Breath of Malice (19 page)

A problem with Ivy? No. If there was, Sam would have received a call from the safe house. Sam knew Paige was blaming herself for what Thames had done to Jonah. Recalling her apology as she went to meet Thames, Sam hurt for her, feeling her pain as deeply as if it were his own.

She wouldn’t stay away to spare herself. But she would to spare Sam and the others here if she believed her presence would only cause more pain. Sam wanted her here. Needed her here.

Paige and his son, who was now fighting for his life in that hospital bed, were his life.

Sam called her and got her voicemail. “Paige, call me.”

The door to Jonah’s room stayed closed. Sam continued to watch it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The next time Paige opened her eyes, she was in total blackness. She could hear the rumble of a vehicle engine and then tires crunching gravel. She was still in the vehicle’s trunk. Her brain felt like mush.
Think.
She needed to
think
. What was in the trunk that she could use to escape? Her thoughts were slow to connect, and when they did, they seemed half-formed. In the trunk were wires for the brake lights. Why was that important? The thought flitted away like a bubble. She blinked and latched onto another thought. If she could remove the panel covering those wires and then pull the wires themselves, the brake lights would stop working. And . . . and . . . she closed her eyes, pulled back under by a drug, then her eyes snapped open. If the brake lights weren’t working, maybe she could attract the attention of a cop.

Paige moved her hands, or tried to, but she was too weak to do more than bend her smallest finger. Again, the blackness beckoned. Her eyes began to close . . . The vehicle came to a jarring stop. A moment later, the trunk opened. Full sunlight struck her face. The bright light felt like ice picks stabbing her eyes.

She lowered her lids, all she could do to shield herself. It came to her that though she was in full sunlight, there wasn’t much heat. Where was the South Carolina heat?

She heard footsteps and opened her eyes partway. Thames stepped into her line of sight. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound came out garbled. He injected her again and the last sound she heard was Thames laughing.

Sunlight streamed in through the window of the hospital waiting room. Sam squinted in the stark bright light. Ginny was slumped in Herb’s arms, her eyes vacant now, shell-shocked. The set of Herb’s mouth was grim.

The night had passed, and they’d had no further word from the doctors about Jonah. In the last several hours, a steady stream of medical professionals had been in and out of Jonah’s room. Sam looked to the clock, clinging to the fact that his son was still alive this morning.

Paige hadn’t come to the hospital. Was she staying away because she believed her presence would cause pain? Was that what her absence was about? Sam wasn’t so sure anymore. She hadn’t called. Surely, Paige would have called him to find out about Jonah.

She hadn’t seen Thames in the woods. She’d said so herself. She was fine.
Fine.
But even as Sam repeated that to himself, the thought came to him again. If Paige was fine, then where was she?

Sam was about to call Mike when the door to Jonah’s hospital room opened. A white-haired doctor with sagging jowls stepped into the hall. Sam’s insides clenched. Pulse pounding, he pushed off the wall.

“Agent McKade? Mrs. McKade?” the doctor called out.

Sam moved forward. Ginny wobbled to her feet and with Herb’s support came to stand beside Sam.

“How is my son?” Sam asked.

The doctor’s grave expression eased. “The worst is behind him. He’s a strong boy. He’s going to make a full recovery.”

Sam closed his eyes. His breath left him, weakening him for a moment. Jonah was alive. Alive and going to be all right.

Ginny cried out, then sobbed her relief against Herb’s chest.

Sam rubbed a trembling hand down his face. “Can we see him?”

“He’s still under,” the doctor said, “but you can sit with him for a while if you’d like.”

Ginny broke from Herb and teetered by Sam. She burst into Jonah’s room with Herb on her heels. Sam entered Jonah’s room after them. His breath caught seeing Jonah hooked up to tubes and monitors. He looked so pale, so small in the bed. As white as the linens.

Sam took one of Jonah’s small hands in his. This was the only time Sam could remember that Jonah didn’t squeeze back. Even as an infant, Jonah held on with all of his strength. Now, his small hand was still.

“That’s okay, son,” Sam murmured. “I’ll hold on for both of us until you’re able.”

A knock on the door made Sam lift his head from Jonah’s sleeping form.

Mike stuck his head into the room. “Sam, sorry to disturb. I need a word.”

Sam kissed Jonah’s brow, then went into the hall. Riley and Harry were also in the corridor.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“We can’t find Paige,” Mike said.

“Say again?” Sam demanded. “You were supposed to meet up with her hours ago.”

“We went to where we last knew her to be,” Mike said. “But she wasn’t there. Her GPS stopped transmitting.”

“It was transmitting when I left Mountain Road.” Sam gritted out the words.

“It stopped right after. We figured with her GPS out, maybe she got lost. We’ve had search parties on the mountain all night. Nothing.”

Sam glared at Mike. “What do you mean nothing?”

Harry said, “The crime scene team found her earpiece. It was broken, Sam. Looked like someone stepped on it.” Harry’s tone and eyes reflected his concern. “I don’t believe we’re going to find Paige on that mountain. I know she told us Thames wasn’t up there with her, but I think he was, or he showed up at some point. I believe he has her, Sam.”

Sam went cold. Paige had given herself up to Thames, and he would kill her.

“Time to open your eyes.”

