Deep Freeze (West Coast 1) - Page 52

“I do—it’s being the heavy and the disciplinarian that I hate. The rest of it’s a piece of cake.”

“If you say so,” Rinda agreed, though her eyes had darkened, as if she were thinking of her son, Scott. “I kinda think it’s all a trial.”

“I’ve heard it gets better when they turn forty.”

Rinda laughed, but her smile was tenuous and didn’t chase the worry from her gaze. “Lesser women have raised children into adulthood. However, they weren’t dealing with this—” Rinda motioned toward the Ziploc bag on the desk. “Do you want me to go down to the sheriff’s office with you?”

“I don’t need a keeper.” Jenna grabbed the plastic bag and dropped it into her purse. At the thought of facing Sheriff Carter again, she withered inside. It was obvious he didn’t like her and had considered her last complaint frivolous.

No doubt he wouldn’t think much more of this one.

That was just too damned bad.

Sonja was shivering. Sluggish. Her blood felt as if it were congealing and there was a noise…a buzzing over the sound of some kind of music.

Where was she, and why the hell did she feel so woozy? She moved slightly but didn’t have control of her body…wait!

Her eyes flew open and she blinked hard, but it was still dark…or kind of. No…she was situated in the light, an intense, small circle of illumination, as if she were center stage beneath a spotlight while the surrounding area was pitch black.

Were there people just outside that small arc of light? People watching her, unseen eyes studying her? She tried to move and realized that she was naked and strapped into some kind of leather chair with a footrest and a headrest…a dentist’s chair—or one of those antiquated electric chairs she’d seen in the movies?

God, no, she thought, the cobwebs clearing fr

om her mind with a fear so deep, she thought she might pass out again.

Or maybe she was still asleep. Oh, Lord, please. Let this be a dream. But what kind of weird dream was this? Her bare skin pressed hard against the cold leather. Her head was forced against the back of the chair, strapped tight, her mouth wrenched painfully open by clamps she couldn’t see.

Get me out of here!

And the feeling that she was being observed…If you’re out there, please, PLEEEASE help me! She strained to see, caught only glimpses of shadowy images in the surrounding area.

“Waking up?” A disembodied male voice said from somewhere in the darkness. Her body jumped within its tight constriction, causing sharp pain where her hands and legs were restrained. “We’ll have to fix that.”

Where are you, you bastard? Why the hell are you doing this to me? She tried to talk, but her voice was just a squeak, her jaw immobile, and she remembered the abduction, her car not working…Oh God, where was the monster who had done this? Where? She glanced upward at an apparatus hanging over her head…the arm of an old dentist’s drill shining wickedly under the intense light. Her blood turned to ice as she stared at the cruel steel instrument. Oh, God, no!

Her heart thudded.

Despite the chill, sweat broke out on her skin as she strained to move.

If she could only throw off these bonds and get out of here! Panic ripped through her. She flung herself against her shackles, struggling wildly to no avail. The buzzing intensified a second before the volume of the music increased…it was a song she should recognize…maybe from a movie, though she was too freaked out to think about it.

She had to get out of here. Now! Frantic, she attempted to twist in the chair, but could barely move, her muscles sluggish, the bands over her wrists and legs and chest holding her firmly, cutting into her flesh. For the first time she noticed a needle pressed into her skin and the long, snakelike plastic tube of the IV strapped to one wrist. Clear fluid slipped drop by drop into her bloodstream.

This was macabre. Surreal. A nightmare. Had to be. Had to be.

She tried to yell. To scream. To kick. To no avail. Who are you, you sick bastard?

“It’s no use, Faye,” the disembodied voice said, seeming closer.

I’m not Faye, she tried to tell him, her eyes moving wildly from one side to the other. Oh, God, he’s got the wrong woman! This was all a horrid mistake! I’m Sonja! Can’t you see you’ve got the wrong woman, you son of a bitch? Let me go!

She caught a glimpse of movement in the darkness, someone slowly circling, moving just out of the perimeter of light.

Her skin crawled and she nearly peed herself.

This couldn’t be happening. She was tripped out somehow, that was it. And yet he circled closer, a tall male figure, all muscles and taut skin. Her eyes moved crazily from one side of her head to the other, trying to follow him.

Suddenly, as if dawn had somehow pierced this hellhole, light began to glow, radiating from the floor, illuminating the area surrounding her, allowing her to see that she was center stage and the others she’d felt near her, the people staring…no, not people, mannequins, naked, bald, and expressionless, had been placed strategically around her. Holes where eyes should be stared at her.

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
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