Tying the Knot, or Knots as it Were

Content warning: This story includes mentions of suicide

"Ah, good, Mr. Justice. You're awake."

Light flooded his eyes as he cracked them open. A blur of brightness. He blinked, trying to see clearly.

"I do enjoy the irony of that name, of course."

It was a female voice. Did he recognize it? It was familiar, but there was something niggling at the back of his mind. It was... Oh shit. His name. Justice. His real name. This wasn't good.

"No, don't bother trying," said the voice. He tried to move a moment after she spoke.

"I am very good with knots, Mr. Justice." Hand, wrist. Foot, ankle, knee. Nothing would move. The brightness started to resolve into detail with agonizing slowness. No one should know that name. He'd been so careful.

A darker blur swam into his vision, and he realized this must be the person speaking to him. She spoke again. "Now, Mr. Justice, I am pleased that you decided to join us before we needed to leave.

"You see, Mr. Justice -- I really can't get enough of saying that name, would you believe it? -- I know who you are, and I know what you've been doing." A cold chill ran down his spine, and he tried harder to move, but nothing budged.

He tried to speak, but his mouth was blocked by something.

"When you found poor Christine, Mr. Justice, we had no idea what was going on. We truly thought that she was heartbroken. That note was masterfully done. The coroner swore up and down that it was suicide. Perhaps it was, she's not around to tell us, and I'm afraid it's too late for you to explain yourself. It's gone beyond that point, Mr. Justice."

He could see more clearly. She was backlit against a bright light of some kind. He didn't recognize her. Black hair, straight, she must have been wearing makeup, or she had the best genes in the world. He couldn't even move his head, and the panic was rising.

"Samantha, however, was a mistake, Mr. Justice. She was always so happy. Always. That was a girl who would never take her own life, and your handwriting slipped, didn't it? I spotted it after a moment, of course, but we didn't know who you were. After all, we see so many men through there, don't we? Except for that little slip, it was very well done.

"But then we were looking. We knew something was happening, and we started checking the books. You knew we kept books, didn't you, Mr. Justice?"

A wave of panic coursed through him. He couldn't move a muscle. How did she know all this? He had been meticulous. That note was perfect. That's why it was so much fun. It was perfect.

"But we checked. And there was a pattern. And do you know what, Mr. Justice? We found it. We checked across town as well, and they saw the pattern as well. You made a mistake. You were predictable." She paused and tsk'd, shaking her head. Was she framed against the sky? It was a featureless square of light, so bright he couldn't make out much detail of the surrounding walls. He tried to concentrate on that, to quell the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him again.

"Then we caught you. Do you remember?" She paused again, smiling. "Oh yes, of course. Blink once for yes, and twice for no. Was that two yesses, or one very slow no? Alas, there are limitations to this form of communication, are there not?" She gave a little laugh, which sounded mirthless to him. A small part of his mind noted that of course he'd find it mirthless, he was tied hand and foot with some kind of a gag keeping him from talking. The pain was starting to rush in as bits of his body made their displeasure known.

"The details aren't terribly important now, of course. I think," she glanced at her wrist, "the tide should reach its peak within the next three hours. Can you hear the water, Mr. Justice?" She smiled down at him again, and her face seemed to stretch into a death rictus as he heard the lapping of water somewhere off to his left.

"Of course, we wanted to give you a moment to recognize what you'd done, and what was about to happen to you. I argued that it should be quick, but Michelle was rather insistent. She wanted torture, you see. We're skilled at that, but usually our clients have asked for it, and desire it most deeply. This was our compromise."

His eyes swivelled back and forth as he tried to understand where he was, how he might escape. It was too bright. The light obliterated the shadows.

"Now, Mr. Justice, I have places to be, and people to see. And I imagine you have some thinking to do. Oh yes, and in case you were wondering," she stood, and pointed at something that was roughly shoulder level. He couldn't see what it was. "This is the high-water mark. Today's tide won't quite reach it, alas, but there should be a solid hundred centimeters of water above the tip," she leaned over and tapped his nose in time with the word, "of your nose." He flinched.

"I want you to remember, for as long as you have a memory to exercise, Mr. Justice, what you have done, and how very lenient we have been. The Sisters are not second-class citizens, Mr. Justice, no matter how the police may view us, and we are not your playthings, nor are we your willing victims. We've left a note explaining the situation for them, as well. Sealed it in a plastic bag inside your shirt, if you try to flex that little chest of yours you might hear it. I imagine your wife will be most interested to hear of your exploits, too."

He swivelled his eyes again as she stood. He thought he could recognize her, but he wasn't sure. He didn't pay close attention to them, except when he'd picked one out, then she was all he could see. Now that she'd stopped distracting him, he could smell the sea. He could hear the water. Somewhere in the distance was a roar, perhaps of a road.

He heard her grunt, and his side exploded with pain. Suddenly her face was very close to his, her hair brushing his cheek. He tried to recoil, but of course he couldn't. Her voice was a vicious whisper in his ear. "Michelle sends her greetings, and I wish you a very hellish descent to the netherworld. For our sake, I hope there is an afterlife, and that you are richly rewarded, you mother. fucker." She rose again and turned. He thought he could see a smile cross her face against the bright square of light. Without a further word, she strode decisively out of his field of view.

Mr. Justice was left with the sound of the water and the roar of the distant road, as her footsteps faded in the distance.