Page 64 of The Attercop

Duck made his way over to another spot on the floor. He growled.

“What is it, boy?” Charlie asked.

There was a smeared stain on the concrete floor. “Is that…?” Charlie asked.

Sam frowned. “Yeah. It’s blood. Let’s not go making any assumptions.”

Duck continued sniffing around then barked.

“What have you got there?” Charlie asked.

Duck had his nose in a small wad of paper. Charlie walked to him, pulled a pair of nitrile gloves out of his pocket, and put them on. He picked up the wad and unfolded it. It was made up of a tissue, a cash register receipt and a crumpled business card—one of Declan’s. He showed it to Sam.

“There’s no other reason for this to be here. Someone’s taken Declan.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Declan came to. He couldn’t see. Something covered his face.Cloth.

He tried to move his arms but they were tightly clamped down—clamped to a hard surface at his wrists. He discovered that his ankles were secured in the same fashion.

Someone definitely doesn’t want me to move, let alone escape. They also don’t want me to see them.

He knew instinctively that if he was going to get out of this, he was going to have to remain calm, and the way to do that was to be as clinical as possible.

There was a sound—a clack of two hard objects hitting, or one being placed on another. He was not alone.

Then he smelled it. Coffee. It became clear that whoever was in the space with him had set their cup on a saucer.

“Don’t be so selfish,” Declan said. “The least you could do is share your coffee with me.”

Someone exhaled.

“Well? Are you going to be a good host and offer me some?” Declan pushed.

“But if I offered you a coffee, then I’d have to remove the hood,” a voice said. “At least enough to uncover your mouth. I’d be running the risk of revealing myself, and that would spoil the fun, don’t you think?”

“I guess it depends on how you describe ‘fun’,” Declan offered.

“True.”

The person walked around Declan. From the sound their feet made on the floor, Declan guessed the floor was concrete. Not wood, like at his office.

The voice continued. “I don’t think we’re ready for the great reveal, yet.”

Declan heard a mechanical sound.Click-click-click-click.

“I can just bet you’re playing the ‘Name That Sound’ game. Here, let me try it again.”

Click-click-click-click.

It was a familiar sound, but Declan couldn’t place it.

“Here. Let me give you another clue.”

Declan felt something jab his left forearm. He inhaled sharply. The injury wasn’t deep, just startling.

“Ah, you felt it,” the voice said.