When she reached the door, she pulled her thumb out of her mouth and took hold of the doorknob. She turned it slowly, slowly—as quietly as she could.
The door clicked and swung in. Jessica pressed her face to the opening. The room outside was dark. There didn’t seem to be anyone in it. She pulled the door in a little more, stuck her head out. She looked to the right, down the length of the room. It was dark and quiet. She saw the dim outline of chairs here and there. She saw the glass doors to the balcony. The curtains were drawn across it.
She turned to the left. There was nothing moving there either. She was about to pull her head back into the room when she saw the front door.
She knew it was the front door because it looked just like her front door at home. It was big and solid and it had two locks and a chain on it. It was not far away. She might’ve run right to it. She could run right to it, she thought. She could pull it open and go out. Then she could take the elevator downstairs and ask the doorman for help. The doorman would call her daddy and tell him where she was. That was probably why Daddy hadn’t come yet, she thought. He probably didn’t know yet where she was. The doorman could tell him.
That’s it! she thought. (In the cartoons she saw on television, there were always little girls who had adventures and got into trouble. Just when everything looked bad for them, they always had an idea. They would snap their fingers and say, “That’s it!” But Jessica didn’t know how to snap her fingers.)
So she just thought: That’s it! And she slipped out of the bedroom.
But it was dark out there. She pulled up short just beyond the bedroom door. It was very dark and big. She looked at the shapes of the furniture in the shadows. What if the bad men were here? she thought. What if they were hiding in the darkness? Or what if they had left a big dog behind to watch her and it jumped up suddenly from behind something and roared at her and had red eyes?
Hugging Moe, Jessica backed up a step toward the bedroom. But she kept looking at the front door. It was right there, just a few steps away. And her daddy really might not know where she was. If he had known, after all, he would have come to get her.
She stopped backing up. She looked around at all the shadows. She was not nauseous anymore, but her stomach felt bad in a different way. She shivered and clutched the pink turtle tighter. Then she gritted her teeth and scrunched up her shoulders to make herself small. She started tiptoeing to the front door.
She tiptoed slowly. The wood felt cold under her bare feet. Her stomach felt cold and airy. She looked back over her shoulder. She thought something might be creeping up in back of her out of the dark. She looked at the front door again. Somehow, it did not seem so close now. It seemed to be taking her a long time to get there. And when she glanced back at the bedroom, it seemed to have gotten very far away too. Too far anyway to run back to through the dark.
She tiptoed on faster. She covered the final distance. She reached the front door. The knob was just about at her eye level. Holding Moe hard under one arm, she reached out with the other and took the knob in her hand. She turned it. It went a little way and stuck. She turned it harder, jiggled it. It wouldn’t go. It wouldn’t open.
The little girl groaned. “Oh, no.” The door was locked.
She lifted her eyes. She looked up at the door towering above her. The chain hung loose beside it. The two other locks were high up. One was just a sort of windup key coming out of the door. The other was a big brass plate with a knob on it. They looked hard to work, but she did know how to work them. She’d done it at home a few times. Usually, though, Mommy had to help her.
She reached up to the lower one, the key. She tried to twist it. It was too hard. She wasn’t strong enough. She bent down and set Moe on the floor. She tried the key again with both hands. This time, it went over. She heard it click.
“Yay,” she whispered.
She knew she could do it now. She reached up to the second lock. Her fingers touched the bottom of the brass plate. The knob, though—she couldn’t reach the knob—it was too high. She stood on tiptoe. Her fingers touched the edge of the knob. She tried to push it, to turn it, but she couldn’t get a grip …
Then, outside the door, out in the hall, she heard the deep whoosh of the elevator door opening. She heard men’s voices.
“ … just make sure you take the phone with you, all right? Will you remember that?” one of them said.
Jessica knew it was the bad men.
She reached for the lower lock to lock it again so they wouldn’t know. But they would hear that. She had to leave it.
“Yeah, I’ll remember,” the bad man said. He was right outside the door.
