The room spun, and I barely kept my bearings as everything inside me shattered.
42
Palmer
Mybodydidn’tfeellike mine.
That was the first thing my mind latched on to as consciousness clawed its way back through the thick, heavy fog in my head.
Something was wrong.
Where was I?
A dull pounding throbbed behind my eyes, making my stomach roll. The ceiling above me swam in and out of focus. A dim light flickered from somewhere, and the stench of dust and old oil filled the air.
My tongue felt thick and dry, my mouth coated with the bitter aftertaste of something chemical I couldn’t place.
I tried to move, but the room tilted. Sharp pain shot through my shoulders. My muscles screamed in protest, stiff and cramped. My wrists and ankles throbbed.
My thoughts stuttered, dragging sluggishly as I tried to focus.
For a few disorienting seconds, my brain couldn’t make sense of what my body was trying to tell it. My limbs wouldn’t move the way they should. My arms were trapped close to my body, my legs pulled tight together.
Rough fibers scraped my skin, digging into my wrists.Rope.Panic flickered through me as I realized my wrists were bound.
My ankles were tied too, the coarse strands biting into the thin bones there.
Another length of rope connected them, running between my wrists and my ankles, forcing my body into an awkward position that kept me folded and helpless.
My tongue pressed against thick cloth wedged between my teeth. The fabric tasted stale and dusty. The material cut into the corners of my mouth.
A gag.
For a moment, my mind refused to process it all. The thought hovered out of reach, blurred and distant, like everything else in the room, until it slammed into me.
My heart lurched into my throat. The fog in my head shattered.
This was how the victims were held. The Shadow Stalker’s victims had been tied up and gagged like this.
A cold wave of panic surged through my body. My breathing sped up, each breath shallow and uneven around the cloth in my mouth.
I was lying on something hard, though I wasn’t on the ground. A desk maybe? An old wooden one that was large and heavy. My shoulder ached from the way my weight pressed on it awkwardly.
My head throbbed as I turned it to the side.
The room around me swam, but the shapes began to sharpen as my vision adjusted. It was an office of some kind, but it was filthy. Papers littered the floor in curling yellow piles. Filing cabinets leaned crookedly against the walls, and several drawers hung open like broken jaws. Dust clung to everything, thick enough to choke on.
The entire front wall of the office were panes of streaked and grimy glass. Beyond them, a massive open space stretched out below. It looked like an old factory of some kind. Rusted machinery sat frozen in place along the cavernous floor. Broken equipment lay scattered between dark oil stains. A metal catwalk cut across one side, its railing bent in places, stretching below the room I was in.
Movement caught my eye, and I tensed. Near the corner of the office, someone paced back and forth, muttering softly.
Nolan.
His boots scraped on what was left of the peeling flooring as he dragged his hands repeatedly through his hair.
I stared at him, my thoughts still slow to catch up.
This was Nolan. Roman’s brother-in-law. Hailey’s uncle. What was he doing here?
