Choke: A Thriller Read Online Free Page B

the door.
    He looks back at Vicki.  She has stopped kicking.  Her body's only movements are momentary convulsive jerks.
    Vincent opens the door, and locks it open, then climbs, using the door’s wide handle as a foothold.  He reaches the top of the door, and stretches across it, teetering and nearly falling.  He brings one leg up to the right, and manages to bring himself to a kneeling position on top of the door.
    He stands upright and gauges the distance to the rope overhead.  Sweat has begun to pour down his face.
    He jumps and his right hand catches the rope.  He swings his left hand up and starts climbing his way, hand over hand, toward Vicki.
    Halfway there, he throws his feet up and hooks them over the rope.  Now he can climb faster.
    Vicki has stopped moving.
    With ten yards to go, Vincent sees that the rope runs through a hook in an adjoining beam.  He studies it momentarily, then shifts one hand to the section of rope opposite the beam.
    He is now a good twenty feet above the floor.
    Vincent swings his feet up and braces them against a ceiling beam.  Sweat is pouring down his face.  The muscles in his arms and legs are burning.  Straining, he manages to create a hint of slack in the rope.
    “Come on, come on!” he yells at himself.
    He pulls harder and now there is just enough slack in the rope to slip it from the hook.  Vincent does just that and, now free from the hook, Vicki falls to the ground with a thud that sickens Vincent. 
    Vincent manages to reach the same rope and slides down it fireman-style, landing next to Vicki.
    His hands are shaking and he's crying as he works to loosen the noose.  Her eyes are wide open and unblinking.  Even though the noose is off now, her face remains blue.
    “Vicki!  Vicki!”
    He begins mouth-to-mouth.
    “Come on Vicki!  Come on!”
    He keeps trying mouth-to-mouth, but Vicki shows no signs of reviving.
    Vincent hears the sound of sirens but they seem far away.
    He checks for Vicki’s pulse, but fails to find one.  He hangs his head and starts sobbing.

18.
    Vincent is sitting at a table while Detective Ponko paces in front of him.  It is a typical interrogation room with a single overhead light and empty walls, save for a two-way mirror on one side.
    Ponko is a black woman with a hard, cynical look to her.  She has neatly trimmed hair and her lips are thin. 
    Vincent has already told his story to her at least three times and he is now waiting for his attorney to arrive.
    “So you won't tell me what you two talked about in your last session?” Ponko asks.  Her tone is both sarcastic and suspicious.
    “Look, we've been over this, Detective,” Vincent says.  His voice is hollow and all he wants to do is go back to his house, drink a huge glass of Scotch, and cry.
    “Humor me,” Ponko says, and folds her arms across her chest.
    “I'm a psychologist specializing in peak performance,” Vincent says.  “Vicki is, was, a world-class figure skater.  What do you think we talked about?  Global warming?”
    “So you didn't get into her personal life?  Wouldn’t that have to do with how well she was skating?”
    Vincent saw the obvious leading question for what it was.  He looked toward the interrogation room door.  “Where's my lawyer?”
    “He's on his way.”
    “You’ve been saying that for the last two hours.  I'm not answering any more questions until he gets here.”
    “This is all off the record, Doctor.  So tell me, did you get into her personal life?”
    Vincent knew nothing was off the record.  He was sure the whole conversation was being recorded.
    “Look, I've already told you, when I treat a person, I treat the entire person, not just the athlete.  Who a person is affects everything they do.  So if someone comes to me wanting to improve their performance in whatever they do, you’re goddamned right we get into personal issues.”
    “What were Vicki's issues?”
    Vincent drummed his fingers on the table.  He knew Ponko