Dead in a Week (Forensic Instincts 7)

“Thank you for sending him away,” Lauren said weakly, fully aware of the irony of thanking this man, and equally aware that he couldn’t understand a word she was saying.

“You’re welcome,” he replied in excellent, only slightly accented English. “Marko has the manners of a pig.”

Lauren started. “You speak English.”

He nodded, setting the tray on the nightstand.

“You’re weak. You must eat,” he said. “I know you’re frightened. But soon we’ll get what we want, and this will all be over.”

“What is it you want?” Lauren couldn’t control the tears any longer, and they spilled down her cheeks. “Money? Call my father. Please. He’s very rich. He’ll wire the ransom to you today.”

“It’s being taken care of. I have no doubt that your father will cooperate.” Bashkim gestured at the food. “Enough talk.”

Lauren fell silent, scrambling into a cross-legged position and placing the tray on her lap. The food smelled good. The knot in her stomach eased just knowing that her father was being contacted. He’d wire the money to them in an hour.

She’d be free.

With a resurgence of hope, she tasted the soup. “This is delicious.” She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She uncapped the bottle of water and began to greedily drink. It was the first substantial amount of fluid she’d drunk in four days. She was badly dehydrated and her body was desperate for renewal.

“Slowly,” Bashkim cautioned. “You want to keep it down.”

Lauren nodded, placing the bottle on the tray. He was right. The taste of choloroform was beginning to fade, but her body was protesting the large onslaught of fluid.

She paused for a moment. Then, she took a small bite of bread, chewing slowly and thoroughly before she swallowed.

“Good.” Bashkim nodded. He stood, feet planted apart, waiting patiently while Lauren made her way through the meal.

Fifteen minutes later, she’d eaten most of the bread and half the soup.

“That’s all I can manage,” she said.

“It’s enough.” He set aside the tray. “Next time you’ll come to the kitchen. There’s more food there.”

Lauren wiped the streaks of tears off her face, trying to come to terms with her violent abduction and her now less-than-barbaric treatment. “You’re being very kind. I’m grateful. Because you’re right. I’m scared—terrified. Please call my father as soon as you can. I beg you.” She started crying again.

“I told you, it’s being taken care of.” Bashkim didn’t elaborate. “And don’t worry about Marko. He won’t bother you again.”

He turned to leave.

“Thank you,” Lauren called after him. “Thank you so much.”

She listened to his retreating footsteps, bowing her head in relief. Her father was being contacted. It would be okay. Soon she’d be home.

Suddenly she had the strength to take a shower and resume being human.

* * *

Bashkim paused in the hallway, listening to the sounds of her preparing for her shower.

She was a nice girl. He hoped her father would cooperate. He hoped she wouldn’t have to die.

He didn’t normally feel pity. Normally, he didn’t give a shit if or how he slaughtered the people he killed. But this one reminded him of his youngest sister. He’d make the next few days as easy on her as possible.

If death became necessary, he’d kill her in a kind way.