That’s the answer. It’s always been the answer. He accused me of being arrogant, but that’s him projecting his own hubris onto his opponent. He’s going to walk into that forest for the same reason he thought I would—confident we can escape.
“Good enough?” he says, standing in front of the open doorway.
“Stay where you are.”
“Yes, Detective.”
I walk two steps. A bird calls outside, and I look over, startled. Benjamin’s foot flies out sideways, and I’m trying to figure out what the hell he’s doing, when the stack of lumber beside me gives way with a roar and a crash. Logs smash into my legs. He leaps at me as I stumble.
We go down, my gun skittering across the wooden floor. I’m facedown, and I go to flip over, but the cold steel of a blade bites into the back of my neck.
“You knew it was too easy,” he says. “You knew, but you couldn’t resist. So damned predictable.”
“Now what?” I say.
He hesitates, as if he expected more, maybe a sob or a plea for mercy. I know what comes next, and I’m not terribly concerned. The moment he pushes me outside that door, Mathias will be on him. Or at least on our trail.
“Now what?” I repeat. “If you think I’m going to go with you, I answered that one already.”
His thumb digs into the back of my shoulder. Into the gunshot wound. I hiss in pain. That’s what he’s looking for, and he gives a small grunt of satisfaction.
“No, Miss Casey,” he says. “This time I bow to your will. You’re not going anywhere.”
“You’re going to kill me? Is that why we’re chatting? So you can give me the gory details before you do?”
“You’re the one who started this conversation. I’m not going to kill you, Detective. You won’t die today. You won’t die tomorrow. Nor are you leaving this lumber shed.” He pauses. “No, technically, I suppose that’s not true. You are leaving it. In a way.”
Before I can respond, he says “Crawl to your left. I’ll guide you. Try anything, and I still won’t kill you. I’ll just cut the back of your neck. Do you know what happens with that? Ask Roger. Well, not now, I suppose. He and I were out hunting with his brother. Bear got the kid. Clawed the back of his neck. Roger scared the beast away, but his brother couldn’t walk after that. The settlement put the kid out of his misery. Roger didn’t like that. Didn’t like the fact I didn’t help with the bear either. I don’t know why I would. His brother was a whiny brat. So Roger left the settlement. Which is the long way of saying that I know what happens if I put this blade through the back of your neck.”
“Just tell me where to go.”
He directs me left and walks behind me. I’m thinking of ways to take him down, ways to alert Mathias, weighing odds, when he says, “Stop,” and I see that he’s removed a couple of boards, opening the floor to the permafrost gap below.
Before I can react, Benjamin drops on me, hard, one knee in the center of my back, pinning me to the floor. The blade moves to my neck, and as his lips lower to my ear, something pricks my neck. I think it’s the blade, but he murmurs, “Did you feel that, Casey? Bring back memories?” and I know he’s sedated me. I buck, but he pins me harder, his thumb digging into my shoulder injury.
“You have about sixty seconds before you pass out. You could scream. In fact, I’d recommend it. You won’t, though, because you still hope to escape this on your own. Calling for help? That’s for cowards. Casey Butler is not a coward. Which means she’s about to suffer for her pride. That sedative will kick in and then, when you wake up, you’ll find yourself in that hole, under this building, the floor sealed up again. You’ll try to escape, but you won’t be able to move, and you’ll think you’ve just been bound, until you realize I’ve cut your spinal cord. And do you know what I think you’ll do then? Not a damn thing. You’ll be free to call for help, but you won’t, because you couldn’t hack life like that. You’ll want to be put down. You’re not weak, like Roger’s brother, blubbering for mercy. Death is mercy. You’ll see that, and—”
I shoot him.
He howls and falls to the side, and I scramble up, already woozy but fighting it, and he’s lying there, clutching his bleeding leg, his eyes wide, as if he doesn’t quite know what happened, how I could have shot him when he emptied my weapon.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t bring another gun?” I say.
The door opens with a bang. Someone’s heard the shot. Someone’s come. I send up a word of thanks, because this sedative is kicking in fast, and right now, my options would be to kill Benjamin or risk him carrying out his threat. Given that choice, I’d kill him.
I’m sorry, Nicole. So, so sorry.
A figure rushes over. It’s Mathias. He grabs Benjamin in a chokehold and presses into his neck as the younger man struggles. When Benjamin goes limp, Mathias turns to me and says, “Can you walk?”
“He drugged me. Again.”
Mathias’s lips purse. “For the best, I suppose. It saves me having to do it.”
“Wh-what?” I swing up my gun. “You son of a bitch.”
I try to train the gun on him, but my hands are shaking now, shaking so bad I can’t even aim, the sedative hitting hard. I try to find the trigger. Mathias walks over, turns the barrel aside and takes the gun.