MAD AS BELL

by Jeremy Waldron

  “I thought you didn’t want it?” Naomi held the device high above Laura’s head and couldn’t believe what she was reading. “Who are these girls? And why are they saying these things about you?”

  Laura’s face reddened. “Naomi, stop.”

  Naomi held the phone behind her back and faced her sister. “Is this about your stuff getting stolen?”

  “They’re just stupid girls who don’t have the guts to tell me these things to my face.”

  Naomi glanced back to Laura’s phone. “These are insanely mean things to say to anybody.”

  “They’re just trying to impress the popular boys.”

  “Who will never read them because they’re sent to only you,” Naomi reminded her sister. “Regardless, we need to do something about this or they won’t stop.”

  Laura folded her arms, cocked out her hip. “Can I have my phone back now?”

  Naomi’s own phone started ringing. Hoping it was Jenny, she told Laura she’d meet her at the car. Once her sister was gone, Naomi looked to see who was calling.

  “Shit,” she said. The person calling was the last person Naomi wanted to talk to, but she had no choice but to answer. It was Jenny’s mother, Ruth.

  Naomi answered, “Hey Ruth, everything all right?”

  Ruth said, “Have you seen Jenny?”

  Naomi thought about lying, tell Ruth that Jenny stayed the night and was in the shower. Instead, she said, “I haven’t seen her since Mr. Bennett’s practice yesterday.”

  There was a long pause, then Ruth said, “Jenny never came home last night and she’s not answering my calls. I’m worried something might have happened to her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jenny Booth’s shivers were now uncontrollable as she lay with her knees tucked to her chest in the corner of an empty room. Her clothes had been stripped from her body and she was left with only the thin covering of her skimpy underwear. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get warm. The chill had settled into her bones. It was all she could think about; the need to get warm, the need to survive.

  With her teeth chattering, Jenny’s thoughts were as choppy as the memory of what happened to her. She couldn’t recall the details, couldn’t decide if she’d said goodbye to Naomi or if she’d only dreamed that she had.

  The room was pitch dark. She didn’t know what time it was, nor could she decide how long she’d been here, hidden away from the rest of the world. Was it only a few hours, or had she been here for days?

  Rolling like an egg to her opposite side, the pressure inside her skull pounded like a hangover. Jenny instinctively reached for her cellphone as if she was in her own bed at home instead of on a cold concrete floor. Her phone wasn’t there, it had been taken along with her clothes. It felt like a part of her body was missing.

  She drifted in and out of sleep.

  A memory flashed behind her eyes.

  She remembered talking to Mr. Helton and having Naomi worried about a stranger staring. She couldn’t remember the stranger’s face no matter how hard she tried. After that, she drew a blank. Now she was here—wherever here was.

  “Let me out of here.” Her whispers crawled up the walls like spiders. No one answered her pleas for help, but she kept asking to be let free until her throat croaked.

  Soon her eyes fluttered closed and she vividly dreamed of being elsewhere.

  A door hinge squeaked and Jenny lifted her eyelids. Squinting into the intense flood of bright light filling the tiny room, she pushed herself upright and let her eyes adjust. Someone was at the door but she couldn’t see who. Once her vision focused, her gaze flitted around the room, sending her heartrate spiking.

  “How did you get these? Where am I?” she said to the imposing silhouette standing in the doorway.

  When the man didn’t answer, Jenny swept her gaze back to the dozens of photographs stapled to the plywood wall. She was in every photo. They came from all over her life, some being manipulated to be sexual in nature.

  “Who the hell are you?” Jenny ground her teeth.

  The man stepped forward and Jenny realized he was naked. She scurried back on all fours until her back was up against the wall. The man followed and kneeled next to Jenny. He stared into her eyes from behind a clear mask. Terrified, Jenny trembled. Her pulse throbbed in her neck and she flinched at his touch.

  “My name is not important, Jenny,” he whispered in a raspy breath as he stroked her cold cheek. “But I do promise to take good care of you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I promise he’s not as mean as he looks,” I said, referring to Cooper.

  Eva Martin didn’t react, though it was meant to be a joke. Cooper had a fierce bark, but a soft core. I’d seen him get chased by squirrels who’d had enough of his antics, sending him running with his tail tucked between his legs. But I also knew that some people felt intimidated by him. He was a big dog with a boxed head and was extremely protective of me.

  Eva hesitated before entering my house despite her request to be brought here. I assumed she knew who I was because of my column at the paper, or perhaps even my blog. It made sense. Erin and I were crusaders for women like Eva and weren’t afraid to use our platform to make a scene. But when I shut the front door a little too hard, I immediately regretted it.

  Eva startled and wrapped her arms around her torso tighter. She looked fragile—broken like glass—but something told me that she hadn’t always been like this.

  I apologized and made sure Cooper didn’t get off his bed and do anything else to spook her. The last thing I needed was to send this girl back to the horrors she’d just experienced before I had time to first let her know she could trust me with her story.

  Cooper whimpered a soft protest as he shifted his unsettle gaze between Eva and me.

  “Detective King said you asked to come here?” I said.

  Eva gave me a guilty look and I was afraid one wrong word, one wrong move, would cause her trauma to resurface.

