THIRTY-EIGHT
Rose took another sip from the bottle of water. It was her last one. She’d used the other bottle to bathe. It seemed wasteful to use drinking water for something as unimportant as cleanliness, but she’d been desperate to remove the essence of Craig Rafferty from her body.
Now she was clean, but the burn between her thighs and the pain around her neck reminded her of what he’d done.
I’m still alive. That’s more than Jennifer and Gwen.
He’d left her two bottles of water, a bucket, a towel, and a chocolate muffin.
She counted her blessings.
As she removed the plastic wrap on the muffin, she recognized its scent from the Coffee Café. Kaylie made it. The thought of her niece nearly brought her to tears, but none came because Rose didn’t have any tears left. Craig had ripped them out of her over the course of several hours during the night. The room stank of him. The bed stank of him. Her hair stank of him.
I’m still alive.
He’d told her in great detail what he and Kenny had done to Jennifer Sanders and Gwen Vargas. Words she could never unhear. Then he’d strangled her, whispering that her life was over as he tightened his grip around her neck, a loud buzz overtaking her brain. But just as she lost consciousness, he removed his hands and her hearing returned. Then he did it again. And again.
She lost count of how many times he took her near death.
“I hold your life in my hands,” he crooned with his fingertips on her neck, his lips near her ear. “Literally, your life is mine.”
He’d played stupid games, asking how many fingers he was holding up, what expression was on his face, or if he was the best-looking man she’d ever seen. She’d been slapped for not answering so she’d answered, throwing out random numbers and stroking his ego. He’d forced her to compliment him over and over. To her surprise, her words made him as happy as real compliments. He’d turn joyful after she’d told him how strong he was, thank her for noticing, and then talk about the men he’d fought.
His brain wasn’t right. It was twisted, distorted. She imagined it smelled gangrenous and felt spongy.
When he’d told her Levi had hidden what he’d known about the women’s murders, she’d instantly struck at him with her fists, screaming that it wasn’t true. To her surprise he’d backed off, assuring her that what Levi had believed wasn’t true. “What do you mean?” she’d asked.
“Levi believes that Kenny killed Jennifer and Gwen by himself. He thinks I was clueless that Kenny intended to attack you that night,” he explained. “We both know that’s not true, don’t we?” The slime in his voice turned her stomach. “It’s always been about you, Rose,” he whispered. “We didn’t know your sister was home that night. You’re so innocent, moving around town with the confidence that no one will hurt you or refuse you anything. But I bet you’re not as innocent as you seem. Have you ever had two men at once, Rose?”
She’d refused to answer and been punched in the stomach, bringing a fresh round of tears. He’d immediately apologized.
“Why did you break the mirrors?” she whispered.
He was silent for a long time before answering. “You’d have to know my father. Mirrors meant vanity to him, and vanity was something you had to beat out of your kids. There were no mirrors in our house when I grew up. I can remember him breaking a tiny mirror of my mother’s he’d found in her purse. It was prideful, sinful. She only should be looking at him. When he broke her mirror . . . the look on her face.” His voice took on a dreamy tone. “That was power. The way she looked at him in awe and fear. Those women—Jennifer and Gwen—they were vain. They needed to know that the world didn’t revolve around how they looked.” His finger moved along her cheek. “You’ve never needed a mirror. You are the absence of vanity. You’re as a woman should be.”
“Let me go,” she whispered.
He stroked her hair. “In time.”
The wistful tone in his voice told her she’d be dead before he let her go.
When he tired of using her body, he lay beside her in the filthy bed, positioning her head on his chest, and continued to play with her hair as he talked. And talked.
“I’m going to be important in Eagle’s Nest,” he promised. “I’ve waited a long time. I’ve put in the hours and I deserve it. Joziah Bevins can’t last much longer.”
She’d stiffened at the name and he felt it.
“You think Mike will be the heir to Joziah’s kingdom? Mike doesn’t want anything to do with it. Joziah’s going to pick the man he thinks is most qualified, and that’s going to be me.”
“How?” she asked, unable to stop the question. What makes you so special?
“Well, I was going to gift him enough weapons to arm an army. I was already on that track when I got a look at the arsenal Enoch Finch owned. What does one old prepper need with so many weapons? Joziah wouldn’t have been able to ignore me after that. We’ve got to be prepared for anything, you know. What if the government comes in and decides to take our land? But your sister ruined my plan. Now I’ll just have to convince him I’m the most qualified.”
“You knew Enoch?”
He laughed. “I knew them all. I carefully cultivated those old men, feeling them out to see who was hoarding weapons. They’re lonely. They say they hate people, but get a little alcohol in them and they talk and talk. I spent many evenings in their homes with a bottle of booze, talking about the society that we should have, and them showing me their preparations. Their arsenals. It was easy enough to slip something stronger in their drinks so I could load up their weapons. But I couldn’t let them wake back up.
“It was perfect. No one suspected me. I’d been a part of this community for decades.” His hand ran over her long hair. “Your hair is so beautiful. You’re the type of woman we’ll need after TEOTWAWKI happens, Rose. You’re skilled. You listen to your man and do what you’re told. We’ll need women for support positions. A bunch of men living together makes a huge mess, you know? Tempers get hot too. Women know how to cool us down.”
Is that what I’ve been raised to do?
“Women like your sister—well, they just cause trouble. There’s a reason God gave men the strength and women the ability to bear children.” He caressed her stomach and she froze. “I don’t understand how your father could let her run off and become an enforcer for the government. That’s wrong on so many levels. Your father must be humiliated.
“She stole my guns,” he muttered. “Those were my property. My ticket to impressing Joziah. She’s not a real woman. She’s pretending to be a man. Probably can’t get laid.”
Through her cheek, she felt the muscles of his stomach harden. She cringed. Not again.