Page 100 of The Woman at the Funeral

“Your other sister mentioned making out with Tom once on Christmas Day ten years ago.”

Thatcertainly got her attention.

But she was quick to squash the shock and anger down.

“You’re not going to distract me. Where are the files?”

What was my play here?

If I kept playing dumb, she was going to bring Danny in. And I really, really didn’t want that to happen.

If I could just buy some time, maybe Nico could find me.

There was the one camera in the hallway. Once he got home to find me gone, surely he would have had Zeno checked the cameras.

From there, he would have the whole family running down leads. Surely, someone would be able to see what a great place the garage at the port would be to take someone against their will. In a place like the city, there weren’t many locations you could take someone to potentially torture and murder them.

He would come.

I just had to give him a chance to save me.

“Where are they?” Ronny yelled, lunging toward me.

And suddenly the idea came to me.

A rush of uncertainty and embarrassment flooded my system. I choked it back, sucked in as deep a breath as possible, then screamed.

Not a normal ‘don’t hurt me’ scream. But a blood-curdling, horror movie scream.

Ronny jumped back, brows scrunched.

“Don’t eat me!” I yelled, swatting at the air in front of me.

In many dangerous situations, the answer to safety was simply to be too crazy to mess with.

“Eat you?” Ronny repeated, tone uncertain.

“No! No! Leave me alone!” I yelled, throwing myself onto my back and kicking my legs out. “You and your beasts.” I turned to the shadows at the side of the room. “Please. Please, leave me alone. You don’t want to do this. No. No!”

“Christ,” Ronny hissed, dropping her cigarette and snuffing it out with her toe. “Should have dosed you myself. Danny’s always going overboard. Well, enjoy your delusions,” she said, grabbing her flashlight and walking away.

I kept yelling and mumbling and growling for long enough that I was sure no one was listening anymore.

Then I collapsed, crying out the pain that had been stabbing at me with every movement.

The rough ground was biting into my cheek. But I couldn’t find the strength to lift my head.

The adrenaline that surged during the confrontation seemed sapped. And all the nice, pain-relieving benefits of it slipped away as well, leaving me hyper-aware of the banging in my head, the stabbing sensation in my eyes, the throbbing on my cheek, and the shooting pain in my ribs.

The nausea returned as well, a constant rolling, then retching, but with no relief.

At some point, I pushed myself onto my back again. And as I stared at the darkness, the shadows seemed to creep closer, starting to dance.

Maybe the hallucination act wasn’t so much of an act after all.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ground myself, to focus on what was real. My pain. The hard floor beneath me. My hammering heartbeat. The cold sweat on my face and neck.

Slowly but surely, the panic crept away.

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