Skin Tight

CHAPTER 24

This was a nightmare.

It had to be.

The cut on her forearm ached, and so did her head. Mia remembered nothing after being dragged from the cabin; by the cottony taste in her mouth, she could tell she’d been drugged. Now she didn’t know where the hell she was, but it couldn’t be good.

The cell was white, pure white. She’d awakened on a cot. No sheets, just a thin blanket. There was a commode, but no sink, which meant she could pee, but not wash her hands afterward. Gross. Hygienic deficiencies aside, it was the observation glass in the far wall that truly alarmed her.

She got up and paced the length of the room, giving thanks that she wasn’t claustrophobic. That fear would’ve made her situation unbearable. Even so, she wasn’t enjoying the trapped sensation. Mia went to the door, but there was only a numerical keypad and a scanner-looking thing.

Inputting random numbers only rewarded her with a mild shock. Rubbing her fingertips, she backed away and sat down on the cot, becoming more worried by the second. This had to be the secret facility Søren had talked about.

Fucking great. I found the way in, but I don’t remember it. How the hell is he supposed to get to me?

The door slid open, interrupting her thoughts and revealing a thin man of average height. He wasn’t unattractive, but the coldness in his eyes seemed faintly reptilian. He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment.

“I see you’re awake, Ms. Sauter. I am Dr. Rowan, and you are now my guest.”

“You didn’t send an invitation,” she bit out. “You sent a gorilla to drag me here.”

“Yes, Smith has a regrettable tendency to solve problems with a hammer. But you won’t be inconvenienced with his brutish tactics again.”

His manner made her uneasy; he was casual, as if there were no hope she’d escape and report him. See him in jail for what he’d done. He had the air of someone confident in his ability to operate utterly outside the law.

“What will inconvenience me?” she asked warily.

“I am afraid your sojourn in the outside world is finished. So that may bother you before you grow accustomed to your surroundings.”

“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded. “You actually think I’m going to get used to being held prisoner?”

He smiled then, and horror slammed through her at his complete lack of humanity. “Everyone does in time, Ms. Sauter. I find I’m quite curious to see what result the serum produces in you. I understand from your test results that you’re impressively clever. Almost,” he added, “as much as me.”

Mia started to shake, and she clasped her hands to prevent him from seeing it. “You’re making me one of your test subjects.”

“I don’t ordinarily work with adults. The body systems are already fully developed, but since you’re here, it will be interesting to see what happens.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I didn’t start the work here,” he mused. “How I wish I had. I am merely carrying on Dr. Chapman’s legacy in the best way I can. He was such a visionary; he dreamt of a better world. I’m going to bring that to pass, Ms. Sauter, and when I do, nobody will care how it came about.”

“The end justifies the means, then.”

“Oh, you’re familiar with Machiavelli. How charming! I’m going to enjoy you.”

The horror of that-he didn’t mean it sexually. He was going to enjoy sparring with her, as if they were in truth having a pleasant conversation. Rowan had to be completely insane.

Mia thought fast. “Not if you break me.”

The doctor raised a brow. “I beg your pardon.”

“If you shoot me full of chemicals, it might destroy my mind. How will we share conversations like this if I’m gibbering like an angry ape?”

He frowned. “The serum does have a lamentable tendency to damage lesser subjects. Are you saying you believe yourself to come from inferior stock?”

Well, hell. There’s no telling what he does with “inferior stock.”

“No,” she muttered. “I’m chock full of hybrid vigor.”

“Pardon me?”

“My mother was American, my father Iranian.”

“Ah. The union produced excellent results.”

Is he hitting on me? Ew.

“My point is, do you want to risk ruining me so soon? If you get bored with me, you can always start the experiments later. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

Yes, I am. Søren will be here soon. He’ll find a way. She had to believe that or she’d start screaming.

“That is undoubtedly true. Tell me, Ms. Sauter. Do you play chess?”

Mia was delighted to answer, “As it happens, I do. All-state champion, two years running. I also captained the debate team.”

Again, his mouth smiled but it didn’t touch his lizard eyes. “How delightful. I’ll return after my shift to give you a game.”

