by Lauren Rico
“Mom,” he utters into the phone, after a long moment. “Mom, I need you to do something for me. It’s really important.”
I fight back the wave of panic and fear that threatens to unravel me. But it’s too late. The destructive events are already transpiring and the clusterfuck is imminent.
Julia 33
I fight my way back to consciousness in stages, first taking a physical inventory. My head is throbbing, likely from the drugs. I don’t think he hit me. Yet. My neck, shoulders and arms are achy and stiff from being tied up. Tied to something … A chair. I’m sitting in a hard-backed chair and each of my ankles is tied to one of the legs.
I struggle to clear my head, grasping for any tiny snippet of memory beyond the van. But there are no snippets. I have no idea what’s transpired in the last … what? Hours? Days? No. It couldn’t be days, so I can’t be that far from home. I listen carefully, trying to discern if Jeremy is nearby before I let on that I’m awake. Nothing. I don’t sense his presence in my immediate vicinity, so I open my leaden eyelids slowly against bright lights. I squint and wait for my pupils to dilate.
As the room finally comes into focus around me, I recognize it as a kitchen. Stove, fridge, cabinets. Breakfast nook … Suddenly my eyes are wide open and my breath hitches in my chest. I fight back a whimper. This is my kitchen! My kitchen in our Port Jefferson house on Long Island!
I take a moment to concentrate on slowing my runaway pulse.
Do. Not. Panic.
I stop and take a long, deep breath, in my nose, out my mouth, which no longer has a gag in it. That’s an improvement, anyway. But why on earth would Jeremy bring me here of all places? I mean, it’s my house. If you want to kidnap someone, you take them someplace where no one will look for them. Of course. I realize I’ve just answered my own question.
It wouldn’t occur to Matthew to look for me here. He thinks I’m somewhere in the city. Damn! Okay. That’s the bad news. The good news is that this is my house. I know it inside and out. Every baby-proofed crevice. The fog is lifting slowly and I am focused enough now to hear him moving around close by. He’s opening and closing doors, moving things around down the hallway.
I take another deep breath and gather my courage.
“Jeremy?” I call out tentatively.
He doesn’t answer.
“Jeremy? What are you looking for? Maybe I can help.”
He’s quiet for a moment and then I hear his voice from behind me “I want a drink. Where do you keep the liquor?”
Okay, that’s easy enough.
“There’s a cabinet in the living room, it’s just to my right,” I point with my head. “Against the wall, next to the big window. Since the baby’s been walking, we keep it locked. You’ll find a key sitting on top of it and glasses on the shelf above. There’s also beer and wine in the fridge if you prefer.”
I’m not certain that he’s left the kitchen again until I hear the clink of bottles in the next room. When he returns, it’s with a bottle of vodka and a glass. He puts both on the counter and sits next to them on a stool, swiveling so he’s facing me.
“This is some place you’ve got here, Jules. No wonder Matthew wanted to relive his pathetic little childhood here.”
“It’s a good place for a family,” I say softly. “A good place to raise the baby.”
He smiles, shakes his head at me and knocks back a shot.
I know how Jeremy thinks. I know what makes him happy and what makes him angry. He’s not wired all that differently than my father was …if I can make him feel powerful, flatter his ego without fawning over him, I might be able to reason with him, convince him that he doesn’t have to hurt me. I don’t have a lot of time here, and the more he drinks, the shorter my window gets. I take a slow, deep breath. I’m okay. I can do this.
“Did you look at him?” I ask.
He furrows his brow.
“Who?”
“You know who! The baby,” I tease him a little.
“No,” he mutters without even looking at me.
“Oh, come on. You must have,” I coax. “I know you did.”
Now he’s looking at me. In fact, he’s glaring. It’s a warning that I’m on thin ice here.
“You must have seen it.”
“What’s that?”
He’s trying to sound disinterested.
“How much he looks like you.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“He has your eyes. And the way his brows arch, that’s all you. Your chin, too. When he was born, he looked more like me. But as he gets older, he looks more and more like his father.”
Jeremy doesn’t respond, he just slips off the stool he’s been occupying, and gets some ice from the freezer.
“It makes Matthew crazy,” I murmur, as if to myself, but loud enough for him to hear.
When he turns around, there’s a half smirk on his face. Well that certainly got his attention.
“Yeah, I’ll bet it does,” he snorts as he pours more liquor over the ice.
“I …” I trail off and pretend to try again. “I kind of like it.”
Another snort. He takes a sip, all the while looking at me as if I’m full of crap.
“No, really,” I say sincerely. “I was afraid, because I’m so … plain looking. But now I think he’s going to be an incredibly handsome man. A redheaded version of you.”
Jeremy puts the glass down on the counter hard and comes to stand in front of me. Shit. Have I pushed too far, too fast? I guess we’re about to find out.
“What are you trying to do here, Jules?”
I shrug as best I can without use of my hands.
“It’s not anything I can say to anyone else, Jeremy. No one else knows about you being his father. And the people who do know, would be horrified to hear … to hear how I really feel.”
