Cellar Door

by Suzanne Steele

  Chapter Six

  Liam

  I never tire of watching her. If only I could look over her shoulder and brush the hair from her neck (or wrap it around my fist and yank her head back, forcing her to look in my eyes as I dominate her body and soul) as I read her words on the computer screen. I long to lean in and whisper in her ear all the vile things I want to do to her.

  My eyes stray from watching her when I see a man in a gray hoodie standing in the shadows, his head tilted back as he looks upward. He’s watching her too. What the fuck?

  A flood of memories invades my mind as I think back to three years ago when ‘The Riddler’ terrorized the city of Louisville. I wondered then if I would ever be able to move past the embarrassment of that crazed man being my twin brother. Frankly, I didn’t appreciate the attention it attracted to me and my exceedingly private life. Claudia and I were in the middle of what would prove to be our last and truly mind-bending role play, although we didn’t know that yet. Much to my surprise, the press looked upon me as a hero: the poor victim who had been stalked by a man I’d never met.

  Lance and I share the same mother but that’s as far as it goes. We were separated in infancy when my mother, for reasons she never explained, gave him up for adoption and kept me.

  Apparently, he spent years stalking me and following my career. He even went to the same college to become an orthopedic surgeon like me, but was forced to withdraw because of the disturbing results of his psychological testing. It seems my twin inherited our mother’s crazy gene. So instead, he decided to put his medical expertise to work killing unsuspecting women. Mommy issues much?

  After holding me and my surgical team hostage, he was deemed criminally insane and remanded to Our Lady of Tranquility. He saw the hostage drama as his chance to get some coveted respect from the authorities and sympathy from the general public. He spouted off a bunch of shit about his childhood, saying that he had been wronged and that his killing spree had somehow been justified. So he told his story to Max, a local crime blogger, that day while holding us at gunpoint. Max’s quick thinking led to our rescue and his arrest. He spent his first night in jail and I returned home to Claudia and the eventual deterioration of our fantasy scene into something darker than either of us ever intended.

  Now Lance spends his days being interviewed from time to time by the same blogger and an endless stream of doctors and students who all want the inside scoop on his life as a serial killer. I’ve continued my medical career, working long hours to the exclusion of all else – until recently, anyway. Until my Madonna.

  And now she’s attracted the attention of this son of a bitch I’ve never seen before. Instinct compels me to get up from my seat at the coffee house’s sidewalk cafe and follow the man who was watching her. I get into my car and slowly follow him down Muhammad Ali Boulevard. His gray hoodie brings back too many unpleasant memories of the darkest chapter in my life.

  I have devoted my life to building not only my career but a good reputation in the community. I spent years feeling guilty about being the son my mother chose. Years of asking myself why she kept me and gave him away. Years of wondering where he was and what would have become of me if she had given me away instead. That’s a heavy burden to put on a kid and it has taken a long time for me to start to get past the guilt and shame.

  I’ve finally come to grips with who I am, including my less-than-conventional sexual appetites. The choices my mother made are hers, not mine, and I’m okay with that now. Now it’s just a matter of finding the right woman, someone who will enjoy my particular brand of kink.

  The guy confirms my worst fears when he bounds up the steps of The Riddler’s house…like he owns the place. After my brother’s arrest, I had wanted the building demolished but the money-grubbing landlord made it a tourist attraction instead. He saw an opportunity to make a fast buck by giving guided tours featuring the gory details of a madman’s kills. People would stand in line for hours to see for themselves the place where Lance had killed those local women before cutting them into pieces that he left all over town.

  Eventually, complaints about the noise and traffic forced him to shut the tours down and fix the house up for sale. Looks like the man in the hoodie either bought the house or is renting it. I want to know why.

  That isn’t my only question, either. Why does he dress like my brother, in a gray hoodie that hides his face? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think my brother had escaped from his comfortable room at Our Lady to take a bizarre trip down memory lane.

  Whoever this guy is, he must harbor some fascination with the Riddler killings or he wouldn’t be living in that house. I’ve heard stories about people idolizing murderers and maybe that’s what’s going on here. But it would take one seriously twisted individual to admire my brother.

  I don’t know what to make of any of this. There are too many things about this guy that remind me of my brother—the house, the clothes, and the fact that he’s possibly stalking a woman -- my Madonna.

  Chapter Seven

  His Adoration

  I slept like a baby last night, looking forward to today’s visit, knowing I’ll be able to give him what he wants. I so want him to be pleased with me. The guard leaves, locking us in the room -- with privacy that I’ve secured by paying off the guards.

  Lance smirks at me from across the metal table, his hands and feet in chains. I break the silence with the vital information I have for him. “He’s following her now, you know.”

  “I’m not at all surprised,” he replies pompously after an unexpectedly long silence. “She reads to patients at the hospital. It was inevitable they would run into each other. But she’s mine; I saw her first, years ago. Tragically, I’m the reason she no longer reads to patients here. Brinkley didn’t care for the interest I showed in her, even though I was never in the same room with her. Hell, I like story time as much as the next guy, even if I’m just watching it on the video monitor. Anyway, Brinkley encouraged her to find somewhere else to read, that bastard. But, be that as it may, I still say ‘finder’s keeper’s’. My brother can stalk her all he wants, he can try his best to go after my little pet, but he’ll never measure up.”

