a minute."

"Did he hurt you?"

I looked at my bleeding palm. "Nothing I can't handle."

That was a lie. My hand hurt like hell. But what good would it do to tell her that?

I managed to sit up. The room spun but settled. I pressed my good hand against the cut to stop the bleeding. It wasn't deep. Just painful. Vincent had been careful. He wanted to hurt me without doing real damage.

Not yet anyway.

Time passed. Hard to say how much. My mother kept talking through the wall. Telling me about Sarah. About their childhood. About the summers they spent on these beaches before everything went wrong.

I let her talk. It seemed to calm her down.

The drug wore off completely after maybe an hour. I could move again. Think clearly. My hand had stopped bleeding but the cut still burned.

I heard footsteps outside. Multiple people. Keys jangling.

My mother's door opened.

"No," she said. "Please, I don't—"

They dragged her out. I heard her struggling. Heard the guards telling her to calm down.

Then silence.

I pressed my face against my door's small window. I tried to see down the corridor. Nothing. Just an empty hallway and dim lights.

"Mom!" I called out. No answer.

I pounded on the door. "Where are you taking her?"

A guard appeared at my window. Young guy. Maybe twenty-five. "Shut up or you'll get the same treatment."

"What treatment? Where is she?"

"Boss wants to have a conversation with her. About her sister. About what she knows." He smiled. It wasn't friendly. "She'll be back. Probably."

"You can't—"

He walked away. Left me standing there with my bleeding hand and my racing heart.

They had my mother. We're probably doing to her what they'd done to me. Or worse.

I slammed my good hand against the door. Pain shot up my arm but I didn't care. I hit it again. Again. Until my knuckles were raw.

"Elise." Hank's voice. Quiet. Close. "Elise, stop. You're going to break your hand."

I pressed my forehead against the cold metal. "They took her."

"I know. I heard."

"We have to get out of here. We have to help her."

"We will. But not by breaking your hand on a door."

"Then how?" I was crying now. Couldn't help it. "How do we get out? How do we save her?"

Hank was quiet for a moment. Then he said something that changed everything.

"The drain in the interrogation room. It connects to the old sewer system. I helped design the security here. I know a way out."

"How do we get back to that room?"

"We make them bring us there."

"How?"

"By giving Vincent exactly what he wants."

I didn't understand at first. Then it hit me.

"You're going to agree to his terms."

"I'm going to pretend to agree. Get him to bring us both to that room. Then we run."

"That's insane."

"Do you have a better plan?"

I didn't. And we both knew it.

"When?" I asked.

"Soon. Before he hurts your mother any worse. Before the festival tomorrow." He paused. "Elise, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

I thought about everything I knew about Hank. His past. His violence. His lies.

But I also thought about the way he'd protected me. The way he'd risked everything to stop Vincent.

"Yes," I said. "I trust you."

"Good. Then get ready. When they come for us again, we're getting out of here."

Footsteps echoed down the corridor.

They were coming back.