Page 89 of The Stipulation
And then I see that I am not alone. Sheldon is here too. He’s leaning casually against a support beam, the bat still in his hand, the same one that sent me into darkness. I know it’s that one because I can see the faint streak of dried blood on the wood.
“Ah,” he says with exaggerated delight, like he’s savoring a private joke. “Awake at last. I must say, carrying an unconscious woman out of my apartment might have raised a few eyebrows. But pushing someone in a wheelchair? It doesn’t get a second look. Most people think you’re just helping an elderly relative or a client with mobility issues. Convenient, isn’t it?”
He sounds proud of himself. I almost can’t believe what I am seeing. I never once imagined Sheldon as the bad guy. It’s not just the fact that he hurt me; it’s the way he looks now … different, so different. Unhinged almost. Like the Sheldon I knew was just a front, a way to hide his inner lunatic.
I try to swallow, but my throat is too dry. “W … where… where are we?” I stutter. My voice sounds small, tight, and brittle. Horribly frightened.
I don’t even suppose it matters where we are, but while he’s talking, he’s not hitting me with his bat.
“An old warehouse,” he replies smoothly, his eyes gleaming with a cold amusement that sends a chill through me. “It belonged to our daddy dearest. It hasn’t been used in ages, though.”
I glance around, and yes, I believe him. The space is cavernous, steel beams supporting a ceiling that vanishes into shadows. It definitely could be a warehouse. Dust motes hang in the air, suspended in the weak light from the single overhead bulb. Crates and broken furniture litter the corners. My stomach twists when it hits me that he told me the truth about it being a warehouse and also about it not being used anymore. I hope there are other warehouses nearby, ones still active, ones with people moving around. I start screaming, the sound shrill andraw, my voice bouncing against the walls. My throat feels like I am swallowing glass.
“Help me. Somebody. Please,” I yell.
Sheldon’s footsteps echo across the concrete as he comes closer to me.
“Oh, that’s annoying. It must stop.” His voice is casual, even cheerful, like he’s talking about a minor inconvenience. “Do you know why you may as well stop? Because it won’t help. This building is soundproof. Every inch of it. Your pitiful little screams? They won’t go anywhere. They will only irritate me. And that will be bad for you.”
I freeze, trying to judge whether he’s lying or not. My gut tells me he’s telling the truth. He didn’t gag me, and he’s careful and precise. If the sound could escape, he would have silenced it before I even had a chance to scream. Still, though, he could be bluffing and I scream again.
“Stop that,” he says, a flicker of impatience in his tone. “I already warned you. It’s grating on my nerves. If you continue, I’ll stop it for you.”
My heart races, and I glance at the bat again. The dried blood glints faintly in the low light. He means it. I stop screaming, my throat feels raw, and my chest is tight. I finally manage to accumulate enough saliva to swallow. It doesn’t help my throat as much as I would have liked it to.
“Why … why are you doing this to me?” I stutter, my voice shaking. “It was only a painting. Now that I know what happened, I won’t be pursuing it further. You’re my stepbrother, Sheldon. We’re family. Axel won’t do anything either. You don’t need to hurt me. This … this isn’t necessary.”
His smile spreads, slow and deliberate. There’s no warmth in it. His smile, in fact, his entire demeanor, reminds me of the Joker from the Batman movies. He is unhinged but in a saneway, as in he is crazy enough to do whatever he needs to do, but clever enough to pull it off.
“Oh, Jo, this has nothing to do with the painting.”
“What do you mean?”
“You finding out about that? Coincidence. Purely coincidence.”
I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. “So … if it isn’t about the painting, why are you doing this to me? What do you want?”
He tilts his head, his eyes glinting madly in the half light. “It’s nothing personal. I just want what’s mine. My father’s money. His fortune. And it seems the only way to get it is by going through you.”
“Through me?”
“Yes.” He steps closer, circling me like a predator inspecting his prey. I watch him as much as I can, but he keeps entering the blind spot behind me as I can’t turn around. The only thing worse than watching him is not being able to see where he is. “I’m going to pretend you’ve been kidnapped. Actually, you have been kidnapped. But I’m not going to let on I know anything about it. I just need to make sure Axel Rhodes thinks you’re alive, and make sure he’s desperate enough to pay for your return. And then …” He gestures to the bat, casual and menacing. “Then I take care of the rest. End you, and the only witness is gone. No one will suspect a thing. I wouldn’t leave a trace.”
I feel a monstrous fear creep into me. I know he has spent a long time planning the details of how to extricate me from his life. If he kills me, no one will ever find a trace of me. There is one thing he might not have considered though, and I have to work with what I’ve got.
“What makes you think Axel cares about whether I live or die?” I ask. We had Paris, but Sheldon doesn’t know about that. As far as he knows, we hate each other.
“Oh, I see the heated looks, but I don’t expect him to care about you personally. For him to get his half of the estate, you have to fulfill your part of my dear stepfather’s requirements. And trust me, he fucking cares about his precious business. It’s everything to him. He’ll give up his life for it.”
I choke on a sharp breath. “You can’t … You won’t get away with this.”
He laughs, the sound hollow and cruel. “Oh, but I will,” he says confidently. “You see, Jo, no one has ever doubted me. Never. I have given no one reason to suspect me of anything other than being the good-for-nothing, harmless stepson. I play my part perfectly. Think about it. You’re pretty astute, but even you liked me and felt sorry for me.”
I see the cruel precision in his eyes, the calm logic behind his plan, the way he’s already thought everything through. My chest tightens, the icy cold fingers of fear squeezing my heart, unrelenting. Because again, he’s right. For the first time in my short life, I feel the stark reality of my own mortality pressing in on me.
“You’re … serious,” I whisper, trembling. “You really think you can get away with killing me?”
“Yes, but believe it or not, I am sorry about that. But it’s got to be done. The person you have to blame is your father. If he had not been such a tight bastard. If he had what is rightfully mine, half for me I would never have to resort to this low-level thuggery. But as he did not, I have had to take matters into my own hands. I have planned every last detail,” he says, pacing slowly now, his strides deliberately measured. He moves back and forth across the concrete floor, the shadows stretching with him, creating a dizzying, hypnotic rhythm. At least he stays inmy line of vision now. “This has taken a lot of planning. Patience. Patience, Jo, that’s the key to this whole thing.”
