by T. R. Ragan
“You’re starting to like me—aren’t you, Higgins?”
Higgins ignored her. He was halfway down the stairs, eager to get to the dog park. Overall, he was a good dog. He never made trouble with other dogs, and as long as she and Olivia kept things put away in the house, he mostly chewed on his rubber toys and bones she’d bought him. As Ben had pointed out, Higgins seemed to have a problem only with dark-haired females. The thought of someone purposely hurting the poor animal broke her heart.
The second her feet hit the pavement, Higgins pulled her along at a good pace. She wondered about Parker Koontz and whether or not he was still in a coma. David Roche had told her he was going to do everything possible to see her in jail. He’d made it clear that she’d messed with the smooth running of his firm. He obviously believed she’d been stalking his partner, too.
Although thankful that Fiona Hampton was willing to talk on her behalf in court, Jessie knew she needed more. Someone had to know about Parker Koontz and his stealthy pursuit of young women. But who?
She pulled out her phone and called Andriana, hoping she had an idea about whom she might talk to about Koontz, but there was no answer. It was the weekend, which meant she was probably puttering around in her garden. Her thoughts quickly turned to Zee Gatley. Everything about the case was odd, starting with Arlo and how he’d rushed her out of the house and acted so strange whenever she saw him. What was he hiding?
She thought of his neighbors. Many of them came across as judgmental and secretive. And what about the other girl who went missing on the same block? Was there any correlation to Zee Gatley’s disappearance? Many of the neighbors had refused to talk, unwilling to help a father in his search for his mentally ill daughter. Why wouldn’t they all want to work together to help find Zee? It defied reason.
And then there was Mrs. Dixon, who’d said she’d heard screaming and loud noises coming from the Gatley house. Zee was a schizophrenic. Jessie had been reading about the mental illness. Many people with the disorder failed to understand what was real and what wasn’t. Common symptoms included confusion, hearing voices that no one else heard, false beliefs, and abnormal social behavior. Maybe things had been worse at home than Arlo let on. He’d seemed nervous. And yet he was the one who’d sought her help, which made Jessie consider the possibility that he was simply a socially awkward man, and his nervous mannerisms had nothing to do with Zee and everything to do with who he was as a person.
A low growl brought her back to earth. Hackles rose from the top of Higgins’s neck, down his backbone, and to the base of his tail.
“Come on,” she said, trying to pull him along.
He wouldn’t budge. She’d never seen Higgins like this before. Jessie bent down, hoping to see what might be bothering him. There were houses on both sides of the street. No cars coming or going. Not one pedestrian in sight.
Higgins set off again at a fast walk, his ears straight, his body stiff. She stood and let him pull her across the street and into the alleyway. There was a dumpster to her left overflowing with trash.
Higgins’s pace slowed, his limp more noticeable, the cast on his foot making an uneven clip-clop across the pavement. But there was another noise, too. The sound of paper crunching beneath a shoe.
Higgins growled again, his ears set, body tense.
The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. Using her free hand, she reached into her back pants pocket for her pepper spray at the same moment a man wearing a baseball cap jumped out from behind the dumpster.
He lunged for her, taking her to the ground, the weight of his body pinning her against asphalt. Pain shot through her head and her elbow.
Higgins barked.
The pepper spray rolled across the pavement, out of reach.
Her attacker was Caucasian, midthirties, blue eyes. His right ear had a missing chunk of flesh, as if someone had taken a bite out of it.
“You should have minded your own business,” he told her.
Having no idea what he was talking about, she grunted, still struggling to get out from under him. She saw the blade of a knife coming at her.
She tried to pull away, but he held tight and struck fast, slicing the side of her face. It all happened in a flash. There was no pain, only shock and blood, lots of blood dripping down her neck and shoulder as Higgins continued to bark.
She had an aversion to blood.
Don’t look at the blood.
She gritted her teeth as she tried again to free her arm. His knees were crushing her chest, making it hard to breathe. He raised his weapon again. He was going to kill her. She could see it in his eyes. It was over. She screamed.
And Higgins lunged, sunk sharp teeth into the man’s arm. Spittle flew from her attacker’s mouth as he cursed the dog, his movements giving Jessie enough wriggle room to pull her arm free and use his own weight to knock him off her. She punched him in the groin, then rolled across the pavement and grabbed the pepper spray. With the flick of her thumb, she released the tab, jumped to her feet, and sprayed him in the face as he battled with Higgins.
His elbow made contact with Higgins’s side. The dog yelped and released his hold. But Higgins continued to bark and nip at the man as he got to his feet and made a blind zigzag path out of the alleyway.
Jessie held a hand to the side of her neck and headed back the way she’d come. By the time she crossed the street, Higgins was at her side, the leash dragging behind him. She felt dizzy and had to work to keep her focus. Just another block to go.
A woman across the street stopped to look at her.
Jessie didn’t pause.
Higgins whimpered at her side, and she wondered if he’d been hurt. And then she saw Colin up ahead, climbing out of his car parked at the curb. He glanced her way and did a double take before running toward her. “Jessie! What happened?”
