by Ivy Smoak
He immediately snuggled into my side. He was really living up to his namesake. Yes, his eyes were blue which made the name Blue suitable. But he was also quite the little snuggler.
Silly dog. "Don't get used to this,” I said and patted his head. “I'm serious."
Snuggle Muffins rested his head on my shoulder and closed his blue eyes.
We both knew that I'd said "just this once" about a billion times today. There was no conviction in my words. He knew it and so did I. And we both knew he'd be sleeping beside me from here on out. He easily filled the spot of my dear husband who could die tied to that chair for all I cared. He'd lied just to get in my pants. There was nothing worse than that. Oh, wait. There was also the fact that he cheated on me. More than once. And he stole all my money. Those things were worse than the lying to get in my pants. God, I hated him.
I scratched behind Snuggle Muffins’ ear. Petting him soothed me for some reason. He was so soft. And warm. And dirty. Was I supposed to bathe him or something?
I moved my hand away from him and just stared. The worst part about Snuggle Muffins was that I actually liked him. I liked his stupid little face and his stupid little sighs. And his stupid knowing stare. Even his stupid fuzzy fur. He was crawling under my skin, nestling in right by my heart. The next thing I knew he'd probably be sleeping with my neighbor and stealing all my money. I turned away from him and stared at the wall. I didn't want to be second best anymore. Especially not to the dog that I didn't even want.
***
There was something wet on my hands. Wet and...sticky. And warm. Ew. I moved my hand through the thick substance, and my fingers touched something soft. And I had this horrible image of blood. A chill ran down my spine. Blood pouring from Noah's head when he fell down the basement stairs. All I could see was red. Seeping into the wooden steps. Seeping into his hair. Trailing into his lifeless, unblinking eyes. Covering my hands. I stifled a scream.
But that hadn't happened.
Noah was safely in the basement.
There was no blood. There's no blood, Ensley. I wasn’t a murderer. I wasn't a pervert. I was a kidnapper. Period.
His head was fine, just a little slow in the memory department. Even if he was quick to lie.
So what the hell am I touching? My eyes flew open. My hand was on Snuggle Muffins' snout and it was covered in...God. I had no idea what that sticky wet mess was. Saliva? Snot? "Snuggle Muffins, stop being gross."
He sighed.
"I'm only a kidnapper," I said out loud, but the chill didn't go away.
Snuggle Muffins didn't seem to have a reaction to my statement.
"What's on my hands?"
I swore he smiled. The little demon.
"Bad dog." I climbed out of bed and washed the mess off my hands. And for just a second, I thought I saw the water run red in the white ceramic sink. Stop. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I was just agitated. The questioning wasn't supposed to take this long. Noah was supposed to cave by now. But that didn't mean there needed to be any blood. I could do this another way.
When I looked back down at the sink, the water was clear once more. I splashed some water on my face. Everything's fine. I'll get my answers today. I'll end this today. And then I'd still have plenty of time for the last phase of my plan.
I walked back into the bedroom and Snuggle Muffins was standing on the corner of my bed, staring at the floor.
"Jump," I said.
Instead of jumping, he lay down on his back and put his tongue out.
"Come on." I patted my thighs. "Jump. You can do it. Your little old dog knees can take it, I know it."
He stuck his tongue out farther. He was the smartest dog in the world. I lifted him off the bed and put him down on the floor.
"Do you need to go for a walk?" I knew training him to pee in the litter box was probably a long process. And I didn't have time to be a good dog mom right now. I was in the middle of a felony. Besides, I didn't want to go visit Noah right now. He needed to stew in his lies. I still couldn't believe he lied to me just to see me in my underwear. As far as I was concerned, he could starve to death. I just needed to figure out where to bury his stinky body. You're a kidnapper, not a murderer.
Snuggle Muffins whimpered.
"Okay, let me just change real quick. I need to grab something while we're out anyway."
The alcohol I'd forced into Noah's mouth hadn't worked last night. His lips were decidedly unloose. Just soft. And delicious. And masterful in the kissing department. Stop.
