Scratched Off

by Julie C. Gilbert

  Jenn shook her head slowly.

  Kneeling, he slipped a peanut butter and jelly sandwich under the door and rolled a water bottle after it. She stared at the food longingly, trying to decide if he’d poison her for kicks. His earlier actions showed he was nuts enough to pull something like that, but the woman one cell over proved he also kept some captives alive. Picking up the sandwich and the water bottle, Jenn retreated to the blankets at the back and sniffed at the food. Her brother always made fun of her for smelling things before she ate them, but the ritual calmed her. Grape jelly wouldn’t be her top choice, but right now, anything sounded good.

  As she took her first bite, Jenn watched the man slip a paper plate holding a different kind of sandwich under her neighbor’s door. After completing the delivery, the man picked up the tray and stood. Then, he ran the tray over the bars like a giant musical instrument, creating enough of a racket to rouse the woman.

  “Breakfast,” he announced. Without waiting for a response, the man walked out.

  Alternating bites of sandwich with sips of water, Jenn watched the woman slowly sit up and stare listlessly at the food sitting by the cell door.

  “He’s not much of a cook, but it’s not bad,” said Jenn.

  The woman’s eyes filled with tears. She pulled the blankets further onto her lap and wrapped her arms around them. When she blinked, tears began the trek down her cheeks toward her chin and plunked onto the blanket. Her blue eyes were full of misery.

  “You should try to eat something,” Jenn encouraged.

  Shaking her head, the woman only tightened her hold on the blankets. As Jenn started to doubt she’d ever get the woman to speak, a whisper reached her ears.

  “I want to die.”

  “Don’t say that.” The plea came more out of reflex than thought. Jenn set down the last quarter of sandwich and scooted closer to the other cell.

  “Why not? It doesn’t matter. This is the end of the line. We’re never getting out of here.”

  “You don’t know that,” Jenn protested. She wanted to stop the flow of depressing words. “Cops could be on their way to get us this second.” Jenn didn’t believe it, and from the woman’s expression, she didn’t either.

  The woman’s tears dried up, and she stared hard at Jenn.

  “I came here with two friends. One of them was in that very cell hours ago.”

  Jenn thought about the body she’d helped to unload from the van. She opened her mouth to share her impressions but reconsidered. They had no way of double checking the truth. If the woman believed her, it might pull her out of the funk, but she didn’t seem the sort to take much on faith anymore.

  “I’m sorry,” Jenn murmured. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, but I’m here to listen if you need it.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” said the woman. “She’s dead.”

  “Where are we?” Jenn asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

  The question brought forth a bitter smile.

  “Hell on Earth,” replied the woman.

  “Besides that.” Jenn mentally kicked herself. She should have seen that answer coming. “Come on, think. If we can figure out where we are—”

  “Then what?” challenged the woman.

  With effort, Jenn held in an exasperated sigh.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. To give herself a moment to think, Jenn shoved the last part of the sandwich into her mouth and chewed. Her mother would be horrified, but Sam would laugh. “We can’t give up.”

  “Layla used to say that.” The statement had a flat, emotionless quality to it.

  Mention of the name reminded Jenn that she had no name for her neighbor.

  “Name’s Jenn,” she said, sticking her hand through the bars between them. “Jennifer Kerman.”

  After staring at the hanging hand for a long time, the woman briefly shook it.

  “Natasha Creswell.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” said Jenn, manners asserting themselves. She indulged in a small, humorless laugh. “I’d prefer it not be here, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  “Your name is familiar,” said Natasha. Her curious expression conveyed the obvious question.

  “You’re probably thinking of my brother. Sam’s an FBI agent working the Parkside Killer case.”

  “Is that how you ended up here?”

  “Probably.”

  “Are you going to eat?” demanded their captor.

  Jenn flinched. She hadn’t even heard him approach this time.

  “I’m not hungry.” Natasha’s stomach contradicted her.

