Page 67 of Mason

“Why won’t you talk to me?” she shouted.

Silence.

“Ray, is it you? Is that why you won’t talk to me? You know I’ll recognize your voice?”

Again, nothing but the stomping of his footsteps as he walked away from the door.

Please don’t let it be Ray.

She carefully made her way over to the food. Bob Evans. Meatloaf. She hated meatloaf, and Ray knew that. He wouldn’t…unless it was part of her punishment? If he wanted to make her sorry for ignoring him or picking Mason over him, he might go out of his way to make her stay miserable. Meatloaf would do it too.

But she ate it anyway. This time she didn’t get drowsy, so he hadn’t drugged her. The room was warming up too. She sat by the heat vent, one of the blankets wrapped around her, and ate with the plastic fork he’d provided.

Why wouldn’t he talk to her?

All this silence was starting to get to her. It was a type of torture all on its own. And it was working to wear her down.

She picked up the note when she put down the empty food container.

Hey, baby.

You’ve been such a good girl, you deserve some heat. You haven’t tried to escape, and you’ve stopped screaming. Get some rest, and I’ll check on you again tomorrow.

How did he know she hadn’t tried to escape? Or that she’d been screaming? That started last night. She got so upset, she just screamed and screamed, the sound bouncing back at her.

Standing, she surveyed the room. There weren’t any obvious cameras that she could see, but he had to have one here somewhere.

She made her way along each wall, scanning the ceilings. The hole was so tiny she almost missed it. But once she found it, she saw several at the base of the ceiling along each wall. Holes barely big enough to see, but more than big enough for tiny cameras.

He was watching her.

He’d seen her pull her pants down to relieve herself.

He was watching her.

“Bastard!” she shouted at the room, knowing he could probably hear her. Or at least see her, which was why she flipped him off just for good measure.

He was watching her.

It took another three days before Mason was awake for more than two or three minutes at a time. He kept getting upset, and the doctors kept him sedated so he could heal.

His parents had been here, and he sent them home. Neither of them would tell him about Josephine, and he was scared.

“Hey,brat.” Viktor sat down in the chair his father had occupied not half an hour ago. “How are you feeling today?”

“Like I got hit with a semi and dragged ten miles down the interstate,” he said dryly.

“How’s the movement? Can you lift your arms?”

Mason nodded. It was hard, but he could do it. Same with his legs. Standing might be a problem, however. He felt weak as a kitten.

“Where’s Jo? No one will tell me anything.”

Viktor let out a breath. “She’s missing.”

His heart stuttered, and his brain froze. Missing?

“Can you remember anything at all?”

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