Out Of The Smoke

by Becca Jameson

  Several minutes went by. What the hell was he doing? Why weren’t they moving?

  Finally, the engine roared to life and the car screeched out of the driveway. Liz knew from past experience when Matthew was his angriest, he had a hard time keeping his wrath from leaking out into the community. He always tried to save his vengeance for her alone. Occasionally she’d witnessed his face contort in a way that would make people glance his way twice, wondering what his problem was before he could get her home and take out his rage on his favorite victim.

  No matter she was the cause of his problem or not. Now was clearly one of those times.

  * * * *

  Alan strode through the front door and dropped his key on the granite table with a clang and cringed at the thought he might have woken Liz up with his noisy entrance.

  He carefully pushed the door closed, kicked off his tennis shoes and crossed into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. It was only six thirty in the morning. He was an incurable morning person and loved finishing a workout, eating breakfast, and enjoying the newspaper with his coffee, all before most of the world pried their eyelids open.

  He chuckled, wondering what sort of person Liz was when she wasn’t taking pain meds…and working her fingers to the bone cleaning other people’s houses in an effort to stay under the radar.

  Once again, he couldn’t believe the strength of a woman who could actually give up her life and hide out pretending to be uneducated, cleaning houses day after day, to avoid an abuser. He fully intended to spend the morning searching the internet for any precedent that had been perhaps set in any of the fifty states for such a dilemma. He couldn’t recall ever coming across a story such as this in all his years of studying and practicing law. If she were to come out of the closet, so to speak, with the details of her scam, could she be prosecuted?

  Coffee in hand, Alan stared blankly at the newspaper in front of him. He couldn’t focus on a single detail or even unfold it, even though he held it at an angle as though thoroughly engrossed in the front page.

  Finally, he gave up and dropped the paper on the table. Not a peep from the bedroom.

  Before heading to his office for the intended morning research, Alan padded down the hall to check on the gorgeous woman he was slowly intending to drag out of her shell, and then take a shower, in that order.

  Shock made Alan freeze in the doorway. He leaned on the frame, and peered quietly into the room. She wasn’t there. With some caution, he eased himself into the room and looked around. The bathroom? A quick shuffle to the other side of the room proved him wrong. Not there either.

  In a slight panic, he spun around and glanced all over. Nothing. Her clothes were gone. Not a trace existed of her ever being there, with the exception of her sweet smell permeating the air. What the hell?

  She couldn’t leave, wouldn’t. Would she? How? Where would she go and how would she get there in her current state. She would have woken up in some level of pain.

  And not just from the dame trophy accident either.

  Shame filled him. He’d taken her twice last night, relatively gently, but still…

  In slow motion, Alan moved over to the bed and touched the sheets, still warm from the soft curves of her sexy body. She hadn’t been gone long before he’d arrived. Her scent lingered on the sheets, mixed with the spicy aroma of their lovemaking.

  He let his fingers trail over the pillow she’d been lying on, the indentation from her head still visible. Why?

  As he sat down in her vacated spot, Alan saw the note on the bedside table. He stared at it without moving, his breath held. Willing it to say something, he could wrap his mind around.

  On an exhale, he finally snatched the piece of paper from the table and pulled it into his line of vision.

  Alan, so sorry. About everything. The truth is I’m a married woman and never should have engaged in such indiscretions with you. Please don’t try to contact me. Beth.

  Seriously? Beth? What the hell was that all about? Never once had she referred to herself as Beth.

  Alan lay back on the bed and breathed deep. His world had turned upside down.

  “Damn.” Nothing made sense. Would she really leave? Perhaps she’d woken up panicked.

  He headed for the shower and set a world record at bathing with very little recollection afterward. Towel wrapped around his waist, he stared into the mirror and reached for his razor before he glanced down at his hand. He had no business shaving in his current state of mind. His hand shook like a leaf.