  My chest swells with pride, knowing I’m the one who found her and told him about her new volunteer assignment. I reply eagerly, “You’re right, he won’t. You’re everything he wants to be but never will. He’s nothing.” I lean in and whisper, “I can kill him for you if you want me to.”

  His malevolent stare sends a chill coursing through me, and I lean back in my chair, chastened. I’ve said the wrong thing. I’ve displeased him.

  Lance’s curt words cut me to the bone, “To kill my twin would be to kill a part of me. You wouldn’t want to do that, now would you?”

  “No. I could never do anything to hurt you.”

  He relaxes and gives me a small smile that doesn’t seem to reach his eyes. “So. Did you bring it?”

  I’m happy he’s changed the subject to something I know will please him. I reach discreetly under the metal table and hand him the item. His posture never hints that he has taken the item and tucked it inside his coveralls. The money I slipped to the guards will ensure he returns to his cell with what I’ve given him.

  I made some serious money in real estate years ago, but I left that all behind. Money isn’t what gives my life meaning now. The Riddler is my reason for living. I was never truly alive until I met him. There is nothing he could ever ask of me that I wouldn’t do. I take care of all his financial needs, from a generous allowance for the commissary to his legal fees. He’s appealing his case and I’m seeing to it he has the best council available, no matter how much it costs.

  Yes, The Riddler and I are one; closer than brothers—certainly closer than that unworthy, unappreciative blood brother of his. I hate Liam Chambers for being his twin, for having a precious connection to Lance that he flagrantly squanders at every opportunity. I should have been born his twin, not that ungrateful son of a bitc
h. Lance doesn’t talk much about his long lost family, but I will see to it that he has his vengeance.

  Maybe if I give my life for his cause, he will finally see my devotion for the gift it is, he’ll see me as his brother in every way that truly matters. It will make everything I’ve been through worth it when I achieve my rightful place—as his brother, sealed in evil -- and bound by blood, one way or another.

  Chapter Eight

  Liam

  I canceled today’s surgeries to visit Lance at Our Lady of Tranquility and find out what the hell is going on. If I’m right, Lance will revel in the fact that he has a groupie. He’ll be so smug that he won’t be able to hide it from me. He’ll want to rub it in my face and make me suffer. Any hold he can have on me – perceived or otherwise -- is gratifying to him. The sick son of a bitch has a morbid need to lure me into his chaos and he’ll use any means at his disposal.

  I go through the tedious process of emptying my pockets and signing in. The receptionist barely looks up from her work when I’m cleared to proceed. I step through the metal detector and am led to a small room where my brother is already seated at a table in shackles. The guard leaves, pulling the heavy door closed behind him. I remain standing.

  Lance assures me that the guards are paid off to ensure our privacy; nonetheless, I am always careful during our visits. I have more to lose than he does, but today I’m so pissed off that I couldn’t care less if we’re being taped. It’s taking all I have to not throttle the son of a bitch. I waste no time lighting into him.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Lance?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, brother dear,” he murmurs benignly, sniffing delicately. He makes a show of brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder as the chains clank and rattle.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I seethe. “Why are you having Madonna Mathews followed?”

  I don’t give him time to answer as I stomp across the room and turn to glare at him, leaning back against the wall with a foot braced against it and my arms crossed over my chest. “Explain this to me, then. What the hell is up with some guy dressing like you while he follows her around? And don’t even bother trying to lie to me, I know you’re somehow behind this.”

  “Madonna. A pretty name for a pretty girl. She has no idea, does she, of your sexual depravity?”

  As usual, my brother’s deflecting. Everything’s always a mind fuck with him and not the good kind.

  “My liaisons have always been consensual. I never touch any woman sexually unless I have her explicit agreement. Don’t try to turn this shit around on me. We’re discussing you here, not me.”

  “Hmm, willingly unwilling, is that it? Yes, that is a special kind of kink, isn’t it? Oh, dear brother,” he shakes his head for emphasis, “we both know you’re just as dark and fucked up as I am. Does she know about your penchant for, hmm… let’s just say, the darker side of sex? I mean, really, kidnapping and abduction? And all that yummy, rough sex, too. How would such an innocent flower react if she ever found out how much you enjoy taking women? In the literal sense, of course,” he concludes in a deceptively silky tone of voice.

  “You have no idea who I am or what I like. There are plenty of women who enjoy the same things I do. I was born with this bent, but you…you had a choice. You chose to kill those women. Now stop changing the subject and answer me! Who is this sick fuck you’ve got following her?”

  “Well, to hear him tell it, he’s my ‘number one fan’,” he chuckles as he raises his shackled hands to make clangy air quotes. “I guess he’s taking it upon himself to finish the job I wasn’t able to. Quite sweet, really.”

  “Wait, what-- He’s going to kill her? You son of a bitch!” I push off the wall and yell for the guard. I need to work quickly.

  Lance calls out gaily as I run down the hall to the exit, “You can’t save her, Liam. No one can.”

