The black SUV pulled to a stop in front of the small apartment building.
Peter turned the key off and looked out through the windshield. "Nice neighborhood, Carter."
Carter chuckled as he reached for the door handle. "Well, I haven't been able to convince her to move in with me at the mansion."
"Gee, I wonder why not," Peter replied. "Why wouldn't a woman want to move in with your grandmother?"
"Oh, I'm sure she will. Eventually. But for now..." Carter gestured toward the building, pointing out one window. "This is home. I won't be long, Peter. I'll just change real quick, and grab something for Abby to change into at the hospital. Shouldn't be more than ten, fifteen minutes."
"Okay," Peter replied, nodding. "But if you take more than that, I'll have to go get Cleo and come back. I told her I'd be there at four."
"Don't worry," Carter said, stepping out of the truck. "If it takes me longer than that, then I've got a serious problem anyway." He closed the door, and glanced back in through the window. "Be right back."
Carter walked up the steps to the building easily, his long legs taking the stairs two at a time. He pulled his key from his pocket and opened the door, smiling at the superintendent as he walked past him. "Good afternoon," Carter greeted him.
"Hey," the super said in passing. He snapped his fingers as he remembered something and turned to tell the young man, but he'd already disappeared up the stairs. The old man smiled and went back into his office. The young doctor would find out about his visitor soon enough anyway.
Carter juggled his keys a bit, looking for the right one. He located it easily, and reached out to put it in the lock, but found that his key was unnecessary.
The door swung open at his touch. Not only had it not been locked, it wasn't even closed. Carter glanced around the landing in confusion, looking to see if anyone had noticed anything amiss, but no one was there. He leaned forward to look back down the stairs, but the super seemed to have disappeared as well.
Carter listened intently, but heard nothing unusual: the old neighbor lady had her soaps on too loud again; the young mother downstairs had her stereo on while she vacuumed. With one more quick glance down the stairs in the direction of the front door, Carter stepped into his apartment.
"Hello?" he called out, walking forward and looking around. Nothing seemed to be out of place, and he breathed a sigh of relief, tossing his keys into the air.
They fell to the floor when the door slammed shut behind him.
The first thing Carter felt when he started to come around was pain; his left arm hurt like hell. He tried to lean forward to look at it, but was stopped almost instantly by a constriction around his neck. He gagged slightly at the sensation, and tried to move back to relieve the pressure on his windpipe, but that only resulted in a fresh wave of pain from his arm.
He tried to shift his position a few more times, still confused as to why he couldn't move freely. Finally, he resigned himself to slouching as much as he could against the chair, and opened his eyes.
He remembered what had happened to him.
He was tied to a chair, his chair, in his kitchen. He was sitting upright again, so at least he had that to be grateful for. All of his clothes were gone except his jeans; even his socks were gone. His arms were twisted up behind him at an uncomfortable position. His ankles were tied to the back legs of the chair. One rope circled his chest; another was wrapped around his neck. His arm hurt because his shoulder was dislocated.
As full memory returned, Carter groaned and leaned his head back against the top of the chair.
"Good morning," said the voice from behind him.
"You've lost it," Carter replied hoarsely. "I mean... I always thought you... had a screw loose, but you... you have completely lost it."
"I lost it a long time ago, Carter. I lost it a year and a half ago."
Carter opened his eyes and raised his head slightly, so that he could look his tormentor in the eye. "I didn't have... anything to do... with that."
He was rewarded with another blow, this one a backhand to the side of his face. "You had everything to do with it! If it hadn't been for you, she wouldn't have..." The other man's voice trailed off and his eyes glazed over. "You took everything away from me. You took it, and you kept it all for yourself. But I do have to admit, what I got from you is almost worth it. I finally figured out just what's so appealing about drugs."
"You're high," Carter breathed.
"Higher than I've ever been in my life," was the answer. "You know, I should have known better, being a doctor. I really should. But did you know there are people, scientists, who will pay you to do LSD? And it's really amazing, how clearly you can see when you're on a trip." The other man stepped forward, a menacing smile on his face. "I saw this. I saw every detail. I know exactly how this is going to end. I've got it all planned out."