  It all seemed so unfair. Unreal. His mind raced through the words she’d spoken to him during the night. Soft, gentle, sweet, innocent Liz. She couldn’t possibly have done such a thing. How had she even had the stamina to get a taxi or take the bus?

  When he’d left her there not one hour ago, she’d been sound asleep, the most peaceful expression he’d ever seen in his life gracing the smooth skin of her eyes and mouth. Her breathing had been deep, like that of a person in REM. She’d been exhausted after the two days of pain she’d endured and then the night…

  Had she been faking? Laid there in wait for him to leave so she could make her escape? Not a chance. If that were the case, she’d have had to know he would get up early and go for a run. He could kick himself in the ass for letting her get away like this.

  As if it were his fault somehow for leaving her alone.

  He inhaled long calming breaths, then ambled to his office and sat down to stare at the blank screen of the computer that wasn’t turned on for the day yet. Snippets of the past few days ran through his mind.

  Liz holding her back in pain while she told him the story of her previous life.

  She pleaded with him not to fill out the hospital forms, fear in her gaze. He’d hated that look and went to the admissions department to pay the bill in full, begged them to please not insist on paperwork from her. It was against hospital policy. He didn’t care about policy, only sparing Liz’s feelings.

  Clinging to him in ecstasy while her body succumbed to the most intense orgasm. The eyes can’t lie about that sort of thing. Her mouth had opened into a sexy O. Her head tipping back as the waves washed over her. Her full breasts quivering beneath his gaze, the pink nipples puckered out stiffly. Her vaginal walls gripping his needy cock as she pumped him like her life depended on it.

  Alan grimaced, leaned forward in his chair, and lay his forehead against the cool wooden desktop. Perhaps if he closed his eyes for a minute, he could wake again and find this had all been just a crazy mixed-up nightmare.

  He couldn’t shake the idea of her signing her name Beth. Why would she do that?

  Suddenly he decided not to take no for an answer. He didn’t have to, did he? Hell no.

  Now all he had to do was figure out where she lived and confront her. It wasn’t like she could be working today. She’d have barely been able to get herself home and tucked into her bed. There was no way she could be cleaning someone else’s house.

  He snatched the house phone from its base on the desk and stared at it. Shit. He didn’t have her number. He tried to think back. The only call between them had been her calling him to set up the initial appointment. He’d not thought to get her number out of the caller ID and write it down. How dumb was that?

  He grappled with the buttons in attempt to dial the one person who could help him.

  Ringing in his ear. Comeoncomeoncomeon. His leg jiggled up and down at an incredible pace, a futile attempt to keep up with his heart.

  “This had better be good, asshole. Do you have any idea what time it is?” Jake muttered the words in his ear, groggy from sleep. Alan could picture his face still smashed against his pillow—having seen the move numerous times in college—and almost smiled at his best friend’s bitching, that and the fact he was just so damn glad he’d answered at all.

  “I need your help,” he rushed. “The woman who cleans your house? What’s her name? Do you have her number handy?” A slight pause. “I’m kinda in a hurry, man.�
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  “You’re kidding, right?” Jake sounded only slightly clearer this time. “You fucking call me at this ungodly hour of the morning to get the phone number of…who did you say? My cleaning lady? Are you on something?”

  “Listen, man. I’ll explain later. Liz is gone. Please, please just get me the number.”

  Low grumbles accompanied the rustling sound of sheets and Meredith’s soft groan.

  “You have some serious explaining to do, man.” Jake was breathing heavy.

  “I owe you.” Alan jumped up from behind his desk. Impatiently, he paced back and forth.

  He listened as rustles of paper, understated curses, and exasperated sighs filled the line. Then finally, “Her name is Dory. Six seven four, ninety-five eleven.”

  It was all he needed. He hung up without as much as a goodbye. Jake would understand later. Alan hoped.

  His shaky fingers typed the digits into the receiver before he could forget them.

  Once again, the ringing wait began. Three, four, five times. At last, “Hello? Who’s this?” Her voice was barely audible. Did no one on earth get up before noon? It was a freaking Tuesday for Christ’s sake.

