“What’s she choking him with?”
“Ch-choking?”
“Sophie?” I say, louder now, firmer. “Let him go.”
Sophie looks straight at me. She holds my gaze as Jay gasps, and a chill slithers down my spine.
“Let him go!” I point the gun at her again. “You want me to back off? I’m not going to do it while you’re killing him.”
She continues holding my gaze.
“You know what I’m saying,” I hiss. “You know enough English to understand.”
Jay gasps, and his head falls forward as he draws in rapid breaths. I see then what she’s using. It’s her IV tube, wrapped around his neck, just slack enough now to let him breathe.
“Dead,” she says. “Malthe and Liva. Dead. Saw killed.”
“You saw your friends Malthe and Liva die. I’m sorry. That wasn’t us, though. I can explain—”
“Victor,” she says. “Want Victor.”
“Victor?” I repeat it. “Is that your partner? Your lover? Your husband?” I rattle off synonyms, waiting for the recognition in her eyes. There is none, though. Her hooded eyes give nothing away.
“April,” I say. “Get the hiking boot.”
She withdraws, her shoes tapping across the wooden floor. When she returns, I glance up just in time to see her holding the boot … with the severed foot still inside.
I open my mouth, but Anders beats me to it, waving wildly at the boot and shaking his head. It takes a split second before his meaning penetrates. April disappears.
“Victor!” Sophie snaps again. She didn’t see the foot, thankfully—she’s too low behind the bed. She tightens the tubing again, and Jay’s eyes bulge.
“Stop that!” I snap. “If you want to talk to us, you need him.”
She looks me in the eye. “Liar.”
I blink. Did she just call me a liar? Or is that a Danish word? “I am not lying to you. He’s the only one who can speak Danish, so unless your English vocabulary suddenly improves—”
Anders catches my eye. I understand the message.
Take it down a notch. Remember she’s not herself. She’s woken in a strange place with strange people. She’s not thinking straight and not fully understanding the language.
“I need you to let him go,” I say, motioning with my hand. “Please. We can talk about Victor. Just let him go.”
“Liar.”
I struggle against my frustration. Pretend she’s high on drugs. Don’t expect logic. Just talk her down.
April returns with the boot, sans foot. I grab it in my free hand and hold it up.
“Vic—?” I begin.
She sees the boot, screams and yanks on the tubing, and Jay thrashes in fresh panic.
“Sophie!” I shout. “Sophie!”
She’s not liste
ning. I holster my gun and dive for the needle on the bed. Snatch it, drop onto her just as she grabs Jay’s hair and smashes his face into the floor. I jab the needle in, but she bucks before I can depress the syringe. Then she’s on me. Before I can blink, I’m flat on my back, sprawled half across Jay, with Sophie on top of me.