She gritted her teeth. “That would be wonderful.”

And now, please feed me razor blades and shave off all my hair. I do so love your demented ways. Mia knew her mind was her only weapon down here. This animal wasn’t as smart as he thought, and before they were through, he’d be sorry he ever met her.

“Are you hungry, Ms. Sauter? Would you like me to order you some food?”

“Yes, please.” She kept her tone submissive.

Oh, he liked that. She saw the spark kindle in him. You’ve just given me the key to you, jackass.

“I’ll take care of it at once. Don’t be afraid of Silas. He’s a brute, but he won’t harm you.” Unless I order it, came the unspoken message.

“I understand,” she said quietly. “I’ll be looking forward to that match.”

She watched how he operated the door. First he input the PIN, which she memorized, even though it was a long series of numbers, but then the door scanned his retina and his fingerprints. Talk about security. Mia bit off a curse. Knowing these numbers wouldn’t do her any good after all.

A few minutes later, a really big guy brought her a tray. You would have to be crazy to start something with him; he looked like a force of nature-and as if he had been dropped on his face more than once as a baby. This had to be Silas, nearly seven feet tall, more than three hundred pounds, and possessed of the blackest eyes she’d ever seen. The eeriest thing about him? He had no eyelashes at all. Mia made herself smile.

“Here’s your food.” The giant handed her the tray, and she managed not to flinch. “I’m sorry they caught you. I was hoping you’d be the one that got away.”

Such unexpected kindness brought tears to her eyes, and while she was damping them down, the giant left.

After that, the hours passed interminably.

When Rowan finally returned, Mia found herself glad to see him, which made his original claim that she’d get used to her hostage status all the more frightening. So this is the beginning of Stockholm Syndrome. He carried with him a folding chess table and a beautifully carved chess set. She let him set out the pieces because she’d already surmised he was a control freak.

“Which color do you want?” she asked.

He liked that, too. Efficiency, instead of time wasted in greeting, and deference to his preferences. “Black.”

Of course. He is the villain, after all.

Mia gave him a good game, making him work for it, but in the end, she let him win. That proved a good tactic. He was smiling his awful smile by the time they finished, perfectly relaxed in her company.

“You’re very good,” she said, wide-eyed.

“I don’t get to practice as much as I’d like.” His expression invited her to sympathize with him.

So she did. “Oh, that’s a shame. But I guess your work keeps you really busy.”

Poor mad scientist. All that butchering and maiming doesn’t leave much time for the social niceties.

“Unfortunately, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

“Yes, definitely.” Crazy face. “Can you tell me a little about your work?”

“Certainly. It’s not as though you’re a security risk now.” He went on to elaborate about his various projects and the results he hoped to achieve. The scope and daring of it left her speechless. At last Rowan concluded, “At first, I was quite vexed with you for nosing around. I hate when I have to snip loose ends.”

He’s talking about Kelly, she realized with a thrum of horrified outrage. She wasn’t a loose end. She was a person with thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams. And now, because of you, her family is grieving. In that moment, Mia knew hate for the first time. She looked at his face and knew she would stab a knife into his brain, given the least opportunity. And this is how Søren feels, every single day.

No wonder he’s a little crazy. Before this is done, I may be, too.

“So they rely on you to solve any problems that arise in the labs upstairs?” Mia had no real sense of where they were, but it seemed as good a description as any.

“It is tiresome,” he said in answer. “But I am the only one who can be trusted to maintain the balance.”

Which meant he had ordered what had been done to Noreen. Her hands curled into fists, and she fought the urge to go for his eyes with her ragged nails.

“Tell me more,” she invited.

“Sometimes my agents don’t screen our employees as they should. We wind up with a few bad apples who are not content to collect their paychecks and do as they’re told.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t happen often. Not with you in charge.”

He smiled again, making the food roil in her stomach. “No. It does not.”

Søren stole along the external balcony. As the old woman had said, the television was ridiculously loud. Sirens blared through the thin walls, along with the sound of gunfire. He studied the door for a few seconds.

