Page 45 of The Chain House

“At this point, the governor is the only one who can stay the execution.”

“Bingo.” Batise sat back, looking satisfied. “Minks knows I have a final card up my sleeve for the governor.”

“This is your final card?” Sam asked. “The bodies they’re looking for right now? The ones mapped out in your books? Because you’ve already played it.”

“I’m no rookie, Sam Harper. That was just to let everyone know I’m serious. And that I am who I say I am.”

“Then what is your final card?”

“That’s between me and the governor,” Batise said. “And it’s not yet time to play it. When I do, I’ll get my stay of execution.”

“You’re confident?”

“Yes.”

“And Minks?”

“That’s when he’ll make his ransom demand.”

Sam sat up straight. “Your death for Beth Hawthorne’s life?”

“Yes. He wants to make sure I die tonight, as planned.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s exactly how it plays out in the book,” said Batise.

CHAPTER19

BETH HAWTHORNE SAT with her back to the wall, the hole just above her head to the right.

Occasionally, she’d feel a tug on the chain around her ankle, which meant Billy Boyle was shifting his own position on the other side of the wall.

On one hand, she felt hope because she wasn’t alone inside this Mallard Malone–inspired house of horror, but on the other hand, considering that they were connected by a chain that ran through the wall between them, she saw no way out of this level of macabre insanity.

Earlier, after they’d exchanged names through the hole in the wall, a door had opened inside Billy Boyle’s room and he’d gone instantly quiet. She heard footsteps over there, and Billy breathing like he was terrified. Billy begging quietly for his life, to be let go, promising he’d never tell anyone anything, but his words were ignored. Something was placed on the floor, the footsteps trailed away, and the door closed.

They’d been quiet now for a few minutes, when Billy said, “Have you tried this yet?”

“Tried what?” Beth asked in a hushed whisper.

“This food,” Billy said. “I assume that’s what it is. He just put a bowl on the floor like I’m a dog. Fucking flies in it. Jesus.” She heard a scooting noise and a rattle, like he’d just shoved the bowl away with his foot. The chain moved above her shoulder. He must have realized the tug. He said, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Billy gagged like he might throw up, like it was taking great effort to compose himself.

She was starving, but by the putrid stench coming from the hole in the wall, if it was from the food Billy had just been delivered, she didn’t want it. She’d rather starve.

Billy said, “Are you hurt? I saw on the news … they thought you’d been shot.”

“In the leg,” she said. “It’s not bad. I think I’m on pain meds. He’s been forcing pills down my throat.”

“How long have you been in here?” Billy asked, his voice sounding closer to the hole now.

“Hours, I think,” she said. “I was in a garage before. Or something like that. Did you get a look at the surroundings when he brought you in?”

“No,” he said. “He knocked me out. I woke up here. Do you know what’s going on?”