Simmons leaned forward. “Yes. Prescription sedatives. I’d been saving them for two months.”
“A doctor prescribed them when I had a breakdown. I never took them. I saved them. Crushed them into powder.”
“I poured it into the second bottle while they were working on the first. Liquor’s bitter. They didn’t notice.” “And then what?”
“Then I started tying them up. Kyle first. He was completely out, didn’t even move.”
“Hands behind his back, cord wrapped tight. Duct tape over that. Legs too. Tape over his mouth, then I put him on the floor.”
“Then Mike. He tried to wake up, mumbled something. But he had no strength. I tied him too.”
“Steve started realizing something was wrong when I came toward him. Tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn’t work. I shoved him.”
“He fell. I sat on his back and tied his hands. He was yelling, so I taped his mouth shut.”
Ellie fell silent. Looked at Steve. He lay on the floor listening, eyes full of tears.
“They woke up about three hours later. One by one. Kyle started thrashing first, trying to get loose.”
“Pointless. I sat nearby smoking. Waiting for all three of them to wake up.”
“When all three were awake, I told them, ‘Now you’re going to find out what it feels like. What it feels like to be helpless.’”
“‘When you can’t fight back. When someone does whatever they want to you.’” “What did you do to them?” Simmons asked quietly.
Ellie was silent. Then she said, “What did they do to me?”
The ambulance took Mike—the unconscious one—to the hospital. We brought Steve and Kyle to the station.
We didn’t fully untie them. Left their hands bound, freed their legs so they could walk. Escorted them down to the cars.
Steve limped. Kyle held his stomach. Neighbors had come out into the hallways, whispering, pointing.
Mrs. Parker watched from her doorway, making the sign of the cross. I led Ellie. She walked calmly, looking straight ahead.
Daylight was starting to come up. The sky was gray and wet-looking. Rain was in the forecast.
I put her in the back seat. Simmons sat beside her. I drove.
Steve and Kyle were loaded into another car with the patrol officers. On the way, Ellie said nothing, just stared out the window. Sleeping houses, empty streets, shuttered stores slid by.
An old woman stood shivering at a bus stop with a shopping bag. A city worker swept the sidewalk on the corner. Ordinary morning in an ordinary town.
We got to the station. Old brick building, two stories, peeling plaster. I took Ellie to the desk.
The captain was already there—Captain Crowley. Big man, red face, thinning hair. He looked at Ellie, then at me, and pressed his lips together.
“This her? This girl tied up three grown men?”
“Yes, sir. She admitted it. Drugged them, then bound them.”
Crowley shook his head. “Take her to interview room three. We’ll process it there. Put the other two in separate rooms. We’ll question them apart.”
I led Ellie into room three. Small room. Table, three chairs, lamp with a green shade. Peeling paint on the walls, rusty radiator in the corner, barred window.
Ellie sat down, put her hands on the table, and looked at me. “Can I have a cigarette?”
I took out my pack of strong cigarettes and handed it to her. She took one, and I gave her a light.
She inhaled deeply, grateful. “Thanks. I’ve been wanting a real cigarette without having to rush.”
Simmons brought in the report forms and set them on the table. Pen, ink. “Ellie, we need to go through it all again from the beginning. Full statement, detailed, official.”
She nodded. “I understand. I’m ready.” We started.
Simmons asked the questions. I wrote. Ellie answered slowly, carefully choosing her words. Sometimes she stopped, lit another cigarette, then kept going.
Last name, first name, middle name, year of birth, place of work. Education—high school equivalent, no prior record, address, identification details.
“Now tell us how you met Victor—the same Victor you mentioned.” Ellie leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “At the plant, a year ago. He worked in the next shop over, as a mechanic.”
“He was good-looking, funny. Started courting me. Brought flowers, took me to the movies. I thought it was love.”
She gave a bitter little laugh. “I was naive. Three months later he asked me to move in.”
“Said he had a one-bedroom apartment, paid for with help from his parents. I said yes.”
“What did I have to lose?