“And how is it that you feel, Jules?” he mocks.
“Like … I’m glad. I’m glad he’s your son. I’m glad he looks like you. I hope he grows up to be as talented and smart as you.” The words come out of me in such a rush that, suddenly, I’m not so sure they’re just words anymore. I keep going before I can think about it too much. “A small part of me wishes that things had been different with us,” I profess, looking down at my lap as I feel my face coloring scarlet.
He has no comment, just returns to his spot on the stool and spins it around so he has a view of the lights out in Port Jefferson harbor. We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask at last.
He swivels back around to face me, one eyebrow cocked in surprise.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” I continue. “I’m not going to fight you, Jeremy. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”
“Well that’s quite an attitude adjustment.”
“Maybe, but now that I’m past the initial shock of … all this … I realize that I’m better to my son alive than dead. I’m not going to give you any reason to hurt me. I swear to you.”
He leans forward and, for a split second, I think he’s happy with my acquiescence. I know better as soon as his mouth twists up again.
“Oh, Jules,” he whispers, shaking his head at me pityingly. “Is that what you think? That if you behave yourself, I won’t hurt you? That I won’t kill you? You’re not getting this, you stupid girl. It’s not about me hurting you because it makes me feel good – although it does – it’s about me hurting Matthew. And the best way to hurt Matthew, is to hurt you.”
That’s when the reality of this situation dawns on me with crushing certainty. I’m not going to live through this night if Jeremy Corrigan has his way. I must look incredibly alarmed suddenly, because he makes a concerted effort to soften his tone a little. Not, I’m sure, because he wants to comfort me, but because he doesn’t want to spook me into doing something desperate and making his job harder.
“That being said, if you do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it, then y
ou might just spare yourself a little grief.”
I nod, as if to indicate my acceptance of his terms.
“Although,” he continues, getting up and going back to the fridge again, “I don’t think you’re going to like what I have in mind for you.”
I see him pluck something out from under a magnet. He comes back to stand in front of me, holding the small card close so I can see what it is.
Oh, no. God, no. Please. No, no, no!
I fight back the bile that rises to the back of my throat even as the blood drains from my face. Jeremy is holding the appointment card for my next OB/GYN appointment. The one that says ‘four-month sonogram’ on it. He tosses the card up onto the counter, then squats down on his haunches, putting his palms on my knees so we are face to face.
“Congratulations, Jules! I can’t tell you how happy I was to discover you’re expecting another rugrat!” he crows brightly. “So, so happy! Because, you see, the only revenge better than hurting you, is hurting you and your baby. Matthew’s baby.”
He puts a hand to my bloodless face and locks his eyes on mine.
“Now, I’m not sure how you’re going to come out of all this, Jules, but there’s one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty. You won’t be keeping that appointment.”
Brett 34
When we arrive at the apartment, my mother is holding David to her chest, while Natalie is holding a bag of frozen peas to her swollen face.
“Matthew!” Natalie cries out, jumping off the stool, tears running down her face. “Oh, God, Matthew, I’m so sorry! I thought he was the pizza delivery guy. He had his uniform and the box … he punched me … so hard, Matthew … I was unconscious. Then he shot me up with something … I just woke up in your bed. That was hours ago,” she sobs in one, long miserable breath.
Matthew pulls her into his arms and pats her back – an extraordinary gesture, considering the desperate panic I know he’s experiencing at this moment.
“I know. I know, Natalie. I know. It’s not your fault,” he somehow manages to comfort her. “Is David okay?”
“He’s fine,” she sniffs. “When I finally came to, he was in his crib, crying.”
We turn to my mother, who is silently bouncing the sleepy child. She nods her agreement that he’s fine.
“Oh, thank God,” I whisper.
“But, you should know that he was ready to take David, Matthew. The diaper bag was packed, the stroller set up. I think Julia must have convinced him to leave David behind,” my mother informs us.
Matthew puts a hand to his face and shakes his head. He looks as if he’s about to start crying himself until Natalie speaks again.
“Matthew,” she says softly, “he left a note.”
I watch as he swallows hard, and I know exactly what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it, too. This is one of those moments. He’s sitting on the very edge of his world. In a matter of seconds, everything is going to change, and this may very well be the last second of ignorant bliss that he’ll ever have. The last moments when his life is intact. He takes a deep breath, and walks to the breakfast bar, where the single sheet of white paper sits, my brother’s unmistakably meticulous handwriting in bold, black marker. The instant Matthew picks it up and reads it aloud, he has slipped into the abyss.
‘Matthew, no police. Wait for my call and think about what I’m doing to her right now.’
And with that, I slide right into the void with him.
Matthew 35
“Mama!” David whines as I hold him in my arms, rocking him like I used to do in the middle of the night when he was just an infant. Now, I’m resting my head against his as he cries. He’s the only person on this earth who can bring me any solace right now. And clarity. This isn’t just about me bringing my wife home safely, it’s about bringing David’s mother back to him.
“I know, baby,” I murmur, holding him even tighter. I look up when I hear a quiet knock from the doorway to the nursery. It’s Trudy.