  “Is this Dory?” Please say yes…

  “Who’s asking?” Her voice was deep, scratchy.

  Perfect! “This is Alan McCarthy. Your neighbor, Liz, she…works for me? Cleaning?” He waited a pause for Dory to catch on.

  “So?” A hacking sound rumbled through the phone when Dory coughed. The sounds a smoker makes when they first wake up.

  “I can’t find her. Do you know if she’s home?” How was he going to convince this woman to give him Liz’s address? He hadn’t thought about that in his haste.

  “How the hell would I know where Liz is? Jesus, what’s with you people? Is everyone in the world looking for her these days? Why isn’t anyone ever looking for me?” Her voice was growing stronger, the pitch reaching an ear-splitting decibel.

  Alan froze. “Who else is looking for her?”

  “Listen, buster. I don’t care who the fuck you are, I’m not about to give you any information about Liz.”

  “Dory! Please. Just listen. I’ve been with Liz since Monday and now I can’t find her. I’m worried about her.” Perhaps he was more worried he wouldn’t win her back, but still… He had another thought. “Didn’t Liz call you Monday night about canceling her appointments? She was with me. She got hurt at my house. I’ve been taking care of her.”

  “Now I know you’re lying. Liz don’t go out with no man. I don’t care how smooth you are.” The hiss of a match striking followed by a couple of deep inhales sounded through the receiver.

  Warmth spread through Alan’s chest at her words. Liz certainly didn’t sleep around. That was for sure.

  “I know she doesn’t, well didn’t, but now she does. She’s been with me since Monday. And this morning she was gone.” He sucked in a breath, praying good old-fashion honesty would do the trick. “She bruised a kidney when a heavy object fell on her, and I’m worried. She was in a lot of pain.”

  “She said she was injured. Is she okay?” Dory was just being a busybody now, but Alan needed to play his hand right to get what he needed.

  “She’s fine. I hope. But I’d sure like to see for myself.”

  Please God, let this woman see reason.

  “Maybe she don’t want no visitors. Ja’ never think there’s a reason she snuck out?”

  Now what was he supposed to say? He was fresh out of jokers.

  “Who did you say you were?”

  “Alan. Alan McCarthy. I’m a friend of Jake’s. He gave me your number.”

  “Jake. Yeah. Why didn’t you say so? Nice guy. Wouldn’t fuck with no one. Did you know he’s a big-shot lawyer?”

  “Yes.” No shit.

  “Okay. But if you get my ass in trouble, I’m gonna be pissed, Mister.” Dory humphed.

  “Promise. No trouble.”

  Two minutes later, address stuffed in his pocket, Alan ran through the house, grabbed his shoes and yanked them on while he hobbled from room to room. His cell phone…

  He ran to the kitchen and grasped it from the counter, his elbow knocking into something that clattered to the floor with a little tinkling noise. As he spun around, he already knew what he would see. The prescriptions. Two brown bottles now lay on the kitchen tile, rolling in the little circles their slightly larger lids permitted.

  Why wouldn’t she have taken them with her?

  The growing mystery put a fire in his motions and he flew out the door at a near run.

  * * * *

  Oh God. Where was he taking her? It seemed like they’d been driving for hours, though it had probably only been minutes. Liz’s hands and arms were numb. She’d managed to turn herself onto her side to let the pressure off her wrists, but it had been so long now, nothing she did helped alleviate the discomfort of the confined musky space.

  Would he kill her immediately? Or take his time? Maybe drag her out into the woods and choke the life out of her? Perhaps toy with her first or even rape her? The more time she had to think, the worse the images she invoked became. There was no telling how he would do it, but little doubt remained that Liz had only hours to live.

  A sob ripped from her throat with no place to go under the sticky tape. Her face ached from the skin rubbing against the constrictive substance as she’d tried in vain to free her lips. Her nose and cheeks were raw from tears and mucus ran down her face with no way to wipe it away.

