“You must be thirsty, after all that smoke.” He reached out, offering the water to her. “Here, take it.” The voice was unfamiliar, muffled by the mask. Ana tried to place him—Dankman? Benny? She couldn’t fit the pieces together; her thoughts were all over the place.
Ana didn’t know what to do. Here she was, alone and face-to-facewith the man who wanted to kill them. She suddenly became very aware of the danger of her situation. Underground, in a locked bunker with a psychopath. No one else knew the code to get in.
Odds were, she wouldn’t leave here alive.
The man moved towards her very slowly, water still held out in front of him, other hand raised as though he was approaching a cornered animal.
Fight-or-flight time. Ana looked around, her vision sharpened, her instincts kicked in.
She swung around, holding the free weight in front of her like a weapon.
“Stay back!” Her voice cracked—it was raspy from the smoke. She fought the impulse to cough.
The figure stopped. He was less than five feet away. One of the bulbs was directly above his head now, illuminating him. For the first time, Ana could see him clearly.
He was wearing baggy sweatpants and white sneakers with a gray collared shirt. There was still nothing remotely familiar about him. He was unnervingly average. Ana was surprised—somehow in her head Bates had grown into mythic proportions. She would have been less surprised if a chainsaw-wielding murderer had jumped out at her. Not this.
But then, weren’t serial killers often nondescript dad-next-door types who befriended their victims right before chopping them up for breakfast? She’d listened to enough true-crime podcasts to know not to let her guard down. This man had watched them suffer. He was a sick, twisted psycho, and there was no telling what he was capable of in person.
She tightened her grip on the weight.
“Okay. I won’t come any closer,” he said. His accent wasmiddle-American, nothing distinctive. He bent forward and put the water bottle on the floor. Her mind raced. She needed to play for time and figure this out. She scanned the roof and walls searching for the hatch, but there was nothing. How had he appeared from nowhere? The exit had to be on his side.
She nodded at the water bottle.
“I…I’d like water. But you need to move back. You’re too close.” Her voice sounded weak from all the coughing. But that could work for her. If he thought she was injured, it might create a false sense of security.
The man nodded and moved away, walking backwards around the crate, his eyes on her at all times. When he reached the chair, he sat down and unclipped his radio from his belt, setting it on the chessboard in front of him. He propped his elbows on the board next to it, still facing her, his white mask glowing like a macabre, grinning face in the artificial light.
Ana took a quick step forward. Resting the weight on the floor within easy reach, she picked up the water and took a long grateful sip.
“Thank you,” she said when she was done, putting the bottle down again and retrieving the weight. It seemed ridiculous to thank a psychotic killer for giving her water, but it felt right. He would like it; it would appeal to his ego and show compliance—she was playing his game.
He was about ten feet away. At that distance, she’d have a head start if he came for her.
“I should say I’m not surprised that you figured out the code. You always were a smart one—by far the best on the debate team. I always thought you’d be the one to watch out for,” he added, nodding to himself. “And now, finally…here we are. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time—Ana Reyes.”
She started at the sound of her name. Of course he knew her. Heknew all of them, didn’t he? He even knew what she’d done and exactly why she was here. The man sat back in the chair and stretched out his arms, making himself comfortable. The light caught him at an angle, and for the first time, Ana noticed there were thin orange stripes on his gray shirt and a small orange logo on his chest pocket. Two letters:HT.
She gasped; her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Orange and gray.Orange-and-gray striped polo shirts.The eighth photo on the board.
Suddenly she had it. She’d seen him before. Things fell into place, like dominos in a row, one after the other. It all made sense.
She knew who he was. She knew who Bates was.
Ana fixed him with her eyes, her expression cold.
“I wish I could say the same. Is it Bates…or should I call you Mr. Hunt?”
37
Alex
39:41
As Ellis tied the lamp cord to the knot on the death machine, Alex watched disinterestedly, as though from a distance. He was calm and silent, wrapped up in his thoughts.
An idea had grabbed hold of him. Something he’d thought about a lot after Danny died.
