After dinner – which, of course, Arlo paid for - Monica wanted them to go back to her hotel for drinks but seeing Harpa’s stricken face, Arlo made their excuses and they left, both sighing with relief.
‘She’s a goddamned parasite,’ Harpa raged in the cab back to the LaBelle. ‘Did you notice her flirting with you? Gross.’
Arlo laughed. ‘Thanks.’
Harpa chuckled. ‘You know what I mean. God, you know what, I feel like doing a DNA test to try and prove she’s not our mother.’
He looked over at her. ‘You think that would tell you anything new?’
Her shoulders slumped. ‘No.’ She sighed. ‘We look too much like her for it to be in doubt. Well, I do. Cos has always taken after Dad; her features are softer than mine.’
‘You’re both beautiful, and on the inside too, which is what matters.’
Harpa grinned. ‘You been reading Cosmo? Are you seriously telling me you would have noticed Cos if she didn’t look like she does?’
Arlo nodded. ‘I am saying that – maybe it would have taken me longer than a millisecond – but there’s something that shines out from your sister and it’s not about physical beauty.’
Harpa’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You’re right.’
Arlo squeezed her hand. ‘We’re going to get her back, Harpa, I know it in my bones.’
It was another bad day. The sickness she thought had left her was hanging on, and she felt wiped out. She had read all of the books Goaty had left for her, and now she was curled up on the bed, staring at the tiny red light blinking on the camera. She’d been doing that for hours, but she didn’t know why. Eventually, she grabbed a bottle of water and some saltines then went to bed.
Waking in the middle of the night, she stumbled to the bathroom to pee, then climbed back into bed. Maybe I’ll die of this virus, she thought and remembered his words about killing herself and robbing him of the pleasure. She lay back down and turned on her side – and stopped. The red light wasn’t blinking. There was no red light at all. She sat up and stared at the darkened corner of the room. Did that mean he wasn’t watching? The moon was full outside, and its light streamed in on the huge windows.
Suddenly Cosima felt the adrenaline coursing through her. Maybe he was asleep; maybe he watched until she fell asleep, then turned in himself – after all, he was human, wasn’t he?
What can I do? What can I do? She looked around wildly, desperate not to waste this opportunity then realized she was hyperventilating. Calm, calm. She sat back on the bed and breathed deeply. Calm. Think. Think. She got up and moved around the room, running her fingers over everything in the room. The bed was iron, welded, no loose parts. In the bathroom, she felt each tile, but they were cemented in place. The faucets too were old; time had encased them in their fittings. The shower head was fixed.
Damn it, damn it. She walked to the bathroom door and gazed out over the bedroom again. Her eyes settled back on the bed…then she dropped to the floor and crawled across it. Gingerly, she felt under the bed, wary of spiders and bugs and felt around. The floorboards were wooden in this room, and as she moved her hand around, she felt how rough they were. Maybe she could break off a splinter, use it as a weapon? Maybe. She wriggled under the bed, and when she was halfway across, she heard it. The squeak of the floorboard under her. She moved again, and it squeaked. Her throat felt full of nerves and anticipation. Squeezing her body around so she lay flat on her stomach, she found the squeaking floorboard and traced along it until she reached the screws that held it in place. A screw was standing a little proud of its fixing, and she eagerly attacked it, twisting the metal with her fingers. When she felt it give, she whooped and unscrewed the whole thing. She clenched the long screw in her fist. A weapon. Shove this in his eye, or his throat, or his scrotum, which might give her time to get away. It was a small hope, but it was still hope. She felt along the board to try and unscrew the second fixing. This one was deeply buried in the wood. Shoot. Well, maybe this was a start. She wriggled out into the moonlight. Still no red light. It must have been an hour at least. She hid the long nail under the mattress, at the far corner of the bed. Maybe she could use it to pry a tile free or something.
Cosima felt something she’d hardly dared to hope; that she might be able to fight back. That small piece of metal might be the thing that saved her from the monster that held her here, who planned to rape and murder her. At least, she had to try.
