Silence: The Faces of Evil Christmas Prequel by Debra Webb
Authors: Debra Webb
Tags: lost love, Karen Rose, serial killer, Murder, Christmas, james patterson, holiday romance, fbi, home for the holidays, Karin Slaughter, Faces of Evil
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against a shelf and gave herself a second before attempting to get to her feet.
With only one false start she was standing. She waited for the ground to stop tilting. A frown furrowed her forehead as she stared at her feet. Where were her boots? One of her socks was missing too.
So that was the rag in her mouth. At least it was her sock and not someone else’s.
Another survey of the room drew her attention to the ceiling. Floor joists and those crisscross braces verified her initial assessment: basement.
When she felt confident enough, she started to hop. Three or four falls onto her knees had tears burning her eyes. She ignored the pain. Had to loosen these bindings enough to free her hands. While she was at it, she needed to find where the moaning was coming from.
Beyond the stack of plastic containers were two massive wooden posts in the middle of the room. There was a door to the left and a steep set of stairs to the right. She opted for the stairs. It was slow going but only one fall before she reached the first of the two posts that stood between her and that potential escape route.
She leaned against the post for a second. A couple of big rusty nails protruding at just about chin level gave her an idea. Not allowing herself time to think twice, she opened her mouth wide and lowered it over one of the nails, just far enough to try snagging the sock. The first effort failed, scratching the inside of her cheek. She grunted a muffled curse.
She’d have to update her Tetanus vaccination once she was back home. Refusing to give up, she went for another attempt. A few flakes of rust later and the sock snagged on the nail. Rearing her head back, the cotton and nylon blend sock was pulled from her mouth. A coughing, spitting fit followed.
“Yuck.” She shuddered.
God, what she wouldn’t give for a big tall glass of water about now. Better yet, her Glock and her cell phone. Fat lot of good the cell phone would do her. Service sucked out here. What she really wanted was her hands free and to find her weapon—or any weapon.
With no handy sharp objects on which to attempt cutting her bindings, she tugged harder and twisted her hands to get some slack in the ropes. The binding felt like the same cotton type rope around her ankles. Lucky for her, cotton stretched.
The moaning started again. Jess stilled. The sound came from the direction of the door on the other side of the room. Despite never having had ballet or yoga classes, she managed to hop that way while simultaneously twisting her hands.
She turned her back to the door and grabbed hold of the knob. She gave it a turn and shuffled forward, awkwardly pulling the door open. When she executed an about face the smell hit her, made her gag hard.
That moan came again, louder this time.
The possibility that one or more of those missing women could still be alive had her heart pounding even harder.
The room was dark except for the meager glow that followed Jess from the other room. She squeezed her eyes shut and then blinked rapidly to focus. The stench of decomposition was irrefutable. Someone was here and alive... but there was death down here too. Her stomach did some major protesting. She feared this would be the kind of scene no agent looked forward to discovering.
Jess hopped forward, lost her balance and hit the floor again. Her knees throbbed. She struggled upward and started moving again. She kept at the bindings around her wrists, stretching and twisting. Something dragged across her face. Felt like a spider web. She jerked back, almost fell again. She peered at what she decided was a string. The string led up to a light fixture.
Using her teeth, she got a hold on the string and pulled. Light filled the space, making her squint against the brightness.
Another moan, louder, more frantic. Other side of the room. Jess twisted in that direction. Her breath fled her lungs. She stilled as her brain assimilated what her eyes saw.
Cages... four—no, five of
With only one false start she was standing. She waited for the ground to stop tilting. A frown furrowed her forehead as she stared at her feet. Where were her boots? One of her socks was missing too.
So that was the rag in her mouth. At least it was her sock and not someone else’s.
Another survey of the room drew her attention to the ceiling. Floor joists and those crisscross braces verified her initial assessment: basement.
When she felt confident enough, she started to hop. Three or four falls onto her knees had tears burning her eyes. She ignored the pain. Had to loosen these bindings enough to free her hands. While she was at it, she needed to find where the moaning was coming from.
Beyond the stack of plastic containers were two massive wooden posts in the middle of the room. There was a door to the left and a steep set of stairs to the right. She opted for the stairs. It was slow going but only one fall before she reached the first of the two posts that stood between her and that potential escape route.
She leaned against the post for a second. A couple of big rusty nails protruding at just about chin level gave her an idea. Not allowing herself time to think twice, she opened her mouth wide and lowered it over one of the nails, just far enough to try snagging the sock. The first effort failed, scratching the inside of her cheek. She grunted a muffled curse.
She’d have to update her Tetanus vaccination once she was back home. Refusing to give up, she went for another attempt. A few flakes of rust later and the sock snagged on the nail. Rearing her head back, the cotton and nylon blend sock was pulled from her mouth. A coughing, spitting fit followed.
“Yuck.” She shuddered.
God, what she wouldn’t give for a big tall glass of water about now. Better yet, her Glock and her cell phone. Fat lot of good the cell phone would do her. Service sucked out here. What she really wanted was her hands free and to find her weapon—or any weapon.
With no handy sharp objects on which to attempt cutting her bindings, she tugged harder and twisted her hands to get some slack in the ropes. The binding felt like the same cotton type rope around her ankles. Lucky for her, cotton stretched.
The moaning started again. Jess stilled. The sound came from the direction of the door on the other side of the room. Despite never having had ballet or yoga classes, she managed to hop that way while simultaneously twisting her hands.
She turned her back to the door and grabbed hold of the knob. She gave it a turn and shuffled forward, awkwardly pulling the door open. When she executed an about face the smell hit her, made her gag hard.
That moan came again, louder this time.
The possibility that one or more of those missing women could still be alive had her heart pounding even harder.
The room was dark except for the meager glow that followed Jess from the other room. She squeezed her eyes shut and then blinked rapidly to focus. The stench of decomposition was irrefutable. Someone was here and alive... but there was death down here too. Her stomach did some major protesting. She feared this would be the kind of scene no agent looked forward to discovering.
Jess hopped forward, lost her balance and hit the floor again. Her knees throbbed. She struggled upward and started moving again. She kept at the bindings around her wrists, stretching and twisting. Something dragged across her face. Felt like a spider web. She jerked back, almost fell again. She peered at what she decided was a string. The string led up to a light fixture.
Using her teeth, she got a hold on the string and pulled. Light filled the space, making her squint against the brightness.
Another moan, louder, more frantic. Other side of the room. Jess twisted in that direction. Her breath fled her lungs. She stilled as her brain assimilated what her eyes saw.
Cages... four—no, five of
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