“They could be anywhere.” John grabbed the list of abandoned properties off the console. “We gotta find her, Glock. She’s in trouble.” Starting the engine, he pulled onto the street. “Where do I look?”

“There’s an abandoned motel off of Route 62 out of Millersburg. I’m heading that way now. You’re closer to Killbuck. There’s a house there that’s on this list.”

John squinted down at his list, frustrated because he wasn’t familiar with the area. “Goddamnit, we need more manpower.”

“Pickles and Skid are out looking. We’ll find her.”

John ended the call and made the turn onto State Route 754. The township of Killbuck was ahead, the abandoned house just beyond. The snow made for agonizingly slow travel. Visibility had dwindled, making it difficult to see the road. Even the telephone poles and road signs were invisible. In a few hours travel would be impossible.

He squinted through the windshield at the swirling maelstrom beyond. “Where are you, Kate?” he whispered.

The only answer was the steady beat of the wipers and the echo of his own fear.

CHAPTER 35

I watch him remove my boots. Around me, the old house creaks and moans against the storm raging outside. Even with the heater turned on high, the room is cold. My legs and arms shake uncontrollably. I can no longer tell if it’s from the cold or from the endless stream of terror coursing through me. I recall my last conversation with John, and I wonder if he believed me about Detrick. I wonder of he’s looking for me. If anyone’s looking for me. Or if I’ll end up like the others.

Detrick sets my boots aside and looks at me. Even in the dim light, I see the hunger burning bright and hot in his eyes. I’m so repulsed my stomach threatens to rebel.

“You’re shaking,” he says. “I like that. I like it a lot.”

I look at him dead-on, trying to conjure anger, anything but this fear that’s beating me down. “It was you that night in the woods, wasn’t it?”

“I’d dropped her panties. Fell right out of my pocket.” He grins. “Close call, wasn’t it?”

“Why do you it?”

He looks amused by the question. “My mommy wasn’t mean to me and my daddy didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I just want to know why.”

“I like it. I always have. It’s pretty much textbook with me. Started with animals when I was a kid. I killed a kitten when I was eight, gave me a boner like I’d never had before.”

As he speaks, I take a mental inventory of my physical condition. My toes are numb with cold. My ankles are stiff from the rope. My hands are still bound, but my legs are free. I can fight. I can run.

“I want to rip you open,” he says. “I want to hear you scream and grunt. I want to see your eyes bug out.” He grips his penis through his trousers and massages himself. “See what I mean? It’s like fuckin’ Pavlov’s dogs. I think of cutting you, and then I gotta do it. I got to hurt you, and then I gotta get off. My cock ain’t gonna quit until it’s done.”