Riptide
Page 71
“Where are we?”
Was that her voice, all calm and indifferent? Yes, she’d managed it.
“Hello, Rebecca. I came for you, just like I said I would.”
“Please,” she said, and then she laughed, choked, “please don’t lick my cheek again. That was really creepy.”
He was dead silent, affronted, even pissed, she realized, because she was laughing at him.
“You gave me a shot of something. What was it?”
She heard his deep breathing. “Just something I picked up in Turkey. I was told that a side effect is a temporary sense of euphoria. You won’t feel like laughing for much longer, Rebecca. The effects will fade, and then you’ll be heaving with fear, you’ll be so scared of me.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
He slapped her. She didn’t see his hand, it was just there, connecting sharply against her cheek. She tried to leap at him, but she realized she was tied down, her hands over her head, her wrists tied to the slats of the headboard. So she was lying on a bed. Her legs were free. She was still wearing her nightgown, a white cotton nightgown that came up to her chin and went down to her ankles. He’d smoothed it over her legs.
She said with a sneer in her voice, “Hey, I liked the slap better than you licking me. You’re really brave, aren’t you? Would you like to let my hands free, just for a minute, and then we’ll see how brave you are?”
“Shut up!”
He was standing beside her, leaning down, breathing hard. She couldn’t see his hands, but she imagined they were fists, ready to bash her.
She said very quietly, “Why did you kill Linda Cartwright?”
“That fat bitch? She was bothering me, always begging, pleading, whining when she was thirsty or she wanted to pee or she wanted to lie down. I got tired of it.”
She said nothing at all, beyond words, wondering what had made him into a madman or had he been born like this? Born evil, nothing to blame but screwed-up genes.
She could hear him tapping his fingers, tap, tap, tap. He wanted her to say something, wanted it badly, but she held quiet.
“Did you like my present to you, Rebecca?”
“No.”
“I saw you puking your guts out.”
“I thought you probably did. God, you’re sick. You get off on that?”
“Then I saw that big guy, Adam Carruthers, there with you. He was holding you. Why did you let him hold you like that?”
“I probably would have even leaned against you if I didn’t know who you were.”
“I’m glad you didn’t let him kiss you.”
“I had just vomited. That wouldn’t be fun for anyone, now would it?”
“No, I guess not.”
He didn’t sound old, not the age of this Krimakov character. But was he young? She just couldn’t tell. “Who are you? Are you Krimakov?”
He was silent but just for a moment. Then he laughed softly, deeply, and it froze her. He lightly ran his palm over her cheek, squeezed just a bit, made her flinch. “I’m your boyfriend, Rebecca. I saw you and I knew that I would have to be closer to you than your skin. I thought about actually getting under your skin, but that would mean I’d have to skin you and then cover myself, and you’re just not big enough.
“Then I thought I wanted to be next to your heart, but again, there’d be so much blood, fountains of it. Too many hands ruin the stew, too much blood ruins the clothes. I’m a fastidious man.
“No, don’t say it or think it. I’m not crazy, not like that Hannibal character. I just said that to make you so afraid you’d start begging and pleading. Already the drug’s wearing off. I can see how afraid you are. All I have to do is talk and you’re scared shitless.”
He was right about that, but she’d give about anything not to show him, not to let him see that she was boiling white hot inside, nearly burned to ashes with fear. “But then when you’re all done talking, you’ll strangle me like you did Linda Cartwright?”
“Oh no. She wasn’t important. She wasn’t anything.”
“I’ll bet she disagreed with that.”
“Probably, but who cares?”
“Why me?”
He laughed, and she bet that if she could see his face, he’d be smirking, so pleased with himself. “Not just yet, Rebecca. You and I have got lots of things to do before you know who I am and why I chose you.”
“There’s a reason, naturally, at least in your mind. Why won’t you tell me?”
Was that her voice, all calm and indifferent? Yes, she’d managed it.
“Hello, Rebecca. I came for you, just like I said I would.”
“Please,” she said, and then she laughed, choked, “please don’t lick my cheek again. That was really creepy.”
He was dead silent, affronted, even pissed, she realized, because she was laughing at him.
“You gave me a shot of something. What was it?”
She heard his deep breathing. “Just something I picked up in Turkey. I was told that a side effect is a temporary sense of euphoria. You won’t feel like laughing for much longer, Rebecca. The effects will fade, and then you’ll be heaving with fear, you’ll be so scared of me.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
He slapped her. She didn’t see his hand, it was just there, connecting sharply against her cheek. She tried to leap at him, but she realized she was tied down, her hands over her head, her wrists tied to the slats of the headboard. So she was lying on a bed. Her legs were free. She was still wearing her nightgown, a white cotton nightgown that came up to her chin and went down to her ankles. He’d smoothed it over her legs.
She said with a sneer in her voice, “Hey, I liked the slap better than you licking me. You’re really brave, aren’t you? Would you like to let my hands free, just for a minute, and then we’ll see how brave you are?”
“Shut up!”
He was standing beside her, leaning down, breathing hard. She couldn’t see his hands, but she imagined they were fists, ready to bash her.
She said very quietly, “Why did you kill Linda Cartwright?”
“That fat bitch? She was bothering me, always begging, pleading, whining when she was thirsty or she wanted to pee or she wanted to lie down. I got tired of it.”
She said nothing at all, beyond words, wondering what had made him into a madman or had he been born like this? Born evil, nothing to blame but screwed-up genes.
She could hear him tapping his fingers, tap, tap, tap. He wanted her to say something, wanted it badly, but she held quiet.
“Did you like my present to you, Rebecca?”
“No.”
“I saw you puking your guts out.”
“I thought you probably did. God, you’re sick. You get off on that?”
“Then I saw that big guy, Adam Carruthers, there with you. He was holding you. Why did you let him hold you like that?”
“I probably would have even leaned against you if I didn’t know who you were.”
“I’m glad you didn’t let him kiss you.”
“I had just vomited. That wouldn’t be fun for anyone, now would it?”
“No, I guess not.”
He didn’t sound old, not the age of this Krimakov character. But was he young? She just couldn’t tell. “Who are you? Are you Krimakov?”
He was silent but just for a moment. Then he laughed softly, deeply, and it froze her. He lightly ran his palm over her cheek, squeezed just a bit, made her flinch. “I’m your boyfriend, Rebecca. I saw you and I knew that I would have to be closer to you than your skin. I thought about actually getting under your skin, but that would mean I’d have to skin you and then cover myself, and you’re just not big enough.
“Then I thought I wanted to be next to your heart, but again, there’d be so much blood, fountains of it. Too many hands ruin the stew, too much blood ruins the clothes. I’m a fastidious man.
“No, don’t say it or think it. I’m not crazy, not like that Hannibal character. I just said that to make you so afraid you’d start begging and pleading. Already the drug’s wearing off. I can see how afraid you are. All I have to do is talk and you’re scared shitless.”
He was right about that, but she’d give about anything not to show him, not to let him see that she was boiling white hot inside, nearly burned to ashes with fear. “But then when you’re all done talking, you’ll strangle me like you did Linda Cartwright?”
“Oh no. She wasn’t important. She wasn’t anything.”
“I’ll bet she disagreed with that.”
“Probably, but who cares?”
“Why me?”
He laughed, and she bet that if she could see his face, he’d be smirking, so pleased with himself. “Not just yet, Rebecca. You and I have got lots of things to do before you know who I am and why I chose you.”
“There’s a reason, naturally, at least in your mind. Why won’t you tell me?”
