What more could he do? Go to the rehab place? What point was there in that? "Where?"
He wouldn't meet her eyes. "San Diego."
A chill crept up Zoe's spine. She knew that the man who'd raped her was originally from San Diego. "What's in San Diego?"
Jonathan didn't answer right away.
"Not Franky Bates," she said.
His voice was regretful. "Now that Ely's in the clear, we have to make sure Franky doesn't have Sam."
It made sense. But the mere possibility of anything bringing Franky back into her life was enough to make Zoe's knees give out. Then the ground rushed up to meet her.
Tiffany had kept her promise. She'd brought a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich after Sam had forced herself to swallow a few dry pellets of dog food. But that had been hours and hours ago, and Sam was hungry again, so hungry her stomach cramped constantly.
Where was Tiffany? And Colin? Surely, after so long, he'd returned from work. Sam hated being unable to see out of the room and she hated her lack of clothes. But nothing hurt as much as the way she missed her mom.
She eyed the dog food by the door. If she ever wanted to see Zoe again, she needed to eat. She wouldn't be able to move if she didn't regain her strength. Merely holding on, praying, wasn't enough. Help didn't seem to be coming....
"I'm on my own," she whispered.
Finally relinquishing her hold on the ragged blanket, she crawled to the dog food. Could she choke down more of it? Would it make her sick if she did?
It wouldn't leave her any worse off than she was already. But having to lick up her own vomit if her stomach revolted made her afraid to even try.
She'd been warned, and she believed Colin would enjoy following through on the threat.
Pressing her ear against the door, she strained to hear the slightest sound. Were Tiffany and Colin at home? The house seemed empty. But it was hard to tell. She didn't know why, but she couldn't hear much in this room. It might be that the Bells were downstairs having dinner--and if she made any noise Colin would come up to punish her.
He'll kill you. He wasn't lying about that....
Sam's tears dripped into the dog bowl. Barely strong enough to lift her head, she slumped over and watched them fall. Then she squeezed her eyes closed, scooped the pellets into both hands and shoved them in her mouth.
After chewing as fast as she could, she washed the food down with water from the second bowl. For all she knew, that water had been taken out of a toilet. It would be like her "master" to do something so gross. But she had no choice. She had to be strong enough to escape if the opportunity arose....
Dog food tasted so terrible she couldn't believe even dogs liked it, but at least those pellets filled her belly, momentarily easing the aching and growling. Soon, she was feeling a bit better--until she spotted something that sent her fear spiraling to new heights.
There, along the baseboard, she found a series of little marks, made with a sharp object or maybe just a fingernail. They weren't random; they were grouped in fives. Four straight lines, then one slanting through the four; it was how her mother kept track of the flyers she bundled for the real estate agents at her office. The "pet" who'd been trapped in this room before her, the one who'd probably left that stain on the mattress, had been keeping track of something. And Sam was pretty sure she knew what because she was tempted to do the same.
These marks represented days. Days spent inside this room, locked up and treated the way she was being treated--like a dog.
Lying on her stomach, she swept her gaze along the row of groupings, counting and recounting--and staring at that final mark, which was all by itself.
Sixty-six in all. Sixty-five and then one.
What happened on day sixty-six?
Chapter 14
"What's wrong?" Tiffany asked.
Eager to tell Zoe about the posse he'd formed to search for Sam on Saturday morning, Colin had gone next door as soon as he arrived home from work. But Anton Lucassi had told him Zoe was "out of town."
"She's not out of town," he said, stalking around the living room.
"That's stupid. Where would she go?"
Tiffany finally mumbled a sentence he couldn't quite hear.
"What?" Grabbing her by the blouse, he hauled her up from the couch, lifting her off the ground until their noses touched. "If you've got something to say to me, speak up."
"I said you seem to care more about Zoe than you do about Sam."
With a scowl, he let her go. "The girl's sick. What can I do with her when she's infectious? You think I wanna get mono?"
"No," she muttered.
"That's right."
"But you could train her. You spent hours and hours training Rover.
You loved it."
"Yeah, well, she's smarter than Rover. It won't be as much fun."
Besides, the excitement going on next door wouldn't last forever. He wanted to be with Zoe, wanted to share every emotion-filled minute.
He remembered her accepting his cigarette, bringing it to her lips.... "I bet he's lying," he said as he adjusted himself.
Tiffany's eyes flicked to the proof of his arousal. "Who?"
"Anton."
"But he doesn't have any reason to lie about Zoe."
"He sure as hell does! He wants to get rid of me. He sees me as a threat."
"Why would he see you as a threat?"
"Because I'm a hell of a lot younger than he is, that's why. I can give Zoe pleasure he can only dream about. I bet he can't even get it up half the time."
Dread shadowed Tiffany's features. "Why are you talking like that, Colin? Are you teasing me again?"
He wasn't teasing. But there was nothing to be gained by letting Tiffany know how much he was coming to admire Zoe. He'd originally considered Zoe stuck up, had only been tempted by the challenge she provided, but after spending time with her he realized that she was just...cautious.
He wondered what had made her that way....
"Colin?" Tiffany prompted.
"Of course I'm joking," he snapped. "What do you think? You're such an easy mark."
She raised her chin. "Then why are you mad at Anton?"
"Because I'm trying to help him, and he's turning me away."
"Trying to help him?" she echoed. "You're the reason he's miserable!"
"No, you're the reason," he said with a smirk. "And he doesn't know we had anything to do with Samantha's disappearance."
"He's probably not shutting you out on purpose. He's just...mourning the loss of his stepdaughter."
"She's not his stepdaughter."