“I was attacked.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know. A man with a knife. Higgins might be hurt.”
Her legs wobbled right before Colin scooped her into his arms and rushed toward her house. As he rang the doorbell, he called out Olivia’s name.
The door came open, and Olivia saw Jessie in his arms. “Oh my God,” she cried. “What happened?”
“She’s going to be fine,” he told her. “Take the dog, and then lock the door, and don’t open it again until I return. I’m taking her to the hospital.”
Olivia grabbed the leash and shut the door just before Jessie felt her body go limp, and everything went black.
THIRTY
Zee stood motionless at the door of her cell. She had given up trying to break the weakened rebar for now. Her arms still hurt from the effort. The voices in her head had finally calmed, but the howling in the enclosed cell next to her had started up again. She looked at Natalie. She was sitting on the ground, her back and shoulders leaning against the wall, her head tilted forward so that her chin rested on her chest.
Zee wasn’t sure if the woman was awake, but she talked loud enough to be heard over the din. “Do you think that’s man or beast making all that noise?”
“Man,” Natalie said without looking up.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” After a short pause, Zee said, “We need to find a way out of here.”
The woman lifted her head. “Agreed.”
“Sorry if I went a little crazy earlier. Without my medication, it’s not easy being me.”
“Do you have an illness?”
“I have schizophrenia,” Zee said. “A disease of the brain. The doctor told me there are abnormalities in my brain’s structure and function.”
“Then it seems we’re both in a bit of a pickle.”
“You have schizophrenia?”
“Type 1 diabetes. I wear a device that pumps insulin into my body, but he must have taken it.”
“You don’t look too good. You’re not going to die and leave me here alone—are you?” For the most part, Zee didn’t like being around people, especially strangers. Bu
t the woman was sick. She looked deathly pale. And nothing bonded two people faster than having a creepy man lock you up in his basement.
She’s probably a spy. You better be careful.
“I’m not going to leave you,” Natalie said. “I promise.”
Zee wasn’t sure how Natalie could make such a promise under the circumstances, but she let it go. What would be the point of arguing with her? Since the woman was naked, Zee thought about taking off her coat and handing it to her through the bars, but the voices in her head stopped her.
What if you need it later? It might get cold, and you hate being cold.
Zee had to stifle a giggle by slapping a hand over her mouth. Not because there was anything particularly funny going on, but because she just couldn’t help it. If she started laughing, though, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself.
The howling stopped. Abruptly. Like a faucet being shut off.
Thank you, Jesus!
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” Zee found herself saying. “Sometimes I just laugh at inappropriate times.”
“I understand.”
Zee narrowed her eyes. “You do?”
Natalie nodded. “Stress will make people do things they wouldn’t normally do.”
“What are you, some sort of therapist?”
“A psychotherapist.”
“No shit?”
Natalie smiled.
“Maybe you can help me while we’re stuck in here?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you think he’s going to come back?”
“I do.”
“He seemed like a nice guy when I met him at the park. Sure, I thought he was a bit off and sort of quirky, but aren’t we all?”
“You know him?”
Zee nodded. “I met him six months ago. I’m not a big fan of people in general, but we hit it off, talked about everything. He used my Polaroid camera to take pictures of me but wouldn’t let me take a picture of him. Now I know why.”
“Why?”
“Because of all this,” Zee said, opening her arms wide. “It makes sense that a crazy man wouldn’t want any record at all that he even existed.” She paused before adding, “He was supposed to meet me at Rainbow Park, but when he didn’t show up, I decided to go looking for him.”
“So you know where he lives?”
Zee grunted. “On a small farm in Woodland, at least ten miles from Rainbow Park. That’s all I know.” She scratched her leg. “I should have been paying better attention, but I wasn’t. After he didn’t show up at the park, I headed toward the wooded area. I’ve never wandered that far before. It’s not like there were road signs and streets,” she said defensively. “There was nothing but trees forever and ever, it seemed. Once the trees disappeared, I crossed over a lot of farmland and tall grass.”
Zee liked the way Natalie looked at her when she talked—as if she really was interested in what she had to say. One thing she’d noticed in her lifetime was that nobody listened. “It got dark,” Zee went on, “and cold real quick. That’s when I started seeing strange things.”
“What sort of things?”
“Mostly circus people. But also an elephant and a tiger, and all the usual stuff you would expect to see at a traveling show. It was the clowns, though, who kept pointing and telling me I was almost there, so I kept going. I walked for days.”
“You spent the night in the woods?”
Duh. She’s not a good listener, after all. Hasn’t she heard a word you’ve said? How do you walk for days without spending the night in the woods?
“Four nights,” Zee said, ignoring the voice in her head. “Scar had said something about owning a horse, an old gray mare with a swayback, so when I—”
“What city do you live in?”
“Woodland,” Zee told her, trying not to get overly annoyed by the interruption. “Anyway, I passed a few horses on the way, but when I saw the gray horse with the swayback, I was pretty sure it had to be his horse and that I was on the right track. Sure enough, there he was in the middle of a field, digging a hole in the ground.”