  “Leave it a little longer,” said Jenn. “I’ll try to get her to eat something.”

  Grunting, the man collected Jenn’s empty plate and stormed off.

  “That dude is seriously scary,” Jenn muttered.

  Natasha giggled then laughed, releasing some of the tension in the air.

  Although pleased to hear her laugh, even if it bordered on hysterical, Jenn hadn’t meant to be funny. Several seconds of silence fell before Jenn attempted to coax Natasha into eating.

  “I’m sick of tuna fish,” Natasha declared. “It’s been most meals for over two weeks.”

  Jenn grimaced. She liked peanut butter and jelly well enough but subsisting on it didn’t sound appealing.

  “Eat it,” she said diplomatically. “We’ll ask him for something else when he collects the plate.”

  Natasha shot her a grumpy look but crawled over to the plate and bit into the sandwich. She ate in silence for several minutes. Not wanting to disturb her, Jenn spent the time rearranging the blankets. Trying to keep down the thought that these blankets were last used by the woman she’d unloaded from the van was like playing whack-a-mole.

  When the man returned to collect the garbage and empty bottles, Jenn brought up the subject of meal variety. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded and shrugged.

  Time passed with excruciating slowness. Several attempts at conversation fell flat. After the meal, the other woman curled up on her blankets and slipped into her own thoughts. The weighty sadness settled on her again.

  “How do you do this?” Jenn shouted, louder than she needed to just to break the oppressive silence. “I’m so bored!”

  Natasha slowly turned her head to regard Jenn.

  “Be grateful he’s ignoring us. Sometimes he stands outside the cell and watches.”

  “I can see that being worse,” Jenn admitted, “but please, tell me about yourself. I’m going crazy here just thinking.”

  “If you don’t know me, it won’t hurt if I die.”

  The grim statement shocked Jenn into speechlessness for several beats.

  “It’s not true,” she whispered at last. Forcing her stiff, sore body up, Jenn knelt by the bars and reached as far as she could into the other cell. “We need each other. We need to stay strong, and we need a plan. I am not waiting around for that man to kill me, but I may need your help.”

  Natasha stared at the outstretched hand like it would bite her, but eventually she clasped Jenn’s hand and squeezed hard.

  Chapter 41:

  Reunion

  Andrew Novak’s Private Residence

  Florence, New Jersey

  Melissa Novak didn’t need the GPS to guide her through the last few miles. She remembered the way well. As she pulled down the long, narrow driveway, she marveled at how big some of the trees had grown. The frequent notices against trespassers shook her resolve a bit, but she pressed on. Maybe if she knocked on the door, the owners would be kind enough to let her stay a while and reminisce. She was ten minutes early. Andy had never said where they should meet, but she assumed it would be near the main house. The familiarity in seeing the big house drove away some of the week’s frustrations and heartache.

  The narrow driveway opened up into a large lot that could accommodate several trucks or a few dozen cars. Melissa parked near a large white van, noting that a dirty Ford Explorer and slightly less dirty
Dodge Ram also occupied the lot. Somebody had to be home. Gripping her slippery courage, Melissa tucked her phone into her purse and hiked up to the door. The sound of several barking dogs filled her ears, but she didn’t see a dog pen out front. As she lifted her hand to knock, a yellow sticky note caught her eye.

  In neat block letters, the note said: COME IN.

  Sticking the note back where she found it, Melissa considered her options. She could assume the note was meant for her and follow the instruction or she could be on the safe side and knock anyway.

  A ding from her phone startled her. Confining her reaction to a slight jump, Melissa rooted around in the purse until she found the phone. She’d received a text message consisting of one word: Enter.

  How does he know I’m here?

  The Andy she remembered hadn’t been so mysterious. Questions about him and this house filled her head. The note could have been left for anybody, but the text message was clearly aimed at her.

  “Guess I have permission to enter,” said Melissa, still hesitating.