Alcohol wasn't the only substance I had at my disposal though. The suburbs weren't as straight-laced as everyone thought. The proof? I was a kidnapper. A couple of my neighbors were notorious murderers. The kid down the street stole lawn gnomes. And the teenager across the street from me sold drugs. Welcome to suburbia.
***
I knocked on the door and waited. I knew Sylvia Smith was at yoga. And her son who decided not to go to college, to the shock of his parents, would be home. He was always home. I was pretty sure he didn't even have a retail job to cover the trail of his illicit business dealings. Such a novice.
I knocked again when he didn't answer. I glanced at my watch. It was almost 10 am. He'd surely gotten his eight hours in. Come on, Logan. Get up. I knocked harder. Sometimes a car with tinted windows would pick him up. But they'd always come back in a few minutes. Pretty sure it was his dealer. I knocked again.
Finally Logan answered the door. His eyes were bloodshot and he was wearing a silk robe like he was at the Playboy mansion. He had one arm behind his back, but when he realized it was me, he pulled the joint into view and put it back in his mouth. "'Sup?" The joint hung from the corner of his mouth. If he wasn't careful, he'd burn his mother's oriental rug.
"Hey, Logan..."
"My mom's not home. Can I take a message?"
"What?" Sylvia and I weren't friends who called on each other. We also didn't have parlors or drink afternoon tea. "No. I'm here to see you. I need to buy some of that." I pointed to the joint.
He stared at me as smoke swirled in front of his face. "What? A cigarette?"
Did he seriously think I was as naïve as his mother? I was a freaking criminal now. I was part of his cool club. "Weed. Pot. Whatever you call it. I need some."
He pulled the joint from his mouth. "It's a cigarette."
"It doesn't smell like a cigarette to me."
He smiled.
I didn't smile back. "Fine. Do you have something else that will make someone confess their deepest darkest secrets?"
"Your dog is cute."
He isn't. And what does that have to do with anything? "Sell me what I need right now or I'll tell the cops." I wouldn't. But Logan didn't know that.
"Why do you think I sell drugs?"
"Because you've sold me drugs before." I realized I was raising my voice and tried to swallow down my impatience. How high was he the last time I came to see him?
"Nah, I would have remembered that."
God, I was going to kill him. I didn't have time for this. Detective Torres could show up at any time. And the last thing I needed was for him to see me buying drugs off of this kid. "Even if you don't remember... I'm...I'm a housewife. I see everything that goes on in this neighborhood. Including what you do."
"Huh. I'm home a lot too, you know. I see things."
I was pretty sure my heart stopped beating. What did he mean by that? Did he know that Noah was locked up in my basement? I'd been so careful when I brought him home. I'd even closed the curtains on the garage windows. "What kind of things?"
His eyes trailed down my body.
Well, that wasn't nearly as incriminating. I had a bad habit of not closing my bedroom curtains because I didn't think there were any perverts in our neighborhood. "Great, you’ve seen me naked. Now sell me something that'll get me really high."
"Really high? Or something for confessing your deepest darkest secrets?"
"Either one." He was exasperating. "Aren'
t they the same?"
"Not even close."
"Fine. I need the deepest darkest secret drug then. I'll take two." Just in case one dose wasn't enough.
He started laughing.
"What?"
"There's no such thing as truth serum. We're not in a spy movie. Do I look like 007 to you?"
No. He absolutely did not look like James Bond. He looked like an idiot. "Well, pot then. That'll get him to tell the truth, right?" Oh my God, I just said him. "I mean me. Or the person. She. Not him." Shit. What had I just done?
Logan shrugged. "It will certainly lower someone's inhibitions."
He didn't seem to have any reaction to my mentioning "him." Which was great. But his response was terrible. Noah's inhibitions were clearly already pretty low. Rewarding him with a night of floating on clouds wasn't a good plan. I needed the bank account information. I needed the truth. But I didn't have any other plan. And I was running out of time. "Fine. Get me a lot of that."
"Whatever." He walked back into the house, leaving the front door wide open. Didn't he realize how dangerous this neighborhood was? Anyone could walk in.
Snuggle Muffins sighed.