The lock was flimsy, easy to defeat, and he entered quietly. Oh, he might’ve kicked the door open, but there was no point in alarming the neighbors. They already had enough to deal with in the form of the violent cop show Travis was watching. Right now a bald, angry-looking policeman was telling some felon to “screw.”

It was a typical motel room, cheap and tawdry. The curtains were drawn, a point in his favor. He slipped up behind the asshole dozing in the vinyl chair. Since leaving the old lady, Søren had dressed for night work, which included a black mask, leather gloves, and a garrote. The mask was more for psychological intimidation than to avoid being identified and arrested. Only Mia knew what he really looked like anyway. The rest of the world saw only what they expected.

With a deft flick of the filament, he had the other man helpless before he awakened fully. His flailing limbs spoke of defiance; it wouldn’t last long. There was nothing like choking to bring home the idea of mortality. Guns had become so commonplace that they’d lost some of their capacity to instill fear, particularly in so jaded a specimen.

No, Søren knew how to handle such slime. He choked the other man out in silence, and then once his body went limp, he swiftly bound him at hands and feet. Travis took five minutes to come around; Søren hadn’t killed him. Yet.

“Where is she?” he whispered.

The cord lay around Travis’s throat like a lethal necklace, a reminder of the pain Søren could inflict on a whim. But this thug was too dumb to take a hint. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Wrong answer, Travis.” He tightened the filament again, nearly to the point of extermination. “Are they paying you so much you’re willing to die for them?”

The other man rubbed his throat as the pressure eased, but the psychological fear was starting to affect him. He still hadn’t seen the face of his assailant. “You’re crazy.”

“As a matter of fact, I am. And if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I will kill you. I won’t give you a chance to go for a weapon or throw a punch. You’ll slowly feel yourself choking to death. I hear it’s exquisitely painful. Your eyes will bulge, and your throat will close. And then, once you’ve died, you’ll defecate in your pants. By the time they find your corpse, you’ll be a filthy, stinking bag of maggots.” He paused, tightening the garrote for emphasis. “Now I will give you one last opportunity to cooperate with me.”

The other man’s hands curled into claws, but he was bound fast, unable to help himself. At last he stopped straining, muscles trembling with thwarted exertion. When the filament eased, he choked out, “Stop. Stop! I don’t wanna die. I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know.”

Søren maintained his predatory stance behind the larger man. “No, don’t move. Just tell me where she is.”

“I gave her to the boss. As soon as I got in this morning, I arranged a meet.”

Icy rage flooded him. “She’s inside the facility?”

“What facility?”

Never mind, Travis was just a tool. He didn’t know anything of any real use. But perhaps like any good tool, he could be made to serve Søren’s purpose. He sat down on the edge of the bed, still beyond the target’s peripheral vision, and switched the channel to local news.

Ignoring the other man’s whimpers and abortive struggles, he watched in silence. He knew the man would crack. They always did.

“Look, you have to want something.”

Paydirt.

“If you contacted him once, you can do it again.”

“I don’t have his direct number,” Travis whined. “I call a voice mail box, and then he e-mails me the location.”

It sounded like the “boss” was paranoid, rightfully so. There were people out to get him. Søren considered how to handle that information and then he smiled. “Very well. Call the voice mail and tell him you have me in custody. When he gets in touch with you, set up the meet.”

“You can’t make me sit here this whole time. It could be hours, and I have to piss.”

He considered, and he realized Travis was right. He didn’t need him anymore. “Good point. I’ll kill you now, then.”

“Wait! You need me to make the call, right? And answer the e-mail.”

Søren smiled and answered in a near perfect duplication of the man’s nasal tones, “No, I don’t. I only need your phone.”

He plucked the cell from the bedside table and checked the settings. Fortunately, it was clear what number he should dial; it showed up in the recently called list. Then he checked the e-mail. Beautiful. Travis was lazy rather than security conscious. His mail downloaded directly into his smartphone inbox. Søren had everything he needed now.

“I helped you. I cooperated. You can’t do this, it isn’t right.”

