I chase my little mouse down the driveway, over the manicured lawn. Up the hill and toward the gates. I could overtake her easily, but I don’t, not yet. I like this.
Just before she reaches the border of the property, I speed up and a moment later, I tackle her to the ground. She lands with ahard thud. It knocks the wind out of her and my weight on top of hers doesn’t help her catch her breath.
I lean up on my elbows.
“Now look what you’ve done,” I say, my voice low. “Dirtied my coat. Your clothes.”
“Please don’t hurt me!” Her voice is loud, it cuts into the night.
I look at her face. Watch her struggle. I let her. Let her tire herself out.
The ground is cold, frozen with the temperatures we’ve been having. I get up on my knees, keep her trapped with my thighs on either side of her hips. When she tries to push me off, I take her wrists and drag her arms over her head, transfer them into one of mine as I lean in close to her.
“Are you ready to do as you’re told?” I ask.
She tries to pull free. Fails.
“Natalie? Are you ready to do as you’re told?”
“If I go in there, are you going to hurt me?”
“If I were going to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done it at the warehouse?”
She stops, considers that.
“Why bring you to my house? DNA and all?”
Her eyes widen at that.
“I’m kidding. Christ. And I don’twantto hurt you, but I will if I have to.”
She swallows, her eyes cautious on mine.
“We’re going to go inside and get this done and if you do as I say, you’ll be home in no time. You can make it easy or you can make it hard. Up to you.”
She just keeps staring.
“Understand?” I ask.
She nods.
“Just to be clear, if you run again, that’ll be making it hard, understand?”
“Yes.”
I get to my feet and hold out my hand. She ignores it and gets up on her own and this time, when I walk up to the house, she follows.
The house is dark apart from one dim lamp in the living room and the light over the stove in the kitchen. I turn to my guest who’s looking around in awe.
I guess it is an impressive house. Big, old, but completely renovated with an imposing staircase dead center, the kitchen to the left, living room taking up the back half of the house, my study on the right. All the windows are leaded, and it lends a dark, almost gothic feel to the house.
“It’s pretty,” she says when she turns to find me watching her.
“Thanks.”
I take off my coat and hang it up then wait for her to give me hers. It’s a puffer jacket and although I felt how small she was at the warehouse, she’s almost petite when she’s left in her Henley and jeans.
I walk into the living room and she follows. I go directly to the liquor cabinet and get the whiskey and two tumblers. She’s standing at the entrance looking at everything, nervously pulling the sleeves of her shirt down to tuck her thumb through the holes at the wrists.