Jessica turned and ran back to the bedroom. She had to put the tape back on so they wouldn’t know she’d done anything wrong. They would be so angry if they found out she’d been bad. She hadn’t meant to be. She just couldn’t breathe …
As she slipped through the bedroom door, she heard a key slip into the lock. She glanced back and saw the knob on the high lock turn around.
Then she looked down and saw Moe. The pink Turtle Tot was still lying on the floor. She could see the shape of it.
Jessie screwed her face up. She didn’t know what to do. Both locks were unlocked now, the door was about to open. But if they saw Moe lying there …
She dashed back out of the bedroom. She ran on tiptoe back to Moe. She heard a key going into the second lock. She bent down and picked up the pink turtle. The lock above her went around. She heard the bad man push at the door.
Then she heard his voice: “Shit. Did you forget to lock this?”
He had locked it again. Because he hadn’t known Jessica had turned it the other way.
Jessica ran back toward the bedroom. She heard the lock turning again, unlocking for real this time. Running, she looked back behind her.
And she hit the edge of the bedroom door and fell.
The door hit her in the ankle. There was a loud thump and she went down face forward.
“Ow!” she cried out.
Moe flew off in front of her. She hit the floor hard, breaking the fall with her hands and arms.
The front door opened. A light went on. Crying, lying facedown, Jessica turned. She saw Sport looking down at her. Maxwell stood behind him, looking down over his head.
Now my daddy’s going to come, Jessica thought. My daddy’s going to come and hit them.
Sport’s face twisted. His eyes seemed black. “Fuck!” he said. He spit the bad word out. “Fucking cunt. Fucking, fucking cunt.”
He stepped toward her. Maxwell shut the door.
Jessica was crying hard. “I didn’t mean it,” she said.
Sport reached down and grabbed her arm. He pulled it.
“Ow!” Jessica cried.
He dragged her up off the floor. He slapped her, hard, in the face. The blow knocked her back to the floor. Jessica screamed and sobbed.
Now Daddy, Daddy, come, Daddy, Daddy, she thought.
“You and your fucking mother, little bitch,” said Sport. “I fucking killed her, what do you think of that? Your mother’s dead, you little cunt!”
“She is not!” Jessica sobbed.
“She is. Too smart for her own fucking good, that’s why.”
“My daddy will come!” Jessie screamed at him, choking on her tears.
“He’s going to come and hit you! He’s going to come and throw you out the window!”
Sport looked over his shoulder. Maxwell was standing there. He was staring down at Jessica.
“Get the chloroform,” Sport said.
Jessica screamed, “No!” And then she wailed it: “No … Mommy …” And then she could only sob, putting her hand up in front of her face as Sport came toward her again.
The Painful Chair
“Heighdy-ho, psychiatry fans,” said Dr. Jerry Sachs. He stepped into Elizabeth’s isolation room and shut the door behind him. “Everything all right in here?”
Conrad could only stare up at him.
He is one of them.
He could only stare up at him and think: I’ve got to … I’ve got to … do something.
But there was nothing to do. He still didn’t have the number. And Elizabeth was still agitated, maybe on the verge of a violent episode … And it was eight twenty-six and now Sachs …
Sachs glanced over at Elizabeth through his thick black glasses. His eyes moved rapidly, to her, back to Conrad. He went on in that jovial tone, but there was something quick and shaky in it. His smile—his damp red smile—seemed crooked; it seemed on the verge of failing him. “Are we having a problem here? Is something wrong here? We don’t want anything to go wrong between two old chums like you, do we?” He faced Conrad eagerly. His eyes, distorted by the thick lenses, looked as if they were drowning in their own fluid. “Do we, Nate?” he said desperately.
Conrad stared up at him, at the big pink head glistening with sweat, pouring sweat.
Eight twenty-six. I’ve got to …
The words went through his mind like black streaks; vanished. Without thinking, he whispered, “You son of a bitch.”
But Sachs just went on over him. He glanced at his watch and said, “I mean, it’s getting kind of late around here, isn’t it? I mean—whoa! look at that—it’s about eight-thirty. It is just getting really, really late.” Again, the drowning eyes appealed to Conrad. “I’d hurry if I were you, Nate. I definitely would.”
