“Stop it. It’s no one’s fault except for the creep who’s doing this. And the police are about to stop him. I’ve got to be there.” He lifted her chin to get her to look at him, his eyes intense.

“I chose to be with you, stay with you, knowing some sicko could be after you. And I don’t regret a single moment! I want…” His fingers tightened on her face as he fought for words. “Listen to me. It’s not your fault! This isn’t doing any good. Let’s get going, all right?”

Her heart tightened, and she knew he meant every word he’d said.

She nodded. He was right. Sitting here, feeling sorry for herself, wasn’t helping anyone.

Especially Melody and Kelly.

Melody’s teeth clanked against each other.

Her bathroom prison was frigid. She paced circles in the tiny windowless room, rubbing her hands on her sleeves, trying to make some heat with the friction. The pale blue walls were icy to the touch and her silk blouse and expensive skirt didn’t offer much resistance to the cold.

She glanced down and saw two damned runs in her pantyhose. Her fingers felt around her right calf and found another. She hiked up her skirt and ripped off the suffocating nylon.

She beat on the bathroom door with her fists. Again.

“God damn it! Get me out of here, you fucking bastard!”

Silence.

Maybe he’d left.

Hands stinging, she kicked at the door, using the balls of her feet, avoiding her frozen toes. He’d locked the bathroom door from the outside with a bolt.

Her prison had been stripped. He’d removed the towel racks and shower rod. He’d emptied all toiletries from the mirrored drug cabinet and the cupboards below the counter. Melody had turned the place inside out in her hunt for a weapon or tool. She’d broken her fingernails as she attempted to unscrew the fasteners on the metal drawer handles. Then she’d yanked on the showerhead, but had only torn a good-sized hole in the wall where the head was attached. She’d done the same with the fan cover in the ceiling. Her efforts didn’t yield anything usable, but it made her feel much better.

Ever since she’d woken up on the bathroom floor, she’d been racking her brain to understand what in the hell had happened. She remembered standing in the parking garage, fishing in her purse for her car keys, and wondering if she’d left them on the kitchen counter. A soft sound behind her had caught her attention, but she ignored it, concentrating on finding her keys. Then he’d come from behind, fast and strong.

It’d been like a B horror movie, and she’d starred as the too-stupid-to-live female lead. Something fabric had been placed across her mouth and nose, and she’d held her breath, knowing that to inhale would be dangerous. But he’d pinched her, making her gasp with pain and draw in breaths from the stinking rag. Dark mists had rushed at her eyes as she fought to stay conscious. Turning her head, she’d caught a glimpse of short dark hair.

She couldn’t remember past that.

He’d taken her watch, along with her shoes. She had no idea what time it was, or how long she’d been locked in the bathroom.

She kicked the door, angry at herself for being weak and stupid. She’d known better. She knew the warnings for women. Have your keys ready, check your surroundings. Confident in the safety of the well-lit parking garage, she’d let her defenses relax.

Never again.

The gaping hole around the loose showerhead caught her eye, triggering an idea, and she spun to look at the toilet. She lifted the heavy lid off the back of the toilet and struck the mirrored cabinet with it. Crashing shards of mirror flew everywhere. She picked up two of the larger sharp pieces. Weapons. She stuck the counter with one, testing it. It broke on the impact, but created a deep gouge in the countertop and a small slice on her palm.

She sucked at the wound. The shards weren’t very strong, but they were sharp. She could do some good bloody damage with them. With a grim smile she eyed the toilet lid again. It was too heavy to use as a weapon. She grasped the awkward lid and clobbered the door with it. It made a satisfying boom but no damage. She did it again. And again.

When her arms were tired, she deliberately dropped the lid in the sink, shattering out pieces of the porcelain bowl. If she couldn’t get out, she would create a big, expensive mess for someone to clean up and repair. Ramming the door had made a short crack in the bathroom door by the knob. She ran her finger down it, proud. Her muscles ached from its creation, but it was a start.

She drank water from her hands out of the sink. At least she had water. She could survive a long time on just water. Carefully stepping around the mirror pieces on the floor, she sat down on the toilet lid to catch her breath. She buried her head in her hands, wiped at her tears, and tried not to think of the newspaper articles. The ones about the serial killer. She’d read terrible stories about the torture and murder of the men. This couldn’t be related. Someone was killing men related to that old Co-Ed Slayer case. He wasn’t targeting women. But there was a woman missing. She’d heard it on the news in her car. Would she be the next part of the story?

No. This had to be a ransom thing. Jack would pay whatever they wanted, and she would be freed. She pulled some toilet paper off the roll and blew her nose. She eyed the small roll and her eyes teared again. Maybe she shouldn’t be wasting it on her nose. Exhausted, she straightened her back and took a deep breath. Her eyes fought to stay open as she stepped gingerly over the shards on the floor and into the tub; the only place safe from broken glass. Lying down on her side, the hard plastic was icy against her skin and she shivered. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and closed her eyes, leaving the lights on. Unpredictable spasms from the cold shot through her torso, but she finally fell into a light sleep.