Creep - Jennifer Hillier [54]
“So go.”
She couldn’t. Not in front of him. Not in a diaper. It was too humiliating. She’d have to wait and let it happen in her sleep, as she had the last couple of times, so he could change it while she slept.
He smiled. It was the first time she’d seen him smile in the past couple of days. Something had shifted.
“Can I ask you a question?” she said.
“That in itself is a question.”
Sarcasm. Decidedly normal for him. He was in a better mood. A good sign.
“How come you’re not claustrophobic in this room? No natural light, no windows. Why aren’t you a basket case?”
Ethan snorted. “That’s what you’ve been lying here thinking about?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t, but she needed to get him talking.
Ethan looked around the sterile room and shrugged. “I’m home.”
Home. This huge white room with no windows was home? But of course she knew that all phobias stemmed from fear—fear of losing control. And Ethan was in complete control here. He would decide if she lived or died. It was a terrible thought.
“You can change the channel on the TV, you know.” He frowned at the flickering screen. “You don’t have to watch reruns all day.”
Maybe it was the banality of his words, or the casual tone of his voice, or the sedative that had worn off, but something inside her snapped. “I can’t reach the remote, you piece of shit.”
He smiled. “Aren’t we in a winning mood?”
“Fuck you.” She sounded like a petulant teenager, but she didn’t care.
He chuckled and reached toward the bedside table. “Here,” he said, putting the remote control directly into her cuffed hand. “Now you can watch whatever you want. CNN is channel forty-four. Didn’t you once tell me you had a crush on Anderson Cooper? Hey, do you think I’ll look like him when I’m his age?”
Sheila opened her fingers and the remote control slipped to the floor, landing soundlessly on the industrial carpet. She spoke slowly, enunciating every word. “News. Flash. You. Are. A. Fucking. Psychopath.”
Ethan’s face went still. “Watch yourself,” he said, staring at her.
A chill went up her spine. He maintained eye contact for a few seconds as she held her breath.
“Okay, time to make some calls,” Ethan said, oddly cheerful. He pulled her BlackBerry out of his pants pocket.
Sheila let out a breath at the sudden change of direction. “It won’t work,” she said, staring at her small black phone with sudden longing. “The battery was already low on Thursday night at the meeting.”
Ethan smiled, pressing the button on the phone to turn it on. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. It’s got enough juice, and we’ll only keep it on for a minute or two. Don’t want anybody trying to triangulate your signal.”
“So you do realize people are looking for me?” The desperation in her voice overpowered the confidence she was trying to fake. “Which means you know this is stupid. Have you thought about this at all? It’s Sunday, and I’ve been here for three days. Everybody knows I’m missing by now.”
“Aren’t we arrogant,” he said without looking up. His thumb moved across the trackpad as he scrolled through her data. “I’m sorry to inform you, my dear, but nobody is looking for you. You weren’t scheduled to work Friday, and Morris has been away in Japan. You’re not much of a social butterfly, so I doubt you missed any parties. And you have no living family. Ergo, if someone has indeed called you, it hasn’t been long enough for them to think anything’s wrong.” He chuckled again. “Sorry to burst your bubble.”
“You son of a bitch.”
He looked up, his gray eyes cold. “I’m not going to tell you again. Easy with the names. Why do you want to piss me off? I’m in a good mood today.” He found what he was looking for and held up the phone so she could see the screen. “Morris’s home number. You’re going to call him and leave a detailed message on his answering machine. Then you’re going to call Dean Simmons at the university.”
“What?”
“We don’t want people to worry, do we?” He waved the phone in her face. “I checked your schedule. You have an appointment today at