The Naughty Box (9 books in 1 box set)

by Davis, SJ

  “Do I have to gag you?” he said, clipping a third chain closed. It hung heavy from her neck, attached to a steel collar.

  “No.”

  “Good.” He took the remaining chain in his right hand and led her from the bunkhouse to the cottage. “Perhaps, if you do well today, I’ll feed you. Would you like that?”

  She nodded, eyes averted and he heard her swallow. He hadn’t fed her in two days - not since she’d last refused him. It had been a foolhardy act on her behalf; one he thought he’d broken her of.

  “You will behave,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  Her whisper was a ghost’s. Obediently, she stood on the porch beneath the gravity shower while he washed the filth from her body. When she was clean, he led her inside and chained her to the bed.

  From the CD player, Cio-Cio San asked her lover about men’s habits. The God smiled. He knew she’d learned the answer to that question… he’d made sure of it. He stroked her hair, tangled and wet against her skin. She trembled but remained in place. She had loved him once, he knew, but those days were gone. It didn’t matter; her fear excited him more than her passion. Like the doomed songstress of his favorite opera, he’d taken her freedom and undermined her free will; like a butterfly, he’d pinned her wings.

  Chapter 27

  “I’m going into town today. Do you need anything?” Lena pushed the quilt from her legs and shrugged out of Odin’s embrace. He reached for her but she swatted him away.

  “Not unless you’d like to take a propane tank in for me. Perhaps I should suggest to the realtor that the owners install a larger tank. One like yours.”

  “Just stay here with me,” Lena suggested. “That way you’ll never run out.” She walked to the window and looked out on the pond. Rain fell softly on the water. Foss Mountain was ringed in mist. “The chick’s almost full grown,” she commented, watching the Loons dive and surface. “It won’t be long now before they leave for the winter.”

  The biggest Loon dove and reappeared close to shore. Its haunting call echoed down the pond, answered by the cry of its mate.

  Lena was still watching it when a flash of motion caught her eye. She raised the window to peer through the rain and fog, squinting across the water. Someone was standing on Odin’s dock looking toward her cabin. She rubbed her eyes as she strained to see. Without binoculars, the distance was too great to identify who it was. “Odin,” she said, turning toward the bed, “are you expecting anyone at your place this morning?”

  “No,” he said, propping himself on his elbows. Why?”

  “There’s someone on your dock. Wait a minute…whoever it is just ran around the side of the building.”

  He was at her side instantly. “That’s strange. I wonder who it could be. Was it a man or a woman?”

  “I couldn’t tell!”

  She left the window and took the stairs, two at a time. “Have you seen my binoculars?” she called as she rummaged through her kitchen drawers.

  “No.”

  “Damn! I wonder what I did with them.” Giving up, she returned to the bedroom. Odin stood at the window, looking west.

  “Any sign of him?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “I wonder who it was.”

  He turned to her frowning. “Whoever it was, he was uninvited. Please excuse me, Lena, I should get home and check to make sure everything’s all right. “He pulled his pants and shirt on quickly and was downstairs before she had time to button her shirt.

  “Do you want a cup of coffee to take with you?” she called from the landing.

  “No, thanks. If I have a thief at my cabin, he won’t wait to steal my property until I’ve finished my breakfast! I’ll see you later...after you’re through in town. We’ll go for our walk then, yes?”

  “Sure.”

  She returned to the window as he shot away from the bank, paddling hard. Across the pond, the intruder appeared on the far side of the cabin, hesitated, and turned, disappearing into the trees. Lena watched as Odin pulled his boat onto the far shore and walked purposefully toward the cabin.

  “Hello!” His voice echoed faintly across the pond. “Hello, may I help you?”

  Lena shivered and rubbed her hands together. The damp September air was chilly. Shedding the shirt, she wrapped herself in a towel and walked to the end of the dock. Despite the cold rain, the pond was still warm. She hung the towel over the arm of the chair and dove in, swimming briskly upon surfacing. Fifty yards out, she stopped and looked again toward Odin’s cottage. Except for the cries of the Loons, the morning air was silent. There was no sign of him or his unexpected visitor.

