by Debra Webb
Tony thanked the man. Joanna was out the door and in the car before the door had closed behind Tony.
When they’d driven away from Griffin’s home, he asked, “What’s going on with you? You were agitated last night and you’re—I don’t know—more so today.”
“I need to get out of the car.”
“What?” He shot her a look.
“Now!” She reached for the door handle.
Tony hit the brakes and whipped off to the side of the road. Her door was open before the car had jerked to a complete stop.
She stumbled into the grassy ditch and fell to her hands and knees. Tony turned on the hazards and shoved the gearshift into Park. He got out and sat down next to her. She heaved and gagged. He dug around in his jacket pocket, found a cocktail napkin from the other night at that bar and offered it to her.
When she’d stopped heaving and sat back in the grass, he spoke, “Tell me what’s going on, Joanna.”
She wiped her mouth with the napkin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
As frustrated as her refusal to come completely clean about the past made him, he took a breath and tried to speak calmly. “You came to me because you want help. You want to make sure whoever took my niece—whoever took you and Ellen—is stopped. I can’t help make that happen if you aren’t completely honest with me.” He glanced around, considered how many days he’d been in Milledgeville already and the fact that he had basically nothing so far. “To tell you the truth, I’m beginning to think you don’t want to find the people responsible for what happened then or now.”
“I think Griffin is right. Where we...woke up in the woods wasn’t more than a mile or so from the hospital, I always thought deep in my gut that we were held there somewhere. At the time the hospital was still operational so I couldn’t be sure. My brother told me the cops had searched the whole place. He talked about how creepy it was so maybe I’m way off base.” She drew in a big, steadying breath. “All I know is that when Angie started to talk about it I couldn’t listen. It was like hot coals raking over my skin. That’s why I was so mean to her.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said those things to her. Anyway—” she inhaled a big breath “—when we were at Griffin’s house and he kept going on and on, my head started spinning and I felt like I needed to puke.”
“What they talked about nudged a memory you’ve repressed.” Tony saw it on a regular basis when interrogating witnesses. “That’s why you’re reacting this way.”
She glared at him. “So you’re a shrink now?”
Tony shook his head. “No but I’ve walked enough victims through the horrors they suffered to know what PTSD looks like and the things that can make it flare up.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She shoved the napkin into her pocket and stood. “What else is new?”
Tony followed her to the car, stood at her door as she slid into the passenger seat. “If you want to help me find Tiffany and Vickie and whoever else this bastard took, stop fighting me. Don’t hold back. Let the memories come. We need all the help we can get.”
“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled.
31
Day Five
Eighteen years ago...
Ellen is alive.
I am so grateful. I can’t even articulate the words I want to say to her. I hug her gently because she is hurt really bad. Then I feed her. She can’t eat much but I make sure she eats at least a little.
No-Name stays out of the way.
I don’t know how long Ellen was gone but I had time to think. If we don’t try to escape, we are going to die here. No question.
There has to be a way out. It can only be overhead.
If only I could reach it.
After she eats Ellen goes to sleep. I decide it’s time to take a chance. I crawl over to No-Name. She scoots away but I grab her hair and hold her still.
I put my face next to her ear and whisper, “We need to find a way out.”
“No shit,” she snarls.
I whisper again, “No seams or irregularities in the walls or floor except for the hole we use for a toilet. The way they’re getting us in and out has to be overhead.”
She shrugs.
“We need to find it.”
I stand up.
As if she suddenly understands what I need, she stands up, too. I feel for her shoulders, then climb onto her back. She holds my legs so I can let go of her neck. I reach up and start to smooth my hands over the ceiling.
It takes forever. We have to take frequent breaks because No-Name is like the rest of us—she is weak and injured.
Finally, my hand hits air.
I touch her face—a sign for her to stop. My heart is pounding. There is an opening. I don’t know how deep it is or where it goes or anything but it’s a void above our heads. I get down and pull her close.
“If I pat you on the head, go forward. On the left cheek, left. Right cheek, right.”
No-Name nods.
When I’m on her back once more, I press my hand against the ceiling until I find the void. I pat her on the head and she walks forward. Three or four feet. I tap her left cheek. We go three or four feet that way. Then left again.
I slip back down to the floor and draw her close. “The opening is like three to four feet square. I can’t reach the top. I may have to try and climb up your back.”
She nods.
So we try again. I can feel another edge maybe ten inches above our ceiling. All I have to do is get there.
I stretch upward. I can feel a floor or flat surface of some sort. I flatten both palms on the surface and push hard as my feet work their way up her back. To her credit, No-Name grabs my right foot in her hands. For a second I’m dangling from my hands. Then she grabs my left foot and pushes up on both.
I scramble up onto the floor or whatever it is.
My heart is pounding. Air is sawing in and out of my lungs. It’s dark up here, too.
