Ironically, it was the round-cheeked counsellor who made Ana realise just how well she had managed in the year her grandmother had been bedridden. The house was clean, she and River were well fed and healthy, even Irena’s beloved garden was still in Ana’s control back then. ‘It’s the small steps,’ the counsellor had impressed upon her at the end of what Ana had already made clear would be their first and last session.
By that time Ana had become almost as suspicious of strangers as her grandmother but she knew good advice when she heard it. All she had to do was focus on the next step. It’s what she does now as she drags herself out of the car and faces the house.
The girl in the window is quiet now, knowing she won’t be left alone.
Ana can’t leave her behind and, for better or worse, guilty or innocent, that man in her basement is her responsibility too.
*
The girl and her dog gaze at each other from opposite ends of the hallway of the only home they’ve ever known. Their home. Not his. Luke can only invade here as much as she lets him. As long as he’s still wearing that chain on his ankle she’s the one in control.
Ana steps across the threshold and firmly shuts the front door. As she turns back to face River she sees the hesitation in his eyes.
She holds her hand out and he wags his tail but still holds back so it’s her who goes to him, crouching low to look him straight in the eye. Some dogs take that as a challenge, but not River. He licks her face as she settles her hands on either side of his muzzle, running them over his head and down his sides, carefully feeling his body in the same way she watched the vet do.
He lets his head rest on her shoulder. So quick to trust. So quick to forgive. How could she have even thought of taking him away from the only home he’s ever known.
‘I’m sorry, baby,’ she says. Sorry for frightening him. Sorry for the neglect of these last days. Sorry too for wanting more from life than the time he has left.
She can feel how much weight he’s lost. He was always a lean dog but now she can feel the separation of each bony rib as he breathes. Yet beyond the fragility of his body, she can still sense that steely determination he’s always had to keep going, to push himself to his limit. Is it really just for her? The vet implied as much but she doesn’t know River is not like other dogs. Ana got through most of her young life riding on the back of the joy and delight in the world that came so naturally to him. That was her following him, not the other way around. She’s never known him to do anything he didn’t want to do.
River pads after her now into the kitchen where she settles him into his bed before turning her focus to the monitor. Before she left the house she turned it off. She turns it back on now. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t have to. Ana can feel his last words still floating in the air all around her.
What Ana does next surprises even her. She pushes the talk-back button, opening the channel between them.
In her mind she can see him, face half hidden in shadow, his attention now focused completely on the monitor. He doesn’t say anything and neither does she. Maybe he thinks she’s inadvertently opened the channel and doesn’t want to alert her to it. Maybe, like her, he’s wondering what happens next.
She tries to see him through the eyes of those painting him as victim rather than suspect. The carefree smiling man who vanished without a trace. In that scenario, he could remain in her basement forever, or for as long as she chooses to keep him there. Hidden from the world.
Ana shakes the thought off, along with the madness that comes with it.
She leaves the channel open and starts to prepare the steaks she bought them, one for him and one for River. Then she starts on the vegetables he asked for. Steamed, not boiled. The meat sizzles in the pan, the smell of it filling the house. She wonders if he can smell it too, wafting down through the tiny gaps in the floorboards. Maybe he’s just imagining he can, the memory of a particular aroma evoked by that one very specific sound he can now hear. She wonders if he’s salivating.
Ana’s own heightened senses have become even more acute thanks to the precise task of listening and interpreting the sounds through the monitor. The same must be true for Luke, having been deprived of all stimuli from the outside world.
Even this far out of town, removed from everyone else, there is always some sound, whether it’s the wind or birds or other animals in the surrounding forest, or even just the creaks and groans of the house and its softly treading ghosts. A whole world of infinitesimal sounds that he’s been deprived of while buried down there. He’s heard nothing for days now, save whatever comes down to him through the floorboards or is carried in with her.
For the first time it occurs to Ana that it must be sending him a bit mad too.
THIRTY-SIX
It’s no accident that the first thing Ana sees when she enters the basement is the position of the baby monitor. It sits out in the open, resting on the concrete at the bottom of the pillar she secured it on, the speaker pointed towards where Luke sits in his new permanent place in the shadows.
A soft repetitive sound comes through it now – like the movement of water slapping gently against the hull of a moored boat. It’s the blind on her kitchen window. Breathing in and out with the wind. She wonders if Luke has connected the sound to its source yet.
‘Is it day or night?’
Ana sets his tray on the ground, noting that he’s carefully picked over the last tray she left and eaten everything that was solid. He drank a bit of the coffee but clearly didn’t want to risk drinking it all just in case.
‘It’s just after six,’ she tells him. ‘Almost dark.’
She has made a point of giving him proper utensils this time, a knife and fork neatly placed either side of the porcelain plate holding the meal he requested. It’s not a steak knife, she’s not asking for trouble, but she is wanting to take power away from that lethal looking piece of plastic hidden under his pillow. Under her arm she holds the other newspapers she bought and she lays them down next to the tray. In leaving them she hopes to provoke a different dialogue to the one he was wanting to start with her. To shift the focus back to Rebecca.