She watched and counted the minutes until the red light of the camera flickered back on just before dawn then she closed her eyes and sleep more soundly than she had for days.
Mikah Ray sat in the auction house, staring unseeingly at the pieces up for sale. Usually, this was his happy place, his hunting ground but since Harpa had left Seattle and the news of her sister’s abduction had broken, he couldn’t think of anything else. After the bidding was over he filed out with everyone else then felt someone drop into step beside him.
‘Dude, what’s with you? I was expecting a fight on that Hockney miniature.’
Grady Mallory grinned at his friend and Mikah shrugged. ‘Just wasn’t feeling today.’
Grady studied him. ‘What’s up, bro?’
Mikah stopped, hissed out a sigh. ‘You got time for a drink, Gray? I need to talk to someone about…something.’
‘Sure thing,’ Grady looked at his watch. ‘I’m picking Flori up at four but until then, I’m all yours. O’Shea’s?’
At the bar, they ordered a beer and some chips and salsa and sat down. Grady twisted the cap of his beer. ‘So, what gives?’
‘I was seeing someone, briefly. Was crazy about her too, then…did you see the stuff in the news about the girl who got kidnapped in New Orleans?’
‘Wasn’t she Indian royalty or something?’
‘Yeah…well, it was her sister. Harpa. They lived under assumed names, Harpa just came to Seattle to train as a chef, which is where I met her. Then all this happened and she just…left. Checked out. Didn’t want me to be involved with, as she put it, ‘all this crap’.’
‘Sounds fair enough but I guess you think otherwise?’
‘I can’t stop thinking about her, man. I think we could have built something really special, you know?’
Grady nodded and was silent for a moment, considering. Mikah watched his friend’s expression. ‘I thought I’d asked you since you’ve had some experience with this kind of thing.’
Grady nodded. It had been a couple of years since his girlfriend Flori had been attacked and stabbed by a psychopath named Gregor Fisk, who had gone onto kidnap Grady’s sister-in-law, Quilla. Quilla had escaped Gregor’s hands but nearly died in the process. The whole sordid saga had been gone over and over in the press so many times, Mikah knew the entire story.
‘What would you do?’ he asked Grady now, his needs for some kind of approval growing. ‘Should I respect her wishes and stay away, or go find her and tell her that her problems are my problems and that I’m not going anywhere?’
Grady smiled sadly. ‘I know what I did; I stuck around…but then it was my family Fisk was targeting – and although I didn’t know it, I was already in love with Flori. I don’t know how to advise you. If you’re serious about her, I say go for it but don’t crowd her. Just say ‘I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, whatever you need, whatever you want.’.’
Mikah nodded. ‘That’s good advice, man.’
‘But?’
Mikah smiled. ‘How’d you know if you’re serious about someone?’
Grady grinned. ‘Is she the first person you think of when you wake when you see something funny. If you can’t get the feel of her skin out of your head…’
Mikah nodded. All those things and more…I just hope I can convince Harpa.’
He pulled up to the house around noon. He’d been watching the feed all morning, seeing her sleeping soundly. She still looked sick, but at least someone of her character was coming back. He laughed every time she passed the camera and stuck her middle fin
gers up at it, or mouthed ‘Fuck you’ at it. He loved her spunkiness as much as the feel of her soft skin. God, he’d miss her when she was dead, but still, knowing he would be the last person she would ever see made up for that. He would cradle her in his arms after he shot her, watching her bleed out, hearing her last desperate gasps for air, for life, and he would kiss her as the light went from her lovely eyes.
He got hard just thinking about it.
He looked up at the window as he got out of the car. He always expected – hoped – she would look out at him and smile, wave in greeting. Fat chance, pal. Cosima hated him with the fury of a thousand suns.
But today, he grinned as he climbed the stairs to her room, today would be different, today would be tender, and loving…today would be the day she gave him everything…
Cosima didn’t look up when he entered the room, just stuck her middle finger up. Goaty chuckled. ‘And good morning to you, beautiful. I have a treat for you today.’
‘Shove your ‘treat’ up your ass.’
