Rufus had filled some of the silence of Edie’s life. His unconditional love had softened places that had grown too brittle, too sharp to endure. Rufus had become something to love in a life where she had nothing else to love, nothing else to cling to.
When she thought of life without him the grief became nearly too hard to bear and she consoled herself that he was just five years old. Hopefully she had lots of years left with him.
After dinner he followed her from the kitchen to the sofa, where she decided to veg on the sofa until bedtime. She turned off the music and turned the television to a news channel. As the anchor droned on about the failing economy and Wall Street worries, she fell asleep.
The nightmare unfolded in horrifying vivid colors. She was in a basement sitting on a bed covered in a shockingly pink spread. The room held no windows and only one door and she stared at the door knowing that when it opened death would walk in.
Terror pressed tight against her chest, making it impossible to draw a breath. Trapped. She was trapped by a monster and she’d forgotten all the lessons Colette had taught her about survival.
The sound of footsteps thudding toward the door surged a fear inside her that stole her name, cast out of her mind everything and everyone she loved, everything she was as a human being.
The sound of a lock clicking open, the slow turn of the doorknob forced a frantic sob. She skittered backward on the bed, curling herself in a fetal ball against the concrete wall that was the gray of utter despair.
As the door creaked open she felt as if her heart exploded in her chest. Greg Bernard walked in holding Francine’s head in his hand. Bright red blood dripped from her neck to the floor. Her eyes snapped open and focused on Edie. “Why?” she asked. A scream pierced the air.
Edie jerked awake, her body sheathed in a fine coating of cold sweat. Rufus whined and nudged her hand with his nose. For a moment panic swelled as the horror of the dream lingered in her head, surging the taste of terror up the back of her throat. She tried to orient herself beyond the nightmare images.
Darkness had fallen and the only light in the room was the flickering of the television that danced ominous-looking shadows on the walls. With a gasp, she shot upright and reached for the lamp on the end table. But, even the pool of illumination around her couldn’t halt the frantic pounding of her heartbeat, couldn’t erase the visions that lingered in her head.
Rufus whined again and she reached down and stroked his head with a trembling hand. “It’s okay, baby,” she muttered. “It was just a terrible dream.”
She glanced at her wristwatch and realized it was almost ten. Apparently she’d been asleep for a while before the nightmare found her.
Still tasting the residual bitterness of fear, she left the living room and went into the kitchen, turning on every light switch that she passed. She went directly to the sink and got a large glass of water, hoping she could wash the bad taste out of her mouth.
She drank the cool tap water and then swiped the glass across her forehead, hoping to cool the fever of fear that still had a hold on her.
She eyed the phone and fought the impulse she had to call
Jake just to hear his deep, sexy voice, to take away the echo of her own scream that still sounded in her head.
It had just been a dream, she told herself as she left the kitchen and returned to the living room. She didn’t need to call anyone. She wasn’t a baby.
Maybe she’d been focused too much on Colette in the last week or so. Maybe that was what had evoked the bad dream along with a strange sense of impending doom.
She moved to the window and stared out into the darkness of her back yard. She flipped the switch that cast most of the backyard in a harsh light. No boogie man hiding in the shadows, no monsters darting between the trees, there was absolutely no reason for her to feel the thunder of approaching danger in her veins.
And yet she did.
The evening had been interminably long. When Anthony had arrived at Susan’s apartment she’d greeted him with her bright smile. She’d led him through her living room to the small enclosed patio outside where a tiny barbeque grill held burning coals and the smell of lighter fluid was rife in the air.
“It’s such a lovely evening I thought it would be fun to eat out here,” she said as she gestured to the small round table set with lime green plastic plates and cups and green and pink striped paper napkins neatly folded beneath the forks. A candle burned in the center, he knew to add a romantic ambience.
“Isn’t this nice,” he agreed. “Now, what can I do to help?” He was eager to eat, spend the minimal amount of time necessary to keep Susan happy and then escape back to his obsession of all things Edie.
“There’s not a thing for you to do but sit here and relax,” Susan replied as she pointed to one of the two chairs. “The potatoes are baked, the salad is made and I’m just going to pour us each a glass of wine to enjoy while the steaks cook. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared back into the apartment as Anthony sat down.
He hadn’t wanted to come tonight, but he knew the importance of keeping up the charade with Susan. What he’d wanted to do was go right home from work and continue reading the book that was personally autographed by Edie. He’d begun reading it the night before. The mere act of savoring the words that had come out of her head and onto a page gave him a feeling of deep intimacy with the author.
Of course, the intimacy hadn’t been as deep as what he’d experienced when he’d gone through her trash, but it was a connection that kept her close to him until the time she would be his forever.
Euphoria swept through him at the thought, a euphoria that was quickly tempered as Susan came back outside with two glasses of wine and a bright smile that hurt his teeth with its sweetness.
