His head hurt. That was the first thing he was aware of, the pain in the back of his head. He knew it had only been a glancing blow but it had done the trick. He had no idea how long he'd been out but even before he could open his eyes, he realized that he was in a sitting position and that he couldn't move his arms; they were pinned behind his back. Something else was wrapped tightly around his chest. His hands were tingling and his right thumb and index finger were stinging slightly. His shoulders felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets and he knew his forearms were lashed together behind the back of a chair. He tried to move his legs, but they were tightly secured as well.
His mouth was taped shut, as were his eyes. He was dragging deep breaths in through his nose as he as he tried to slow his pounding heart, his ears straining to catch anything that could tell him what the hell was going on.
He heard a soft whimper and froze, holding his breath. He knew it was Linda and his heart began to pound even louder. He tried to move, jerking his entire body in an attempt to shift the chair but it wouldn't budge. The cry that forced its way from his throat into his clenched jaw sounded more like the scream of a dangerous and trapped wild animal as his thrashing escalated.
The throbbing in the back of his head and the pain in his shoulders intensified, as did his frustration, and he finally gave up, sagging in the chair, trying to control his growing paranoia. What had he gotten himself into? Why didn't he take the few extra seconds to leave a message on Mike's answering machine?
His chin on his chest, taking deep, slow breaths through his nose to hopefully ease the agony, he sat perfectly still, trying to figure out where he was. He knew from Linda's whimper he was still in the garage, but where exactly…?
Then, suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching, someone walking on linoleum. The office, he thought, I'm in the office. They got closer and he could sense someone standing in front of him. There was a brief silence before the tape over his mouth was roughly pulled off, taking some of the soft skin at the corners of his mouth with it. He pulled his head back, wincing in pain and shock.
The silence continued. He lifted his head and looked in what he thought was the right direction. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice hoarse but strong.
There were three more footsteps as whoever it was walked slowly from one side to the other and he followed the movement defiantly. "Who are you?" he demanded again and was rewarded with a soft chuckle.
His head snapped back; it was a female voice.
"What? You haven't figured it out yet?" The voice was indeed feminine but deep and gravelly, with an unnerving calm. It was a voice he didn't recognize.
"Figured what out?"
"Oh, come on… Don't you talk to your partner anymore?"
He didn't respond, his mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out what she was implying. "What do you mean?"
There was a sarcastic snort. "He knows who I am… Well, he knows what I look like; he doesn't know who I am yet. Well, not really…"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The dog… the ball…?" There was a heavy and pointed sigh. "Good lord, you really don't know what's going on, do you?"
He set his jaw, refusing to rise to the bait.
"That 'accident' you two had, the one that really wasn't an accident…?" The tone was that of a frustrated teacher trying to get through to a particularly dense student. "Wow, he really kept you out of the loop, didn't he? Doesn't he trust you anymore? Or did he think that your girlfriend's role in it wasn't just… oh, I don't know, serendipity…?"
He froze, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps through his nose. "What have you done to Linda?" he asked softly, trying to control the trembling in his voice, not wanting to give in to the fear that was threatening to overwhelm him.
He felt the woman step closer and suddenly and painfully the tape was pulled from his eyes. His head snapped back from the shock and the pain and he squeezed his eyes tightly closed for a long beat before he opened them. He could see instantly that he was in the centre of the office, the bright overhead lights on, facing the open door. As his eyes adjusted, he could see what before had only been a diffuse glow; Linda was tied to a chair in a similar manner about thirty yards away, under a single, extremely bright industrial lamp attached to the high ceiling. She was slumped, her head down, but he could see her heavy breathing; she was still alive.
"Linda!" escaped his lips involuntarily and he heard a soulless chuckle near his right ear.
His head snapped in that direction and he stared into the cold, dark brown eyes of a woman he didn't recognize. She was older than him; heavy-set, with shoulder-length dirty brown hair and a slightly crooked nose. She grinned coldly at him. "Surprise!" she said in a sarcastic sing-song. Her eyes flashed briefly in Linda's direction and she chuckled again. "Don't worry, she's not dead. Not yet anyway. And that's all going to depend on how… cooperative you're going to be in the next, oh, hour or so…" She chuckled again.
He stared at her defiantly. "Who are you?"
Flashing a broad grin, as if pleased with his obvious contempt, she put her hands on her hips. It was then he noticed she was wearing latex gloves and every muscle in his body tensed. "Well, your partner thinks I'm someone named Mary Leary," she laughed caustically. "I don't think he knows who I really am yet," she mumbled under her breath.
