Beth swallowed hard, burying her face in the cool comfort of her sweater. Even this scenario, though tragic, was preferable to reality. Mark was dead.
Perhaps, she thought, it had always been only a matter of time before she brought him death, brought it to him with the warmth of a kiss, the gentleness of a caress.
Beth tensed as she heard the jangle of keys. Time to eat—once more. How many meals did this make? What would he bring her this time? In an absurd way, she found herself looking forward to eating; it broke the monotony.
How long had she been in here?
The sound of Abbott fitting the key in the lock still made her stomach turn. The door swung open and their gazes met. She shivered at the blankness of his stare and the mystery of what lay behind his dead eyes.
Why hadn’t she se