He steeled himself for the hours to come, hours spent with the insipid Susan, who bored him with her conversation of weather and work and her amazing domestic skills.
As he nodded and smiled and occasionally commented, his thoughts revolved around the kinds of conversation he might have with Edie. She was obviously bright and understood the darkness of tortured souls, the trauma of victimization.
And Anthony was a victim. He was a victim of the dark obsessions that had taken over his life as a result of his mother and her hoard.
He’d never had a chance at normal and even now, just thinking about it swelled a bitterness in the back of his throat…and a need to punish the woman he knew was responsible.
“Anthony?”
Susan’s voice pulled him back from the edge of a dark abyss. Her smile held a touch of nervousness. “You’ve been so quiet. Is your steak okay?”
“Delicious, and cooked just the way I like it,” he replied, forcing a smile to his lips. “How did you season the meat?” He knew that question would launch her into a monologue that would require nothing from him.
This was his first real foray into maintaining a relationship with a woman in a dating situation. One of the unexpected side effects was that it was as if he’d suddenly joined a new club at work. The other men were now talking to him as if he were a true peer, sharing dirty jokes with him, slyly asking him if he was knocking off a piece of the receptionist. In dating Susan he’d gained entry into what he assumed was a normal good old boys’ club of sorts.
If these co-workers only knew about his rose garden. If they only knew about his projects and the hoard where he lived, the hoard that he both hated and loved. What would they all think of him if they knew what he had done with his projects? What he had planned for Edie Carpenter?
He knew they probably wouldn’t understand that he was a victim, that it was his mother’s fault he did what he did, her fault that he’d become what he was. There was only one person in the entire world who might have the insight to understand the darkness inside him, a darkness wrought from his childhood. That was Edie.
When the meal was finished they moved inside, where he lingered over coffee as Susan shot him longing glances and swe
et smiles across the small kitchen table.
It was just after nine-thirty when he rose to leave, having endured enough of her prattle for one date. He forced himself to give her a long, lingering goodbye kiss, knowing that she would share all the details of the night with a couple of her friends at work.
Finally he stepped out into the hot night air, nerves jumpy inside him, need rising up to press like a vise against his chest. He thought about hunting…seeking a surrogate to use until he got the woman he wanted, the one he needed.
Edie. Her name was a sweet refrain that filled his soul, that promised release from the pain that made it almost impossible for him to breathe.
Before he realized his own intention, he found himself parked at the end of her long driveway. Her house was lit like a beacon calling to him in the darkness.
It was time. The pain screamed inside him for release, begged to be soothed with Edie’s pain. His hands trembled as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. It was time to begin the steps that would lead to Edie’s guest appearance in his paper room.
Within a week he should know what he needed, discern the best time and place to take her and then begin the healing process of punishment that would ease the torment inside him.
Chapter 16
“That was fun.” Edie swept paper plates and cups into a garbage bag from the surface of the umbrella table. It was late Sunday afternoon and Teddy and his family had just left after sharing a barbeque with Edie and Jake.
“Yeah, it was,” Jake agreed as he grabbed the tools from the grill. He added them to a growing pile of dirty utensils and platters to be taken back inside the house and washed.
“God, it’s muggy,” Edie exclaimed with a glance to the gathering clouds that darkened the skies to the southwest. “Guess the weathermen are going to get it right. Looks like storms are brewing for the night.”
“Supposed to storm tonight and cool off a bit for tomorrow,” he replied.
“You’ve been unusually quiet today,” she said as she finished clearing the table and then tied the top of the garbage bag closed.
“Just tired,” he replied. He grabbed a handful of the dirty dishes and carried them into the kitchen. As he tossed them into the sink and added hot steaming water and a glob of dish soap, he fought against the edge of irritation and a wave of depression that had threatened to take hold of him since he’d awakened that morning.
He’d started to hate Sundays. Today spending the afternoon with Teddy and his family had been particularly difficult. It showcased all the things Jake didn’t have in his life, things like children and marriage and the knowledge that a woman had loved him enough to bind her life with his not only in spirit, but in a legal ceremony that celebrated the union.
He was tired of getting phone calls from mothers with missing daughters and having no answers for them. He was exhausted by the senseless, horrific crimes he saw perpetrated on others each and every day. More than anything he was sick of the fact that it was Sunday and that meant within hours it would be time for him to leave Edie and go back to his own place.
As he washed the worst of the food residue from the dishes in the sink and then loaded them into the dishwasher, he told himself that his mood was temporary. By morning it would be gone. He just needed to work through it like he always did.
He’d just finished loading the dishes when Edie and Rufus came inside. “How about I make a short pot of coffee,” he suggested.
“Sounds perfect,” she agreed and ran a hand down the sides of her denim shorts. “And I’m going to get out of these clothes. I feel like I smell like a burnt hotdog.”