And with that, he turned quickly back to the door.
Conrad’s hand shot out. He grabbed Sachs by the elbow. “You son of a bitch,” he whispered. He couldn’t stop staring at him. “You’re one of them, you … Do you know what they did? Do you know?”
The bigger man’s damp lips parted. His wide eyes shifted back and forth with fear. “Hey, now. Hey. I mean, no one said anything about … I mean, who told you that? They weren’t supposed to tell you that. They weren’t supposed to tell anyone.”
“For Christ’s sake, Jerry, how could you?”
Sachs’s mouth closed. It pulled into a damp frown. With an angry flick of his arm, he shook Conrad’s hand away. “Listen, don’t give me that stuff, all right? I mean, not everyone’s the mayor of Central Park West. You know? Not everyone is so highfalutin he can afford to turn down a good offer, good money.” He was growing breathless. He swallowed once. His eyes shifted again, to Elizabeth, back to Conrad. He spoke in a half whisper, confidentially. “Look. I didn’t know they were going to do this, all right? I mean, I told them you wouldn’t take money but … I didn’t know they were going to do this.” He glanced down at his watch again. He shook his head. “I mean, listen … You really do have to hurry. These guys are molto seriose-o, okay? We have got to stay on schedule here.” He reached for the doorknob.
“You!”
The word stopped him; the deep, guttural sound of it. His hand went slack on the knob. His lips went slack. He turned around. Conrad turned, too. Both men looked at Elizabeth.
Until now, she had stood there stunned. Her hands to her head, her mouth open, her eyes wild. She had stood and looked from one doctor to the other. Her head had gone back and forth as if she were saying, No, no, no.
But now—now she had lowered one arm, leveled one finger at Sachs’s face. Her other hand was still at her head, her fingers clutching her red-gold hair.
“You,” she growled again. “You’re real.”
They froze there for a second: Elizabeth pointing like that, Sachs looking down at her, rivers of sweat running down his cheeks. Conrad felt something like an icy breath on the back of his neck.
I’ve got to … do something … I’ve got to …
Sachs finally gave a brisk nod. “Well, Elizabeth, uh … I see you’re … making great strides,” he said. “And now, uh, I think I’ll do the same. So long.”
She stepped toward him, still pointing. “You’re the bad one. You are one of them.”
Sachs’s eyes went wider and wider. He flicked a glance at Conrad. “You told her? Oh, Christ.”
Conrad held his hand up. “Elizabeth. Don’t.”
She didn’t even look at him. “Dr. Conrad is the good one,” she said. She took another step toward Sachs. Sachs stood where he was, dazzled, like snake meat. “I knew that. I was right. Dr. Conrad is good and you … you took his daughter. You took his little daughter to make him do things.”
Sachs’s mouth opened. “Oh … oh, Christ …”
“You stole Dr. Conrad’s daughter. And it’s all real. And … It’s not me. It’s not just me.”
“Elizabeth, that’s enough.” Conrad stepped between them. He took hold of Elizabeth’s arm. He stroked it. He spoke to her gently. “That’s enough. Please.”
“But you’re good,” she said softly. “You told me: they’re bad, they’re real.”
“Please,” said Conrad. “Please. Be quiet now.”
He backed her toward the bed. She was shaking her head again. She brought her hand to her lips. Her eyes filled. “I don’t …,” she said. “I can’t …”
Conrad sat her down on the bed. “It’s all right,” he told her. “It’s going to be all right.”
And then Sachs repeated, “My God, Nathan … You told her. You told her everything.”
Conrad swung around to face him. The big man stood before the door. His mouth was still open. He was staring at Conrad.
“I mean, shit, Nathan, shit,” he said. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone. No one was supposed to tell anyone. That was the idea.”
Conrad felt sweat breaking out on his own forehead now—sweat and a chill that now seemed to blow all over him. He straightened beside the bed. “Jerry …,” he said.
Sachs stepped toward him, away from the door. “For Christ’s sake, Nathan. You weren’t supposed to tell fucking anyone.”