  Diving below the surface, she turned and kicked back toward her dock, unnerved by the thought of a stranger prowling around the camps. If it was a thief, he was barking up the wrong tree… there was nothing to steal at either place except for the kayaks and the propane tanks. Odin’s artwork was good, but he was hardly a household name and neither one of them kept much cash around.

  She pulled herself onto the dock and shook the water from her ears. Whoever it was and whatever he wanted, she was sure that Odin could manage it on his own. It was the eighth of September, and Alex was back in Connecticut. For once, she had a lot on her plate. Wrapped again in the towel, she entered the cabin, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, and set the coffeepot to boil. When it finished perking, she filled her traveler, whistled for Zephyr, and dashed through the rain to the Jeep.

  As usual, she passed no one as she drove down the mountain road and turned toward Blanchard. Just shy of the crossroads, her cellphone beeped, signaling service. She pulled over along the river and scrolled through her missed messages. There was one from her lawyer, one from Marge Quimby, one from Alex, one from Stan Spaulding, two from Jake, and a last one, at seven that morning, from Alex again. She listened to Alex’s first.

  “Hi, Lena. I just wanted to let you know that I’m back. Call me when you get this message.”

  She frowned, deleted it, and pressed the button for the second.

  “Hi, it’s me again…I forgot to tell you that I love you. So. I love you. Call me.”

  She deleted that one as well and went on to the third.

  “Lena, this is Detective Spaulding down in Greenville. It’s Thursday evening…well, night, actually. Do you think you could stop by the station tomorrow morning? I’d appreciate it. Thanks.” Lena replayed it as her hopes rose. It had to be word about Annie; he had no other reason to contact her.

  Next she listened to the message from the realtor.

  “Hi Lena, Marge Quimby here. Listen, I don’t know if you’re interested or not, but I have some folks who’re looking for a winter rental. They’re sledders from Bangor who want a place with direct trail access from January thru March. I think they plan to leave their snowmobiles here and come up on the weekends. Since your dad’s house adjoins the trail, it would be ideal for them. They’re willing to pay $1000 a month. Give me a call if you’re interested. Thanks.”

  Renting her father’s house in town…it was a cash-making opportunity that she hadn’t considered. She saved the message and went on to the next.

  “Lena, it’s Jake. Oh, shit. Goddamn it…” She adjusted the phone, startled. It sounded like Jake Morris was crying. “Call me when you get this. I’ve got to talk to you.”

  She retrieved the next message, her forehead creased with worry. “Lena? Lena, it’s Jake again. Call me a.s.a.p. I think I’m in trouble here. Shit. You probably won’t get this message until tomorrow. Shit.”

  There was something very wrong. She knew it for sure after Jake’s second message. Lena hung up and hit re-dial, waiting impatiently while the connection went through. On the fifth ring, he answered.

  “Hello.”

  Lena barely recognized his voice. It was hoarse and raspy, like a two pack per day smoker. Or drinker. Annie, she thought as her worry turned to panic. Something’s happened to Annie.

  “I just got your messages,” she said quickly. “
What’s the matter? Have they found Annie? Is she okay?” She waited impatiently while Jake took a tremulous breath and exhaled into the mouthpiece.

  “I think you’d better come to town,” he said. “Where are you now?”

  “Blanchard.”

  “I’ll meet you at the police station in half an hour.”

  “Jake, wait! I have to know.” Her hands shaking, she waited for his response.

  “Just meet me at the station,” he said, his voice dull and lifeless. “We’ll talk there.”

  Lena made the drive in record time, swerving around a logging truck and ignoring the outstretched thumb of a thru-hiker where the Appalachian Trail crossed route 15. She pulled into Greenville at eight o’clock and parked behind the station house.

  Middle Marks looked up when she entered the building and met her at the door. “Detective Spaulding asked me to send you into the back office when you arrived, Mrs. Walker. Jake Morris is here too.” She reached out to touch Lena’s arm as she passed, her expression uncharacteristically kind. “I’m sorry.”

