“Sure, now that you’re divorcing me, you don’t care how I spend my free time.”
“I care enough about you still to want you not to waste it, not to waste anything that might give you more confidence in yourself. The worst that can happen is, you find something else to give to the FBI.”
“That’s not the worst that could happen. The sheriff took me off the case,” he protested, but he didn’t like the sound of his voice himself. It was a whine.
“You’re not doing it for the sheriff, or the county, or even the country, Jimmy. You’re doing it for Anna Gold,” she said. “My God, Jimmy, don’t you ever get tired of taking the easy way out?”
He stopped chewing.
“That’s not fair, Cookie. I told you, it’s not by choice that I’m off the case.”
“I know. It’s by acquiescence,” she retorted. “Whatever-you-say McShane rides again: ‘I’m just following orders.’ How convenient.”
“Jesus.” He slammed down his glass. “Throw me out of the marriage and now get me fired.”
“Sorry,” she said after a moment. She relaxed her shoulders and sat back. “You’re right. It’s not fair. I was just thinking about that poor, frightened woman locked up with some fanatics. If it was happening to me, I wouldn’t want to know I was being passed around from one law enforcement agency to another while precious time was lost.”
“The FBI’s pretty good, Cookie. They usually get their man.”
“I know, but often it’s too late for the victim.”
He sat back and gulped the remainder of his beer before standing.
“Well, thanks for the lunch,” he said. “And the pep talk,” he added.
She laughed and stood, her face turning serious.
“I’m sorry, Jimmy. I never meant for us to end up like this.”
“Me neither.”
They stared at each other for a moment and then he turned and walked out of the house, trying desperately not to look back.
The peaceful scene that greeted him outside his former house reminded him of the tranquility he had found at the Golds’ residence in Parksville. The madness around them had descended like some disease; it recognized no boundaries.
Cookie’s words resounded in his ears. He almost didn’t hear his beeper go off.
“There goes my free time,” he muttered, and went quickly to his car radio.
It was Marta.
“I just found out you’re off today,” she said, “but I got the information you wanted and I thought you might find it very interesting.”
“Information?”
“That cellular telephone number?”
“Oh, yeah. Why’s it interesting?”
“It belongs to Robert Royce.”
“Robert Royce?”
“Don’t you read the papers?” She laughed. “Weren’t you here last night?”
“I give up,” he said. “Who the hell is he?”
“He’s Gault’s attorney—Gault, the leader of the Shepherds of God.”
“Really?” He thought a moment. “Thanks, Marta.”
He sat back in his seat. Why would Anna Gold have his cellular number?
He looked back at his former home. He thought he saw Cookie in the den, hovering over her computer keyboard. She was a dedicated, determined person. He was beginning to understand why his laid-back style had become abhorrent to someone so goal-oriented.
“Oh, what the hell,” he muttered. “There’s nothing really good on television anyway.”
He started the engine and backed out of the driveway, suddenly rather pleased with the prospect of doing something more than he had to do.
18
Anna woke with a start and then blinked rapidly. At first, unaware of what had been done to her, she was confused by her narrowed vision. Am I still asleep? she wondered. Am I dreaming?
It looked and felt as if she were gazing up from the bottom of a grave. Slowly, baffled, she brought her hands to her face. When they made contact with the cold metal mask, she gasped and sprang into a sitting position so quickly that the chain connected to the collar around her neck rattled and flew over her shoulder. What had been done to her? What was this? She moved her hands all around her head, and then she screamed.
Her cry echoed inside the mask, reverberating through her skull and bouncing down her spine. Despite the excruciating effect, she screamed again and then she pried her fingers under the mask and began to tug with all her strength, hoping to rip it off, but it didn’t move.
Her gasping grew more intense, along with the pounding of her heart. A pain shot across her chest and wrapped itself with the sting of barbed wire around her ribs, closing, tightening, forcing her to take smaller and smaller breaths. Panicking, she clawed again and again at the mask, pulling at the mouth, the eye holes, even trying to widen the openings for her nostrils.