“Jerry, listen, we can get out of this if we stick together.”
“I mean, isn’t that what they said? Don’t tell anyone?”
“We can get out of this if—”
“I can’t!” His eyes bugged behind the glasses. “I can’t get out of this. She’ll tell. You could tell. And them …”
“Christ, Jerry,” Conrad said.
“I mean, never mind the fucking police. Never mind my job. What about them? I mean … they’ll be mad.” Sachs brought a huge hand to his sweaty head. “I mean, holy shit, Nathan. I mean holy shit, do you understand what I’m saying? You were just supposed to ask her the fucking question. Why couldn’t you just ask her for the fucking number and get the fuck out?”
“Jerry,” said Conrad carefully. “They have my daughter. We have to stick together. We can’t tell them about this.”
“Not tell them?” Sachs’s voice became high and thin. “Not tell them? They’re going to call here. They’re going to call here to make sure you’re gone. I’ve got to tell them. They’ve got to deal with this or … the police, my job, I …”
“If you tell them … If you tell them,” Conrad said, “they’ll kill my daughter.”
“Oh, fine.”
“They’ll kill her, Jerry.”
“Oh, fine. Fine. You mean you want them to kill me? You want them to think I held something back, I betrayed them? I mean, huh uh, buddy. I mean, no way. The day that happens I want to be in somebody else’s body altogether, you hear what I’m telling you?”
“Damn it,” Conrad said. He stared at Sachs. I’ve got to, he thought. I’ve got to … “Damn it,” he repeated softly, “they’ll kill her, man. She’s only five years old. She’s just a little girl. She’s in kindergarten. She’s five.”
“Fuck her!” Sachs leaned his face down toward the smaller man. Conrad felt his sour breath. “You should’ve thought of that when you started talking, when you started telling everyone.” His hand to his head, he turned away. He looked around the room as if searching for a way out. “Maybe we can dope her,” he muttered. “That’s it. We’ll tell them … We’ll dope her up until everything’s over. They might go for that. Maybe they’ll go for that.
Then they can have her. They can just … deal with her.”
Conrad took a step back, away from him. I’ve got to … I’ve got to … He wiped his mouth with his hand. The cold sweat seemed to be coming out everywhere. I’ve got to stop him, he thought. He backed up again. The back of his leg hit his chair, the wooden chair he sat on when he spoke with Elizabeth.
Sachs kept babbling. “Look, Nathan, this might work. Okay? Maybe they’ll even let the kid off the hook, you don’t know. You can’t tell. But the main thing is, we can’t get them mad. We have to play straight with them and hope they’ll deal with this. Okay? When they call, we’ll just say, ‘Well, yeah, okay, he told her, but we doped her up and you can come by later and …’ That’s all. Okay? We’ll just tell them.”
Conrad looked down. I’ve got to … His hand was resting against the back of the chair. I’ve got to hit him, he thought wildly. I’ve got to hit him with this chair.
Amazed, he looked at Elizabeth. She stared back at him from the bed. Her eyes were enormous: she seemed amazed too.
With this chair? he thought. How do I …? How am I supposed to … ?
Sachs looked at his watch. “Oh, Jesus. Almost twenty-five of. They’re gonna call in five minutes. Okay. Okay. You gotta go. Do you have the number? You gotta get outta here. I’ll go downstairs, get the call. All right? That’s what we’ll do.”
Conrad gripped the back of the chair with both hands. He stared down at it. Chair, he thought. Got to … uh … He lifted it off the floor.
“Come on!” said Sachs. “What’re you doing? Have you got the number? Let’s go!”
And Conrad rushed at him.
He lifted the chair high. He took two steps. His bad knee buckled. He grunted in pain. The ache twisted through his leg. The joint seemed to collapse. He lunged forward clumsily with his other leg. Clumsily, he brought the chair crashing down on top of Sachs.
Elizabeth cried out once. Sachs said, “Hey!” Sachs stepped back. He threw his arms up in front of his face. The chair thudded weakly into his shoulder.
Don't Say a Word Page 18