Chapter 26—The Abduction

There was a flicker of anger in Blaine’s steel-blue eyes, and his jaw twitched, telling Susan it was taking an extra effort for him to remain calm.

“Let’s go, Susan. We have some unfinished business,” he said, his voice cold and commanding.

Susan’s mind screamed in tormented fear, and she felt a strong urge to run but was afraid if she did anything at all, it would set him off, and he would shoot everyone in the aisle. Her body was trembling as she cashed out of the machine and slid off the seat. She shot a fleeting glance in Max’s direction as she rose, but the crowded aisle made it impossible for her to see him.

The grip Blaine had on her was staggering, both emotionally and physically, as he led her towards the elevator. Her body felt heavy, resisting his hold on her: his arm around her, his hand clamping down on her waist. No one would have guessed Blaine was abducting Susan. He had an air of superiority about him, looked trim and fit, and was well dressed in a dark blue sports coat and tan pants. They looked like any other couple on a Las Vegas weekend as he casually pushed the button on the elevator.

She looked at Blaine point-blank, making a last-ditch effort. “Let me go, Blaine,” she said in a choked voice. “I won’t say anything. Whatever you’re going to do to me will not turn out good for either of us. My bodyguard is going to realize I’m gone and come for me.”

“Shut up,” he said, his voice cold. “Don’t threaten me. He’s not a bodyguard. He’s a babysitter. I could have snatched you up a hundred times while he was lollygagging around with his girlfriend. He won’t even notice you’re gone.”

The elevator door opened, and they stepped inside—the door shut—leaving Susan feeling trapped. She braced herself for what she knew was going to happen. Angst hung heavy in the air, intermixed with Blaine’s expensive cologne. The smell of him sickened her.

Blaine slammed her against the elevator wall and pulled her dress up over her hips, his hands moving roughly over her. Terror-stricken, she struggled, but his body was like steel. Her nightmare had come true. She fumbled with her purse and reached in for the gun. It wasn’t there. Her heart sank. She had forgotten it.

The elevator door settled, and the door opened. Several people got on. Blaine discretely pulled her dress down and loosened his grip. They think I’m a prostitute. Things like this happen on elevators all the time in this town. Her mind screamed for somebody to help as she felt the gun pressed hard into her side. She closed her eyes and bit down on her lip to keep from crying.

A cowboy stared at Blaine from under his wide-brimmed hat. Then his narrow eyes landed on Susan. “Are you okay, Miss?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said with a strained voice, terrified that Blaine would lose it and shoot them all.

“It’s our anniversary,” Blaine said. “My wife is just a little emotional.”

“How many years?” the cowboy asked, eyeing Blaine surreptitiously.

“Five wonderful years,” Blaine replied. Then he added, “Are you in town for the rodeo?”

“Yes, I’m a professional bull rider,” the cowboy said. He reached in his black leather vest and pulled out two tickets and handed them to Susan. “An anniversary present.”

“Thank you,” Susan said, her hands trembling as she took them.

The young cowboy shot Susan a knowing look from under his wide-brimmed hat. Blaine had a short fuse, and she hoped he had not seen it. She forced her smile harder, hoping the cowboy would let it go, but she couldn’t stop trembling.

The elevator stopped, and the door opened.

“Happy anniversary,” the cowboy said as Susan brushed by him.

“Thank you,” Blaine replied, his tone curt.

A feeling of dread engulfed her as they walked down the hall towards the penthouse suite. Blaine’s arm draped around her shoulders. Once he had her in the room and the door shut, it would be all over. If she didn’t make a move soon, she would be doomed.

Susan stiffened when a woman’s raspy voice whispered, “If you go in that room, Blaine will kill you.”

Susan glanced around. There was no one there. Was it her alter-ego warning her? Or Jenny?

Susan’s heart thundered as Blaine held the gun on her and reached in his pocket for the key card. It didn’t work. A look of agitation covered his face. She felt him relax his hold on her as he concentrated on the key card.

“Now,” the woman’s voice cried out frantically. “Fight, scratch, bite. He’s a mad man. If you go into that room, he’ll kill you.”

Lightning-fast with a strength that Susan didn’t know she possessed—she struck a hard blow with her elbow into Blaine’s face. The sudden movement knocked the gun out of his hand, and it flew across the hall.

Blaine grabbed for her, and a swift jerk of her knee to his groin made him cry out. He bent over in pain.

Susan dove for the Glock, her hands shaking like a leaf. She gripped the gun tightly, trying to hold it steady, her feet apart, one foot slightly behind the other.

Shoot him! The woman’s voice ordered. What are you waiting for—kill him!

Blaine was recovering slowly. His face was white as he took a step towards her.

“Stay back,” Susan warned as she tried to keep her wits about her. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“You don’t have the guts, Susan,” Blaine said, his blue eyes steely. “Give me the gun before you hurt yourself.”

Susan’s hands were shaking as her entire body shook with fear. “I’m not going into that room with you, Blaine. Turn around and walk away.”

The woman’s voice grew urgent. You can’t reason with a psychopath. Just shoot.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Blaine said, creeping closer. “All I want is one more night.” He gestured toward the door. “It’s the honeymoon suite. I have champagne and an anniversary cake.”

The woman laughed wickedly. He’s a liar, a cheat, and a murderer. Shoot him, the voice commanded. Because if you don’t kill him, he’ll kill you.

Susan’s gray eyes flashed. “Back off, Blaine. I don’t want to shoot you. Please, stay back.”

It happened in a split second. Blaine reached out. His face blurred. The gun fired.

The shots echoed in Susan’s ears.

Susan looked down, and Blaine’s eyes stared blankly at her. Blood poured from his forehead like a fountain.

Her ears were ringing, Susan stared at him, dazed and frozen in place. She fell on her knees next to Blaine and shook him.

“Blaine,” she cried out. “Blaine.”

His eyes stared blankly, unseeing.

“You can’t wake a dead man, Susan.”

Susan looked around, but she didn’t see anyone. “Is that you, Jenny?” she asked numbly, her heart thundering. It seemed strange talking to a ghost.

Yes, I’m Jenny. Who else would save your ass?

She heard a voice calling her name, but it seemed as if it were a long way off.

“Susan, Susan,” Max cried out, shaking her by the shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” she said, rising and stepping carefully around Blaine’s blood-covered body and into Max’s outstretched arm.

“I’m sorry,” Max said. “I tried to get to you, but I couldn’t get through the crowd.”

A heavily made-up raven-haired woman came out of a room across the hall and stared at Blaine in horror. “Is he dead?”

“Of course, he’s dead,” Max said.

“Who shot him?” the woman asked, peering at Blaine.

“I did,” Susan replied. Her voice held a strange note of satisfaction.

The woman screamed and went running towards the elevator.

Security arrived first, then the EMTs arrived and loaded Blaine on a stretcher. They covered him with a white sheet. The police came, and Susan told them precisely what happened. Then the detectives arrived, and she told them the same story. Her story matched the video from the elevator.

They searched Blaine’s room and found handcuffs, masking tape, two knives, two Glocks, and an unopened box of garbage bags. There was also an empty suitcase large enough to hold a body.

“If you would have gone to the room,” the detective said, “I’m convinced you would have come out in a suitcase. You’re very fortunate.”

Susan nodded. She’d known that all along but didn’t want to believe that Blaine was capable of such a horrific act. She couldn’t blame Blaine’s death on a dead woman, though she was sure Jenny had been there urging her on. The nightmare that had begun five years earlier had ended in a ghoulish act of self-preservation.