"What?"
He sighed again.
"It's worth a try," I said. "I don't see you coming up with a better idea."
Another sigh.
"I'm going to bake it into something. He'll never even know he had it." I stared at him. "Stop it. It's a great idea. You'll see. My brownies are fantastic." I tried to ignore Snuggle Muffins' two cents.
"Here you go," Logan said and handed me a brown paper bag.
"Do you take credit cards?" I asked.
"Does it look like I take credit cards?" He gestured to his outfit.
Honestly, it didn't. But I kept a taser in my pocket. He might have a credit card swiper in one of his robe pockets. "Yes?" I said.
"Cash only."
"Okay, great. I'll owe you then." I started to turn around.
"Whoa, what? No. You pay now or you don't get anything." He stepped down onto the front porch and Snuggle Muffins started growling. Logan looked down at the little menace. "I'm not scared of your stupid tiny ass dog. Hand over the cash. Now."
"Here's the thing, Logan. I don't have any cash on me. But now I have evidence that you are in fact a drug dealer." I waved the bag in the air. "You know, I'm friends with a detective and I'm sure he'd be interested in this interaction." Detective Torres wasn't my friend. But Logan didn't know that. When Logan saw him come over today he'd probably shit his pants. "And how do you think your mom will feel about you skipping college and selling?"
He pressed his lips together.
"Don't be sad. I'll pay you soon, I promise. And my dog isn't stupid. You're stupid." It was the lamest comeback ever. But my brain was too preoccupied with recipes for pot brownies to care. I lifted Snuggle Muffins up and walked back toward my house.
Chapter 13
Sunday
I wasn't sure exactly what time Detective Torres would be stopping by. Which meant I couldn't make the brownie recipe I'd found on Pinterest yet. If the house smelled like marijuana when he came in, I'd be doubly screwed. Doubly because I had no idea how to ensure that Noah wouldn't scream through his gag.
My fingers drummed on the counter. I could strike a deal with Noah. A "be quiet today and I'll free you later" kinda thing. Would he be so gullible?
Snuggle Muffins rested his chin on my foot.
"How are you tired already? We just woke up."
He sighed.
Snuggle Muffins had been zero help today. And he literally followed me everywhere, which made mopping the floor almost impossible. Despite his best efforts, the kitchen was sparkling clean. At least he could look cute for Detective Torres. I mean...as cute as a dog could look. I glared down at him and resisted the urge to rub behind his ears.
"You know what?" I asked him. "I have a fun idea on how to keep Noah quiet. Starve him."
Snuggle Muffins followed me as I went to the fridge.
I knew exactly how to make someone really freaking hungry. Bacon. "Torture by bacon?"
Snuggle Muffins just stared at me as I proceeded to grab a frying pan. In a few minutes the smell of bacon filled the kitchen.
I slid the deadbolt on the basement door and used the door as a giant fan to push all the greasy, bacony goodness down the stairs. Noah was probably salivating. I left the door completely open as I flipped the bacon. That comforting hiss accompanied the smell to perfection. Poor, sweet Noah. He had no idea that I wasn't going to even give him a bite.
I pulled the frying pan off the stove and slid the bacon onto a paper towel lined plate. "Are you allowed to eat this?" I asked and took a bite.
Snuggle Muffins blinked up at me so innocently.
"Promise you won't be sick?"
He wagged his tail. He hadn't looked this excited since he'd eaten half a Pop-Tart.
"You better be telling the truth." I tossed the bacon down to him and he caught it in his mouth.
I adjusted my wig and mask as he feasted. "This is going to be fun." I lifted Snuggle Muffins and the plate of bacon and made my way down into the basement.
Noah was wide awake, already being annoying and trying to yell even though he must have known I couldn't hear him through the gag. I placed Snuggle Muffins and the plate of bacon down before yanking the gag from his mouth.
"I have to piss! Jesus, you made me drink so much last night and didn't let me pee."
"Oh." Oopsie. I'd actually woken up in the middle of the night and had to pee again. Poor guy. "Not a problem. One sec."
"I'm seriously going to piss my pants."
