“He went to the bathroom. Left me with Fidget and Muscle. I couldn’t get away. I was tied to the chair. I think he was gone for fifteen minutes. Maybe longer. When he came back, he asked me for my user ID and password again.”
“And you didn’t give it to him?” This was also from Morris.
“No. That’s when he broke my ring finger. Same way as before. Snapped it like a twig. Then he went onto my back porch and smoked a cigarette. He was gone longer. Maybe thirty minutes. Time started to blur. There are a lot of nerve endings in your fingers, and mine were swelling.”
Morris muttered a string of expletives. Gil closed his eyes for a moment before fixing his gaze on hers. “What happened when he came inside?”
“He asked me again. I asked him why he needed to know. He grabbed my thumb and burned the tip and the base with a cigarette.”
Ivy couldn’t stop her legs from trembling. She didn’t want to show any weakness. Not in front of Morris. And not in front of Gil. But if she didn’t get the rest of it out and fast, she might collapse or throw up—or both.
“Like I mentioned earlier, some of our work is sensitive. One arm of our research tapped into an area that got a lot of attention from the Defense Department. We aren’t actively pursuing it right now, but it’s on our servers. I don’t know if that’s what they wanted or not, but there was no way I was going to hand it over.”
“Dr. Collins.” Morris pulled in a deep breath. “How did you expect it was going to end? Did you have any reason to believe help was coming?”
“I didn’t know. I don’t know what to tell you, Detective Morris. All I could do was pray God would send someone. I can’t say I was praying with much faith. But I did know if he kept breaking my fingers, I was going to pass out. I’d had nothing to eat, and I was tired, in shock, and in a tremendous amount of pain. The body will shut down in a situation like that.”
“I didn’t think you were a medical doctor.” Morris didn’t sound nearly as antagonistic as before, but his words still had an edge.
“I’m not. But I have a PhD in bioengineering, and my professional life is spent working with amputees. In some cases the amputations were done in a hospital with anesthesia. But we have many clients who lost limbs in horrific circumstances. Bombs, accidents, war. Because of that, I’ve studied the psychological and physiological response to pain. I knew I was going into shock, even before he whipped out his curling iron of misery. When he burned my shoulder, I must have passed out. When I woke up, they’d removed the ropes from my arms and legs and laid me out on the floor. I guess they were trying to get me to come to.”
For a few mind-shattering seconds, Ivy was back on the floor. Her burned flesh assaulting her senses. She could see the burning device as it moved toward her arm. Hear it sizzle against her skin. Taste the agony on her tongue as her body recoiled from the intense heat and pain. Then, the smell became overpowering. That was the last thing she remembered until she woke.
“Look who’s back.” Her tormenter’s eyes were dead. Cold. He was going to kill her soon if she didn’t give him what he wanted. She prayed but wasn’t able to stop the tears that leaked from her eyes and ran across her temples and into her hair.
“I think you might be ready to talk to me now. And if you aren’t, you’ll learn firsthand what it’s like to lose a finger.” He turned to the skinny guy. “Get her up and in the chair.”
Her entire body shook, and she couldn’t stop it. She prayed. And prayed. And prayed. And she was certain God wasn’t going to answer her prayers. She was going to die.
“Ivy?” Gil wasn’t standing against the wall anymore. He was kneeling beside her. One hand on the back of her chair. One hand on her bouncing knee. Not trying to stop it from bouncing, just squeezing it gently. A reminder that she wasn’t alone.
“That’s when you came in.” The worst was over. Well, almost. She could do this. “They must have heard something. I don’t know what, but they disappeared and left me sitting at the table. I didn’t know what was happening, but I decided no one was going to tie me down again. I keep a gun in my kitchen. I ran to the drawer, pulled it out, and waited.”
“The gun registered?” Morris asked, somehow not sounding like a jerk when he said it.
“It is.”
“Thank heaven.” He kept writing.
“When I saw you, I thought they had all run away, but then I saw him sneaking behind you. I was afraid if I yelled, he would shoot you before you had a chance to turn. So ... I shot him.”
She shot the man who’d been torturing her. In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t felt glee or joy. Only fear for Gil. Because he was definitely her Gil grown up. With a badge at his waist and a gun in his hand. He was the fulfillment of the heady combination of a lifetime of wishing and an intense hour of praying.
“You shot him left-handed?” At those words from Morris, Ivy turned to the detective. She didn’t think it was her imagination that he was pale. When had that happened?
“They broke fingers on my right hand, but I’m a lefty. And I’m a very good shot.”
GIL STOODand took a step back. “I thought you were going to shoot me.”
Ivy’s eyes widened at his remark. “If I hadn’t been sure I could make the shot, I wouldn’t have taken it. But I couldn’t bring myself to aim for his chest. I know that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Center mass? But...” Ivy closed her eyes.
“You were aiming for his shoulder?”
“Yes.”
Gil couldn’t stop the chuckle. “Then you’re anexcellentshot.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” Ivy turned her attention to Morris. “That I shot him? I did it on purpose, and I didn’t give him an opportunity to lay down his weapon.”