As she headed toward the bedroom Jake put the coffee on and then went to the window and stared outside. Tomorrow he’d get another phone call from Danielle Black. She called him every Monday morning to see if there was any news, if anything had happened that might answer her questions about her missing daughter. And once again Jake would have nothing for her.
There were few Elizabeth Smarts and Colette Merriweathers in the world. It was rare that a woman was held for so long and then released or somehow managed to escape.
He knew in his gut that the bright, pretty nineteen-year-old was dead even though he had no evidence to prove anything either way. In all the hours they’d dug into Maggie Black’s life, and with all the information they’d gained from friends and acquaintances, the indications were that Maggie had been exactly what her mother had told them on the first day she’d spoken with them. Maggie was a good girl who had no reason to run away from home.
Eventually her body would be found stuffed in a barrel or maybe in a shallow grave in the woods. It could be days, months or years before Danielle Black finally got some kind of closure.
Colette’s husband, Frank, was definitely a rare breed of human being. A man who for three years had never lost faith, who had never given up his search for the woman he loved despite the odds being against him…against her.
“This is much better.” Edie’s voice pulled him from his maudlin thoughts. He turned to look at her. She’d changed from her shorts and T-shirt into a light blue sundress that emphasized the sweet curve of her slender shoulders and the aching blue of her eyes. For a moment his love for her swelled so tight in his chest he couldn’t breathe.
“Jake? You okay?” She gave him a troubling gaze.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking about how much I love you.” He opened his arms and with a smile she walked into his embrace.
He closed his eyes and held her tight, noting that her hair smelled faintly of fruity shampoo and a summer breeze. He kissed her on the temple and finally released her. “Let’s get a cup of coffee and then it’s time for me to head home before the storms move in.”
Minutes later they sat on the sofa and talked about the afternoon and what they each had on their plates for the coming week.
He talked to her about his frustration with the two missing women and how he and Teddy had checked files to see if there was a serial kidnapper working the area. “Unfortunately there just isn’t enough information to know.”
“You need a body,” she said softly.
He nodded. “As much as I hate to admit it, at least a body would bring some sort of closure for family members.”
“And might hold forensic evidence or clues that could lead to the killer.”
“Right, but enough about my dismal life. Do you have more interviews with Colette set up for the week?” he asked.
She frowned. “Actually, I’m taking the week off from Colette.”
“Problems?”
“Not with Colette, I just need some time at the computer typing up notes and pulling things together.” She took a sip of her coffee. The frown still danced a vertical line down the center of her forehead. “This story is getting to me more than any I’ve ever explored.” She placed her cup on the coffee table and curled her legs up beneath her. “I’ve found myself jumping at shadows and I had a terrible dream the other night.”
She shook her head and forced a laugh. “I think that committing a lot of the notes I’ve taken to a printed page and taking a week off of seeing Colette will give me some much needed emotional detachment.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jake replied although what he wanted to tell her was that if he lived here all the time, he would ease her mind and protect her against even the darkest of shadows. He would be in bed right next to her to hold her after a particularly bad dream. But he was tired of being a broken record of the same old song for a woman who was obviously tone deaf.
It was just after seven when Jake left her house. His ride to his place was accompanied by the roll of distant thunder. It was getting more and more difficult to leave her on Sunday nights, to know that for the next four days he was forced to lead a life separate from hers.
As much as he tried not to push her, not to need or want more than she could give him, the truth was that with each day that passed, his frustration with the situation grew more intense.
He loved Edie more than he could ever imagine loving another woman. She completed him, made sense of his world. He worried that eventually the pain of loving her would overwhelm the pleasure. And when that happened, he would be lost.
The storm crashed through the city just after dusk, bringing with it booming thunder, killer lightning and high winds that whipped the trees and caused the house to creak and groan.
Colette hated storms. The night she’d been dumped out of the back of her captor’s van, the night he’d slashed her face and left her at the edge of a parking lot, it had begun to storm.
She had only vague memories of pulling herself up from the pavement as the rain had begun to fall and thunder crashed overhead. For a wild moment she’d thought the thunder was her heart exploding in her chest, the wild howl she thought was her screams.
Crazed with pain, afraid that somehow he’d find her again, she’d staggered naked and bloody toward the discount store in the distance.
She’d managed to get to the brightly-lit store but was too confused, too dazed to find the door. Instead she’d slapped her hands against the window, drawing the attention of a woman and her small daughter at a cash register.
Colette would never forget the startled terror on the little girl’s face, would never forget the sound of her frightened scream just before her mother slipped a hand over her eyes to shield her from the sight of what Colette had become.
It pained Colette to know that she was probably the stuff of that little girl’s nightmares. Hopefully when she awakened screaming in the night, she had a loving mother and father to assure her that her world was safe.
Colette drifted from window to window, watching the storm light up the sky as rain pelted the earth. The howl of the wind reminded her of that little girl’s scream. It had been the last thing Colette had heard before she’d passed out. She’d later come to in a hospital.
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