  I mutter under my breath, “We’ll see about that, Lance, we’ll see.”

  Once again my brother has forced me into a corner, and once again I will come out swinging. Gone are any hopes I had entertained of eventually pursuing her in a more traditional way: dinner and a movie, and the possibility of sex later on. There’s no way in hell she’ll believe me if I try to explain that she’s become the target of a madman. The bastard’s given me no choice but to take my Madonna – kidnap her -- for real.

  This will be the first time I’ve ever taken a woman without her prior consent, the first time I’ve ever ventured beyond fantasy roleplay. An adrenalin rush like I haven’t felt in years floods my veins as I visualize all that lies ahead. And the emptiness that abides deep within me shatters, cascading around me like a thousand glittering shards of glass.

  Chapter Nine

  Madonna

  I love the way books smell, especially old ones like this. There is nothing better than spending a lazy Saturday afternoon curled up in a chair in a second-hand bookstore. But if not a bookstore, a library will do just fine. That’s where I am today. As far as I’m concerned, libraries are downright magical places. I hate the thought of libraries eventually becoming defunct as everything goes digital.

  I must admit, my new messenger bag makes carrying my books a lot easier. I woke up wanting to spend the morning at the library, so I packed up my books and brought my laptop along to write as time allows. I found a lovely spot by the window in the newly expanded Special Collections wing of the library.

  I mosey down an aisle between two long, heavily laden bookshelves. My fingers are passing lovingly over several weathered, hardback book spines when the hair on the back of my neck practically sizzles. I’m not alone. I turn and see a hooded figure at the far end of the aisle. His dead eyes seem to take my measure and he smirks. This time I can see his face and I recognize him as the man in the hooded sweatshirt from the hospital. His eyes roam over me with recognition and lust and…loathing? He remembers me, too. This can’t possibly be a coincidence. Did he follow me?

  I always feel safe in the library, but being alone with him is creeping me out. Panic tingles along my spine as he approaches me, muttering to himself. I step to the side to give him room to pass when he abruptly stops in front of me.

  I press my back against a bookshelf, dislodging several books on the other side. I jerk as they clatter to the floor. The stranger leans in toward me and slowly tilts his head from side to side, ogling me curiously like I’m an exhibit at the goddamn zoo.

  His raspy whisper drifts across the space between us. It sounds like he’s…shit, is he singing to me?! “I’m going to kill you, just wait and see. You don’t stand a chance of escaping me.”

  With that, he turns and, with a last backward glance, slinks back down the aisle to the stairwell.

  What. The. Hell. Was. That?

  I have no idea who this guy is, but he knows me, and he’s following me…and threatening to kill me. If he’s bold enough to confront me just for kicks, then he’s probably crazy enough to commit the crime. I frown and close my eyes as I try to place him from anywhere other than the hospital the other day; no luck.

  I hurry to the end of the aisle and peer out the window to the street below. My stalker lopes down the library steps and strolls nonchalantly down the sidewalk, seemingly without a care in the world. I’ve just let out the breath I’ve been holding when he stops. He turns slowly, deliberately, and glares up at me, as if he knew all along that I’d be there watching him. Malevolence rolls off him in harsh waves. I back away from the window and find a seat as I struggle to catch my breath.

  Why would someone want to kill me? And how the hell am I supposed to deal with this? If I call the cops they won’t do anything until and unless he harms me or breaks into my home. By then it would be too late. I don’t like guns so I don’t have any protection to speak of. Hell, I don’t even have a dog. For the first time in my life, I feel truly alone in the world. Vulnerable.

  I grimace as I think of the one person that I could consid
er calling for advice or help…or, God help me, a cup of coffee. Dr. Liam Sheldon Chambers. How pathetic that, in my hour of need, the only person I can think of to call is practically a stranger.

  Well, as they say, it is what it is.

  I gather my things, swallow my pride, and make a beeline for home to make that call.

  Chapter Ten

  Liam

  I finger the ominous manila envelope that was waiting for me when I arrived at work this morning. No return address, but my name is neatly typed in sparse, block letters. I open it and a glossy 8x10 photo slides out. And there’s a note, no doubt penned by Lance’s hooded protégé.

  How dare you try and take her from me?

  She’ll never be safe as long as she’s free.

  Madonna’s blue eyes dominate the photo. Her gaze seduces me, guilelessly captivating and vulnerable, in much the same way as when I encountered her at the hospital that first, fateful day.

  He’s coming for her. Her life as she knows has already ground to a staggeringly abrupt halt and she has no idea. I’ll never forgive myself if her stalker and, by association, Liam, get to her because I didn’t act.

  I wish I could shield her from the events that are about to unfold, but I can’t. No one else can protect her, no one else knows how. I can only hope my dark addiction will save her – and that I don’t lose myself as I bring my perverse fantasy to life.

  Chapter Eleven

  Madonna

  Seeing the hooded guy in the library has me shaken up. I keep wracking my brain trying to figure out why he would say he’s going to kill me. And why has he always looked at me like he knows me? Maybe he has me mixed up with someone else because I know that I’ve never seen him before these two recent encounters.