He smirks faintly, but his focus remains on the vent above him. “I’m resourceful.”
Ghost balances carefully on the table, using the edge of the penny to unscrew the cover of the vent. His hands move deftly, the cuffs barely slowing him down while he works.
“Did you plan this?” I ask.
“Plan?” he echoes, glancing at me briefly. “Not exactly. Anticipate? Always.”
“Ghost—”
“Dr. Andrews, if I explained every brilliant move I’ve made, we’d be here all day.”
I glare at him before resuming my vigilance by staring at the door. “Whatever.”
“If you’re impressed, just say so. It’s not every day you see a man dismantle prison security with spare change.”
I release a sigh, the sound a mixture of the disbelief and irritation gathering in my chest. “You’re insane.”
“I prefer the term ‘innovator.’ Insanity is just what the unimaginative call genius.”
He chuckles softly, the sound maddeningly calm. However, not once does he stop rotating the penny to loosen the screws. The first one falls into his waiting palm.
A rubber sole squeaks against the floor right before someone tests the door handle to my room. It rattles twice more. I stop breathing until the person walks away, his shoes announcing his retreat.
Ghost’s attention shifts to me. “Everything’s fine. I’ve got this.”
I swallow hard, my mind reeling. “How can you—”
A loud bang makes me jump; it’s the unmistakable sound of someone’s fist hitting a surface. Ghost and I both look at the door and then each other. Another violent impact shakes the hinges, the sound reverberating through the room.
“Open the door, bitch!”
My blood turns to ice as I rush to grab the chair and return to my position with my back against the wall. It’s not a baseball bat, but it’ll have to do.
“What about my interview, Doctor?” The man laughs maniacally, making my skin crawl. “You think I can’t get to you in there?”
The man’s voice grows louder, more insistent, as he continues to shout obscenities and threats. The only thing keeping him at bay is the door and me armed with a chair. Ghost won’t even look at me, his focus fully on the vent as he works methodically with the penny.
The odds are not in my favor.
Finally, Ghost pauses, turning his head to glance at me. His expression is cold enough to make me shiver. “If they get through that door, they’ll regret it.”
For the first time in my life, I’m glad to have a serial killer on my side.
The banging grows louder until the door handle falls to the ground with a loud clang. My breath catches, my heart pounding in my chest as I glance between Ghost and the door.
“You’re still handcuffed!” I whisper. “How are you going to stop him?”
Ghost turns back to the vent, his movements precise as he continues loosening the final screw. “Oh, Dr. Andrews,” he says, his tone chiding. “Handcuffs aren’t a limitation. They’re just an inconvenience. Have you forgotten my arraignment already?”
“The innocent man you killed in court? No, I haven’t.”
“Deputy Wilson wasn’t innocent.” Ghost makes a face of disgust. “He beat his wife every day. I did her a favor while proving a point to the judge. Win-win.”
I press myself against the wall, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions roiling inside me. There’s confusion, anger, and a flicker of something disturbingly close to understanding.
The door slams open with a deafening crash that makes me cry out. A wild-eyed inmate with a stocky build stumbles inside before slamming the door shut. His face is flushed with exertion, his chest heaving, and he’s gripping a jagged piece of metal that’s been fashioned into a weapon.
His eyes land on me and it takes everything in me not to cower. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He leers at me. “It’s been a long time since I’ve smelled pussy.”