When my breathing slows and my heart calms, I begin to crawl, keeping my hands well ahead of my knees. I don’t want to accidentally fall into the void.
I hit a wall.
I stand and feel my way down the wall, hugging close to it.
My fingers hit a different surface.
A door!
I feel over the surface, find it and wrap my fingers around the knob. A wild mixture of fear and relief sears through my veins. I turn the knob.
The door bursts inward, knocking me on my ass.
Before I can scramble away, a figure I can’t see drapes something over me, like a heavy blanket.
I’m suddenly swaddled by the blanket and strong arms. I scream for the good it will do.
He or she or they are dragging me. I try to fight my way out of the trap. Can’t get free.
Abruptly we stop. The floor starts to move.
I jerk with the feel of it.
Then it turns upright and I tumble off. Land on a hard surface. The air whooshes out of my lungs.
My sore body screams in protest.
I kick the blanket off me. Feel more hands on my skin.
“Get away!” I scream.
“It’s me.”
No-Name.
I’m back where I started.
32
Doe Run Road
10:00 a.m.
Madelyn roused. She sighed.
Last night had been amazing—considering she’d had another run-in with LeDoux and that bitch Guthrie.
Madelyn dismissed the nuisance as she opened her eyes and stared at the beauty on the pillow next to her.
So young—her skin was perfect. So smooth. No signs of aging like Hailey suffered. God, when had she gotten so old? Young or old, the truth was she’d always preferred women to men.
But age was inevitable. Her true love to
ld her that often. Madelyn smiled at the thought of her dear, dear love. How had she been so lucky to find her all those years ago? They had been secret lovers for almost twenty years now and finally it was their turn. Finally they would have all they’d dreamed of far away from this place where no one could touch them. Where alternative lifestyles were embraced.
And the money—so much money.
All the years of waiting and serving had been worth it. Now they would both live the lives of queens.
Madelyn peered at the sweet young thing lying next to her. What was one more fling before she began the rest of her life? Her true love didn’t care. She liked it when Madelyn made love to other women. She even liked to watch sometimes. Madelyn got wet just thinking about the adventures they were going to have in such an exotic country. All they had worked for was finally achieving the results they deserved.
Sleeping Beauty’s long-lashed lids fluttered open and dark eyes stared at her. Such big eyes. A soft wide mouth and sleek blond hair. Not naturally blond but well-done.
Madelyn smiled. “Breakfast?”
She rolled Madelyn onto her back and straddled her waist. Then she leaned down and kissed her so hard that Madelyn lost her breath.
Just as abruptly she stopped and climbed out of the bed.
Madelyn watched her lithe body as she moved toward the bathroom. So perfect. Not an ounce of fat and all that smooth, unmarred skin.
When she’d disappeared into the bathroom, Madelyn sat up. She needed coffee. The sound of the water running in the tub had her smiling. A bath would be nice first.
She padded toward the bathroom, Brutus followed. Madelyn turned to him. “Back in your bed.”
Her guest wasn’t a fan of dogs.
Brutus whined but he traipsed over to his bed and curled up. Madelyn walked into the bathroom, her toes curling against the heated marble floors.
Her guest was already in the huge soaking tub, the water pouring in from the Roman-style spout. Madelyn closed the door and walked slowly toward her.
The young girl’s eyes greedily drank in her body. Madelyn remembered clearly being that age and that hungry. She saw all the things she wanted when she looked at Madelyn. Beautiful clothes, jewelry, the freedom to be with whomever she desired without a husband to rule her life. Without children to get in the way.
Madelyn stepped into the tub and lowered her body down next to her young guest’s. Her hands immediately moved to Madelyn’s breasts and then lower to her crotch. The girl might be young but she was good with her hands.
Within a minute she had worked Madelyn’s body into a frenzy. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the sleek tub. She cried out as orgasm claimed her. Before the final waves had receded, those magic fingers were moving up her body, massaging her breasts, tracing her throat.
Madelyn’s head suddenly slammed under the water.
She fought. Tried to get loose from those steel fingers wrapped around her throat, keeping her head pressed against the bottom of the tub. The other woman’s weight was on Madelyn’s chest, her thighs holding her arms against her torso like a vise.
She couldn’t move.
Couldn’t get loose.
When she could hold her breath no more, she surrendered, gasped for relief.
Water rushed into her lungs.
33
Central State Hospital Campus
Noon
Jo stared up at the Jones Building. Vines had crept over the brick, like evil arms stretching up to draw this place into the ground, into the depths of hell where it belonged. On the dome two black crows sat staring at those who dared to pass.
Just like eighteen years ago. She remembered thinking that those black crows were surely signs that evil lurked here. Griffin’s stories had reminded her of her early days as a freshman at Georgia College. On several occasions she had tagged along with a group of other freshmen who’d heard about the old asylum and wanted to poke around. Parts of the asylum had still been in operation at the time so they’d had to be on their best behavior—or at least pretend to be until no one was watching.