Zee frowned. “He was digging a hole when I found him. Do you think he’s going to kill us and bury us in that hole?” She shivered. She didn’t like being confined, trapped in small places. The cell was bad enough, but being put in a hole didn’t sit well with her. And what about the person in the box? she wondered. For the first time since being thrown down here, she remembered the box. “When I was outside walking toward the house,” Zee told Natalie, “there was a box, the same size as a small coffin. I think someone was inside, pounding their fists against the wood.” Zee grabbed both sides of her head and squeezed. She could feel her heart thumping against her ribs. “That’s when he hit me over the head with his shovel.”
“I think we should concentrate on getting out of here,” Natalie told her.
Zee looked up at the rebar.
You’re weak and dumb. You’ll never get out of here.
“I’m pretty strong,” Zee said, “but I don’t know if I can break through these bars.”
Natalie pushed herself to her feet. “That’s okay. We’ll just have to think of something else.”
“I know!” Zee rushed over to their shared wall of rebar. “If he enters your cage, try to get him to stand over here so I can grab him.” She reached both arms through the space between the bars to demonstrate. “I’ll lock my elbow around his neck so you can get the keys out of his pocket, or wherever he keeps them, and get us out of here.”
“I think that’s a great plan.”
For the first time in a long while, Zee felt proud of herself. She opened her mouth to say thanks when the door above the stairs creaked open. She couldn’t see the door from her cell, but she could hear someone rustling about at the top of the landing. She hoped he was bringing food and water. Her mouth was dry, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so thirsty.
Natalie hurried back to the far corner of her cell while Zee returned to her door and wrapped her fingers around the bars.
He’s coming. He’s going to kill you. I told you months ago that he was bad news. You should have listened to me.
“It stinks in here,” the asshole said as his feet hit the cement.
He set his canvas bag on the floor and lit one of the kerosene lamps. Then he fished around in his bag and pulled out a dead chicken, feathers and all, opened the mail-slot-like door in the cell where the howling came from, and shoved the dead bird inside. She heard a thump when it hit the ground on the other side.
“Hey, Dog,” he called through the opening. “I brought you some food.” He tossed a couple of water bottles inside, too, then let the metal door fall back in place with a loud clang.
Zee heard chains clinking as someone moved about inside. Why would his prisoner be chained? It wasn’t good enough that he was locked inside an enclosed cell? She looked over at Natalie, who was sitting with her knees up close to her chest and her head down.
“Who do you have locked up in that cell?” Zee asked him.
“None of your business.”
“Why are your eyes so red?” She crinkled her nose. “And your neck is bleeding. Did you get into a fight?”
“Why did you have to show up here and ruin everything?” he asked, still angry. “I thought we were friends.”
Zee stiffened. “You said you would meet me at the park.”
“I got sidetracked.”
“With what?”
“A stranded girl on the side of the road,” he stated proudly, all anger gone.
Who’s the schizo now? she wondered.
“Her car had a flat tire,” Scar said. “She needed help.”
“Where is she now?”
“In a box.”
So she had heard someone in the box. She knew it!
Natalie stirred, rustling the straw.
The young man Zee no longer recognized as the guy she once thought was sort of cool walked over to Natalie’s cell and pressed his face
up against the bars. “Are you awake?”
Nothing.
He chuckled. “I know you are.”
“She’s sick,” Zee told him. “She’s a diabetic and needs her medicine.”
“What about you?” he asked, turning to face Zee. “Don’t you need your medicine?”
“I can take it or leave it,” she lied. Even when she took her pills, she still heard voices, but her medication eliminated other problems, like hallucinations. She wanted out of there. “Let me go.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I already told you,” he said, his attention back on Natalie. “Natalie’s mother could have saved me, but she did nothing. She simply looked the other way. Someone had to pay. Since I couldn’t locate Sue Sterling, I figured her daughter should be punished in her place.” He sighed. “Look at me, Natalie.”
When she failed to move a muscle, he walked back to the stairs and disappeared within the dark space behind the steps. When he returned, he was pulling what looked like a fire hose along with him. “Nobody cared about me growing up,” he said as he approached. “I was tortured all my life, and yet nobody cared. How does it feel, Natalie, to be trapped and suffering and to have no one help you?”
Natalie lifted her head; the anger scrawled across her face matched his. “On May 14, 1999,” she said through gritted teeth, “the same day my mother visited you, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. My mother was more concerned about you than her diagnosis. She spent days making phone calls, pleading your case to get you the help you needed, but—”
The lines in his forehead deepened. He turned the nozzle, spraying Natalie in the face with a gushing stream of water, pushing her back against the cement and forcing her to turn her head to one side and gulp for breath.
“Stop it!” Zee cried.
A few more seconds passed before he finally shut off the water.
“My mom wanted to help you,” Natalie cried, water dripping from her face.
“Bullshit! She shook my father’s hand, the same hand that had been torturing me and my mother since the day I was born, and left without another glance my way.”