  Lena’s heart sunk at the pity in her eyes. It could only mean one thing. She wove through the odd assortment of desks and chairs to the back of the room and opened the door. Jake and Stan were sitting silently in the tiny room, their faces set in grim lines. Jake looked pale and haggard. For all his show of bravado, the Interim Chief of Police didn’t look much better.

  “Okay, I’m here,” she said when they looked up. “What’s with the cryptic messages? Have you found Annie?”

  Stan nodded slowly. “We think so, Lena. Have a seat.”

  Lena sank into a chair next to Jake. She took his hand. “Is it bad?”

  Jake nodded; a tear trickled down his cheek. “The worst,” he said, brushing it away.

  In all the years she’d known him, Lena had never seen Jake Morris cry. She braced herself for whatever “the worst” meant.

  “She’s dead, Lena,” he said, his voice so soft that she barely registered the words. “Annie’s dead.”

  Lena bolted to her feet. She swayed as her sight grew dim and grainy. Reaching for the desk, she collapsed into the chair as the world around her went black. The peace of oblivion was short-lived however; a moment later, she regained consciousness and Jake and Stan came back into focus. She looked up at them as they hovered over her anxiously.

  “I’m okay,” she said, pushing Stan away. She took a deep breath and released it with a shudder. “Where is she? What happened?”

  Jake shook his head.

  Stan Spaulding cleared his throat. “Old man Trebs came in about ten o’clock last night,” he said. “You know Trebs, right? Jordy Trebs? He lives out of town on the Dyer Road just before the landfill.”

  Lena nodded. “He’s a friend of my dad’s. Was a friend.”

  The Interim Chief of Police tapped his pen against his desk. “Well, he usually lets his dog out just before bed, around nine o’clock. Normally, she takes a lap around the yard, does her business, and comes back in. Last night he let Sadie out and waited. When she didn’t come back by nine-thirty, he went out looking for her.”

  Stan lifted his coffee cup to his lips and returned it to the desk untouched. “He found the dog over at the landfill, digging through the garbage.”

  Lena strained to hear him; his last words were incoherent.

  “What?” she said, leaning toward him. “What did you just say?”

  “I said, ‘she had a foot in her mouth!’” Stan repeated loudly. “A human foot. Small. About a size 7.”

  Lena swallowed hard. She and Annie both wore size six and a half shoes. It was just one of the many things they had in common. Her voice quavered. “What makes you so sure that the foot’s Annie’s? Everyone has two feet, it could belong to anyone.” She could hear hysteria building in her voice. She stopped speaking and waited for Stan’s answer.

  “Annie wore an anklet, didn’t she?”

  Lena nodded. “We both do. We got them together, our senior year of high school.”

  “Around which ankle? Left or right?”

  “Right,” she said.

  “Was there anything special or unique about it?”

  “It was special, but not unique. See?” She pushed her chair back and stood, cuffing her jeans to show it off. The chain coiled around her ankle, its design a snake, poised to strike. “Annie picked them out. We were going to get tattoos, but her father would have killed her, so we got these instead.” She turned her foot. The snake wrapped entirely around her ankle in three striped coils of black onyx and silver. “You can’t believe how much they cost.”

  She stopped speaking, aware that she was babbling as she raised her hand and wiped her eyes. She hadn’t realized until she felt the tears drip onto her collar that she, like Jake, was crying.

  “Please sit down, Lena,” Stan said.

  She’d never heard his voice so gentle. She sat.

  “The ankle that Treb’s dog found was pretty badly decomposed, but the anklet wrapped around the bones was the carbon copy of yours. Jake, here, identified it.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  Stan Spaulding shook his head. “I’m afraid so.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything! There could be hundreds of women who bought that anklet. Thousands!” The hysteria was back, full force. Lena sprang to her feet and paced the room frantically. “It could be anyone you found there, Stan, not Annie.”

  He shook his head. “It was Annie Janson’s ankle in that dump, Lena. I know it as sure as I know my way to The Black Swan.”

