“Please God. Help me.” The spoken words showed how truly desperate she’d become.
God wouldn’t help her, and she didn’t have any right to expect Him to. It had been a long time since she’d prayed or been to church. She’d been a believer, once.
But now…not since her parents’ funeral.
Her parents had been strong believers. God was a part of their home and their everyday life. Her parents believed in moral absolutes, in right and wrong, in good and bad, and in godliness and evil.
That had been a long time ago.
Ange had drifted away from God. Perhaps, if she hadn’t drifted so much, she might not be trapped here.
Her parents had told her time and time again that God would always be there, waiting for her. What was that verse? Something about drawing near to God and he would draw near to her. Was it true? She called out. “God, are you there? Can you hear me? Do you still love me?” She closed her eyes, waiting for a miracle. Then she opened her eyes and stared at the rope around her wrists.
God didn’t come down and untie them.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She spoke out loud. “I don’t blame you, God. I don’t really like me any more either. So why should you?”
Luther was right about one thing. She really hadn’t done much with her life in spite of the opportunities she’d been blessed with. Mama and Daddy would be disappointed in her. They believed in hard work and giving back. She’d never worked a day in her life. Never did anything useful. Nothing for her to be proud of. All she’d ever focused on was how often she’d made the TV reports or magazines. How many friends and followers she had.
The really important things in life—not!
“I’m so sorry.” She wasn’t sure if she was talking to her parents or to God.
Staring at the stained mattress, she was pretty sure she wasn’t the first person Luther had tied up to it. Or hurt or tortured on it. He needed to be stopped. It wasn’t right for anyone to be treated this way.
Anger stirred inside her.
If he killed her, he’d find another woman to do this to. And then another and another. How many times—how many women before he got caught? She wouldn’t let him get away with this. She glared at the door of her tiny prison. “I’ll be the last one you hurt!”
4
Nate showed Ange Matthews’s picture to the doorman at the restaurant. And yes, somewhere between leaving Mt. Pleasant, talking with Zarlengo, the quarterback, and driving here, he’d decided Ange Matthews was, indeed, missing. “What do you think? Does she look familiar?”
“Sure. It’s Ange Matthews. Everyone knows her. She comes here quite often. We’re her favorite restaurant. She was dating that Browns’ player. I think he’s the quarterback. Not sure, I don’t follow sports all that much. Anyway, yes, I know her.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. A week or two ago.”
“You can do better than that. A little more specific.”
“Not really. A lot of people come in and out of here. After a while they all sort of morph into one big crowd, even the famous ones. But you can check with reservations, I’m sure they’ll know.”
“I’ll do that in a minute, but what can you tell me about the last time you saw her?”
“Look, it’s not my place to gossip. I get paid to hold the door open for people and to help them find a cab if they need it. Not gossip. And not make judgments about what they do or how they act.”
Interesting. What had he seen Ange Matthews do that he didn’t like? “I get that, but it’s not gossip. I already told you I’m a police officer.” He pulled out his badge. Nate had not worn his uniform. Mount Pleasant was too small to have a detective, but that didn’t mean they didn’t need one now and then. So he’d traded in his uniform for a suit.
The doorman stared at his badge and then back up at Nate. “Yeah, but not a Cleveland one.”
“Really? That makes a difference?” He toughened up the tone of his voice, something he didn’t do often. “I’m just trying to find her. To make sure she’s all right. She might be in trouble, you know. Was she alone when she left? Did you get her a cab? I need to know what you know.”
The doorman gave him a skeptical look. “Is she really missing?”
“According to her family she is. I’m not some paparazzi looking for her.” He held up the badge again. “I work for Mt. Pleasant Police Department where she lives. Her cousin filed a missing person’s report. I’m just here doing my job so…”
“That’s too bad. She seems nice enough. She comes in regularly.” He sighed, clearly not happy about being questioned.
“What happened the last time you saw her? Anything you tell me could be important.”
“She didn’t come in alone, but she left alone. She was clearly upset when she left. I found out later she caused a big scene inside the restaurant, but I didn’t actually see that. If you can’t find her, maybe you should talk to the boyfriend. That Cleveland Brown player.”
“Already did. Says he hasn’t talked to her since the night in the restaurant. Giving her time to cool off. And he’s been at training camp since then. So he has a great alibi.” Zarlengo thought she’d taken off on one of her trips. “So what happened when she came out?”
“I started to call a cab for her, but then she saw a limo waiting over there.” He motioned with his head. “And told me to forget about the cab. So I did.”
“Did she leave in the limo?”
He nodded, his expression not happy. “Last I saw, she got into the limo. Not her limo, but someone else’s. Another couple came out and was quite agitated that their limo had disappeared. Of course, I didn’t tell them about Ange absconding with it. I did call them a cab. Now that’s all I know.”
“What was the name of the limo company?”
“I have no idea.”
“What was the name of the other couple?”
“I have no idea. Check with—”
“Reservations.”
“Now you’ve got the idea.”