Steve stared at her, shaking his head slightly, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what this was all about. "What do you want from us?"
She stopped laughing and frowned, her head going back slightly, as if surprised. "From 'us'? No no no, you've got it all wrong. It's you, Steven… it's always been just you. Linda and Mike are just… pawns I guess you could call them. Something to play around with." She snorted. "Geez, I thought you would've figured that out by now."
Knowingly taking the bait, he clenched his jaw before asking, "Figured what out?"
She looked at him like a disappointed mother. "Really? And you call yourself a detective?" She snorted derisively. "All right," she sighed in another singsong, "I guess I'll have to give you a more obvious clue…" She stepped closer to him, leaning forward and staring right into his face. "Has Mike bought a new couch yet?" She smiled enigmatically.
He frowned then his eyes shot wide. "Nicole…?" he breathed, as if not believing what he was saying.
Her face split into a wide grin and she laughed, taking a step back. "Give that man a cigar!"
He stared at her, trying to see his tormentor in this person standing before him. She gave him time then chuckled conspiratorially. "It's been what? Almost a year, right? It took awhile to perfect this look. I knew I had it right when Mike didn't recognized me, and he really should've. I mean after all, I made his life a living hell there for awhile, didn't I?" She took a step back and gestured at herself like a diva. "So what do you think?"
He continued to stare, trying to keep his expression neutral though revulsion, fear and guilt were all vying for the upper hand. He knew exactly what she was capable of and how good she could be at achieving whatever goal she had planned. And he knew she didn't make mistakes.
She laughed again. "Like I said, it took awhile to perfect this look. You know, after all those years of counting calories and watching what I ate, I just let myself go. It was very… liberating. And then I knew I had to do something about my nose so my profile wouldn't be recognized. That turned out to be the easy part. I pretended to get drunk in a bar one night - I won't tell you where - and I started a fight with another woman… an Amazon, really. But, surprisingly, she had to hit me in the face more than once before she broke my nose." She rolled her eyes in exasperation, with a mirth-filled snort. "I set it myself," she giggled, turning her head so he could see her profile and touching the tip of her nose. "Can't you tell?"
She looked at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for his reaction, but he managed to control his anger and keep his mouth shut.
With a faux frustrated sigh, she smiled again. "Then I had to change my voice, of course. That turned out to be the easiest thing of all, actually. I just started smoking. I mean, it didn't start out easy, those damn cigarettes made me sick, but I persevered." She chuckled proudly. "Managed to get myself up to two packs a day at my peak." She leaned forward, staring into his unblinking eyes, and whispered, "I've managed to cut back… lung cancer, you know…". She straightened up. "Well, enough about me. I bet you're curious to know what this is all about, right?" She gestured nonchalantly around herself, doing a frightening little pirouette.
"What do you want from me?"
She stopped moving and looked at him. "I know I told you it was all about you but geez, you could let me have a little more fun before begging me to tell you." She sounded genuinely miffed.
"Why did you kidnap Linda? Just to lure me here?" He tried to keep the trembling out of his voice as he snapped a quick glance in his girlfriend's direction. As far as he could tell, she hadn't moved.
"It worked, didn't it? Look, I already told you she isn't dead… not yet. But her… fate is in your hands. And after all, how could I have got you here without bait? And your partner's off on some wild goose chase, thanks to me."
"What do you mean 'wild goose chase?"
She frowned at him. "He really didn't tell you what he's been doing, did he?" When he didn't respond, she smiled like the cat that ate the canary. "Well, well, well, isn't that interesting? You really don't know he was investigating your girlfriend, do you?" She leaned forward and patted his cheek condescendingly. "Poor lamb…" She straightened up, shaking her head as she tsk'ed, watching the tendons in his jaw clench.
"What do you want from me?" he repeated, staring her down.
Taking a deep breath, she let it out in another frustrated sigh. "You really don't want to let me revel in my… accomplishments, do you? Very well, let's get started," she mumbled enigmatically as she moved behind the chair. "You and I have to go for a little ride."
"What do you mean 'a little ride'?" He turned his head to try to see what she was doing behind him.
"I need you to make a phone call."
He could feel her starting to untie whatever was around his chest. "Why do we have to take a ride?"
He heard her chuckle. "Do you see a working phone around here? I don't. Besides, it won't do any of us any good if a call gets traced to here, now would it?" She was tugging harder than she needed to at the rough baling twine. "After all, we can't get the party started until Mike joins us, now can we?"
