I listened to the angry moan of the wind as it grappled with branches that wouldn’t give in. I took a breath and felt my throat sting in a way that was terribly familiar.

“A year and a half ago, I was abducted.” The words hung in the air like black smoke with no visible source. Part of me wished they would scare him away, but Tim didn’t move. Behind me in the parlor I heard a hard clink as the mouth of a wine bottle met the rim of a glass. The sound shot up my spine, but I focused on Tim’s eyes and pushed onward.

“The guy who did it stabbed three women and then came after me,” I said.

“I should have been his fourth.”

TWENTY-FIVE

I woke up reeking of beer. Ran my hands down my body in search of pain. The room was dark with a seam of light visible under the door. I crawled to it and rattled the handle. Locked.

Then came Bram. He carried an oil-soaked sack of takeout, set it on the dirty cement floor, and flicked on the light. From his messenger bag he pulled a water bottle that dripped with condensation. My mouth was cotton-dry and tasted vile. I wanted that water so bad I could feel it splash over my tongue and numb my teeth, but one at a time the memories scrambled to the surface. Our banter. The drinks. He’d drugged me. Bram drugged them all.

“You hungry?” he said, sitting cross-legged on the floor. The smell wafting from the paper bag provoked a gut-twisting reaction in me, a feeling dangerously close to carnal. He knew I’d be starving and had picked the most fragrant dishes he could think of, so the part of my brain wired for survival would compel me to eat. What if he’d drugged the food, too?

“Don’t be scared, Shay.”

Without a second’s hesitation, I lunged. Threw my weight into the strike and landed it on his jaw. I’d trained for this, hours upon hours of self-defense and martial arts. No sooner did I feel my knuckles connect than he was on me, his hands tight around my throat.

“That was uncalled for,” he said as he pulled me down to his level. I hit the floor with a thud and a groan. “Don’t you ever fucking do that again. We know each other, remember?” He knelt beside me, and his finger traced my scar. “Soon we’ll know each other better.” Bram sat back down and cracked his jaw. “Here, look, I’ll start. I love Thai food and long walks in the park. Your turn. Where are you from?”

The Ninth Precinct, you fucker, and my squad’s going to tear you apart. “Vermont,” I croaked, my throat agonizingly raw. “Swanton.” I searched his face for something recognizable that went beyond our time at the pub. I tried to see past his features, to parse the characteristics he couldn’t easily alter and compare those to the high school boys I’d known back home. Looking at Bram lifted the hair on my neck. I felt it when we met at O’Dwyer’s, and here it was again. No question about it. I knew him.