by RB Stutz
MASKED
By RB Stutz
Copyright © 2012 RB Stutz
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The author has taken great liberties with locales including the creation of fictional businesses. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
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Author email: [email protected]
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
Epilogue
CHAPTER 1
Troy, Idaho is a forgotten blip on the map logging town nestled in a beautiful valley of rolling hills and fragrant pines.
In 1897, it was renamed Troy after a twenty-nine to nine vote to change the name from Vollmer, named after an affluent businessman in town. Vollmer owned 32,000 acres of land and had pissed off the community by foreclosing on many of the local farmers.
A Greek railroad worker suggested "Troy," the name of the most illustrious city in the world, and offered a drink of whiskey for everyone who would vote to change the name. Raymond Samuels was one of the men who got a free start on his ride to intoxication that day.
As I beat the living crap out of his great great-grandson, the last of Raymond’s living heirs still in the dilapidated town, I found myself wondering if Raymond would approve of the path his progeny had taken. I know. It’s an odd thing to be thinking right then.
If Raymond knew even a small portion of the perverse darkness I saw in Ted Samuels, he would have needed a few more shots of whiskey before helping me kick his face in.
I wasn’t going to kill him, although he deserved it. I did have some restraint; however, he was going to hurt a lot before I finally rendered the poor excuse for a sociopathic predator unconscious.
***
The small tight knit community was in absolute anguish at the abduction of the fifteen year old girl who they all knew. I’d been searching the town, looking for the girl’s abductor, for just short of two weeks and it had taken its toll.
Every other person in town carried some degree of concern for the missing girl.
Not Ted.
Sure, he carried on with others, fronting the horror of it all, but within his surface level thoughts I saw the truth. There was no real concern or shock, just a man somehow happy with life. Early on this stuck out as off, but I never saw anything particularly dark or corrupt, only complete happiness and content.
I was on the verge of giving up the search, but decided that night to look once more at the happy little man who ran one of the downtown antique shops. Ted had never settled right with me and I’d tried scanning his thoughts several times. Either he was a heartless jerk, unconcerned for the young missing member of his community or he was a true sociopath. I needed to try and force thoughts out to have something more to go on.
I watched as he closed up his store for the night. It was a cold blustery evening and Ted put on his jacket as he crossed the street and walked to the small grocery store owned by the Jaspers, an older couple in town. He was still working on the jacket buttons when he entered the store.
I followed him in only a few seconds behind.
The store was a small space built for a different time with a limited selection of food, a rare survivor of the larger chain supermarkets or even larger discount stores. Somehow, the Jaspers’ store did enough to still exist, probably strictly due to those loyal patrons like Ted.
As I entered, a bell rang and Don Jasper greeted me with his welcoming manner. I gave a polite wave and headed back into the store while Ted stopped at the front to talk with Don.
“Good evening Teddy.”
Even though Ted was in his late thirties, Don, who was much older, still called him Teddy. It didn’t seem to bother Ted any.
“How are you Don?”
Don stretched his fingers in front of him. “I’m doing okay. Arthritis is bothering me again and this damned weather just makes it worse. It was a great day for sales though. There are still a lot of people in town.”
Ted nodded. “Our little town has been bursting at the seams. I wonder how much longer they’ll keep up the search.”
There was a pause as Don looked down and said in a more somber tone “I hope they find her. I hope she’s okay.”
Ted lowered his head. “It’s so sad.”
He was lying through his teeth. He wasn’t feeling any remorse. He only wanted Don to stop yammering on so he could get home as soon as possible.
Ted threw out more false concern. “I saw Tim Summers out this afternoon; he’s completely beside himself about Hannah. I can’t imagine all that he and Jessica have been going through.”
Don shook his head. “It reminds me too much of little Lindsey Parker two years ago. I just hope this time they find Hannah. We’ve watched both of those girls grow up. I don’t understand how this kind of thing can happen in a community like ours. How they could just disappear. This is supposed to be a safe place to live.”
There was a pause.
“So how is Evelyn?” asked Ted in a more upbeat tone, trying to lighten the conversation.
That’s when I walked back up towards the front of the store, stopping just five feet from Ted and Jasper. Blatant in my confrontation, I focused, trying to push my mind into his. I hoped the shock tactic was going to force Ted to finally reveal what I suspected of him.
His initial thoughts were what I expected. He was taking note of the rude teenager just standing there staring at him.
He took his inventory, an unfamiliar kid, probably sixteen, maybe seventeen, wearing faded jeans, black boots, a navy t-shirt and light grey canvas jacket. He assessed that my hair was not long, but untidy, dark brown and my face showed a weak attempt at growing a beard. Compared to Ted’s shorter stature I was tall and slender with a pale face and strong jaw.