Voices whispered through her. Giggles and whispers. Young girls with nothing better to do on a Saturday morning than explore the local ghost stories. They had found a room filled with old patient files in one of the buildings. The others had laughed as they read the notes but Jo hadn’t laughed. She’d read, absorbing the horrific details, the anguish generated by the words creating a sort of movie in her brain. The words, some written by doctors and others posted by nurses, spoke of fear and desperation, hopelessness and coldheartedness.
Without enough staff for a pediatric ward, the children were often placed in cages to protect them from the older patients. Their fear is palpable, but so is that of the few remaining nurses. The children are small but they are violent and cannot be trusted.
How had anyone left a child in this place? She closed her eyes and tried to block the images, like scenes from a horror movie, her mind automatically created.
“I’ll keep driving,” Tony said, his voice startling her. “You tell me when something looks familiar.”
“I came here a few times that first semester,” she said. “Exploring with some other students, but I know what you mean.” He wanted her to look for anything that looked familiar during or after the abduction.
She focused on the buildings and the landscape as he drove. He moved so slowly she wanted to jump out of the car and push to make it go faster. It all looked vaguely familiar. Something dark and foreboding pulsed in her blood, made her heart beat too fast. She had come with those girls and a couple of guys from her orientation class several times. It was part of the freshman ritual. You explored all the spooky old shit. How was she supposed to remember if any aspect of this shithole felt familiar in any way that related to the fourteen days she had spent in the pits of hell? For the past eighteen years she had worked diligently to block those memories from her brain.
Stop, Jo. Just stop. He was desperate to find his niece. She wanted to finish this as much as he did. She wanted it to end and she wanted the people involved to pay.
She also recognized the other aspect of what drove him, perhaps better than he did. He wanted to find his niece alive before she was turned into what Jo and Ellen had become. She could understand wanting to save someone he loved. He needed her help to do that and she wanted to help. The problem was she didn’t know how to help! She had told him all she could that might somehow make a difference. So many of the events that led up to what happened eighteen years ago were hardly more than theories. She was positive that Conway and Martin or whatever her name was were involved, but she couldn’t actually prove it. She couldn’t point to a place here or near the highway and say this is it—which was what he wanted. She had no idea how she and Ellen ended up where they did. They had awakened in those woods with no one and nothing around them but trees.
The car in the side mirror caught her attention. Security.
She dropped her head back against the headrest. “And it begins.”
Tony had spotted them, as well. He probably noticed them before she did. She stared at his profile and wondered how much longer he would permit her evasion and lies on the parts she didn’t want to share. Lying wasn’t right, not really. She’d told him the truth—at least everything she’d told him had been the truth. But he knew she was holding back. He’d been some big-deal profiler with the FBI. He probably knew her better just by watching her than she knew herself. She could say the same about him. Maybe she should have been a profiler.
Like her, he was desperate on a number of levels. His life had hit a place almost as low as her long-term situation. His career was in the toilet and, from what she’d seen so far, so was his personal life. The two of them were a pair for sure. How the hell were they supposed to figure this out when they couldn’t even figure out their own lives? Maybe he just didn�
�t want to do this alone. Maybe he needed a friend.
Was that what they were? Friends?
Her boss was a friend, sort of, maybe.
He liked her. She liked him. To some degree they counted on each other. What was the definition of a friend anyway? She’d considered the same about Ellen and decided they weren’t really friends, but maybe she was wrong.
But LeDoux? The two of them were acquaintances, she decided. She had a number of those, though she rarely exchanged body fluids with an acquaintance. Getting close to LeDoux had required the extra effort. Her occasional sexual encounter was never with anyone she’d met before and the chosen partner never knew her real name. Telling LeDoux was necessary, wasn’t it?
Did he see the real Joanna Guthrie? The empty shell?
Maybe she was borrowing trouble. She almost smiled at the phrase. Her mother had used that phrase all the time. Yes, Jo was borrowing trouble. Easy to do, spending so much time with a man like LeDoux. Not true, Jo. He wasn’t the problem. She was the problem. This part she knew with complete certainty. She spent 99 percent of her time completely alone and had since she was eighteen years old. How was she supposed to know the intricacies of carrying on a normal conversation much less being a friend? Concern for his niece likely had him off his game or he would have seen through her completely already.
She had a niece and a nephew. She’d never met either one. The boy was twelve, his sister ten. Without question, Ray was a good father. He’d always taken really good care of Jo—until she moved away to college. He’d tried then. He would show up on weekends. Her roommates would get all giddy because a cute older guy smiled at them. Jo had teased her brother relentlessly about it. Eventually, he stopped coming so often. Their mom had told him to let Jo be. She could just hear her. She needs to be making friends, not hanging out with her brother.
Jo had a family. Once. A good one. But then she’d tossed away the life she had known. Why had she thrown them away, too?