  “Have you found the rest of her body?” she asked.

  “Not yet. We’ve closed the landfill. The whole area’s taped off and ready for the homicide squad from Bangor. They’re coming in this morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Should be here any minute now, in fact.”

  “And then?”

  “Then, we go through the dump with a fine-toothed comb. We’ll either find her or we won’t.”

  “What if she’s not there?” Lena said, grasping at straws. “Does that mean that there’s still a chance she could be alive?”

  Stan and Jake exchanged a doubtful look.

  “Sure, there’s a chance,” Stan conceded, “but it’s a slim one.” He tapped his pen against the desk again. “I’m sorry to have to break the news to you like this, but you and Jake were her best friends. I thought that you should hear it from me before the rumors got out.”

  “Have you told Jane yet?” she asked.

  “I called her in last night. She identified the anklet as well.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “As right as can be expected.” Stan studied his fingernails and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Honestly Lena? She collapsed when I told her. She’s over at the hospital. They have her sedated.”

  The dispatcher stuck her head through the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Chief, but the crime scene unit’s here.”

  “Tell them I’ll be right out and send in Donald, would you, Gracie?”

  “Sure thing.” The woman ducked back out and the door swung shut.

  “Who’s Donald?” Lena said. The grainy feeling was back; she felt sick to her stomach. She wiped cold sweat from her forehead and tried to focus on the detective’s words.

  “Donnie MacDonald. He’s one of ours. Both you and Jake have been to Annie’s house, haven’t you?”

  Lena nodded.

  “I lived there until last December,” Jake added.

  “I’ll be taking half the team out to Annie’s place while the others head for the landfill. We’ll be dusting her house for fingerprints, and since the two of you’ve been there, it would help to get both of yours on file for comparison.”

  Lena nodded again, but Jake held back, his bloodshot eyes narrowed. “You want to fingerprint us?”

  “Just for comparison’s sake,” Stan repeated.

  “Should we be calling our lawyers, Stan?”

  Donnie Mac entered the room. He stopped in the doorway, eyes shiftin
g from his boss to Jake as the tension in the room escalated.

  “I don’t know, Jake,” the detective said. “Should you?”

  The two men glared at each other while Donnie and Lena watched in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Jake looked away and extended his hand, the flare of temper gone. “No,” he said. “I’ve done nothing wrong. Go ahead.”

  The officer took his prints and left the room before Jake could change his mind. Lena waited for her turn as she watched him wash the ink from his fingers. He looked bad; worse than she’d ever seen him.

  “Thank you both for your cooperation,” Stan Spaulding said when Donnie Mac had left the room for the second time. “I appreciate it.” He rose from his desk, tucking his notebook beneath his arm, and grasped Lena’s shoulder as he headed for the door. “I’ll let you know as soon as there’s any news. Keep your fingers crossed. Maybe we’ll get lucky and that foot is all we’ll find of her.”

  On the threshold, he turned for the last time. “If both of you could stick within cell phone range for a few hours, I’d appreciate it. The guys from Bangor will probably want to speak with you before they leave town.”

  Lena nodded.

  “Sure,” Jake said. He got to his feet, swaying like a drunkard.

  “Go on home, Jake…get some rest. Lena, you’re free to wait here at the station if you’d like.”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, Stan, but I’ve got some things to do in town. If you need me, I’ll be at my dad’s place over on Wood’s End Lane.”

  “Suit yourself.” He stepped into the squad room, leaving them alone.

  As the door swung shut behind him, Lena collapsed against Jake, crying hard. “What the hell is going on?” she said when she could finally speak. “How could this be happening?”

  “I don’t know, Lena,” he answered softly, stroking her hair as her tears wet his shirt. “I wish to God I did.”

  Chapter 28

  By ten o’clock, Lena was back at her father’s house. She busied herself cleaning the first floor while she waited for the callback from the police. With the chrome in the kitchen sparkling and the tiles newly bleached, she sat down to return the calls on her voicemail. The first she made was to James Burke, Esquire.