Five minutes later, Nate was back in his car with a copy of the reservations from that night. Names and phone numbers. He struck out on the first three calls. He pressed in the fourth number and waited.
“Hello.” A woman answered.
“This is Nate Goodman. I’m a police officer from Mount Pleasant.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s a small town south of Cleveland in Wayne County. Is this Lisa McDonald?”
“Is there a problem? Did I do something wrong?”
“Not at all. I’m just checking on something. I heard you had some trouble with a limo a week or so ago when you were at a restaurant.”
“Yes, but it was all a big mix up. He gave us our money back and a free limo ride for another time. So no big deal.”
“What was the mix up?”
A slight pause. “Why are you interested? We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Of course not. I’m just doing some follow up on a case. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, I promise. I really only need the name of the limo company.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely but I have to admit my curiosity is getting the better of me. So I was kind of wondering what actually happened.”
“Apparently, the limo driver didn’t realize we wanted him to wait for us. So he left after he dropped us off. He thought we were just a drop-off with no return trip. I was a bit irritated at the time, but hey, a free limo ride. Can’t beat that for a little inconvenience.”
“That’s for sure.” So the limo driver had lied to Lisa McDonald. But that didn’t prove anything. The driver was probably just trying to keep out of trouble with his own boss.
“As I said, no big deal. It’s not the first time my husband messed up on something like that. He’s hopeless when it comes to details. I’ll not even tell you what happened the last time he booked our vacation flights. Not that you ca
re, but from now on, I’ll be making the reservations.”
“And what’s the limo company?”
“Not a limo company, my husband likes to support small businesses whenever he can. It’s a single driver. An independent driver, I guess you’d call him.”
“Got his name and number?”
Another pause. “Why? Is he in trouble? Did he do something wrong?”
“Not that I know of. Is there a problem with giving his information to me?”
“Not that I know of.” She laughed. “Hold on, I’ll see if I can find his card. I’m sure I’ve got it somewhere.” A moment later, she was back. “His name is Luther Marks.”
Nate’s fingers flew across the keyboard of the in-car computer as he typed in the driver’s name. Seconds later the screen flashed the results.
Old-fashioned footwork. He’d never have found out about the limo driver if he hadn’t talked to the doorman in person. On a hunch, he called the police department in Luther Marks’ jurisdiction and previous home, a town in West Virginia.
After hanging up, his blood ran cold.
~*~
He was home.
His footsteps clunked above her head. She assumed she was in the basement, but she really had no idea. She could be in a barn or an abandoned warehouse. This was the only room she’d been in since she’d woken up. There were no windows to tell her whether it was night or day. She stared at the gray concrete walls.
What kind of a limo driver kept a syringe with knockout drugs on him? One who tied women up and then tortured them. And then killed them. The kind of man one read about in the news or saw in horror movies. The kind of man no one ever really believed they’d meet.
Tears leaked as she contemplated the situation.
There had to have been other victims. The mattress told that story. The story of pain and torture…and death, she was sure of it. Since none of them had come forward and pointed an accusing finger at him.
That could only mean one thing.
He had to be a serial killer, not just a sadistic kidnapper. He was pure evil. The look of pure bliss…and excitement on his face when he walked toward her was disgusting—and evil.
No matter what she’d done she didn’t deserve to be treated like this. Did Zarlengo even realize she was missing? Did he care? Probably not. Too busy with his own life to notice.
The night before the restaurant, he’d been filmed at a downtown nightclub with, not one, but two women. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how he’d spent the rest of his evening. It probably didn’t bother Zarlengo all that much that she’d given back his ring, but his image was important to him. One of the reasons she’d decided to end it publicly as well.
Surely, he wasn’t behind this, hiring someone to do his dirty work. He wouldn’t be all that upset about their relationship being over. He’d just move on to his next woman. It was so clear now that he had no intention of being faithful to her. Why she’d even accepted the engagement ring was a mystery.
Ange had just wanted to get as far away from him as she could that night. She’d certainly accomplished that. If she hadn’t decided to humiliate Zarlengo, she wouldn’t be here. She should have stayed home that night and read a book.
So…Luther was right again. Her fault. No one to blame but herself.
Something crashed above.
Uneasiness filled her, but there was little she could do. Ange went back to her thoughts. She wouldn’t have to worry about her choices in men anymore.
It wasn’t as if she’d ever have the opportunity to marry anyone—ever. Or even smell fresh air again. Perhaps Luther would bring her something to eat today. Her stomach hurt. The food probably had drugs in it. But that was a price she’d gladly pay. And sleeping made the time go faster.
This was what her life had become. Hoping that a madman would give her drugged food. She squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t think about that. Stay focused on getting out of here.
But all the hours she’d been in this filthy bed had given her time to assess her life. She had a few charities that she supported. But her life was about her. Shopping. Getting on TV. Dating famous men. Living the beautiful life. Wanting other people to envy her.
If she got out of here, that would change. She wasn’t sure what she’d do, but her life would be different. That was a promise. She’d promised this would be the day she escaped too, and yet she was still here. But she had a plan now.