She looks up to see him step out into the open.
‘What is this? My last meal?’
Under the harsh light of the globe his tough guy bravado doesn’t quite conceal his edge of disquiet. He’s standing on the exact same precipice she is, she realises. Is it possible that not knowing what comes next is as unsettling to him as it is to her?
‘No sauce. Just as you wanted.’
Luke shifts his focus to the tray, the smell clearly getting to him.
‘Enjoy,’ she says, heading back up the stairs.
His voice stops her at the door.
‘Could you leave it open for a bit? I’m not feeling great and would appreciate the fresh air.’
Ana looks back to see him standing over the tray. He does look pale.
She nods and remains there, watching as he picks up the tray and disappears with it back into his gloom.
*
In the end Ana gives him more than he asked for: not only does she leave the door wide open, she also sets up a fan on an extension cord and leaves it rotating at the top of the stairs to carry fresh air down to him. After the few words he uttered when she delivered his dinner he makes no more attempts to engage her, either through the open door or via the monitor. Perhaps he’s decided to wait and see where she’s going with this new step or maybe he’s trying not to provoke the crazy in her. Either way Ana is grateful that for now, at least, he seems to have decided not to confront her further.
He maintains his silence after she returns to the kitchen. At first she sits at the table with the monitor in front of her, simply listening, but no matter how much she strains she can’t hear a thing. He’s intentionally withholding, she knows that by the fact that he hasn’t yet touched his meal. Unless he’s eating it with his hands.
Ana stands, letting the chair scrape loudly on th
e floorboards. She moves over to the bench and cuts River’s steak into thin slices. She’s surprised when he gets up and joins her, anticipating something good coming his way. At one time he would have been at the bench waiting from the moment she started cooking, but Ana will take whatever small joy she can get from River now.
While he delicately takes the thin slices from her hand, she hears the first distinct sounds from below. Luke’s appreciation of his meal comes through, despite the fact that he is trying to suppress it. If the space between the first scraping of cutlery on porcelain and the last is anything to go by, once he made that first cut into his juicy medium rare steak it was no longer possible to hold himself back.
It’s not something Ana has done before – cook for someone – well, no one other than River and her grandmother, to whom food was sustenance rather than something to be savoured and enjoyed. Listening to Luke’s even restrained appreciation she can understand why people get pleasure from feeding others. River, despite his initial interest, didn’t eat much but the fact that he wants to eat at all makes her happy and what he did take he too seemed to enjoy.
As soon as Luke is finished she hears him flicking through the newspapers she left down there. She’s curious to see his response but his request for air has robbed her of the only means of watching him undetected. She has no choice but to wait for him to make some revealing sound, anything that might give an indication of what he might be feeling, but she can glean nothing from what she hears. Even his turning of the pages is restrained.
As the night closes in Ana finds herself unable to sit still. As before she’s sensitive to the smallest sound from Luke but the fact that it’s no longer one sided, that he can now hear everything she does, has made her self-conscious in a way she didn’t anticipate. Luke isn’t the only one withholding. Her whole body is tight with tension and she realises she’s been barely breathing, too aware that a part of her is now down there with him, just as his disembodied self has been up here with her. She’s tempted to turn on the television or the radio but doesn’t want to give him too much access to the outside world. They just need to get used to it, that’s all. This new mode of being with the other needs to become commonplace.
Ana tries to act as she normally would: ignoring the monitor she throws herself into cleaning up her kitchen until, bit by bit, everything is returned to her usual standard. When she’s finished River gets up and leads the way to bed. It’s still early but Luke too seems to have retired for the night. No wonder, after such a big meal. Ana leans back against the bench and contemplates what she should do about the door. There’s no harm that she can see in leaving it open. He can’t get to it and no one is going to turn up here during the night.
She decides to leave the door and the fan as they are but double-checks the door into the garage is shut properly in anticipation of River’s night-time wandering. She doesn’t want him getting curious and wandering down there while she’s asleep. Not that she expects to sleep much.
Ana follows River’s lead and heads to her bedroom. She carries Luke with her, resting the monitor on her bedside table as usual. She’s taking off her shoes when she hears answering movement from him. He’s still awake. With the kitchen over his head now gone quiet all he would be hearing is whatever comes to him through the monitor.
In the enclosed space of her bedroom Ana has a growing awareness of what it means now the channel is open, feeling the ebb and flow in the small exchanges between them. The silences. Her self-consciousness returns in full force as she continues her preparations for bed. She notes the soft sounds her clothing makes as she removes each piece and lets it fall to the floor, first her uniform and then her bra and finally her underpants and socks. She stands naked in the space, feeling the surface of her skin react to the cool air of her bedroom, feeling exposed even though she knows he can’t see her.
