Mindhunters 4 - Deadly Intent by Kylie Brant Page B

man drew closer. He slipped his arm around his wife’s narrow waist, and she seemed to collapse against him, sobs racking her body. “Are we being punished, Stephen? Is this God’s way of balancing the scales because we have so much?”
    “Come to bed now.” The man’s voice was soothing. The raw emotion evident in the scene had Macy turning away. “I want you to take one of the sedatives the doctor left.” The low murmur of his tone was lost as they turned the corner.
    Macy drew in a breath to still the racing of her heart. The past never seemed so vivid as when she was dealing with the family of a crime victim. But it wasn’t the past that was important here. Not hers. Not the girl’s.
    It was the future. Ellie Mulder’s future.

    Ellie shivered uncontrollably. It was cold wherever he’d brought her, but they were inside some sort of building. If she bent her knees a tiny bit more, they hit something solid. A wall. And she was lying on a hard, cold floor.
    For a long time she’d been sort of floating in and out of awareness. He’d stuck her with a needle before he’d taken her. She hadn’t fought the darkness whenever it pulled her under again. It’d be better if she could stay out of it and be unaware the whole time. Because she already knew what he wanted.
    Her stomach cramped then, and she felt like she’d puke inside the hood still covering her head. Maybe she was sick from the drugs, or maybe it was the waiting for what she already knew was going to happen. The thought of it made her want to scream. To scream and cry and beg.
    But that had never helped before.
    To take her mind off the roiling of her stomach, she strained to hear . . . anything. She knew she wasn’t alone in the place. There had been footsteps earlier. Some banging and then swearing in a voice she didn’t recognize.
    At least she hoped she didn’t.
    But no matter how hard she tried, Ellie couldn’t hear anything now other than the wind. Was it still blizzarding? Would that make it harder for anyone to find her?
    The thought brought her up short. She couldn’t expect someone to come after her. She’d learned that from before. And she wasn’t a kid anymore, expecting tears and prayers to rescue her. She might be just eleven, but it was an older eleven than any of her friends back in DC. She was different in a way they couldn’t understand.
    Different enough to know that she only had herself to rely on.
    The despair that swept over her at the thought was almost comforting in its familiarity. It was hope that was the enemy. Knowing the worst—expecting it—at least meant she was prepared.
    But she wasn’t a baby anymore, to lie there and take it either. She’d hurt him—whoever he was—with the scissors in her room. She could hurt him again.
    Trying to move her fingers, she almost cried out at the needlelike pain of feeling returning to them. Her hands were tied. Tight. In back of her. Her feet, too. Gritting her teeth, she kept moving them. Tiny little wiggles that shot pain up her arms and legs. But whatever he’d tied her with held fast. She wouldn’t be slipping out of the binds.
    Ellie lay still for a moment, thinking. Her brain was still a little fuzzy from whatever he’d given her, so she had to concentrate hard. With knowledge comes control. That’s what Dr. Givens, her psychologist, always said. Of course, he was talking about knowing herself and admitting to what she was feeling. But it could also mean knowing whoever had done this to her, couldn’t it? Maybe that would help her make a plan to get away.
    She stopped moving her fingers and toes then and experimentally rubbed her cheek against the floor. The hood moved, too. She could feel that the tape was still over her mouth, but whatever was covering her head was looser. Maybe she could get it off.
    Concentrating fiercely, she worked her head in a rhythmic motion. Drag it along the floor. Lift slightly to return to the original position and try again. Each