ChapterTwenty-Seven
“Your mother should be here any minute now.”
At the far end of the dining table, Ellen sat and filed her nails, the gun resting between her and the tasteful floral arrangement in the middle of the table. Bianca squeezed the arms of her dining chair. With her wrists handcuffed to them, there was little else she could do.
“I’m sure you’ll be happy to see her, just like she’ll be excited to see you.” Ellen flashed her pearly white teeth in Bianca’s direction. “As long as she does exactly what I tell her to, you’ll leave here as hale and hearty as you entered. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Bianca didn’t know what to say. Ever since she realized Ellen was one filament short of a lightbulb, she’d kept her mouth shut and her face as blank as possible. When Ellen had pointed the gun at her and told her to sit in the chair, she did. And she hadn’t complained when the handcuffs were tightened around her wrists.
Nor had she said anything when she realized it was well past dinnertime and she hadn’t eaten a thing. She felt light-headed and shaky, and not just from shock.
“I…” Her voice cracked as she attempted to get Ellen’s attention. Every time Bianca shifted or made a sound, the woman reached for the gun, which was the last thing Bianca wanted. “I think my blood sugar is getting low. If it crashes, it could be bad. I’d need to go to the hospital.”
“You poor thing.” As if Ellen had an ounce of sympathy. “I’ll get you some juice. Orange should do it.”
“I’ve got some jelly babies in my purse. They usually work better.”
“I’m sure the juice will be fine.”
Ellen took the gun with her to the kitchen. That didn’t make Bianca feel any better. She looked frantically around the room, trying to come up with some kind of plan, but her head was too foggy.
The situation was hopeless. Ellen had taken Bianca’s purse and hidden it away somewhere, but not before turning off her phone. And who knew what she’d done with the pepper spray? It was useless against a gun, anyway. Bianca had thought she’d been prepared for things to get dangerous.
She’d been terribly wrong.
Ellen returned carrying a tall glass of orange juice. She set it on the table before Bianca. “This should help. My cousin has Type 1 diabetes. I know a good bit about it. When were you diagnosed?”
Still cuffed to the chair, Bianca attempted to sip the glass from where it sat on the table. “Grade school. Look, could you uncuff me? It’s really hard to drink like this.”
“I’ll get you a straw.”
Bianca stifled a curse. So much for that idea. It was time for her fuzzy plan B. Which meant turning on the charm and pretending to be as innocent and naïve as everyone thought she was.
Ellen returned, dropping the straw into the glass.
“Thanks. I’m… I’m really sorry about all this.” Bianca brought the tip to her mouth and drank as much as she dared. I wouldn’t put it past Ellen to tamper with it. “You seem like a nice lady. And I know my parents are no angels. I’m sorry for what they did.”
“What they did?” Ellen stood uncomfortably close as she watched Bianca drink, gun held casually in her hand. “Sweetheart, your parents took everything from me. Maybe that’s not your fault, but when you play these games at our level, there is sometimes collateral. Unfortunately for you, you’re that collateral.”
Bianca took a deep breath. She was starting to feel a little more like herself, but that only meant she could now focus on the terrifying situation unraveling around her.
So when someone knocked on the front door, she almost jumped out of her seat. Ellen stood up straight and rushed to the door as if she were expecting an important package. Or a hot date.
“Vivi!” Ellen said. “Look at you. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Come in, come in!”
Bianca’s heart stopped as she saw the first glimpse of her mother. Alone.
Ellen led her to the table where Bianca sat. “I was just having a chat with your daughter about you. She’s right over here.”
Bianca shared a glance with her mother, who hugged her purse close to her body as she took in Bianca’s state and the gun oscillating between them.
“It’s been a long time,” her mother said, clearly attempting to not show much emotion. “You’re looking well, too.”
“Do you think so? I’m trying something different. New life. New me.” Ellen pointed to the chair at the end of the table and waited for her to sit. “Let me take your purse for you.”
Her mother seemed hesitant to let it go, but Ellen snatched it from her, setting it out of reach on the kitchen counter before taking a seat at the head of the table. It was almost like the three of them were sitting down to catch up over coffee. Aside from the handcuffs. And the gun.
And the murderous energy radiating from the woman holding it.