“I’m going to suffocate to death,” she cried.
Although the mask was only around her head, the effect was to make her feel as though her whole body felt encased. For all intents and purposes she really could be at the bottom of her grave. I soon will be if I don’t get this off, she thought.
The heat around her face rose in its intensity. She imagined her skin was blood red within the mask. This thing, whatever it was, would cook her brains. She pounded and scratched at the metal until the tips of her fingers stung. Lines of sweat streaked down her neck. The hysteria expanded like a balloon. She stepped off the bed and turned around and around, her fingers under the mask, yanking and pulling all the while, and all the while with no effect. Her frustration grew and increased her sense of terror. Spinning madly, she grew dizzy.
She screamed again and again, the sound of her voice deafening, and then she felt her body soften as if her bones had crumbled to dust within, and she sank to the floor, her heavy head bouncing hard on the rug. All went black.
When she woke again, she found herself on her back in the bed. She heard their voices before she saw them, but she didn’t move.
“It would have been better if she were awake when you did it, Mommy. It doesn’t come as such a shock then,” Anna heard the man say.
“It was easier this way. It’ll get used to it. The other incubators did. That wasn’t what went wrong with them.”
“I know.”
“If it goes brain-dead, you’ll just put it on an IV, Daddy. I’d rather it went brain-dead anyway. It’s easier. Remember that pregnant woman who was in a coma at your hospital for seven months and they did a cesarean? The baby was perfect anyway, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, she was. The woman died shortly afterward. It was as though her body knew it had to stay alive for the child,” he said with wonder in his voice.
“It will be the same with this incubator here,” she added.
Anna groaned. Incubator?
“It wakes,” the woman said.
A moment later Anna saw the man lean over her, gazing into the socket holes like a medical examiner over a corpse. He smiled when he saw her eyes were open.
“Hello in there,” he said.
“Take this off me, please,” she begged.
“I can’t do that if I wanted to. Mommy’s the only one. She’s the only one with the key, right, Mommy?”
“Right.”
“Please. It’s hot and very uncomfortable. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I promise.”
“Oh, we know that,” he said, smiling. “Don’t we, Mommy?”
“It’s not that hot in there,” the woman said. She was standing just behind him. “I know how it feels. I tested it.”
“She did,” he said. “Can’t lie to Mommy.” His nostrils twitched. “She doesn’t smell so good, Mommy. She smells like she peed in her pants. She smells like some of the old people in beds with the sides up.”
“What’s new about that?” the woman said. She pushed him aside and looked down at Anna. The woman’s mouth writhed. “Get up. As long as you can stand, you’ll change the bedding and your nightgown yo
urself and you’ll bathe yourself, and if you don’t, if you wallow in your own dirt and endanger the baby inside you, we’ll tie you down and treat you like a total invalid. Understand?”
“Please,” Anna begged. Her voice was thin and hoarse and her throat ached.
“Up!” the woman screamed. She pulled Anna’s arm.
“Let me help,” he said, taking the other arm. They forced her into a sitting position and then off the bed. She stood, but she wobbled.
The woman put her right forefinger between Anna’s breasts and pressed hard, her fingernail like a small knife cutting into her skin, down to the bone.
“Stop trembling. Stop it!” She turned toward the dresser. “The second drawer has clean nightgowns and the third drawer has the clean sheets. Change the bedding and put the stained sheet at the door. Then take a bath and put on a new nightgown. Have it all done before we return with your supper. If it’s not done, we’ll consider you an invalid and treat you as such. Understand?” she threatened.
Anna tried to swallow but couldn’t.
“Why?” she mouthed. She sucked in some air. “Why?” she said in a loud whisper.
“What?” the woman demanded, moving closer.
“Why did you do this?” she asked, her hands on the metal mask.