"Any chance I can get you to change your mind?" Carter asked weakly.
The other man just shook his head. "You see over there?" he asked, pointing in the direction of the couch. Carter turned his head to look, and thought he saw his brown turtleneck sweater lying across the back of it. "That's the clothes you're going to be wearing when they find you." The other man started to circle the chair Carter was sitting in, talking quietly, almost rhythmically. "There won't be a mark on you that they'll see, at least not immediately. Well, your wrists of course, but don't worry about that. I'll hide those rope marks well. It's going to take them a very long time to figure out exactly what happened to you. And by the time they do, well, you'll be dead, so it won't matter much any more."
"What?" Carter's eyes widened in fear. "Hey, now, look... I think you've taken this far enough, all right? Just...just untie me. Or don't even. Just leave. Just leave me here, and I'll forget about it."
"Right," was the sarcastic answer, followed by a tightening of the rope around his throat.
Carter tried instinctively to fight against it, pulling his arms and legs as hard as he could. He could feel the ropes bite into his wrists and ankles painfully. The pressure subsided suddenly, and Carter gasped for air, his already tortured lungs desperately craving oxygen. Between tortured breaths, Carter again silently begged for Peter to come busting through the door.
"I know where we're going today, Carter. But that doesn't mean I can't take a few detours along the way."
Carter felt the chair tip over, and he struggled to keep it from falling. The feeling of the chair slamming against his dislocated shoulder made him scream in agony, and the other man leaned down quickly to push a piece of duct tape across his mouth. "Time to shut up now, Carter."
The other man lifted his foot and kicked Carter in the ribs. "See, I did decide that I should get some small amount of pleasure out of this afternoon." The man pulled his foot back and kicked him again. Carter tried to scream once more, but only managed a muffled groan. After one more kick to Carter's chest and ribs, the other man stopped, and walked to the kitchen table.
"But, I'm afraid that I wasn't able to fit much extra time in. So now, it's time to get on with it."
Tears of pain and terror rolled down Carter's cheeks as he watched the other man hold the syringe up in front of his face. He pushed on the plunger slightly, and tapped the end of the needle with his fingernail. "I hope you don't mind. I didn't have any fentanyl or morphine lying around, so heroin will have to do." He smiled down at his horrified and helpless victim. "This won't hurt a bit. But you already know that."
Carter renewed his struggles, pulling against the ropes until he felt blood running down his hands and feet. He thrashed about so much that he could feel the ropes around his chest and neck starting to burn. He shook his head violently in protest and screamed until his throat was raw. It was a futile attempt, and both the grinning man with the syringe and the terrified man on the floor knew it.
Carter felt the sting of the needle as it pierced his skin, and the spreading warmth as the drug found its way through his bloodstream. 'Where the hell is Peter?' Carter's mind screamed. The other man simply stood and smiled down at him.
All Carter could do was close his eyes and try not to cry.
Carter jumped when he heard the door slam, letting his keys clatter to the floor, forgotten. He spun around quickly, adrenaline pumping through his veins.
He relaxed a bit in recognition of what he saw, and opened his mouth to speak. "What the...?"
An animalistic cry erupted from behind the door, and strong arms wrapped themselves around his ribs, tackling him to the floor and knocking the air out of his lungs. Carter felt his head slam against the heavy wooden floor, and he cried out in pain. His attacker was sitting on his chest now, pummeling his face and ribs with crazed blows.
It took only a second for Carter to clear the fog from his mind and raise his arms to defend himself. The pain that was radiating from his back was excruciating, but he continued to fight, pulling down against the maniac's arms and lifting his right knee at the same time, the movement and his own momentum just enough to throw the attacker off balance and send him tumbling to the floor.
Carter rolled and pushed against the floor, struggling to get to his feet. He lunged for the door, but the pain was shooting down his legs now and they wouldn't move. With another cry from the crazed lunatic, Carter found himself pinned to the floor again, this time face down. More weight than he would have imagined the attacker possessed pressed down against his lower spine, and knees ground themselves painfully into his elbows.