  “It’s okay. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  I cast my gaze to her feet, nodding. The soles of her sandals were rooted into the wood floor as she surfed my walls with her eyes. I wondered what it was she was thinking, if it was about me, her being here, or if she was preparing herself to answer the questions she knew I would eventually ask.

  “Have you found that girl you’ve been writing about?” she asked in a soft murmur.

  “Megan Hines,” I said. “No. She hasn’t been found. But I’m hopeful.”

  Eva inhaled a deep breath and continued taking in my place. There was so much I wanted—needed—to ask her but knew it had to come out slow.

  “Is there anything I can get you; are you hungry?”

  Cooper sprang to his feet and I heard Eva’s breath hitch. I snapped my finger at my dog and told him to lie down. “I’m sorry. He thinks anytime I mention food it’s for him.”

  Eva’s beautiful brown eyes met mine and I saw the corner of her mouth threaten to curl upward into a smile. She was gorgeous, a natural beauty about her that was worthy of a model’s salary. Did she know how beautiful she was? How could she not? I relaxed a bit, believing we might be able to break the ice sooner than I originally thought.

  “This might sound stupid since we don’t know each other,” Eva flashed a coy look, “but can I borrow some of your clothes and maybe take a shower?”

  “It doesn’t sound stupid,” I said, knowing enough of what she’d been through to want to do the same if I was in her position. “C’mon. I’ll show you what I have.”

  Eva followed me into my bedroom and I turned to size her up. She was an inch taller than me, but we were similar enough to make it work for the time being. I pulled a t-shirt and gray sweatpants off the closet hangar and said, “Is this all right?”

  Eva kept her gaze low and whispered her appreciation. I set her up with a towel and led her into the bathroom where I told her the hot water takes a minute to warm up. Then I mentioned my frie
nd Erin was on her way over and might be here by the time she was finished. Eva knew who Erin was, didn’t mind her coming over. But I didn’t want any surprises.

  I left her in the bathroom with hopes of her being able to wash away everything that happened to her. Then I called Erin on my landline. As soon as she picked up, I said, “You’re not going to believe this, but a source to our Jane Doe story might have just walked through my door.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  With one hand on the steering wheel and his visor down, Detective Alex King’s tires slowly rolled through the Arapahoe Acres neighborhood. He needed to visit the house Christopher Bowers said he was remodeling, see the streets Eva ran through on her mission to escape her kidnapper’s grip.

  Looking out the passenger side window, Alvarez said, “What was she doing out here in the burbs?”

  They knew enough about Eva to know that something wasn’t adding up. King didn’t like what he saw. “These houses might have great curb appeal,” King said, “but who the hell knows what is happening behind closed doors.”

  Alvarez pointed across the dash. “That’s the house there.”

  King curbed the vehicle and killed the engine. There were a couple pickup trucks parked in the driveway and a dumpster full of construction scraps near the curb. King read the house address and matched it to the one Detective Gray gave them. But was Bowers here? A quick search of the license plates said that he was.

  King opened his door and stepped one foot out when Alvarez mumbled, “I still think we’re wasting our time with him.”

  “Let’s just walk around. Make sure his story checks out. Then we’ll be on our way.”

  King shut his door and made his way to the front of the house. The garage door was open, and inside a man was working the table saw. Above the noise, King managed to get his attention. “Christopher Bowers here?”

  “Upstairs.” The man pointed his index finger in the air.

  Alvarez stayed behind to speak with Bowers’s employee as King began his journey up the short flight of stairs. He entered the house undergoing an entire remodel, peeking around to inspect the work being done.

  Two men were busy hanging sheetrock, and King asked if they were working two nights ago. They said they weren’t and King continued up the next flight of stairs following the sounds of air compressors, nail guns firing, and the pounding of hammers. No one seemed to care two cops were here, asking around, and that comforted King.

  He found Bowers doing tile work in the master bath, and as soon as Bowers saw him coming, Bowers pushed himself off his knees and stood.

  “How is she doing?” Bowers asked about Eva.

  King assessed Bowers’s work, was impressed, and heard Alvarez catch up behind him. Then he met Bowers’s eye, and said, “She’s in recovery and has provided a clear ID on her kidnapper.”

  Bowers didn’t flinch at King’s test. It was the reaction he was hoping for; Alvarez, too. But instead of backing down, King turned his inquiry up a notch.

  “That’s great,” Bowers said.

  King’s gaze narrowed. “Was Eva an escort?”

  “Excuse me?” Bowers’s eyebrows pinched, clearly offended by what King was insinuating.

  “We know about your prostitution charge.” King paused and stared. “So, did you pick her up, hoping to score?”

  Bowers removed his safety goggles and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. “Like I said last night, I left here after midnight two nights ago and was driving home when I found her standing in the middle of the road. I asked her if she needed a ride, and after seeing the condition she was in, I took her to the hospital. That’s it.” Bowers shifted his gaze between King and Alvarez, visibly tensing. “I don’t know anything more about her than that.”

  “Does your wife know about your taste for prostitutes?”

  Bowers shifted his weight to his opposite foot and narrowed his gaze. “Am I a suspect?”

