Page 106 of Captive Ruin

I guess he hasn’t checked the camera feed yet. If there even is one.

“But that’s not unusual,” she adds reassuringly. “He sometimes goes weeks without a word.”

Weeks? I can’t sit here alone for weeks.

A house full of people, but alone is what I am. I can’t even contact my sister. Or Sierra.

They must think I’ve dropped into a black hole. I can’t even access my email. Lucy must be panicking. She gets a call from someone she doesn’t know and then there’s no word from me. Has she called the police? Am I reported as a missing person?

How has Van Wyk convinced her I’m fine—if he even has?

And the gallery. Shit… I needed to give a statement to the fire department. How could I have forgotten? They’re going to think the fire was an insurance scam, and I’m to blame.

I sit there staring unseeing at the breakfast counter, pressing my fingers to my temples, swallowing hard so I don’t throw up Linda’s pancakes. My life has gone to total shit, and there’s one man responsible for everything. Damn Van Wyk and his way of getting girls. Doesn’t he know kidnapping went out of fashion after the Vikings?

“Are you all right, dear?” Linda’s voice drags me back to the present.

“Do you know how he brought me here?” I ask, wondering if she really knows her boss.

She turns to put some glasses back in the cupboard. “He drove you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he drove me. Gagged and tied in the back of his car.”

She freezes, then laughs nervously. “You young people and your sex games. I swear, my ears are too old for such things.”

I let it drop. I don’t really want to offend her, not when she’s been so kind to me.

My eyes catch on the artwork lining the hallway, the color palette in the kitchen, the way every room carries the same warm, considered touch. Van Wyk’s idea of décor is leaving bloody smears.

“Did someone else decorate this place?” I ask, gesturing at the room. “It doesn’t feel like a house a man put together.”

Linda’s smile falters, just for a second. “No, dear. It doesn’t.”

That’s not an answer, not really, but it’s close enough to one.

“Did you know Juliette well?”

Linda looks at me in alarm before she manages to school her expression. “Yes, dear,” she says finally, the words heavy with emotion. “I became the housekeeper here six years ago.” She gives me one of her trademark matronly smiles, but it’s strained, and she can’t hold it for long. “I knew Juliette five of those before she… died.”

“They were married for twelve years, weren’t they?” I ask gently.

“Yes, that’s right.” She looks toward the window. “I would’ve liked to have known Juliette, back then.”

I nod in understanding. “She became ill, didn’t she?”

“Yes.” Linda turns away. “We don’t talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, of course not,” I say quickly, not wanting her to close down completely. But what illness lasts for nine years and is taboo to discuss? Shit… did he do to her what he’s doing to me, until it broke her?

The thought has ice running over my skin, and I can’t suppress my shiver. I have to know, but how far can I push?

“Lukas said she died last December,” I try, tentatively.

“Yes.” Linda takes a breath and lets it out. “Terrible business. She’s very missed.” She forces another smile. “Now, are you heading to the pool?”

So that’s as much as I’ll get.

“Yes.” I force a smile of my own. “Nothing else to do with the day.”