Carter felt a hand grab his hair, and the psychotic man on top of him jerked his head up from the floor roughly. Before Carter could speak, he saw the glint of the sun reflecting from the blade of the knife, and felt it pressed against his throat. The fear that flooded over him was more debilitating than the pain in his back.
"Don't do that again."
Carter swallowed hard and nodded slightly, not wanting to risk any sudden movement.
"Now stay still. You know what this would feel like buried in your back, Carter. And if you move again, that's exactly where it'll be."
Carter nodded again, afraid to speak, afraid even to move too much. He closed his eyes and concentrated on controlling the fear. With the exception of the past few minutes, he'd never needed to be afraid of this man. Something had obviously changed. He thought about Peter, sitting in the car outside, and began to pray that he did actually come upstairs before he left to get Cleo.
His attacker shifted his position on his back, moving his knees from Carter's elbows to his wrists. He then reached down and grabbed either side of Carter's shirt, pulling against the buttons that held it closed until the thread holding them broke. The man moved his knee from Carter's right wrist and pulled it up behind him, pulling the shirt free. He knelt down on the right elbow again, and repeated the process with the left arm.
Carter glanced to his right, and saw the knife lying on the floor in front of him. His fear of the blade was replaced momentarily with fear of what was happening, and he started struggling again. "Get off me!" he screamed, kicking his legs and pulling against his own arms. "Get the hell off me!"
In a heartbeat, the knife was at his throat again, and the man on his back was breathing on his neck. "Don't worry, Carter. You're not my type."
Once more, the man moved his knee from Carter's right arm, then reached down and grabbed his wrist, twisting it up behind him. Carter cried out again.
"I swear, Carter, if you don't shut up..."
"What?" Carter asked, his voice more defiant than he felt.
"I'll shut you up," was the simple answer.
Carter was trying to ignore the burning pain in his right shoulder when he felt the rope begin to wrap around his wrist. "No," he pleaded, trying to pull his arm free. The only reply was another shift in weight on his back, and his left arm being pulled up behind him in the same manner. "No, please..."
The dark-haired man stood and pulled Carter to his feet, using the rope as leverage. Carter leaned back slightly to relieve as much pressure on his shoulders as he could, and felt the knife pressed against his exposed throat again. The man dragged him back, away from the door, toward the kitchen.
"Take a seat, Carter," the man said calmly, spinning one of the chairs around and pushing Carter into it. His arms ended up behind the chair, and Carter felt the wood pressing against his tortured shoulders painfully.
"Are you..." Carter gasped, the pain and fear starting to overwhelm him. "Are you going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?" the other man asked. He wrapped a loose end of the rope around Carter's bare chest and tied it tightly.
"Tell me... what I did?" Carter was amazed at how difficult he was finding it to breathe, but he was determined not to show this person just how much pain he was in.
In response, Carter felt the rope again, this time around his throat. Carter panicked and tried to pull away, but the other man simply pulled back on the rope, cutting his air supply off completely. Carter kicked his legs wildly as his already constricted lungs screamed for oxygen.
"You stole my life," the man answered calmly. "You took everything I was, everything I loved, and you took it away from me. All because of... her. You just had to bring... her... into it, didn't you?"
As suddenly as it had begun, the pressure on his neck disappeared and Carter leaned forward as much as he could, coughing and gasping to fill his starving lungs.
"You're... insane!" Carter rasped.
The other man rolled his eyes and turned away. Carter leaned his head back against the chair and closed his own eyes. He never saw the other man spin around, fire shooting from his eyes, to swing the handle of the knife toward him.
The chair tipped from the force of the blow, landing with an audible pop against Carter's left shoulder. Carter screamed in renewed pain, closing his eyes against it, knowing instantly that his shoulder had been dislocated from the impact. "Peter... help me," he whispered.
"You just don't get it, Carter. You can't even imagine what it's like to lose everything." The man kicked him in the ribs hard, and smiled when Carter did no more than moan in response. "But you will."
The pain, the fear, and the lack of oxygen proved too much for Carter, and he saw spots dancing at the edges of his vision. As he succumbed to the welcoming darkness, two words escaped his lips.
"Dave... why?"