She lowers herself down onto her bed. At first she lies there naked but as the cool air coming in the partially open window hits her skin she pulls up the covers. She stays perfectly still, her head dropped to one side to keep the monitor in sight. She’s never slept with anyone except River and even though the monitor has sat by her bed most nights, it’s different now. He’s with her but she’s also with him.
Ana’s hand moves over her breasts under the covers, teasing herself and him, feeling a wicked thrill in the fact that he might be able to hear her but he can’t see her. Can’t know for sure what she is doing. As she feels her breathing change she rolls over onto her stomach, pushing her face into the pillow as soundproofing.
‘You never told me your dog’s name.’
He could ask any question but he chooses to return to a subject she’s already denied him and with exemplary timing. Ana stays her hand and very quietly shifts until she can see River. His eyes are open and resting on the monitor. Curious, but not enough to move. Good.
‘I know you’re not asleep. I can feel you there.’
It doesn’t come as a surprise that he would sense her consciousness, just like she does his. She wonders what else he senses.
The temptation to respond is impossible to resist.
‘His name’s River.’
She hears a sound in Luke’s throat, the kind people make when they appreciate something.
‘It’s a good name,’ he says. ‘I bet there’s a story in that.’
Ana doesn’t reply.
‘Is he there now? With you? Can he hear me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hey, River, how you doing, fella?’
Ana bristles. He’s up to something, she knows it.
River’s ears twitch. His eyes flick to Ana and then back to the monitor as Luke’s voice comes again.
‘Did you know he cries when you’re not here? Like he’s in pain …’
That throws her. Her eyes once again seek out River who is still focused on Luke’s voice.
‘I whistle for him sometimes. It seems to calm him.’
River has always been a quiet dog, rarely making a sound, and Ana is disturbed at the thought of him suffering all alone, hiding his distress from her.
Except he hasn’t really been alone, has he?
‘What’s wrong with him?’
Ana doesn’t dare speak, all she wants to do right now is cry but she can’t show that sort of vulnerability to Luke.
‘Okay, if you don’t want to talk about what’s wrong with him then perhaps we can talk about what’s wrong with you.’
Here it comes. Didn’t take long, did it?
‘You still think I’m crazy.’
‘You tell me. Is this normal behaviour for you?’
Despite the provocation of his words there’s no malice in his tone, only curiosity.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to upset you. I genuinely want to get to know you.’
Does he though? Really?
‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’
‘Huh. So I’m your first.’
‘What about you?’ Ana asks.
‘Have I cheated on my wife before? Yes, but last I checked that wasn’t a punishable crime … I’ve had lots of time to think down here and I’d be lying if I said the gap in my memory doesn’t bother me. I want to know what happened, I do, but …’
Ana almost tells him to stop before he says anything more but she swallows the urge, because the part of her that wants this man to willingly reveal himself is stronger.
‘The guy described in the newspapers, the one you’re trying to turn me into. I don’t recognise him. And from the little Becca told me about her husband I doubt he has it in him to kill anyone either. I guess he could have paid someone but in that case wouldn’t he have wanted me dead as well?’
‘Maybe something went wrong. Maybe you escaped.’
‘Maybe …’
Luke falls silent and so does Ana. She wants to ask more about Rebecca but she holds back. Ana knows she’s on his mind, she’s seen the newspaper clipping with her image sticking out from under his pil
low, the same place he keeps the plastic shiv, but so far he’s avoided all her direct questions about Rebecca, even though she is the reason he’s in the basement.
‘I miss my dog.’
Ana almost laughs. Can he not hear how transparent that is? She thought he was smarter. He’s trying to make her see him as a human being, someone not so different from her. It is what they say to do in this type of situation. Personalise yourself, make it impossible for your abductor to objectify you. Forge a connection. He’s clearly read the same article she did.
She wonders if he also knows the statistics – that the more days spent with your abductor the more likely it is that you’re never going home, dead or alive.
Ana decides to play along.
‘What sort of a dog do you have?’
Of course he’s silent now.
She listens closely, trying to reach through the monitor, to see him in the shadows.
‘Luke?’
THIRTY-SEVEN
Ana peers through her windscreen, searching for the right street.
The houses are only a few years old and all of them look basically the same – like they were crane-lifted out of identical enormous boxes. Impersonal and mass-produced. A modern horror of a maze Ana would hate to be stuck in.
She left the house early, before Luke was awake. The exchange last night had her more anxious than usual and she felt she had to do something proactive, even if it meant going against her better judgment.
Finally she spots the street she’s been looking for. Turning in, she focuses on a clean-looking single-storey house with a low maintenance garden. The flat expanse of grass on which the house sits is a little faded, a little long, not quite the well-watered and manicured green of the houses around it. A house that will soon be letting the neighbourhood down. Something tells her it’s the one before she even sees the number on the letterbox. She’s about to pull over when she spots the man sitting in his car, watching the street from further down the road. It has to be an undercover cop, he looks too out of place to be anything else. His eyes assess and disregard Ana in a single glance as she continues on.
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