“Matthew, may I come in?”
“Of course.”
She comes in and sits in the armchair next to his crib.
“I’m so sorry …” she begins.
I shake my head. I know this can’t be easy for her either.
“Please, Trudy. This isn’t your fault any more than it’s Natalie’s.”
She doesn’t respond at first, only looks down at her hands, folded in her lap.
“It took a while for us to see it, Matthew. Danny and I … we couldn’t believe … we didn’t want to believe that our child was …was …” She has trouble finding the word.
“Mentally ill?” I offer softly.
“A monster,” she corrects me.
Holy shit. Well, there’s some self-awareness for you.
“I should’ve done something sooner, before it got to this point,” she explains. “But, I was selfish, Matthew. I wanted Jeremy out of my house. I wanted him out of our lives. It didn’t occur to me that it might be my job to …”
“To what, Trudy? To beat it out of him? Have him committed to some mental institution? There isn’t a damn thing you could have done to prevent him from becoming who he is,” I assure her, trying to assuage her guilt.
But, guilt is not the emotion I see on Trudy Corrigan’s face. No, it’s more like regret. Regret for things left undone that have now come back to haunt her. I can tell she’s about to respond, when Brett sticks his head in.
“Hey, so, I’ve been thinking, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to get David out of here.”
“Surely you don’t think your brother’s going to come back for him …” Trudy gapes, looking from her son, to her sleeping grandson, and back again.
“I don’t know what to think as far as Jeremy’s concerned,” he admits. “But, Matthew, you need every bit of energy you have right now, and I don’t think you’ll be able to give it your full attention until you know that David is somewhere safe.”
He’s absolutely right. I look to Trudy.
“What can I do?” she offers without hesitation.
I stand up and walk to the crib, putting David down, and then turn to face her.
“Trudy, will you please stay with him? Will you take him to our house on Long Island? It’s far enough out of the city that we won’t have to worry about him being anywhere near Jeremy.”
“Yes, Matthew, of course.”
“Mom,” Brett says, picking up where I’ve left off, “There’s a midnight train out of Penn Station. You’ll have to take a cab there, and then another one to the house when you arrive. Are you okay with that?”
She raises an irritated eyebrow at him.
“Brett, I’ve been wrangling five-year-olds for more than twenty years. I think I can manage to get in and out of a couple of cabs with a sleeping baby.”
For the first time in hours, I find my lips twitching with the hint of a smile.
“You two go do what you need to do, I’m going to pack a few things for him. Are there any bottles made up, Matthew?”
“Uh, yes, in the fridge. I’ll pack them in the insulated bag. You can load it all into his stroller. As soon as you’re ready, I’ll call downstairs and they’ll hail a cab. I’ll go get you a key and write the address for you. His nursery is upstairs, just turn left at the top and go down to the end of the hall. He’ll probably sleep the entire way,” I assure her, getting up to set this plan in motion.
She nods, and I follow Brett out into the hall.
“Okay, that’s David squared away, he says. “What the fuck do we do now?”
I look at him for a long moment before speaking.
“We do exactly what Jeremy told us to do. We wait.”
Julia 36
He’s holding the phone in his hand, poised to dial it.
“Last time, Jules,” Jeremy warns. “Not a word, not a clue or a hint about where you are. Understood?”
I try to glance at the clock without being too obvious. Two minutes. I have to ensure that, in two minutes,
Matthew is on the phone. But I know Jeremy isn’t going to want to speak with him for that long, so I’ve got to stall the start of this call.
“May I ask him about David?” I ask. “How he’s doing, if he’s eaten, that sort of thing?”
“You’re not going to have time,” he informs me flatly. “The only reason I’m even going to let you talk is because I know that idiot is going to demand to hear your voice before he’ll listen to me.”
I take a deep breath.
“Okay then, what, exactly, would you like me to say to him?” I’m trying to feed into his need to have control and it seems to be working.
“You’ll tell him you’re safe. You’ll tell him not to call the police. You’ll tell him that I’m going to hurt you …”
“Are you?” I interrupt.
“Am I what?”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
He looks at me as if I’m the dimmest person on earth. I have to be careful here not to play too dumb, or he won’t believe me. God only knows what’s going through that twisted mind of his.
“What do you think, Jules?”
I think I’ve got another thirty seconds or so to kill before I can let him make that call. Time to improvise.
“I think that I’m hoping I can convince you not to hurt me.”
“We’ve already been through this,” he grunts out with some irritation.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. If I do this well, will you untie me so I can make us something to eat?”
“What? And let you loose around the steak knives?” he snorts. “I don’t think so.”
“You can stand right next to me. There’s food in the fridge that I can throw together and microwave. Mac and cheese, David loves that, you know! You do too, if memory serves. I think there’s a frozen pizza …”
“Jules, we’re not going to plan a fucking menu right now …”
“But I’m really hungry, Jeremy and I’ll bet you are, too. Plus, I really need to use the bathroom and that’s a little hard to do when I’m attached to a chair.”