  King locked eyes and allowed an awkward pause to answer for him.

  “I’m married.” Bowers’s tone was clipped. “And no, my wife doesn’t know about that.”

  Alvarez’s cell buzzed and he stepped into the next room to take the call in private.

  Bowers stepped forward and squared his shoulders with King. “I’d prefer she didn’t find out, either. If that woman I picked up was an escort, all I did was help a person in need.”

  King heard Alvarez return, and a moment later he felt his partner’s hand clamp on his shoulder. Pulling him away from Bowers, Alvarez whispered in King’s ear, “That was Gray. Another girl was reported missing.”

  Staring into Bowers’s worried expression, King was satisfied in knowing Bowers was at the hospital when this new victim went missing. It cleared him for now, but a hunch kept Bowers on King’s list of possible suspects until further notice.

  “I’ll keep your secret private, but don’t go too far,” King said. “We might be back for more questions later.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jenny kept her hand pressed to her cheek. The kidnapper’s touch was forever imprinted on her skin. She wondered if she’d feel it forever—what would happen the next time he touched her? Would he dare put it somewhere she didn’t want it to go? Several hours had passed since he left her alone, and she was left with only his parting words.

  Talk and be killed.

  Deaf to the world on the other side of these walls, Jenny stared at her own image, reliving each moment in time of when the pictures were taken. Each stolen memory was framed inside a glossy sheet that looked freshly printed. The fear it first elicited had long since evaporated into the perfect distraction to the pass the time.

  Was that the reason he hung these photographs for her to see? No. They were here to tell her he’d been watching—stalking her for a long while.

  Bouncing her gaze between images, she could feel the winter’s chill in one, the summer’s intense dry heat in another. Whoever had kidnapped her had been watching her since last spring. But there was one particular photograph she kept coming back to, one she couldn’t escape.

  It was of her and Naomi after school. Jenny could still hear the laughter ring out as they giggled about something a boy said earlier that day. In another photograph, she could still feel the same frustrations ripple across her mind at the memories it brought to light. Soon, tears welled in the corners of her eyes and she wondered if she’d ever go home—ever feel anything other than the misery and desperation she felt now.

  Curling up in the fetal position, Jenny stared at the point where the floor met the wall. There was no trim, just a gap in the wall waiting to be sealed. A recessed light had been left on and Jenny wanted nothing more than to turn it off and escape the torture of having to look at her stalker’s photographs—especially those that had been manipulated to portray her as something she didn’t want to be. A slut.

  Her body had warmed considerably since a few hours ago. It was partly because of fear, but more likely due to the fact the air conditioning had been turned off.

  Jenny felt the urge to pee for the first time since being taken. She flicked her eyes to the bucket perched in the corner meant to act as a toilet. Next to it, a blanket on which to sleep. It was humiliating and she felt ashamed, like somehow she deserved to be here. There was no toilet paper, no food or water, and she was certain her kidnapper was gone and not coming back any time soon. But was he watching? She didn’t know.

  A soft drumming through the wall stole her attention.

  Jenny listened, trying to decide what caused it. Then the drumming went into a pattern. Jenny pushed herself up and sat, hugging her knees to her chest. Staring at the wall, she thought about tapping back when suddenly she heard whispers.

  “Hey. Are you there?”

  Jenny froze. She rolled her eyes between the walls and up to the ceiling. It was impossible to tell where the whispers were coming from, but they were definitely human. When she heard them again, she rolled her neck and stared at the door. Her kidnappe
r’s threat to come back kept her quiet.

  “I know you’re in there,” the whisper said. “I heard you come in. What’s your name?”

  Jenny’s heart pounded. When the whispers started again, Jenny snapped. “Quiet. You’re going to get us killed.”

  “My name is Megan. What’s yours?”

  Jenny opened her mouth and quickly closed it. A part of her thought maybe this was a test to see how well she obeyed her kidnapper’s single instruction. Failure was not an option. Her life depended on it.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Megan said. “He’s going to kill us anyway.”

  When Jenny closed her eyes, an image of her kidnapper flashed across her mind. She thought about the clear plastic mask he wore over his face, his dark eyes searching from behind. She didn’t know what he looked like, or what color hair he had, and certainly couldn’t pick him out from a crowd. But Jenny did notice he had no hair on his body.

  “We can get out of this,” Megan continued, “but only if we work together.”

  Jenny listened, thought about her chances. Fear kept her silent.

  “So, are you with me or not?”

  Jenny’s breath labored as she looked to the far wall and said, “What did you say your name was?”

  “Megan Hines.”

  Jenny’s eyes rounded. She recognized the name, had seen Megan’s face plastered on every news channel the week she went missing. There had been talk at school, too.

  “Are they looking for me?” This time Megan’s voice was a quiet desperation.

  Jenny swallowed and opened her mouth, about to tell her she knew who she was. Megan probably knew Jenny, too. The sudden slamming of a door somewhere inside the house shut them both up.

  Jenny’s heart raced as she listened to the heavy footsteps draw closer. Darting across the floor, she cowered in a corner and curled her body into a ball, attempting to hide, knowing He was back and coming straight for her.