"William?"
Silence.
Maybe he didn't hear me.
Maybe he's already on the table, face down, relaxed.
I open the door slowly.
"I'm coming in?—"
The room is empty.
The massage table is bare—no sheet pulled back, no client lying face down.
Just empty space.
Confusion floods through me.
"Hello? William?"
I step inside, looking around.
Maybe he's in the attached bathroom?
Maybe he?—
The door slams shut behind me.
I spin around.
He's there.
Behind the door.
Where he was waiting.
"Hello, Ingrid."
I open my mouth to scream.
His hand clamps over it before any sound escapes.
Cold metal presses against my throat.
A knife.
"Don't scream," he says, his breath hot against my ear. "Don't move. Don't do anything stupid, and maybe—maybe—I'll let you live."
Terror.
Pure, absolute terror floods my system.
I can't breathe.
Can't think.
Can't do anything except stand frozen with his hand over my mouth and a blade at my throat.