“Because I can’t stand looking at you,” the woman replied. “Now, do what you’re told. Come on, Daddy. Let’s get her supper ready. Remember what we told you. Remember to have it all done. And be careful when you take your bath. If you do anything to lose our baby…”
Anna shook her head.
“You’ll never get this baby,” she said, but she wasn’t sure if she had said it or just thought it. The woman did not respond. However, he was at her side, his mouth close to the hole for her left ear.
“Don’t get Mommy any more angry than she already is,” he whispered as he walked by to join the woman at the door. He turned and smiled at her and then they left. She heard the lock being snapped shut.
Anna gazed around helplessly. I’ve got to keep from cracking up completely, she thought. I’ve got to maintain control, otherwise I will never escape. She realized that for the time being she had to be obedient, look cooperative, and keep them from being any more suspicious than they were. She took deep breaths, felt her heartbeat slow, and then began to rip off the soiled bedsheet.
After she had changed and made the bed, she ran the water for her bath. They had provided her with soap and bath oil and a washcloth. The towel was on the hamper beside the tub. Anna put in some bath oil, adjusted the water temperature, and watched the tub fill.
I won’t eat anything tonight, she thought. I’ll dump it all down the toilet so they can’t drug me to sleep, and tomorrow I’ll wait for my opportunity and fight for my life. If I don’t, I’ll die here anyway, she concluded. She had no doubt about that.
When there was sufficient water in the tub, she took off her nightgown and lowered herself into the bubbly bath. Taking a bath was actually a good idea. It soothed and calmed her. She lay back, closed her eyes, and for the moment forgot she was trapped and incarcerated in this mad place with these maddening people. Because immersing in the warm water provided Anna with some inner peace, albeit temporary, she couldn’t help but recall the first time she had accompanied her mother to the mikvah for the ritual bath. Her mother had decided Anna was old enough to understand and appreciate the need for spiritual purification.
“You know married men and women have sexual relations often, Anna, and you know that we believe we should abstain from these relations when the woman is in niddah during her monthly menstruation period.”
“Yes, Mama,” she said. Her heart beat faster when she understood that her mother was going to speak to her on a woman-to-woman basis and not on a woman-to-child basis.
“Remember what the sages teach us, Anna: Strength comes from our ability to rule our passions and not allow our passions to master us. It is important to be able to abstain. You understand what I mean by abstain?”
“Yes, Mama,” she said quickly, afraid her mother might stop talking about what used to be forbidden things.
“Just counting the days since her menstruation stopped doesn’t remove a woman from her state of niddah, Anna, and permit her to resume her marital activity. We believe that requires a spiritual ritual, the immersion in a ritual bath, the mikvah. It’s how we purify ourselves. Without it, a wife remains in her state of separation, forbidden to her husband, for it is written in Leviticus: ‘You shall not come near a woman while she is impure by her uncleanness to uncover her nakedness.’”
“Why can’t you just take a bath at home, Mama?”
Her mother laughed.
“It’s not just a bath, Anna. In fact, all dirt must be scrupulously cleaned off our bodies before we go into the mikvah. Until a married woman immerses herself, she can’t sleep in the same bed with her husband.”
“Why is that, Mama?”
“They might forget themselves. That’s why, as you know, we and other Orthodox religious couples have twin beds. The sexual urge is a powerful thing, Anna. We must respect that power and do what is necessary to control it. Otherwise, we can get into trouble, Anna. Remember this. The rituals, the beliefs, we cherish as a people have some root in logic, Anna.”
Her body trembled in the tub as she recalled her mother’s warning: “Remember this….”
“Look where I am now, Mama. Look where I am.”
She took deep breaths and then she recited the blessing a woman recited once she had immersed herself completely in the mikvah.
“Baruch ata adonai elohainu melech ha-olam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al hatvilah.”
She closed her eyes and saw her mother standing there, preparing for her ritual bath, unfastening her beautiful long black hair and combing it out, a soft smile on her face.
The vision revived her.