He laughed again, and she slammed the book she was pretending to read down on the bed. ‘Look, asshole, just fucking shoot me. Or let me go. I’m never going to give you what you want.’
He pulled up a chair and reached into his backpack. For a second, her heart stopped, thinking he was reaching for his gun, but then he pulled out a paper cup and a bottle of bourbon. He poured some into the cup and handed it to her. ‘We’re just going to talk. Drink.’
She threw it at him, and he laughed. ‘Should have seen that one coming but God, Cosima, what a waste of the good stuff.’
He pulled out the bottle and another cup, poured them both drinks. He pulled up his mask, to drink and Cosima stared at his mouth, trying to memorize it on the small chance she got out of here. Almost absentmindedly she sipped the bourbon. It warmed her blood.
‘What do you mean, talk?’
He reached for the bottle again, and she wondered why he kept putting it back in his bag. Maybe he was scared she’d make a grab for it, smash over his head. Well, she thought, that’s exactly what I would do. He refilled her cup.
‘That. Talk.’
She took a huge gulp of the liquor. ‘Let me go.’ Well, what else am I going to say?
He shook his head. ‘No. These four walls are your prison, Cosima. They’ll be your coffin too.’
‘Why? Why are you doing this? Is this about my father? You’re not Indian, your hands are white….have they hired you to do this to me?’
He didn’t answer, just kept staring at her through the grotesque goat mask. He poured another drink, and she threw it back, wanting now the oblivion. Stop, her subconscious told her, stop now. Losing control will not help you.
But she didn’t listen. A quarter hour later, the room wheeled and swayed, and her vision became hazy. But…she didn’t feel drunk, she just felt disconnected, absent. Her body felt alien to her. She squinted at Goaty. ‘What’s stopping me from getting up and walking out of here, right now?’
‘Apart from my gun? Nothing. Go ahead. Try.’
She shook her head. ‘You’ll shoot me.’
He laughed. ‘Well, okay then, say I’m in a good mood, and say I give you a shot - so to speak – at escaping. Go ahead. I promise I won’t shoot you.’
He was mocking her, but she couldn’t waste the chance. She got unsteadily to her feet and walked to the door, stopping to look back at him. He hadn’t moved. Shakily she put her hand on the door handle and turned it, pulling the door open. The rush of fresh air assaulted her senses, made her head whirl and her stomach roil. She sucked in lungfuls of it and tried to walk out into the house. It was huge, a mansion, maybe a plantation house, grandly decorated, the wide upstairs hallway led to a grand staircase. Cosima tried to walk towards to it, but every step was like walking in treacle. What the hell was wrong with her? She pulled herself along to the staircase then slumped to the ground. Jesus…she couldn’t breathe….couldn’t think…Arlo…Arlo, please…help me…
Too late, she realized she had been drugged, and as Goaty, mocking her, laughing at her attempt to escape, yanked her into his arms, she managed to gasp out the words. ‘What did you give me?’
He chuckled nastily. ‘Just a little something to make you more…friendly…’
Oh god…no…not that, please…Arlo…Arlo…
Mikah checked into the hotel in the French Quarter, dumped his bags then went straight out into the crowded streets. He wanted to scope out the place, see the hotel where Harpa was staying. Some helpful private dick of the Mallorys had helped him out, easily finding out the information that Arlo Forrester, once a resident of San Francisco – had now permanently relocated to the Big Easy. Mikah stared up at the refurbished hotel in admiration. Cosima and Arlo Forrester have some major talent, he thought. He didn’t linger, couldn’t risk Harpa seeing him and freaking out. He had a plan and that plan meant taking advantage of the few times he’d met Arlo. With the man grieving for his lost love, Mikah didn’t want to take advantage, but he thought he might try, contact Arlo, see if he could help, maybe set up a meeting…
God, could that plan be any more passive-aggressive? Mikah shook his head and went to find a coffee house to settle in and plan what he was going to say.
Cosima opened her eyes to see Arlo gazing down at her. ‘Hey, beautiful…’
‘Arlo…’ she whispered and smiled. He smoothed her hair away from her face.
