Blood Will Have Blood by Linda Barnes

floor.
    â€œWhat time is it?” Eddie asked.
    â€œEleven thirty-five.”
    â€œMy God,” Eddie said again.
    â€œHow long have you been perched up there?”
    â€œI don’t know. I was still asleep when he came in.”
    â€œWho came in?” said Spraggue.
    â€œSomething. I was asleep and something hauled me out of bed. It was dark.”
    â€œA man or a woman?”
    â€œI couldn’t tell. I couldn’t—” Eddie gulped, raised his hands to his Adam’s apple. “My throat hurts,” he said fuzzily.
    â€œI know,” said Spraggue. “Whisper, but try to answer.”
    â€œIt had a black face, a black cloak, black gloves. It was all black, like a shadow.…”
    â€œHe wore a mask?”
    Eddie’s eyes lit up. “Maybe. A ski mask. All black.”
    â€œDid you see the eyes, Eddie? What color eyes?”
    â€œI don’t know. Dark, I think. The room was so blurry.… I didn’t have my glasses.”
    â€œHeight?”
    â€œAverage. I don’t know. At first I was in bed. Then I had to climb on the chair—”
    â€œVoice. Male or female?”
    â€œIt whispered, Spraggue. The cloak hid the body. Strong, though. Whoever it was. Powerful.”
    â€œDid he knock you out?”
    Eddie gave a tiny half-smile. “He or she. No. I did what he said. He had a gun. I’m not brave. He tied my hands. He made me stick my head through the noose. I had to stand on tiptoe.” Eddie’s voice quavered, almost stopped. “I thought I was going to die.…”
    â€œTake it easy. It’s all over,” Spraggue said.
    â€œThen he threw everything around the room.”
    â€œWouldn’t somebody hear?”
    â€œAround here?” Eddie’s voice was bitter. “People hear plenty in a neighborhood like this. They stay alive ignoring it.”
    â€œWhat did he do then?”
    â€œHe wrote on the walls. Then he just stood and looked at me. I thought he was going to kick the chair over. He laughed, a whispery kind of noise, but a laugh. He said: ‘I have a message for you.’ It was a bunch of numbers. It didn’t make any sense. He told me to memorize it, made me repeat it. I can’t remember it at all now.”
    â€œLet me know if it comes back.”
    â€œThen he left.”
    â€œDoes the door lock automatically, Eddie?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow did he get in?”
    â€œI don’t know. I didn’t see.”
    â€œYou don’t use the chain when you’re inside?”
    â€œNo.”
    The door hadn’t been hard to force. He’d have to check it for signs of recent tampering.
    Eddie caught his hand. “I just stood there, Spraggue. I was so scared I’d fall. I kept trying to get my hands free; I figured that was my only hope. I almost did.”
    Spraggue glanced at Eddie’s wrists. Rope burns, abrasions. He was telling the truth.
    â€œThat chair.” Eddie nodded at the black wooden job, knocked on its side. “I could reach it with my foot. If I heard anyone on the stairs I was going to kick it over, hope somebody would notice. But no one came by. I kicked it when I heard you knock. I almost lost my balance.”
    So that was the crash he had heard.
    â€œDo you have ice in the freezer?” Spraggue asked.
    â€œYes,” said Eddie. “I guess I’m trying to say thank you.”
    â€œYou’re welcome. I think you would have gotten your hands loose in time.”
    â€œI’m glad I didn’t have to.”
    Spraggue emptied an ice tray into a frayed kitchen towel, wrapped it into a long cylinder, and gave it to Eddie. “Put that around your throat,” he said.
    The phone rang.
    â€œIt’s been ringing all morning—”
    Spraggue picked up the receiver.
    â€œSpraggue?” It was Karen Snow.
    â€œPut Darien in a cab and get him over here,” said