Taken (Second Sight) Read Online Free PDF

en route now but Mac already knew what they would find. Nothing. Isabelle wouldn’t have left without him. Mac reversed direction and paced, stopping behind the chair that Isabelle had been sitting in when he’d last seen her.
    24/7, he’d said. Never leave her side, he’d promised. Never lose her, he’d vowed.
    He glared down into the empty seat not even seeing it.  
    It was his worst nightmare come true.  
    The Chameleon has Isabelle.

    • • • • •

    Prentiss watched as Isabelle’s eyes slowly opened. The amazing amber of them was almost like the actual stone. It took her several moments as she slowly blinked once and then twice but she eventually tried to move her hands. The handcuffs rattled against the heavy chain.
    He’d laid her on her back on the metal cot. Just a heavy shelf of metal with golfball-sized holes, it was attached to the wall with giant hinges so it could be folded up or down. At the moment, it was down and the thick, taut, diagonal metal chains at its head and foot held it in the horizontal position. He’d used three pairs of handcuffs, one for each hand and one to cuff her ankles together. A loop of chain that slipped through one of the holes in the cot and a large padlock through the chain below the bed would keep the third cuff in place. He hadn’t wanted to spring for the leg shackles at the adult store. The one hand was tethered to the support chain of the cot near her shoulder. But the other arm dangled from the upper part of the chain, where it attached to the wall. The arrangement obviously confused her.
    She tried to move her bare hands again and this time looked up.
    But she immediately winced and took in a quick, hissing breath.
    “There’s quite the lump on the back of your head,” he said, amiably, starting with good cop. “That’s got to hurt.”
    He’d drug in a metal office chair and sat in it facing her, the chair facing backward so he could lean his forearms on the edge of the back.
    Her eyes, truly open now, snapped to his face.
    “Hello, Isabelle,” he said smiling. “Welcome to cell number A35.”
    He sat close to her in the tiny space and his voice echoed with just the tiniest bit of reverb in the all metal room. The bars behind him were closed but unlocked–the mechanisms probably all stripped out long ago to prevent any accidental imprisonments.
    “ No ,” Isabelle gasped as she yanked her arms and feet.
    That had to hurt too , Prentiss thought, still smiling.
    “I see you know me,” he said. “Recognize my voice from the message I left you?”
    He was particularly proud of his voice.
    “Please,” she said, her voice trembling. “You don’t have to do this.”
    “I think you know me better than that,” he said, opening the button on his left shirt pocket. He’d donned latex gloves the moment she’d landed in the trunk. “But what I’ll bet you didn’t know was that I’m a bit of a collector.” He reached down to the bottom of the pocket and drew out a thick silver chain, dangling it between them. “This belonged to Esme.” He stood then and moved the chair aside. “That’s who we’re going to start with.” He watched as Isabelle’s eyes widened with his approach. She squirmed on the metal cot and the chain creaked even under her slight weight. “And I think you know why Esme .”
    She’d been the only one of his victims to have survived and it had been because of Isabelle.
    “No, please ,” she pleaded, trying to back away from him. “ Don’t .”
    He gathered the chain up into a loose wad and lowered it toward her hand, which she immediately balled into a fist. He smirked at it. Time for bad cop.  
    Using both his hands, he slowly pried up her index finger, then the next. Her hand shook and she groaned with the effort of keeping her fingers closed but there was no way she could resist. The delicate and soft skin of her palm began to appear and Prentiss let the chain fall into it.  
    “ No ,” she gasped as her