A moment’s silence followed. A man could buy a good house for forty thousand, a sports car for five. Ripley laced his fingers, and leaned back in the chair. The wheels were invisible, but they were for-damn-sure turning. “All right,” he finally said. “Who do we have to kill?”

42

For Reece, it seemed anything was possible, and he wondered if this was what Christians meant when they spoke of being reborn. He was behind the false wall, and the girl was taking off her clothes. Too soon for a long bath, he knew, or even a hot, quick shower; but clean clothing had proved too much a temptation.

A richer world …

He followed her to the kitchen, only a few feet away as she uncorked a bottle of wine, and flared her nostrils before taking a sip. She moved room to room, and he trailed along behind the mirrors and the walls. When she slept, she did so fully clothed, with her knees drawn up. He’d planned to watch like this for nights or weeks, but it was the dawn of a new world.

An hour after midnight, he went inside.

He wouldn’t touch her yet, but wanted to smell her hair and her skin, to feel the heat of her neck on his face. He stood by the bed, looking down. She was on her side, her lips slightly parted. Leaning close, he studied the line of her nose, and of the lashes, dark on her skin. He breathed deeply, but her hair smelled unclean, and her breath was slightly sour. He would have frowned, but she woke unexpectedly: a shutter-snap of wide eyes and the shadow-pink of an open mouth. For the first time in his life, Reece froze, utterly panicked.

He was ruining it!

The stare held for half a second, then Reece turned and ran, the girl screaming loud enough to shatter every thought he’d ever had.

I heard the scream, muffled by the house, but definitely in the house. It went on so long that even Chance stirred, which was more than I’d been able to manage in all the long hours we’d been caged.

“Hey, buddy, are you with me?”

He rolled onto his side, coughing up a lung. “Don’t touch me.” He found his hands and knees, his forehead against the floor. “The hell is that sound?”

“We’re not the only ones here.”

“Here? What here?”

Chance sounded out of it. I thought he was. He crawled a foot or two, and got his back against the wall. Cracked lips. A heat-swollen tongue. He tried to focus, but the room was dim. He saw the cage, though, and the tables. “Take it easy,” I told him. “You were locked in a hot trunk for most of a day.”