  Liz was more scared than she’d ever been in her entire life.

  The car veered left and climbed for several miles up a steep hill, tossing her body against the rear of the trunk.

  The only part of her that didn’t currently beg for death was her legs. She hoped, given the opportunity, they would be useful to her. Maybe if they stopped somewhere she could kick her way out or at least attract attention at a gas station or something. Who knew? Maybe she’d even be able to make a run for it at some point. Riiight.

  Suddenly the car lurched to a stop and she held her breath, waiting for the trunk to fling open. Nothing. Seconds ticked by slowly. There wasn’t a single sound besides her rapid breaths and the thud of her heart.

  Where were they? Why wasn’t he letting her out? At this point Liz was having trouble thinking of much of anything other than the desire for a swift death. How pitiful had her life become that all she could think about was getting to the grave?

  The ache in her arms and side reached a point of numbness that almost dulled the acute pain. How much time had gone by? Not a single speck of light emerged inside the trunk. Had he covered all possible holes before kidnapping her just to add to the fear he loved to torture her with?

  The questions kept piling up, just as she knew her tormenter wanted.

  What did Alan think when he returned home from his run and found her gone? Would he think she’d gotten cold feet? Was he looking for her?

  Liz sincerely hoped not, for his sake. Matthew was not the kind of man she’d want anyone to attempt to find. He would be totally crazed now. Especially after two years of searching for her, only to find her in bed with another man. A shiver shot through her from head to toe, made her hurt in new places she didn’t even know existed.

  Liz moaned behind the duct tape and tried not to let her fears take over. If she allowed him to frighten her outwardly like this, he won. The two years of researching abuse on the library internet had been her best form of therapy. She’d not been able to get real help out of fear and lack of finances. But she had sought her own help by learning everything she could about abusers and their victims. She’d been a classic victim.

  Now, she was no longer that person. Unless she allowed herself to be. Liz had succumbed to her old way of thinking, abandoning everything she’d learned. She needed to snap out of it. Get a hold of herself mentally and not let him play mind games. He was fucking with her right now. But a person can’t really be bullied unless they allow themselves to be. Even tied up and phys
ically helpless in the trunk of a car, Liz was still a strong, educated, intelligent woman. She wasn’t going to die lying down.

  With a renewed sense of self-worth, Liz took a few relaxing breaths and calmed her racing pulse. In the dark silence, she tried to think of a plan that would free her from this monster.

  * * * *

  When Alan arrived at Liz’s apartment, he was shocked to find the door ajar. Without a thought, he pushed it open and rushed inside. The place was a mess. What little belongings Liz owned were strewn all over the floor and hanging off the couch. There was no way she was always this sloppy. He didn’t believe it. Something was wrong with this picture.

  A noise behind him had Alan spinning around to find a woman standing in the doorway.

  “You Alan?” she asked deadpan.

  “Yes. Dory?”

  “That’s me.” She pushed the door open a bit farther. “Holy shit. What happened in here?”

  “Did you do this?” she stared at him questioningly.

  “Of course not. I got here just two seconds before you snuck up on me.” Alan picked his way farther inside, trying not to step on anything important.

  “She never leaves her place like this. I’ve never seen it less than perfect. Well, considering she don’t own anything either really.” Dory came up behind Alan and seemed to hang on his back without really touching him. “Ya think she was robbed?”

  That thought hadn’t gotten around to entering his mind. Perhaps last night while she’d been at his place?

  “Where is she? Liz? Honey? You here?” Dory headed toward the door that undoubtedly led to her bedroom.

  Alan’s heart hammered in his chest. She wasn’t here. Had she run? Perhaps telling him her story, she was completely freaked out and took off, left town. Was she scared her ex would somehow find her?

  Alan needed to think, sort this mess out. He righted an overturned chair, one of only two he could see in the kitchen area and sat at the table. He thumbed through the papers on the wooden surface.

  Let’s think of the facts here, Alan.