“Did you have any trouble?”
“No. It was easy.”
Despite her being so pissed off at me, I believe on some level, Patricia enjoyed the challenge I gave her. She dolled herself up, drove to the casino, and sidled up next to EJ at the poker table. Just like in his fantasy, she didn’t even tell him her name. Then she lured him to her vehicle, with the promise of going back to her place. I told her exactly what to say.
During the car ride, he would have become more and more drowsy from what Patricia had slipped into his drink at the casino, until he finally lost consciousness. I swear, it gets easier every time I drug EJ. You would think he would see it coming by now.
“Did you check him out of the hotel?” I ask.
“Yes. I used his phone.” She looks down at her fingernails, which are painted blood red. “And I moved his Porsche to another lot with long-term parking. He’s paid up for a month.”
EJ has no friends and no job. His parents are gone. Nobody will even notice him missing for weeks if not months.
I follow Patricia to her Audi. A dark shadow of a man occupies the back seat. That’s him. She did it. She really did it. She did what Luke couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.
“I duct taped his hands together,” she tells me. “I did his legs too, but there’s a bit more give so he can walk. I stuck a piece over his mouth, but you can’t see it because he’s got the sack on his head.”
She’s got guts—I’ll give her that. She drove all the way here from Connecticut with a man tied up in the back seat. Yes, it was the middle of the night. But if she had gotten pulled over, that would’ve been the end.
“I only tied him up about twenty minutes ago,” she says, as if reading my thoughts. “He started stirring, and I didn’t want to take a chance.”
“His phone?”
Patricia reaches into her purse and pulls it out. She drops it into my waiting hand. I squint down at the black screen in the darkness. “You powered it down?”
“I did. But I’ve heard they can sometimes track a phone as long as it still has a battery. So be careful.”
I’ll be very careful. I fully intend to pulverize this phone until it’s unrecognizable.
When we get closer, I see the paper sack on EJ’s head. The paper crinkles slightly as he shifts in his seat. It’s hard to tell how awake he is since he’s immobilized. I sort of hope he’s awake for this next part.
Patricia pulls the back door open. Now I can see the duct tape securing EJ’s hands together. She kicks him in the calf with her high heels, hard enough to leave behind a bruise.
“Get up!” she barks at him.
His head snaps up, but he can’t get out of the car without help. She kicks him again, and he groans, but he still doesn’t move.
I end up grabbing his legs and shifting them outside of the vehicle. He still can’t get up on his own without the two of us hauling him to his feet. Muffled noises come from inside the paper bag. His light gray T-shirt has sweat stains under his armpits.
We walk him into my house and into my office. Because his ankles are partially bound together, he has terrible balance and has to walk with small shuffling steps. When we get into the office, Patricia stops short. She looks around. “Did you change something in here?”
“No,” I say.
She cocks her head to the side. She is certain something is different, but she can’t put her finger on what it is. I know what it is though. I moved the sofa. But she doesn’t need to know that part. It’s better she doesn’t know.
Once inside the office, I attempt to get EJ to sit on the sofa, but between the duct tape on his wrist and ankles and the bag on his head, he misses it completely. He goes crashing to the floor—hard. Patricia frowns.
“Do you want me to help you get him up?” she asks.
I shake my head. It’s easier that he’s on the floor. “I’m fine. You can leave now.”
She narrows her eyes. “What are you going to do?”
“It’s none of your concern.”
She taps one of her heels on the wooden floor. If she were only two feet to the left, she would have heard the difference in sound that the floor made and discovered my secret. “I believe it’s partially my concern. I’m the one who got him here, after all.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I don’t mind helping. As my mother always says, if we always helped one another, no one would need luck.”