Oh, that was entirely the wrong thing to say. Raw fury became a bonfire within him. “Was it right for you to take my woman? Was it right for you to kill Kelly Clark? What about Noreen Daniels? What did you do to her that she wound up looking like that?”

Travis was shaking his head. “I don’t know names. I was just following orders. I don’t have a beef with you. Please, I can pay-”

“I have no need of your blood money, filth. Everything in the world I valued, you have taken. The only thing you can do for me now is die with dignity.”

He strangled Bruce Travis with cold determination. Once he was sure the bastard was dead, he checked his vitals and waited five minutes. There would be no errors here.

With silent amusement, he unbound the man’s hands and arranged him in the closet. With luck, the police would think he’d been indulging in autoerotic asphyxiation, badly gone awry. And if they carefully examined the forensics on a scum-bag like this, there still wouldn’t be anything to tie Søren to the crime. Travis didn’t deserve dignity in death.

Mia had liked Kelly Clark. Søren hadn’t known the woman personally, but he’d seen her in the halls at Micor. She didn’t deserve to die alone, terrified and in agony. Søren wished he could’ve inflicted more pain on Bruce Travis, but that would have required a different setup and more time than he could afford to devote to the endeavor.

Next, he dialed the number; his mimicry came in handy there. After arranging the meet, Søren pulled off his mask and pocketed his garrote. The last thing he needed was someone to spy him out of a window and start screaming.

The world was better off now, no question. Before stepping out of the motel room, he did the other guests a service and turned down the volume on the TV. As a final goodwill gesture, he searched the room from top to bottom and found a gray duffel bag full of money stashed in one of the ceiling panels. That, Søren took as well.

And I didn’t even break the lamps.

He made his movements slow and casual. Not those of a man fleeing the scene of a crime. Nobody saw him come down the stairs, and he avoided the cameras on the property. He had no ability to wipe them, unless he did so manually, so it was better to be cautious.

As he retraced his steps to the car, he passed a ramshackle church that doubled as a homeless shelter. Even with night coming on and a chill in the air, there were a few men loitering outside. There was a donation drop box, presumably for food and clothes, beside the cracked front stoop.

It was the right thing to do, he thought. Without hesitation, he shoved the bag down into the slot, forcing it through until he heard it hit bottom. Then he continued on his way. A light rain began to fall, making him glad of the gloves.

To the best of his knowledge, Mia had never sent that e-mail telling her friend what was happening. If Kyra didn’t hear something soon, she’d come barreling into the situation with all of the finesse of a Weedwacker, and more than likely, she’d have Reyes in tow. He couldn’t allow them to exacerbate the situation.

Søren drove to a better part of town before setting up the satellite on the roof of the vehicle. He could steal signal from one of the businesses nearby, but he didn’t want the IP to give away his location. Feeling vaguely guilty, he logged in using Mia’s account information, read some of their exchanges to get a feel for how Mia would communicate with Kyra, and then he typed:

Met a guy. Things are complicated. I’ll talk to you soon.

He felt like an absolute shit hitting send, but the truth would scare Kyra to death. She and Reyes were good at what they did, but they weren’t subtle, and he wouldn’t risk Mia’s safety with wild cards in play. He could handle this. He would. Nothing had ever been so important.

Hesitating for a few seconds, hands over the keyboard, he typed the words in the search bar and soon he had an answer. Jane Doe identified: Local woman Noreen Daniels has been claimed by next of kin and will be buried in two days. He stopped reading then, fixating on her picture beside the article. Noreen had been young and pretty, dark-eyed and vivacious; he could tell by her broad, open smile. More interesting, she wore a large saint medallion, which had a border of leaves.

“That made the imprint on her hands,” he whispered.

Whatever they’d done to her, however they’d done it, she had died praying for mercy, praying for deliverance. Oh, God, not Mia. Not. Mia.

Gathering his composure, he disassembled the rig on the roof and moved on. No need to attract police attention by loitering. He’d get a room now. The killer’s phone felt heavy in his pocket, his one link to saving Mia.

Now he just had to wait.