For some reason my smoky blue eyes, as he put it, disturbed him but it probably wasn’t as much their color, but the fact they were intently fixed on him.
When he met my eyes, that’s when I had him. He finally let a sliver of doubt show in the plasticine world he’d created in his mind. He let worry show for a second to allow doubt to dissolve the barrier in his compartmentalized brain.
It was only a small peek, but what I saw in that sliver was diseased and corrupt.
Don cleared his throat. “Is everything okay son?”
I smiled and kept my eyes fixed on Ted. “I’m doing great.” I broke off and headed towards the exit.
Ted made his way out of the store ten minutes later carrying a small bag of groceries and a six-pack of Coors. At a brisk pace he walked back over to where his Cherokee was parked.
He looked around for several seconds before u
nlocking the doors and climbing into the driver’s seat. He didn’t give the vehicle time to warm after starting it, despite the weather, putting it immediately into gear and taking off.
I wasn’t sure who it was he was looking for; after all I was in the vehicle with him, lying down in back.
Once on the road, Ted seemed to settle some and turned on the radio to an oldies station, catching the last half of “Good Vibrations” and a few minutes of “My Girl” before pulling into the long drive which cut through the forest of dense fir and pine that isolated his property.
The house was a small one-story ranch style home with well-kept white wood siding, a red door and matching shutters. The front yard was much the same, immaculate, trimmed and manicured with obsessive precision.
He walked up the short path to the front door and pulled out his key ring. Once he found the right key, he unlocked the deadbolt and walked inside. He was still humming as he turned on the living room lights and closed the door.
I was glad I had put on my PTD or personal teleportation device. I know, original name. I didn’t usually wear it much anymore, and hadn’t in weeks, but something that night compelled me to put it on. I slipped out the back of the Cherokee and teleported directly into the front room without a sound.
Ted’s back was to me as he headed towards the kitchen and I hid myself behind a wall before he noticed my presence. I heard him putting the bag of groceries on the counter.
“What would you say, that could make me feel this way,” he belted and continued humming.
The house was filled with a fresh vanilla scent and immaculate. For several minutes I heard him fiddling around in the kitchen. There was the crisp pop and hiss of a beer can opening and the banging of pans.
“MM MMM, MMMM, MMM,” he continued to hum.
I could imagine him dancing and flitting about the kitchen.
“My girl, my girl, my girl,” he sang with the last “my girl” in a higher octave.
A few more minutes passed before I heard the handling of keys, followed by the creak of a door opening. I waited a moment before moving towards the kitchen.
At the back of the small kitchen I saw an open door to a stairway leading down. It was a standard white interior door fitted with two latches and now hanging padlocks. Ted was still humming as the wooden steps creaked beneath his feet and I waited another thirty seconds before moving to the top of the stairs to look down.
From the stairs I could see the basement was a laundry and storage area. Wafts of detergent and fabric softener blew up the stairs, a soapy floral odor. Keeping my steps light I made my way down the stairs.
The room was obsessively organized with shelves above the washer and dryer holding detergents, bleach, fabric softeners as well as other items, lined up in a neat row. The rest of the walls were lined with shelving as well which held a variety of objects. Everything appeared to be well organized and stacked. There were sections of canned food, bottled beverages, dry goods, paint cans, tools and various other items. The floor was covered in brilliant white linoleum.
I saw Ted walk to the end of the room, stopping within a few inches of the back wall of shelves. The section held an assortment of canned fruits and vegetables. He reached to the back of a middle shelf and there was a “click” as he disengaged a lock. The section of wall creaked as he pushed it inward. Ted disappeared into the dark room.
I crept to the bottom of the steps without a sound. A light came on within the hidden room. I continued over to the entrance and saw the Barbie dream house from hell.
The large room was a brilliant white, trimmed with frosting pink. The floor was white and pink checkered linoleum. Like the house upstairs, the hidden room also smelled like sweet confection adding fragrant texture to the frosting colored space. There was a small white plastic circular table with four matching chairs set in the center of the space. On the table were pink plastic place settings for four, as well as a silver tea set.
In the left-hand corner was a little white bed with pink and yellow ornate accents on a backboard. In the other corner was a large white crate, approximately five feet high, with the words “baby doll” written in pink frilly letters. The crate had a latch and large padlock.
Ted walked over to the table and opened the sleeve of crackers. He put six crackers on one of the pink plates and poured a glass of water into the tea pot.
“I’ve got so much honey, the bees envy me. I’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees,” he sang as he walked towards the crate.
“Honey I’m home.”
