Charlie came to sharply. It was weird. She’d always thought that when you came back from unconsciousness that the world would return slowly. Plenty of patients sure took their time coming around, blinking their eyes slowly as they took in their surroundings. Often they were already in the back of the rig, and her face leaning over them was the first thing they saw. Given that the last thing they remembered was climbing a ladder to hang Christmas lights, she could understand their confusion.

Like the confusion she felt now.

The last thing she remembered was being hauled through the forest, dragged by her arm and tripping on tree roots, one ankle already mostly giving up from bearing her weight after she’d twisted it, falling hard. Scranton had sworn then, hauling her upright so hard he’d wrenched her elbow. She’d tried to keep up after that, but everything seemed a few inches off, the world just to the left of where it should be, and her ears rang with a never-ending buzzing sound. If she’d had time to worry about anything more than the serial killer dragging her through the woods, Charlie would have been concerned that she’d done more damage to herself. Getting hit again so soon after a concussion was never good. Of course, she wouldn’t have to worry about that if she was dead.

Scranton stood over her, a large knife in his hand. A trickle of warmth slid down her cheek, splashing red on the concrete floor beneath her feet. She stared at the dots, their solid centers flattening out into splattered trails as they hit the ground. She followed one trail as it rolled back toward her foot. Her feet were bare, and for the first time she registered the coldness beneath her skin.

Huh. The trickle down her face must be blood.

Maybe she hadn’t woken up as swiftly as she’d thought.

“Stay with me this time, Charlotte. It wouldn’t do to have you sleep through the entire experience.”

The voice chilled Charlie to her soul. He wasn’t bothering to disguise it now. He wasn’t bothering to disguise anything. That would be a very bad sign, if only her brain was ready to acknowledge it. For now, she stared at him. Maybe if she looked him in the eyes for long enough, she’d stop being afraid.

Because if there was one thing that her mind remembered, it was that she was fucking terrified. It didn’t matter that she was older now, stronger—no longer the scared rookie who had confronted a man hurting a woman alone in a park. She was still alone, but now there was no victim. This was just her and Scranton. Whatever happened, it was going to end tonight. Charlie had no idea whether she would see the dawn again, but either way at least she could stop being afraid.

What time was it? Little light entered the room she was held in, but that didn’t mean much. Had she been missing long? Hours? Days? Shane would be frantic by now, and mad as hell that she’d gone down that side road.

She closed her eyes again as emotion overtook her. She’d been so stupid! Why the hell had she done it? The bastard had planted a trap for her on a country road the first time, and yet all she’d needed was an orange vest and an official-looking sign, and she’d turned down one again. Willingly.

Who had that been? Given the only other car on the road had been Scranton’s, blocking any access, Charlie highly doubted the men she’d encountered had been a real road crew. But then why hadn’t someone questioned them, asked them what they were doing? They would have been set up well before she came along.

Perhaps all most people needed were orange vests and an official-looking sign.

She was never taking anything for granted again.

Not even Shane.

God, if she ever saw him again, she was wrapping him up in her arms and refusing to let go. Perhaps forever. She’d taken him for granted for too fucking long. He’d been her friend, her partner, and she’d never doubted for one minute that he’d always be there. Looking back now, the reasons why she hadn’t let herself get involved with him seemed completely ludicrous. Idiotic.

Fuck, her arms ached.

She tried to pull her hands down to her side, to rest them, but they didn’t budge. She moved her head backward, and after the world stopped tilting dangerously, she saw the handcuffs. She was shackled to a thick chain dangling from the ceiling. Hang on. Was that a ceiling? It looked more like corrugated metal, with a small hatch and a fan turning swiftly, sucking air. Shit, was she underground?

She tugged on the chain. It was pulled taut with her weight, with just enough slack that she could balance on the balls of her feet. One little twist, one attempt to move, and she’d fall sideways. Given the way her elbow throbbed, she was worried it might dislocate if enough pressure was put on the joint.

Charlie nearly snorted at the memory. Elaine Monahan. God, that seemed like a million years ago. “Was it you?”

Scranton looked up at her in surprise. His gaze had been roaming over her body hungrily, but now it snapped to hers.

“Oh, Sweetheart, it was all me.”

Charlie forgot the strain on her hands and stared at him. What was all him? Scranton sat back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. He seemed at ease, totally relaxed. Charlie forced her eyes to stay open. Damn, the buzzing in her ears was back. “Elaine? I already figured out you got me here intentionally.”

“And the missing drugs, Charlotte. The arson fires, your chief’s house, my surprises for you and your precious Shane. The woman with the little boy—she was especially sweet. I had fun with you before it finally all had to end. But you’re missing the best part.”

Charlie rocked back, ignoring the pressure it placed on her back and arms. The look on Scranton’s face made her want to move faster, to scramble across the room and hide. God, the man was enjoying this. He was savoring it. Seeing her chained and hopeless, strung up before him. Fucking hell. It was turning him on. At the sight of the bulge forming in Scranton’s worn and dirty jeans, saliva flooded her mouth and Charlie fought to keep her stomach contents down.

“What part?” Her voice was rough and scratchy; her throat burning as bile scorched her esophagus. She swallowed compulsively. If she puked in her current position, it was likely she’d choke, and Scranton wasn’t exactly her best bet for staying alive.

She frowned. Why was she still alive? Whatever it was, he’d obviously planned a big finish. Why else would he drag her halfway through the forest to a special fortress he seemed to have set up, all ready and waiting?

A bullet through her brain would have had the same effect. She wouldn’t have even had time to duck.

But maybe that was the point. It all made sense. He enjoyed it more when he took his time. That’s why he’d toyed with her a decade ago, circled her in the woods. That little bit of knowledge made her fear lessen, just enough.

“What’s the best part, Darryl? The part where you kill me?”

“Oh, that will be delicious, but no. The best part was watching your face crumble when you learned Cody Severs was dead.”

Sweat beaded on her already-damp forehead, trickling down and mingling with the dried blood. It tasted bitter as it hit her chapped lips, making her stomach roll again. Her fingers were numb now, and her arms strangely tingly. Shock, cold, blood loss? It could be one or all of the above, but Charlie couldn’t focus on any of them. “Cody?”

Scranton’s face split in a grin, showing perfect, straight, white teeth. Strange, she would have thought they’d be crooked, yellowed. His perfect visage didn’t seem to match the demon lurking inside his soul. Though, she supposed, that was exactly why he’d managed to take so many lives. “I was watching, you know, when the news came in. I knew it would be you who got the call. I waited until the perfect moment, and then I stood behind him and put a bullet through his brain.”

The world dropped out from beneath her feet. “Cody didn’t kill himself?”

“Not at all. He put up quite the fuss, if you must know. Just like I expect you will. It won’t matter, though, you know.” His face turned dark. “You owe me, Princess. Time to pay up.”

Scranton shoved the chair backward. It fell to the ground with a loud thump. He stepped forward, the knife in his hand.