  Despite the invitation, the whole situation struck her as highly unusual. Visions of horror movies sprang to mind. Lonely houses in the middle of nowhere never held good things for female sojourners.

  Get a grip!

  Before the last of her nerve could drain away, Melissa twisted the door handle and stepped inside. The shift away from sunlight momentarily plunged her into darkness. As her eyes adjusted, she became aware of another presence in the room. The darkness didn’t line up with her memories of the place. Someone had rigged heavy drapes across every entrance, creating a cave-like atmosphere.

  “Hello, Mel. Thank you for coming.” The voice belonged to Andy but the first words sounded sad and far too formal. “I have a Taser pointed at you. Please don’t make me use it.”

  The last statement made zero sense.

  “Andy?” The name sounded shaky. “What are you doing? Why do you need a Taser? I came here to meet you.” Melissa took a step toward him.

  “Stop!”

  The cold tone as much as the order halted Melissa’s forward progress.

  “Don’t move!”

  “Tell me what’s going on,” she demanded. Anger helped overcome the fear keeping her feet cemented in place. She stepped carefully back toward the door.

  “I warned you,” said Andrew.

  A loud pop and a strange crackling sound reached her ears as pain unlike anything she’d ever felt coursed through her entire body. Everything turned rigid. She was completely aware of falling but helpless to brace or prepare in any way. The pain cut off, but her muscles were still on strike. She lay on the ground not quite remembering how she got there.

  “Why didn’t you listen?” Andrew cradled her head and righted some strands of hair that had landed across her face. His fingers traced her jaw and then continued stroking her hair in a comforting manner.

  Eventually, the ability to speak returned, but Melissa couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t a repeat of earlier questions.

  “Mel? Please say something.” Andrew’s fingers brushed aside a few fresh tears.

  “I’m … trying to understand,” Melissa began. Her voice caught on a sob, not letting out any more words until she swallowed the painful lump. “But I can’t.”

  “I’ll explain later. I promise. Just relax. I’m going to move you now. Don’t fight me, or I’ll have to hurt them.”

  “Who?” The one-word question conveyed her confusion. “Andy, you don’t have to hurt anybody. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

  “Shhh. I’m going to cover your eyes just for a moment. Close your eyes and rest. When I get you situated, I’ll explain everything.” Leaning down, he kissed her forehead.

  A silky sleep mask settled across her eyes. The material absorbed the new round of frustrated tears. She started to reach for the mask, but he caught her hands.

  “Leave it on,” Andy instructed. “I’m going to help you stand now. Let me lead and everything will be all right.”

  Prior to the Taser encounter, Melissa would have denied Andrew possessed the ability to harm a person. The shock had been a rude awakening in many ways. The news that he had other captives made her heart and head hurt. She wanted to turn back time and ignore the message to come to a meeting. While on the subject of wishing impossibilities, Melissa hoped Sam would come. She quickly pushed that thought away for many reasons. One, she had no idea what would happen. Two, they were finished, according to him. Three, right now, keeping everybody she cared about far away from Andy seemed like a good idea.

  Survival instincts told Melissa to flee, but a small, curious side of her wanted the answers Andy held. There was a chance the whole cloak and dagger business could be explained as a prank gone too far. She was having a difficult time reconciling this new Andy and the sweet kid from her memories. If anything, she would have guessed Josh coming to this before Andy, since he’d always been the bossy one. Having no other choice, Melissa let her brother lead her through the expansive house. She didn’t remember enough to be able to track their movements throughout the house, but when they started descending stairs, she knew they were headed for the basement.

  As they reached the bottom, it occurred to her that he might actually hurt strangers. The thought made her stumble, but Andy righted her balance and continued leading. She stiffened as he started to turn her. His grip on her arms tightened.

  “Remember what I said before about hurting them,” he whispered. “Turn around and sit down.”