He pulled out his set of keys and unlocked the padlock. The door opened without a sound and he leaned over to look inside.
I couldn’t see into the crate from my position, but heard a whimper as he said “glad to see me? I missed you today. It was a busy day at the store.”
That was it!
His back was to me and he never heard me close within a few feet of him.
“Can I borrow a cup of sugar?” I asked calmly.
Ted turned in surprise and my fist met his face with a crack. I threw him across the room, into the table and chairs. The chairs scattered and the table crashed to the ground with the propelled weight of his body. I guess Ted hadn’t been ready for an intruder in black ski mask to be standing right behind him, ready to kick his teeth in.
From his crumpled cowering position on the floor, I lifted the pathetic creep and threw him across the room. He hit the wall hard and dropped back to the ground. His blood smeared face made scarlet streaks on the bright white walls.
“Play with me you sick freak!” It was hard to hold back. I could have easily taken my aggression over that edge of too far. I so wanted to.
The girl screamed from within the white box.
With blood flowing from his nose, Ted looked up, his bright red face twisted with rage. An insane high pitched shriek came from him as he jumped up and ran towards me with his arms outstretched.
Before he could even get close, I grabbed his left arm, twisted it behind his back and threw him against the side wall. As he struggled to get back up, I pushed him back to the ground with my boot. I continued on until Ted could no longer get up. He didn’t move except for the rise and fall of his chest.
I went over to the white box and crouched down to look in at a young girl cowered in the back right corner, whimpering. The pink and white lacy dress and white lacy bonnet matched the décor of the room. Strands of her light blonde hair had fallen out of the bonnet and rested on the side of her pale face, bruised with some dried blood above her right eye and below her nose.
In different circumstances, clean and not bruised, she would have been a beautiful girl, with sparkling blue eyes. Ted had taken that from her, leaving someone broken and defeated, her eyes icy and haunted.
There was a piece of duct tape over her mouth with painted bright red lips. Her hands and feet were both cuffed with a chain attaching the two sets of cuffs in front of her. The box smelled of stale sweat and worse.
I tried to calm her.
“It’s okay, he won’t hurt you anymore. No one is going to hurt you,” I said.
I felt sick. If only I could have found her sooner.
I looked again at the chains and walked over to Ted to find his key ring. When I turned back to the box, the girl had come out.
I knew the dark mask was only further scaring her but I didn’t want to be identified. I’d been all over town showing my face over the last week and a half, but there were a lot of new faces in town. The stunt I pulled at the store had already been risky enough, although necessary. The last thing I needed was another witness with my description.
“What the hell!” I pulled off the mask. Maybe seeing a face close to her own age would calm her. “My name is Michael. I’m here to help you. He’s not getting back up.”
I reached for her and she snapped away. “Please let me get those chains off and we can get out of here.”
She hesitated, but nodded and after removing the chai
ns I went for the duct tape. She shrugged back again, frightened, as I reached for her mouth. She saw my intentions and relaxed as I tried to remove the adhesive smile.
The girl stood rigid against the wall, waiting, as I took the chains and bound the unconscious Ted. I pushed him into the crate and locked the latch. I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket and dialed 911.
“I’m at 3014 Rock Ridge Road, I’ve found Hannah Summers, she needs medical attention.” I disconnected.
“Hannah, you’re going to be alright. Help is on the way.”
She was weak and allowed me to help her out of the room and up the stairs. Once upstairs, I helped her settle onto the sofa in the living room.
“You sit down. I’ll be right back.”
I went back down stairs for a couple of minutes and came back up to hear sirens in the distance.
“I need to leave. I’m so sorry he did this to you. I wish I could have found you sooner.”
The sirens grew louder as I made my way towards the door at the back of the house. It was a good thing I could teleport. I was going to have to make my way back to town through the woods on foot to avoid being spotted. I put the mask back on.
“Thank you,” the girl said in a weak shaky voice.
I turned back to look at her for a second, nodded, and walked out.
CHAPTER 2
“How long have I been doing this?” I asked myself exhausted, as I drove on what seemed like the same highway, I always traveled in the isolation of nowhere, in the middle of the night. It was another dark highway; one more lonely road.
The only thing I could get on the radio was some middle-of-the-night soft rock station. For whatever reason, when driving through the more isolated parts of the Rockies that one station always came in the clearest. Usually the same loop of past hits repeated itself each night. The reception was choppy and starting to fade.
I recognized most of the songs, at least parts, enough to sing along to, but had no idea of the song titles or artists. A song about someone being all out of love and so lost without someone else was playing by an artist who sounded like a woman, but for some reason who I thought was really a man.