‘I missed you so much, baby, so much….’ He pressed his lips to hers, and she kissed him back, feeling the softness of his mouth on her own, and his tongue gently massaging hers. His hands were on her body, and she realized she was naked. She smiled and coiled a leg around his waist.
‘I want to be inside you, my darling Cosima…’ and with one thrust. He drove his cock deep into her velvety sex. She gasped at the quick pain and then moaned as he found his rhythm, urging him on… ‘Arlo…’
His hips grew rougher, and the look in his eyes grew colder as he rammed his cock harder into her…she didn’t understand the look in his eyes…and now he was scaring her…and now it wasn’t Arlo but Jack thrusting into her….no, wait….now it was her childhood friend, the one who wanted to kill her..Naveen…..no…his face wasn’t human…it wasn’t human…
She bucked and screamed for him to stop but he cuffed her hard around the face and stunned her. She could not fight as he pinned her hands to the bed and grunting loudly, he came, and she felt the hot rush of his semen, his disgusting seed, deep in her belly, and she started to sob.
‘Don’t cry, Cosima, this was inevitable…ssh, don’t cry, it won’t be long now…soon you’ll be dead, and this won’t matter…’
She didn’t stop crying for hours after he left, then, exhausted, fell into a nightmare-heavy sleep. When she woke, she wished she was dead. There was no spark of hope left in her as she sat in a freezing cold bath, leaning her head against the cold tile. She had no tears left now; her skin and eyes felt desiccated. She closed her eyes and took slow, deep breaths.
Never again. That monster would never touch her again. She would attack him, make him shoot her, or – if it was even possible – get the gun from him.
Yeah right. She sighed…and then it hit her. His gun. His gun with a silencer on it. If she was in the middle of nowhere, why would he need a silencer? She sat up. God, how had she missed that?
She could hardly wait until the middle of the night when the red light on the camera blinked off. As soon as it went out, she darted up, grabbing the small screw she had squirreled away and found a window that wasn’t immediately noticeable from the middle of the room. He’d lied about her being alone in the area so maybe he’d lied about the windows being alarmed; using the sharp end of the screw, she scrapped away at the window’s surround. The house, while magnificent, was old and the cement that held the window in place crumbled easily away. It still took her most of the night to do one side of it and by the time dawn was breaking, she was tired. She had checked the camera all night, every few
minutes but it wasn’t until she had brushed her teeth and washed her face that it blinked back on. She guessed the feed had been down about six or seven hours. Over the next few nights, she’d loosen the window pane and lift it out and spend the night screaming out of it in the hope that someone, somewhere would hear her.
Cosima’s mind was buzzing now; she would try again to loosen the floorboards beneath her, see if she could drop through to the floor below. She didn’t care how crazy the plan, she was determined she would try anything to survive. One thing was for sure; she’d never accept anything from him again.
‘Five days,’ she murmured to herself, ‘five days and I will be out of here, or I’ll take that sharp-edged screw and open my own wrists. You don’t get to tell me what to do, motherfucker, you don’t get to decide what happens to me and my body.’
She got into bed and slept soundly for the first time in days.
Arlo nodded as the make-up artist took the shine off his forehead and Jack, his face rigid with disapproval asked him again if the television interview was a good idea.
‘I’m sick of doing nothing,’ Arlo said firmly. ‘The kidnapping is already headline news, and I want to get the message out that at the end of the day, regardless of her family, Cosima is an innocent victim, that whoever has taken her will be guilty of killing someone who only does well in this world. That whatever the crimes or perceived crimes of her father and grandfather, Cos is loved and cherished.’
He let out a long breath. ‘God, Jack, I just want them to know what they’ll be destroying for absolutely no reason.’
Jack sighed. ‘Arlo…can’t you think of any other way…?’
‘Jack, you’re the one whose put a block on my guys searching for Cos, on me going public with a reward for information.’
‘To stop your guys prejudicing the FBI investigation, that’s why I shut them down. And I did that after they’d searched your hit list of abandoned sites in the state. As for a reward – we’ll get a million crazies and not one useful piece of information. Trust me, Arlo, I’ve done this before.’
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