  “This would be so much easier if you just told me what you wanted,” said Melissa. She let him spin her around and press her shoulders against a rough surface. Gentle but consistent pressure, lowered her to a kneeling position. Feeling for the ground, Melissa eased her body down on the hard surface.

  “Lift your arms above your head.”

  “Why?”

  “Stop questioning everything!” Andy shouted, driving a fist into the wall near her head.

  The blow came so close Melissa felt the wind of its passing.

  He grunted and ripped off the blindfold. Clutching his right hand, Andy stared at her with anger and contempt.

  Melissa blinked up at him, hardly recognizing him as her brother. The shout had torn yet another layer off of her nerves. Much of her effort went into not trembling.

  Reaching down, Andy yanked her left arm up and snapped a metal cuff around the wrist. He repeated the move with her other arm. In less than four seconds, any chance of defending herself disappeared.

  Closing her eyes, Melissa rested her head against the wall, trying to imagine anything but this nightmare. The snap of the cold metal cuffs echoed loudly in her mind, driving off the last scraps of hope the explanation would make sense.

  “I’m doing this for you.”

  The statement brought Melissa’s eyes open and her head forward. The ridiculousness put her on surer emotional footing.

  “No.” The protest was short and firm. “There is nothing you can say that would ever justify this.” She moved the chains so he understood her meaning. “Or keeping them,” she added, tilting her head to indicate the three cells lined up to her left.

  Both the middle and the last cells held the prone form of a woman curled up under several blankets.

  “It’s not their time to die yet,” said Andy. His factual tone chilled Melissa.

  Realization washed over her like cold rain.

  “You’re the killer Sam’s been after.” The heavy truth pressed down upon her chest, and she started hyperventilating.

  A ding from his phone announced a new text message. When he read the message, Andy’s whole face lit up.

  “We can continue this conversation later. I need to make a phone call. You’re not ready for the whole truth anyway.” Andy reached into a pocket and withdrew a hypodermic needle. Flicking off the safety cap, he pressed the needle into Melissa’s left arm. “Just rest.”

  Melissa felt the cuffs being tightened right before her sen
ses completely abandoned her to darkness.

  Chapter 42:

  Everybody Gets a Turn

  The Killer’s Lair

  Florence, New Jersey

  When Melissa Novak woke up her situation hadn’t improved. In fact, it got worse because now her left arm ached and her head felt fuzzy. As before, tight metal cuffs secured both wrists to the wall above her head. Pain shot through her lower back from sitting on the unforgiving floor.

  “I think she’s awake,” said an unfamiliar female voice. “Hey, are you awake?”

  “Shhhh,” scolded another voice. “If you wake her, he’ll come back.”

  “She’s been out for hours,” said the first voice. “Besides, the sooner he comes back, the sooner the suspense will end. It’s doing bad things to my nerves.”

  “When he comes back, one of us will die,” noted the second voice. She sounded more resigned than worried.

  Though her eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, Melissa forced them open. Her gaze took in an odd sight. Two young women sat in wooden chairs, one to her left and one to her right. The awkward bent to their shoulders told her their wrists were likely bound to the spokes making up the back of each chair.

  “What’s your name?” asked the woman on Melissa’s right. “I’m Jenn.”

  The simple question tugged at Melissa’s heart as she recalled Eddie asking it incessantly.

  “Why do you bother?” wondered the cynical one sitting to Melissa’s left. “We’re all going to die.” Anger lent strength and volume to the words.

  “Mel.”

  Jenn’s attention snapped into sharper focus.

  “Is that short for Melissa or Melanie?” Her tone said she already knew the answer.

  “Melissa. Why?”

  The woman’s face registered shock.

  “You’re her,” Jenn mumbled.

  “Her who?” asked the other woman impatiently. “There must be a million people with that name.”

  “She’s my sister.” Andy’s soft answer made all three women tense.

  “I’ve wanted to meet you, but this wasn’t what I had in mind,” said Jenn.