She stood up and the room turned in a sick, lopsided circle. Falling back, she let the love seat catch her as she tried to force herself to remember something.
Anything. A bottle of water had been placed on the end table between the love seat and chair. Terribly thirsty, she reached for it and then snatched her hand back. The bottle looked new, but that was no guarantee it was safe to drink.
Think, she whispered to herself. Someone had put her here, and she had no intention of making it easy for them to keep her. She fingered the hem of her dress, vaguely recalling her boredom with her date. Theyd been at a hotel. A party. Snippets of the evening floated in a disjointed parade through her brain. A grand staircase, free-flowing champagne and beautiful people twisted in a kaleidoscope that made her eyes ache and her head pound.
When she felt steadier she stood up again. Doing a slow three-sixty, she took in the rest of the room. The space was cleverly designed in a narrow rectangle with a refrigerator, microwave, small oven and sink making up a kitchenette at one end. On the opposite end of the long room was a single door and next to that a set of floor-to-ceiling doors. She walked closer and found a Murphy bed.
Ive been kidnapped by a tiny house architect, she said aloud, imagining Bills laughter and snarky retort.
This was more luxurious than some of the movie trailers shed seen while working on sets with her dad. She bounced a little, discovering the floor didnt have any give the way a trailer floor often did. Another tremor slipped over her skin. A trailer could be moved anywhere, at any time. Who would do this?
There were no windows, only a lovely painting of the Golden Gate Bridge spearing out of a thick fog bank. All of the lighting came from LED fixtures in the ceiling. What she assumed was the entrance door was painted the same warm ivory as the rest of the walls, but with the oversize hinges and crossbars, it looked more like a bank vault. She walked over, pushing and tugging at the spoked handle. Her grip was weak; her entire body felt used up and she couldnt make the wheel budge in any direction.
A flat panel on the side of the door lit up and a feminine computerized voice announced, The status of the safe room is secure.
Good to know. Becca tapped the panel, and a command screen appeared. Not seeing an icon or a button to unlock the door, she spoke clearly in the direction of the speaker above the panel. Unlock safe room.
After a moment, the computer denied her request.
Thanks for nothing, Becca muttered. She walked the length of the room, looking for a switch to make the lights brighter. Apparently that too was controlled by a system outside her reach. Not even the reading lamp on the end table tucked between the love seat and the oversize tufted leather armchair responded when she flipped the switch. Where am I?
More silence. Apparently not even the computer had an answer.
She went to the kitchen sink and tested the water faucet. The water smelled fine and looked clear. The cool water on her hands refreshed her and she blotted her face as well before finding a cup and drinking her fill.
Her memories returned in fractured images. She remembered walking with Lucy, but not what they talked about. There had been a strong man holding her tightly. Hed smelled funny. Odd. Too sweet and strong for a cologne, the odor had made her head swim. Chloroform? Was she recalling fact or was her mind weaving in some fiction?
Uncertain, she crossed to the other end of the room, opening the bathroom door, finding no windows and no obvious escape route. A glance in the mirror had her scrubbing away the mascara smudged and streaked under her eyes and down her cheeks. Noticing a red mark at her neck, she rubbed at the spot, remembering the pinch and sting of a needle before her world went black. Someone had shouted. Who had it been?
Where am I? she asked, returning to the center of the room.
Youre in a safe room.
She jumped. This reply was not automated. The voice, as rough as sandpaper thanks to one of those altering devices, filled the room. Cooperate, Ms. Wallace, and you will be released unharmed.
She heard the unspoken flip side of the statement. If she didnt cooperate she wouldnt be released. Come in here and say that, she said with all the bravado she could muster. Show yourself! Her temper mounted as she waited for a reply. You coward! It will take more than voice alteration and an automatic door to avoid the penalty for kidnapping me. She needed to keep him talking, needed information about her captor.
Well see.
Male, she was sure of that much. Ninety percent sure, anyway. Those voice gadgets could do bizarre things. Let me out!
People will be looking for me. She hoped they already were.
There was another long delay before the reply. Rest. Drink plenty
of fluids. Well talk again soon.
What do you want from me?
For now, I want you to rest.
Where are my shoes? She shouted the question at the door and pulled on the handle again. Her frustration soaring to new highs, she smacked the control panel, hoping for a short circuit if nothing else.