Chapter 56

Eddie didn’t black out during his fall down the hard wooden steps. He was wide awake for every stake of pain that stabbed his muscles, alert to an agonizing twist of his ankle, conscious of a spurt of warm, salty blood as he involuntarily bit his tongue.

Finally, he lay at the bottom of the steps on the cement floor, his body contorted like a broken action figure. He’d lost the Taser during his fall; it had clattered away and landed somewhere in the shadows.

He saw Bates at the top of the staircase, the light behind him silhouetting his tall figure in the doorway. Because of the odor, Eddie had thought that the guy was in the basement, but the sneaky bastard had been behind him.

But how could he have crept up behind me? I looked everywhere and I never saw him.

“Eddie,” Bates said in a no-nonsense voice. “Where is my wife?”

He called Rachel his wife as if they just got married yesterday—not like she’d filed for divorce four years ago. What the hell was wrong with this guy?

There would be no reasoning with him. Tanisha, may her soul rest in peace, had probably tried to reason with him.

Although it hurt to move, Eddie shifted, verified that he had not lost his Blackberry when he’d fallen. The device was sheathed in a thick, rubber belt holster that protected it from breakage in the event of falls like this.

“Where is my wife?” Bates asked, again, an edge in his voice.

The shadowed basement was a virtual labyrinth; the maze walls the stacks of computer parts and boxes that held all kinds of electronic gadgets. He was a short brother, rail-thin, and now it might really work to his advantage: if he could get away and hide somewhere down here, he could call the police.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Bates said.

Sweating, Eddie crawled forward, dragging his injured ankle behind him. Although the chamber was dark, he knew every nook and cranny of the cellar as well as he knew his own face.

He heard Bates begin to descend the stairs, heavy feet thumping on the steps. He moved with the unhurried pace of a lion that had already dealt its prey a paralyzing blow.

Eddie pulled himself around a column of old, dust-filmed computer monitors. Drawing up his legs to his chest, he rolled on his side, hissing at the pain the movement caused, and silently unholstered the Blackberry. He didn’t need the backlighting feature—he used the device so frequently that it had become like another finger.

With a shaky thumb, he speed dialed 911, cursing at the soft beep the cell emitted. He prayed that Bates didn’t hear him.

He heard Bates, however. His loud footsteps were somewhere on the other side of the basement. What was he doing?

The operator answered on the second ring.

Eddie put the phone to his mouth and whispered his name, street address, and why he was calling—because a man named Dexter Bates, wanted for several murders, had invaded his house to kill him. He hung up without waiting for the operator to reply.

They would dispatch the cops. It was standard operating procedure. If they got there in time, they would capture Bates, and this nightmare would be all over for everyone.

He needed to only survive until they got there.

He listened for Bates. He could no longer hear him. But he could smell him. The guy’s odor filled the entire basement, like smog, made Eddie want to puke.

Eddie peered around the stack of monitors.

He saw nothing. Only thick layers of shadows, and a narrow aisle flanked with computer equipment and cardboard boxes.

Where was Bates?

Suddenly, two sizzling probes burst from the darkness and attached to Eddie’s shirt. Eddie screamed as a tremendous surge of electrical current flooded his body, overpowering his central nervous system. Muscles twitching uncontrollably, he flopped on the floor, foaming at the mouth.

Above him, Bates had appeared like the conclusion of a magician’s disappearing act.

“Always wanted to use one of those on someone,” he said.

He knelt and picked up Eddie’s Blackberry. Pale blue light bathed his face as he worked the device.

“You called the cops,” Bates said.

Quivering, Eddie gagged, panted.

“There’s a text message from Joshua,” Bates said. “He’s said he’s taking the ferry to the island. What island would that be?”

Curled in fetal position, muscles like wet noodles, Eddie summoned the strength to spit at Bates.

Snarling, Bates flicked away the saliva. He grabbed Eddie’s injured ankle in both his hands.

“Last time,” Bates said. “What island?”

Eddie whispered thickly, drooling: “Kiss . . . my . . . ass . . . .”

Bates wrenched Eddie’s foot viciously, breaking the ankle as easily as a chicken’s neck.

Eddie howled. The pain was so intense he wished he could black out, fade away, anything to end the agony.

“What island?” Bates seized Eddie’s other foot and braced it between his legs. “Or I will hobble you.”

“Hyde,” Eddie said. He hated to give up Joshua and Rachel to this monster, but he didn’t have the fortitude to hold out any longer. Maybe if he gave this asshole what he wanted he could survive, and warn them. “Hyde . . . Island.”

“Hyde Island.”

No sooner had Bates spoken the words than Eddie heard a blessed siren, distant but drawing closer.

Bates cocked his head at the sound, cut a sharp gaze at Eddie.

“Please . . . don’t kill me,” Eddie said. “I’ve got a wife . . . a son. Please . . .”

Bates smiled, but it was a cruel expression. “Are you planning to father any more kids?”

“Huh? W-why?”

Bates dropped Eddie’s foot and pressed the business end of the Taser against the crotch of Eddie’s jeans.

Eddie tried to knock the stun gun away, but he was too weak. Bates pulled the trigger, sending the punishing electricity shooting through Eddie, and this time, Eddie did pass out . . . and the darkness that came was, for once, a blessing.