The Serial Killer's Wife by Blake Crouch, Robert Swartwood Read Free Book Online

her soul and worked its way through her heart, into her lungs, and then out of her mouth in an animalistic cry she had had no idea she could even produce.  
    She rushed toward the TV, fell to her knees, placed her hands on the screen as if by doing so she would somehow reach through the glass, grab hold of her son, and pull him to safety.  
    She thought about the day he was born, how he had entered the world with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, and despite her exhaustion she had immediately sensed the panic in the room, knew before anyone else that something terrible had just happened to her baby. She had tried getting up, moving from the bed, wanting to do something to help her son, but the nurses held her down while the doctor unwrapped the cord, severed it, and took her baby away into another room, the entire time Elizabeth screaming to him to bring her child back to her. Ten minutes passed before word came that her son was okay, that he had started breathing again, and for Elizabeth those ten minutes were the worst she had ever had to endure. Not even the day the FBI had come to take Eddie away, when she had learned the horrible truth about her husband, could compare. Those ten minutes when she was convinced the life she had just given birth to was now dead was the absolute worst.  
    That was until today.  
    A phone was ringing. Elizabeth was faintly aware of this but wasn’t sure what it meant. Her cell phone was still in her pocket, set on vibrate. It would be the only phone in the apartment, as they didn’t have a landline.  
    So what did it mean?  
    Elizabeth blinked, realized the ringing was coming from the top of the TV, and quickly stood up.  
    It was a BlackBerry. On the screen were the words UNKNOWN CALLER .  
    She wiped at her eyes, hesitated, then answered it.  
    Cain said, “So how are you enjoying the program so far?”  
    “You sick son of a bitch. Give me back my son!”  
    “Not quite yet. First I want you to help me.”  
    “Help you do what?”  
    “If you don’t help me, your son will die just like Reginald Moore.”  
    “Help you do what?” she repeated, nearly shouting now.  
    “Before I tell you, Elizabeth, I want you to understand this is nothing personal. I have nothing against you or your son. But, unfortunately, to get what I want, I need you.”  
    “Let me talk to him.”  
    “What?”  
    “Let me talk to my son. Right now. I won’t help you do a goddamn thing until I hear his voice.”  
    There was a silence on Cain’s end, and then he said, “Hold on.”  
    Elizabeth stepped back so she could see the television screen. Her son just lay there motionless, like he was dead, and she wanted to look away, turn it off, but she feared that by doing so she would never see him again.  
    For the longest time nothing happened, and then a black-gloved hand appeared in the left-hand corner of the screen. The black-gloved hand became a black-shirted arm as it reached toward Matthew’s mouth and pulled the tape off. Then, before she knew it, Cain’s other black-gloved hand was holding a phone to Matthew’s ear.  
    “Hello?” her son said in a tiny and terrified voice.  
    Elizabeth wiped at her eyes again, holding back more tears. “Honey, it’s me. It’s Mommy.”  
    “Mommy?”  
    “I’m here, baby.”  
    “Mommy, I’m scared.”  
    “I know. I know you are. But it’s okay. I’m going to make sure everything’s okay.”  
    On the screen Matthew’s body was jerking as he sobbed. He went to say something else, but Cain pulled the phone away and placed the tape back over his mouth.  
    “Happy now?” that dark robotic voice asked.  
    “You better not lay one fucking finger on him. I swear to God, I will kill you.”  
    “A little overdramatic, wouldn’t you say?”  
    “What do you want from me?”  
    “That’s quite simple.”  
    But before Cain could continue there was a sudden knocking, hard and frantic, coming from the