The voice came out of an absolute blackness, and even if Paige’s surroundings weren’t cold, the voice alone was enough to send chills coursing through her.

Thames.

Her mind was still fuzzy. Her thinking still sluggish. She was slow putting thoughts together. He’d drugged her several times. How long had she been out? Where was she now?

She shook her head in an attempt to clear some of the fog, then groaned at the pain the movement caused. Was the drug still in her system?

Her head drooped forward. She was unable to support its weight. She was seated, tied to a chair, she presumed, though Paige couldn’t make out the chair in the darkness.

She was cold. The air smelled damp. Somewhere nearby, water dripped.

Thames was close. She couldn’t see him or pinpoint where he was, but she could smell his aftershave and fought back nausea. She wanted to think it was the pain in her head that made her so nauseous, but she knew, and, worse, Thames knew, how his presence affected her.

Was he standing beside her or behind her? Not knowing exactly where he was made her pulse race. What good, what comfort would it provide to actually be able to see the devil, she didn’t know, but not knowing where he was added a level of fear that made her feel as if her heart would beat right out of her chest.

He wouldn’t make his location known to her unless it suited him, of that she was sure. She needed to get him talking.

“Where am I?”

Silence.

“How long have I been here?”

More silence.

“Is Jonah all right?”

“Don’t concern yourself with the boy.”

That wasn’t an answer. She closed her eyes, her heart aching for Jonah. “Why Janet Lambert? She’s not your type, and the way you murdered her didn’t match your MO.”

“You should know the answer to that. To add a new element to our game. Killing the sister of a senator ensured that the Bureau would take over the investigation for political reasons. That you would be brought into the investigation.”

Paige dug her fingernails into her palms, feeling guilt, remorse, and regret for Janet Lambert’s death. “And Mary Emerson? She disappeared. The Bureau is looking for her.”

“Would you like to be the one to find Mary?”

Thames turned on a flashlight, then aimed the beam against one wall. Mary Emerson’s wide, lifeless eyes stared back. Paige gasped.

Thames laughed. “If I were you, I’d be wondering if you were going to be all right.”

The light went out. Thames’s voice came from behind her, though as disoriented as she was, Paige couldn’t be sure. The hairs on her nape rose. She couldn’t have seen him if he was standing immediately in front of her, but having him behind her added another element of fear. “I already know that if you have your way, I’m not going to be all right.”

“I always have my way.”

A hand curled around her throat and squeezed, cutting off her air. Paige choked. Her dulled vision faded. The blackness blurred, then began to swim in and out of view. Panicked, Paige tossed her head, stiffened her body to break his grip, and tried to rock the chair onto its back legs. The grip on her throat only tightened further. The chair didn’t move. And all her struggle got her was laughter.

He continued to exert pressure on her windpipe. “You’ll fight me until the end. The others, they all feared me and before long just gave up, but you, as afraid as you are, you continue to fight. I’m going to break you down piece by piece, peel back every layer until there is nothing left of you. The others were all insane by the end. You will be, too.”

Thames released her. Paige’s head fell forward. She coughed. Her eyes watered. Her tongue felt swollen. She gulped air. “I’ll be found long before you have a chance to take my sanity. You made a mistake taking Jonah. Sam won’t rest until you’re found. You should give yourself up now while you still have your life.”

“Agent McKade. And so we add a new element to the game. I’m looking forward to it.”

Sam.
Sam.
Paige closed her eyes.

“But our game, yours and mine, Paige,” Thames continued, “is not over yet.”

Thames turned on the flashlight again. He focused the beam on Paige’s foot. Her foot was encased in what looked like a wooden box. Slats were drilled along the top. Flat pieces of wood had been fitted into the holes.

“That device on your foot is called a boot,” Thames said. “It was created during the medieval period as a method of torture. The one you are wearing is from my own collection. I built it myself to the exact specifications of the day.”

There was pride in his voice. He gave a little elated giggle and Paige began to shake.

Thames came out from behind her. He crouched and stroked the boot with what looked to Paige like reverence. “As you know, I’ve built a career studying that period. The methods of torture that tested the endurance of the human body have long held a fascination for me. I’ve devoted years of study to inflicting the most pain for the longest time. Allowing for outside conditions and general health, with each of my subjects, I’ve learned a great deal. For example, the boot, when properly applied, exerts immense pressure on the foot, breaking bones, crushing them.”

The autopsy reports had revealed similar injuries in all three of the women. “You are mad.”

Thames struck with the speed of a snake, bringing down a mallet on the wooden slats. Pain ignited where he struck her, then radiated all the way up her leg. Bones crunched and Paige gasped. Screamed. Tears filled her eyes and fell onto her cheeks. All the breath left her body, and she couldn’t get enough air to fill her lungs.

“All great minds are thought to be mad,” Thames said.

He brought the mallet down on the slats again, driving them deeper into her now broken foot. Paige screamed again. Her tears became sobs that made her body shake. Her head felt light. She was going to pass out.

“When I saw you on that mountain, so defiant, so proud,” Thames said, “I thought, what would it take to reduce you to your basest spirit? We’re going to find that out.”

Thames was shouting now to be heard above her shrieks. The blood left Paige’s head. Her head spun. She felt dizzy. Bile surged into her mouth.

The next time he struck her, she lost consciousness.