“Are you all right, Miss Somerville?”

Reed jumped back as a security guard approached from the left. She pressed her fingers to her lips.

“Miss Somerville? Is everything okay here?

She struggled to speak. “No, I . . .”

“See you later, Phoebe.” Reed straightened his tie, then crossed the hallway to the skybox. He turned and gave her a smirk. “Thanks for that cherry pie.” Opening the door, he disappeared inside.

She pressed her hand to her stomach. The security guard took her arm.

“Everything’s going to be all right, Miss. Let me help you.”

She moved like a robot at his side as he drew her down the hallway. The memories of that terrible night came crashing back. There had been no windows in the metal shed, and the heat trapped inside had been thick and heavy. When he’d opened the door, she’d seen only a hulking male silhouette against slick black sheets of rain. She’d assumed it was Craig, but she hadn’t seen his face.

He’d been on her before she could move. He’d torn her blouse and bitten one of her breasts like an animal. She remembered the roughness of the uneven concrete floor scraping her bare buttocks as he had pushed up her skirt and ripped off her underpants. Her head had banged into a chemical drum when he’d spread her apart. He had made a guttural sound as he’d pushed into her, but after that, the only sounds she could remember were her own screams.

The floor gave out beneath her and her head shot up. For a moment she was disoriented, and then she realized the security guard had led her into an elevator. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to first aid.”

“I’m all right. I don’t need first aid.”

“You’re white as a sheet. I don’t know what that guy was trying to pull, but maybe you should lie down for a few minutes until you feel better.”

She started to protest but realized she wasn’t in any condition to go back to the skybox right then. A few minutes away from curious eyes would give her a chance to pull herself back together. “All right. Just for a bit.”

As the elevator continued to descend, she smelled cigarette smoke on the guard’s uniform, and another wave of nausea came over her because it reminded her of Reed. She was overcome by a sense of helplessness. He was going to get away with this. He was right. Too much time had passed for her to be able to make accusations.

The security guard began to hack. He was overweight, probably in his early fifties, with grizzled hair and a florid complexion. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. She read his name printed in block letters on his plastic tag. “You should give up those cigarettes, Mr. Hardesty.”

“Yeah.”

The elevator doors slid open. She saw the pipes overhead and realized they were in some sort of subbasement. “Where are we?”