And then the tape is gone, my mouth is open. Something is sucking out the blood. I’m tipped over on my side and I can’t stop myself from coughing. The liquid comes back up, out of my lungs, and my mouth is filled with the taste of copper and iron.

I don’t know how long I stay like that. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. But some time later I realize the man is sitting next to me. Not touching me, but very close.

“You’re OK,” he says.

But I’m not OK. Because I’m still alive and all I want right now is for it to end.

“I won’t have to gag you if you don’t scream. In fact, I think silence is best for you. So you can recover.”

Right. Because that makes sense.

“If you don’t talk you don’t need the gag.”

I’m A-OK with no talking so I just stay silent.

“Good girl. You’re a good girl.”

I drag myself up from the memory and roll it around in my head. “Good girl,” I whisper. Did I realize this was what he used to call me when Vaughn came up with that nickname?

I don’t think so. I haven’t thought about this stuff in years. I really didn’t suffer any long-term effects from my hostage abduction. I put it behind me. I moved on. I forgot.

The man’s heavy footsteps approach and I’m regretting not moving the mattress so I can see his feet through the crack under the door. But he’s here now. It makes no difference.

He unlocks the door and opens it. “We have to run some tests. I need you to get up.”

I roll onto my knees again, and then rock back and forth until I can stand with my bound hands.

“I’m going to untie you, but if you try anything funny, if you hurt yourself, or try to run, I will be forced to take matters seriously.”

God, that phrase. I haven’t heard that phrase since…

“Do you understand?”

I nod and look him in the face. The Invisible Man mask looks high-quality. It doesn’t look fake at all. It doesn’t look like it’s made out of rubber. It looks like it’s a face with bandages wrapped around it.

“I do understand,” I tell him back in an even voice.

And I do. I understand completely. If he thinks I’m some weak little girl who’d rather off herself than live, he’s got a surprise coming.

I’m not interested in dying to erase my pain and I’m not interested in playing his game.

This time, he’s going to play mine.

Chapter Five

“MR. Asher, tell me again. The last time you saw Miss Kinsella was…”

I know I should have a lawyer, because they are treating me like a suspect. But I just don’t have time for that. “I told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“Vaughn¸” Conner calls out from the doorway.

“Let him in, that’s my brother,” I call back, only I’m talking to the policeman standing guard at the door. The media has gone crazy outside. The entire street is covered with reporters and cameras.

“This is a crime scene, Mr. Asher.”

“This is my building, Officer…” I look down at his badge. “Torrino. And you have no warrant. So feel free to get one of those before you start ordering me around. Let him through,” I say again, only this time my frustration comes off as anger.

“It’s Detective Torrino, Mr. Asher. And I can get a warrant if you’d like to be difficult. One phone call.”

“OK, we’re done here. You go make that call, asshole.” I place my fingers on my tongue and let off a shrill whistle to break up the chatter. “Everyone out unless you work for me. Thank you. Goodbye. Come back with the paperwork and I’ll get a hold of my lawyers.”

“You’ll compromise her safety so you can pull the movie-star card?”

“Fuck you, Torrino. I’m the one who called you, remember? I’m the one who told you what happened to her ten years ago. What she told me. What I found out.”

“What you found out illegally, you mean.”

“It’s not illegal to ask questions. It is illegal to answer them when you’re supposed to be silent. So you’re gonna want to go talk to whomever you think told us Miss Kinsella’s information and threaten them. Get out.”

“Vaughn, you don’t want to alienate the cops.” Conner, of all people—the middle child who alienates everyone—is suddenly the voice of reason.

“If they’re going to concentrate on me instead of the freak who kidnapped her ten years ago, then yes. I really do.”

“Just hold on,” Conner says to the detective, pushing me backwards with a hand to my chest. “Come on, let’s go talk somewhere private.”

Conner leads me upstairs, but I have no idea where to go. Grace’s apartment is bustling with police. The roof is filled with them too. There’s nowhere to go to get some privacy. I feel trapped inside this building. We settle for the second-story laundry room. I flip on the lights as I enter and Conner closes the door behind him.

“I don’t want Felicity to get busted for doing your dirty work.”

“What?” I’m not sure I heard that right. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“If they start digging around, I don’t want Felicity to take your fall.”

I stare at him, seething from the inside out. “Who the fuck do you think you are, lecturing me about Felicity? She’s my kid.”