“I will not die in this place, Mama.”
She rose out of the water and stood with her arms folded under her breasts, her defiance growing.
“I will not die here.”
She wiped herself dry and put on the clean nightgown. There was no mirror in the bathroom or the room, but she polished the pipe that brought the water to the tub and caught a bit of her reflection in the metal surface.
“My God,” she muttered. As she had pictured with her hands, the mask was square. It was the same shade of white as the walls in the prison bedroom, and there were just the two holes for her nostrils, the holes for her eyes and her mouth. She turned and saw where the two sides of the mask were joined and she felt and made out the place where the key would be inserted to unlock it. There was no way to get it off without help. That would have to come after she accomplished her escape.
She returned to the bedroom and sat as calmly as she could, waiting. She had no idea of the time, of course, but she remembered the woman saying something about dinner. It wasn’t long before she heard footsteps and then the key being inserted in the door. Anna had been hoping it would only be the woman, but they were both there.
The woman carried the tray. She paused and gazed down at the soiled sheet and nightgown on the floor near the door. She looked at the bed with its clean sheet.
“Well, well,” the man said, coming up beside her. “Everything’s in order, Mommy. She’s behaving.”
The woman said nothing. She brought the tray to the table and set it down. Anna was afraid they would stand over her and watch her eat as they had before. The woman went into the bathroom and saw Anna had bathed. She stared at the tub and once again Anna’s heart raced. Would she see the scratches and dents in the bathtub faucet handle?
“You better eat before all this gets cold,” the man said.
“How can I eat with this on my head?” she asked.
“Oh, you can fit everything in all right. You just have to eat slower is all, right, Mommy?”
“That’s right. I know it can be done. I’ve done it. Eat and stop complaining.”
> Anna moved slowly to the chair. They hovered. She could pretend to be sick, to have an upset stomach, but they might just run out and bring in the intravenous bag as they had done the last time, and there was no telling what was in that solution. More likely than not, there was a sedative of equal or greater strength.
She sat and began to eat.
“I’ll get her dirty things, Mommy,” the man said.
“Good.” The woman stood there, her eyes small with suspicion and distrust. “My baby has to be healthy and strong,” she said. “She has to have the best start a baby can have.”
“It’s not your baby,” Anna said. She couldn’t help it. She knew it would be better to remain quiet, but the outrage and anger had tightened her until she felt as though her whole body had become as hard as the metal of the mask.
She eyed the door as the man opened it, but he stood there, waiting with the linen and the nightgown in his arms.
“She’ll eat it all, Mommy. She knows better than not to eat it all. Come on. We have more important things to do.”
The woman looked at him and then at Anna. She picked up the glass of what looked like cranberry juice. It had a straw in it. She brought it to the mouth of the mask.
“Drink some of this,” she ordered. Anna was sure that meant the sedative was in the juice.
She sucked on the straw as the woman held it, trying to take in as little as possible.
“Drink.”
She took in more and tried to hold it in her mouth, rather than swallow, but the woman kept the glass up, so she had to swallow what she had.
“You don’t have to feed her like a baby, Mommy,” the man said. He smiled. “We have to think about our own dinner.”
She put the glass down.
“When I return, I expect to see every morsel eaten,” she said, and joined him at the door, where she again hesitated and watched Anna take her forkful of mashed potatoes.
“It’s fine, Mommy. Everything is fine.”
“Maybe,” she said, looking back at Anna. “We’ll see,” she added, and followed him out.
The moment she heard the lock click and their footsteps start away, Anna got up and ran into the bathroom. She hovered over the toilet and put her fingers down her mouth to initiate regurgitation. It was messy getting it out of the opening for her mouth, but she did it. Much of what she had taken in came up, but it left her weak and tired. She sat on the floor and caught her breath. Then she returned to the table and brought the remaining food back to the bathroom. She flushed it all down the toilet and poured the juice in after it before placing the tray and dishes on the table again.
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