It might even work.
The door opened. “How was your day, sweetheart?” His chuckle echoed against the cement block walls.
His laugh sent a chill up her spine and straight to her heart. She closed her eyes. Please, God, give me the strength I need. Opening her eyes, she forced a smile with as much sweetness as she could muster. “How was your day, Luther?”
“As if you care.”
Give me the right words. “Of course, I care. I know it’s not easy dealing with all the people you do, and how they’re only concerned about themselves. And their needs. Nobody worries about your needs.”
“So I’m supposed to believe this change of heart in you?” His mocking tone told her he wasn’t buying her new attitude. He walked over to the table—his back to her. To his tools.
How she wished she could grab one and hurt him the way he’d hurt her. She shuddered as he touched one and then another. He was deciding what to do to her tonight. She couldn’t take another night of his torture.
Don’t think about the bad. Just be nice. “Believe what you want, but it’s true. As you said this morning, you’re the only one here to take care of me so, of course, I care about you. If something happened to you, what would become of me tied up down here?”
He turned and looked at her, a spark of interest in his gaze. “It’s about time you figured that out. That’s exactly what I’ve been telling you. But, of course, I know you just want something from me. That’s why you’re pretending to be nice all of a sudden.”
“I do want something from you. I want you to let me up so I can…” Can what? Her mind searched for something to say. “So I can cook dinner for you. Wouldn’t you like that? I know I always love it when someone cooks dinner for me.”
“I’m supposed to believe you want to cook me dinner.” He laughed. “I’m almost tempted to agree. Just to see what happens. A rich girl like you probably never cooked a day in her life.”
Hopefully, he liked scrambled eggs or spaghetti. That was the limit of her repertoire. She forced her voice to sound cheerful, almost flirty. “Well, let me up and find out. Let me take care of you tonight.”
It seemed like forever that he stared at her. He had to trust her.
Please, God.
He walked closer and then leaned down. “I’m tempted, but I’m not that stupid.”
Hope seeped out of her.
“You want me to let you up so you can figure out a way to escape. And all those weapons you’d have access to in a kitchen. Knives. Fire. Hot water. So sorry I’m not that stupid.” He paused. “You can’t escape from me. There’s no reason to try.”
She had to try. Not just for her, but to protect his next victim. “I don’t think you’re stupid at all, Luther. It’s quite obvious you’re a very intelligent man. How else could you pull this off?” She didn’t know any man that wasn’t susceptible to a little ego-stroking.
“What makes you say that?” He gave a slight smile as if her flattery had worked.
“I don’t think I’m the first person you’ve kept here. And you’ve managed not to get caught, so I’d say you’re pretty smart. I could promise not to try to escape, but you’d know that was a lie. Instead, why not take a chance and see if I can cook or not? I’m getting a little bored. Let’s change up the game a bit. You do like games, right, Luther?”
He turned back to his table and picked up something. When he turned back, Ange’s heart rate spiked even as any courage she’d built up failed her. In one hand was a gun; in the other a knife—a huge knife. As he moved closer to her, evil
emanated from him. He planned to kill her. Right now. This was it. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the knife come at her.
“Open your eyes, Ange.” His tone told her not to disobey.
When she opened them, he smiled.
“I’d plan to kill you tonight. Like I said, you haven’t been all that much fun. But you’ve upped the game a bit. So…” He brought the knife to her throat. “Let’s have a little fun tonight.”
The blade scraped against her skin. He pressed the point into her throat. In the next moment, the knife moved from her throat. He slashed through one of the ropes. She wanted to slap out at him with her free hand but didn’t dare.
“So we’ll play your game tonight. I’ll let you cook for me. Right? That’s what you wanted to do. Take care of me.”
She nodded.
The knife slashed through the rope holding her other wrist.
“But if you even try to escape…” He held up the gun. “Game over.”
“I understand.” Sooner or later he’d kill her, so if she had the opportunity, she’d go for it. If not tonight, another time. Now that she’d talked him into letting her up once, maybe she could do it again. She’d accomplished her first step. He trusted her enough to let her up.
Daddy was right—she did have brains. “You can trust me.”
“Yeah, right. But if you do anything I don’t like, I’ll simply shoot you. No warnings. No second chances. Got it?” He waved the gun as he moved down to the end of the bed and freed her legs.
After he freed her, she stayed still. Waiting. She knew the drill. No moving without permission.
Finally, he nodded. “You can get up.”
She moved to a sitting position, her legs dangled off the edge. Slowly she slid off the bed until her feet touched the floor. She held on to the bed for support, waiting for her legs to steady.
“So, what were you thinking about cooking for me, Ange?”
5
Nate slowed as he drove past the mailbox for the third time. Big red letters spelled the name LUTHER MARKS. The rural stretch of road was sparsely populated, a few houses scattered far apart. If one needed privacy, especially the kind of privacy Luther Marks would want, this was a great place.
Trapped Page 3