"Calm down." What was he...five? Did five-year-olds pee their pants? I had no idea. I lifted up the litter box and brought it over to him. "Okay, let's get one of your hands untied."
"You seriously want me to go in that? I thought you were joking. You used it for the dog."
"His name is Snuggle Muffins. You know that. And what's wrong with sharing? It's fine. I'll scoop it when you're done."
He stared at me like I was insane.
I wasn't. And I didn't appreciate the way he was looking at me. I put my hand on my hip and stared right back.
"Just take me to the toilet," he said. "I won't try to run away, I swear."
"Nope." I untied one of his hands. "Lean over and pee in that like you did the bucket. And if you're lucky I won't tase you this time." I pulled my taser out from my back pocket and pointed it at him.
He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "I actually have to take a shit."
"Oh." I wasn't planning on keeping him here this long. And I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this. But I was technically prepared. "Fine." I untied his other hand. "Stand up."
He followed my instructions, his legs still tied tightly to the chair.
I wasn't scared of him trying to run. He'd either fall from the chair or from my taser. And he knew it. I moved the litter box to the seat of his chair and tossed a pack of diaper wipes at him. "Clean yourself up a bit with those while you're at it." The last thing I needed was for him to start smelling down here.
"Are you serious right now?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" I lifted a piece of bacon and took a bite. "And make sure to use that little shovel thing to cover your business. I don't want to see it. Now strip." I waved my bacon-filled hand at him.
He started to unzip his pants. Instead of staring, I looked away. Last time had been bad. I didn't want him to make a mess again. Besides, I had a watchdog now. I looked over at Snuggle Muffins who was snuggled up to the light-up reindeer, sound asleep. What the hell, Snuggle Muffins? "Pst." I snapped my fingers and Snuggle Muffins opened one eye. "You're supposed to be the lookout."
He promptly closed his eyes again.
Son of a bitch. I laughed at my own joke. Snuggle Muffins was literally a son of a bitch. I'd never actually used that term of endearment appropriately before. I snuck one glance at Noah. He was crouched over the litter
box with so much shame straining his perfect features.
I'm sorry. I looked down at the cement ground. Would him feeling ashamed make it easier or harder to get the truth out of him? Did any of it matter if he didn't remember me? My cheeks flushed at the thought of last night. He'd wanted me. I'd wanted him too. And I hated myself for it. Snuggle Muffins was right. He didn't remember me. He just had Stockholm Syndrome.
I heard the zipper of Noah's pants and looked up. He wasn't wearing his leather jacket or the t-shirt that had been beneath it anymore. He was just standing there with his perfect six-pack and rock-hard pecks out for everyone to see.
"What are you doing? Put your shirt back on."
He ran a diaper wipe down the front of his chest, making it glisten like his muscles were doused in oil. "I'm cleaning up like you asked."
"I didn't ask you to take your shirt off."
"It was dirty. And you literally told me to strip." He tossed the diaper wipe into the litter box.
"I meant unzip your pants. Not take off your shirt."
He shrugged. "Well, now I'm clean." He removed the litter box from his chair and then sat back down. "Ready to tie me back up?" He innocently held his hands out.
"Not until you put your clothes back on."
"Baby, you're lucky I'm still wearing my pants."
I swallowed hard. Snuggle Muffins, do something! I glanced over at him and he was still sleeping. Damn it. "Fine. If you want to freeze your ass off, so be it."
Noah ran his fingers through his hair in that way I loved. And then he reached out, grabbed a piece of bacon, and bit into it.
"That's not for you!" I rushed over and quickly tied his hands behind the chair as he swallowed down my torture device.
"It's on my table," he said.
"This isn't your table."
"You always give me everything you put on this table. We've shared silverware. Glasses. The bacon is mine. Can I have another piece? I'm starving." He licked his bottom lip.
And I almost said "yes." Because I was a schmuck. "No." He wasn't supposed to eat it. He was supposed to smell it. All day long he was supposed to just smell it. And get so hungry that he'd tell me the truth. Or at least beg me for it. I'd get at least a little satisfaction out of him begging.