Chapter Nineteen
Once we were released from the police station, Bailey left me and hurried off to do God knew what. He still wasn't talking to me because he thought I was just out for some trouble. I wasn't talking to him because he thought I was a liar and I wasn't. I knew I wasn't. I didn't understand how Bailey didn't believe me.
Whatever, I thought, I don't need him. I don't need anyone who doesn't believe me.
I crossed the street, focused on getting back to Rebecca's diner. Officer Beasley promised not to tell Rebecca or Bailey's family about what happened but I didn't really trust him. I needed to cut him off before he delivered the news so I had a least a tiny possibility of explaining to Rebecca what was really going on. If she heard it from me, heard everything, she might not be as mad. Yeah, right. If a cop comes to her to talk about you she's going to be mad either way. You're in a lose-lose situation.
My hand reached the handle of the door, ready to pull the door open and enter the diner, when there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Ethan standing there, his face grim and his hands behind his back. Hairs on the back of my neck stood up and sweat beaded on my brow.
"Ethan, what are you doing here?" I asked as I subtly stepped to the side. "What do you want?"
"Why couldn't you just let it go?” Ethan asked. It sounded more like a plea than a question. "Why couldn't you just pretend that you didn't see anything and let it go? Would it have been that hard for you to do?"
"I couldn't do it, I'm sorry," I lied. "Your father is killing women, Ethan, and I can't just forget I know that. I can't forget that I saw those bodies in that house. It doesn't work like that."
"Yeah, the bodies," Ethan said. "My father flipped out, you know, when I told him that you knew about the bodies. He slapped me around a little and then demanded that I got rid of them." Ethan's eyes were wild and for the first time since I knew him I realized the potential Ethan had to become just like his father.
"So how did you get rid of the bodies anyway?" "Liquid nitrogen," Ethan said. "You dump something in that for long enough and they get nice and frozen. Then you break them down to dust and, poof, the problem is gone."
He's right, I thought, it must have been so easy for him to do.
"But now we have a problem." He almost chuckled to himself. Who in the hell was this monster?
"And what's that?" I hated the way my voice quivered as I talked to him. I couldn't afford to show him any weakness...I had no idea what he was capable of doing at this point. He wasn't the Ethan that I met in the beginning of the summer. He was some kind of rabid person, unpredictable and unstable.
"You. You are the problem," Ethan said. "You’re a liability."
"I'm not though," I said. I looked around frantically but there wasn't anyone on the street. In the middle of a Wednesday everyone was holed up in offices, away from the street. We were alone. "I have to go."
"Oh no you don't," Ethan said. He grabbed my arm with such force that I stumbled and my grip on the door faltered. "You are not going anywhere. You are a liability."
"No I'm not!" I cried. I tried to pull away from him, but Ethan held on tight.
"Liabilities have to be taken care of." From behind his back came Ethan's other hand, cradling a wet cloth. I didn't have a chance to question the cloth before it was shoved up against my nose and mouth. I struggled, gasping for air, and felt myself slipping out of consciousness.
What is happening to me? I asked myself. Then the blackness came.
* * *
When I regained consciousness I was sitting in a dark, damp room with a little window and a solid steel door. I didn't know how far away from the diner I was or where I was. I only knew one thing: Ethan had drugged me and brought me here. But why? Is he planning on killing me? Disposing of my body like all the others? I shuddered at the thought.
I tried to move my hands, readjust how I was sitting but I was stuck. Looking down, I noticed that my hands were tied behind my back with thick rope and my prosthetic leg was off, gone to who knew where. You have got to be kidding me. My leg? Really? The bastards took my leg?
I was about to scream, cry out in hopes of someone hearing me, when a switch was flicked and the room was engulfed in a large, blinding