Dead In The Water (Rebecca Schwartz Mystery #4) (The Rebecca Schwartz Series)

eyes on me. I couldn’t bear to look at her. I got up to get the ties. When I came back, Warren let go of Libby’s arm and moved a few feet away, the spear gun aimed at Libby’s heart.
    “Rebecca, look at me.”
    Glad to. So long as I didn’t have to look at the ten-year-old who was shaking now, trembling like Esperanza freshly fished from the bay, falling apart before my seemingly heartless eyes. Looking at him as ordered, I put an arm around Libby, pulled her close to me. Instinctively she molded her body to mine like a toddler does, suddenly regressed to a small being used to using adult bodies for comfort. Holding her like that, feeling her panic, understanding that I was her only hope, I felt waves of nausea starting. I wanted to throw my body on top of hers in case the world exploded.
    I put my hand to my mouth. “I’m going to throw up.”
    “Do it then.”
    I stared to heave, to go into the bathroom, but Warren said, “Here.”
    I leaned toward the floor, heaving. Nothing came up, just waves and waves of painful heaves. Noisy ones. Libby must have thought I was dying. Finally the nausea stopped. But Warren kept going in and out of focus.
    “You do exactly as I say, or I swear I will fire a spear into the left side of her skinny chest.”
    Libby’s hand covered her heart. I said, “I believe you. I know what you’re capable of.”
    He backhanded me, so hard my teeth clicked together. I hit Libby’s head with mine and heard her sharp intake of breath. We toppled together into a quivering pile.
    Warren said, “You don’t know shit.”
    When he had come close, I’d smelled something ugly. He was perspiring heavily, but this wasn’t a perspiration odor. Perhaps it was fear, the famous fear that animals are supposed to be able to smell, but I didn’t think so. I thought it was something that came out of Warren’s pores when he was excited, not a sexual odor, but something musky, and it dawned on me that he was enjoying himself.
    From my toes to my scalp, fury rose, a palpable current, and I felt my focus come back, white-hot, single-minded. All right. It was up to me to get Libby out of this. I would.
    “Tie her wrists behind her back.”
    I didn’t have the heart to cut off her circulation. Even so, I tied the cord so tight I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out when I pulled it.
    “Let me see,” said Warren.
    “Get up, sweetheart, and turn around.”
    She stood, turned, and quickly sat down again.
    Warren moved forward very slowly. He whapped not me but Libby this time, very deliberately and not very hard, just a little slap that made a nasty pop. The nausea started, but this time I swallowed it. I couldn’t afford to lose control again.
    “Tighter.”
    I tied her wrists tighter, now biting the insides of my cheeks to keep from screaming and flying at him. She was whimpering steadily.
    “Tie her feet with the other one.”
    I couldn’t bear to lay her down like a roped calf. I let her sit, and sat on the floor to tie her ankles.
    “My dad’s expecting me,” she said. “I have to call my dad.”
    Damn! If she was missed, we might have a chance.
    But Warren only smiled. He’d already thought it out. “No, you don’t. Rebecca will do that. You know Don, don’t you, Rebecca?”
    I nodded, not sure where this was leading.
    As if the mention of it had brought it to life, the phone rang, making me jump.
    “Nervous, Rebecca?”
    “A little.”
    “Answer it and act normal. Find out who it is and say you’ll call right back. Then hang up and report to me. Got it?”
    I nodded.
    “You better do this right.” He moved to the bed and trained the spear gun on Libby.
    I lifted the phone. “Rebecca, are you all right?” It was Julio.
    “Fine, Julio.” My voice was as bright and cheery as if I were at a party. Damn the acting lessons! “Listen, I just stepped out of the shower. Can I call you right back?”
    “Sure.”
    I hung up.
    Warren said, “Julio,” a fresh smile playing at the comers of his mouth. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”
    “Of course not. We’re just friends.” I glanced at Libby. It was crazy, but I was upset that he’d used the F-word in her hearing.
    “Friends.” He leered.
    “Warren, I have to tell you I’m really offended by your language.”
    He put the spear gun in his lap and roared. Maybe I could get it… .
    But I couldn’t—he kept a tight grip even as he laughed his nerdy head off. “Offended by my language!”
    When the joke