Acts of Desperation (14 page)

“That’s actually part of the reason I’m here…”

I told them the whole story, but I toned down the seriousness of the attack. I said John and I had a struggle, and I bumped my hip. I didn’t see the sense in scaring my family since ultimately I was fine. When I finished rehashing my tale, my dad’s reaction was what I would have expected—I had to talk him out of getting a gun and going to shoot John on the prison steps.

Sarah’s mouth hung open in shock. “Are you kidding me? Thank God Jax walked in when he did,” she said. “Was there a full moon yesterday or what?”

I laughed. “Yeah, I don’t know. But Dad, John accidentally broke one of the panes of glass out on our kitchen door.” Again, I conveniently left out how. My dad is by no means a violent man, but he does have a hot temper like yours truly, and I saw no reason to tempt fate. “Liz has some cardboard up, and she was wondering if you could finagle something until someone can come out to fix it.”

“Sure, honey. I’ve got some Plexiglas in the basement that can work.” He got up and reached into the fridge and cracked open a beer. He took a long swig, draining nearly half the can.

“Really Dad? It’s Sunday and it’s not even one o’clock yet,” I said.

“It’s either this or I go kill that sonofabitch. He better make sure he doesn’t come within ten miles of you,” he barked.

“He won’t, Dad. There’s a restraining order in the works, and they’ll notify me if he posts bond,” I said.

“They fuc—”

“Fred! Watch your mouth in front of the kids,” my mom said, slapping his shoulder before his obscenities flew. She looked at me. “I heard everything from the other room so you don’t have to tell me the story.” Since childhood that woman had the hearing of a bat, and there was nothing that ever got past her. “Did that boy lose his mind? Good lord, I’m glad you’re alright.” She shook her head and gave me a hug.

“I’m fine Mom. I’m a tough chick,” I said.
             

“You’re going to have to bring this Jax around so I can meet him. If he’s going to be so involved in both my girls’ lives, then I need to get a good look at him,” she said.

“I’ll bring him around soon, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We just started dating. I don’t want to scare him away by introducing him to you guys too soon.”

My mom poked me in the ribs while I laughed. “Watch it missy. I’m still your mother
, and I can slap you around if I have to,” she said through a laugh.

I playfully smacked my mom’s hands away. “So what was Anders
’ reaction when he found out you switched attorneys?” I asked Sarah.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I didn’t tell you! I think that might have been one of the catalysts for him coming in the house last night. He’s been so amped up since he found out I switched
…but don’t think he didn’t pass on the opportunity to tell me that he told me my other attorney was an idiot. I just rolled my eyes and shrugged my shoulders,” she said, smirking.

“Well
he should be nervous, if that’s what you think it is,” I said.

“
I don’t know, but I hope so. Based off what he did on Friday, I think he is,” she said.

“What did he do last Friday?”

“After he loaded the kids into his car for their overnight visit, he came back in through the garage door and waltzed right into the kitchen, and completely caught me by surprise. He looked crazy. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about his eyes was off and his hair was sticking out—you know he usually has it all perfectly gelled into place. He was about to start in on something, but Mom blocked him when he started to back me up against the refrigerator.”

“Darn right I did,” my m
om said, crossing her arms. “If he wants to try something, he’s going to have to get through me.” On a good day, in heels, my Mom was pushing five foot three at best, but she was the only girl in her family. Her three exceptionally tall brothers always gave her a tough time growing up so when it came to handling men, she knew how to hold her own.

“Did he say anything new or was it the same old same old?” I asked.

“He barely got any words out before Mom stepped in. I don’t think he knows enough about Jax yet, but I’m sure he’s learning. I don’t doubt that he’ll call him an idiot too—no one is anything compared to him, you know.”

“Oh I know,” I said, rolling my
eyes this time.

We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing and hanging out. Later that night when I got home, I let myself in the backdoor using my key and laughed. Really all I needed to do was push the cardboard, reach my hand in, and turn the lock
. But still, I went with the formality of using my key. My dad said he’d be by in the morning to get the measurements and cut something to fit. So I stopped by Liz’s room to tell her the plan then headed in to bed.

Hours later, something woke me—a sound off in the distance. I blinked my eyes until the clock came into focus—it was just after two. I looked around
, blinking my eyes and straining my ears, listening for another noise. After a few seconds of hearing nothing, I resigned that I was being paranoid. Maybe the John thing was resonating with me more than I thought.

He’s in jail so there’s no reason to be scared
, I reminded myself.

I lay back down and rolled over determined to continue the dream I was having about Jax. After tossing and turning for a few minutes, it became clear that I wasn’t going to easily drift back off. Now, if it had been a nightmare, I would have jumped right back in, but a good dream, not a chance. It figures.

I threw my covers off and went down to the kitchen to grab a snack. Don’t judge me. Some people might drink tea. I eat—cold food straight from the fridge. I reached in the refrigerator for the container of curry chicken, grabbed a fork, and leaned over the island ready to dig in. Then something caught my eye in the family room—a dark figure walking toward me. My heart pounded as I reached back for a knife off the counter behind to me.

“Liz?” I asked.

“Yeah, who else would it be?” she said, flipping on the lights then walked into the kitchen. “What the heck are you doing? It’s the middle of the night,” she said.

“Oh my gosh,” I said, sighing in relief. “You scared me to death.” I discreetly put the knife back down on the counter.

“Well
you
scared me to death.
What
are you doing?” she said.

“I think I’m spooked by the John thing more than I’d like to admit. I thought I heard a noise and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“I thought I heard something too. I’m guessing it was you though going into the fridge.” She glared at me. “Who eats in the middle of the night?”

“Me.” I smirked. “You know how I get when I can’t sleep.”

“Ugh, gross. You’re going to eat that right out the container cold, aren’t you?” She tipped her head in the direction of my food.

“I like it cold,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “There’s just something about eating chilled spicy food that hits the spot.”

“You’re disgusting,” she said, grimacing. “Alright, well John’s in the slammer and your dad’s coming tomorrow so there’s nothing to worry about. I’m going back to bed. See you in the morning.”

“Ok. Night,” I said. 

When half the container disappeared, I folded up the lid and tossed it back in the fridge, completely satisfied. I shut the lights off in the kitchen and headed back up the steps. When I was halfway up, I heard it again, this time a discernible scratching sound. Rather than being a chicken and running to hide under my covers, I walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen toward the sound. The cardboard on the back door had come loose and was slapping lightly against the door as a breeze blew through. It was like being in a scene of a horror movie, and I expected a black cat to jump out of the shadows.

I walked up to the door and pressed the tape back into place and double-checked the
lock just to satisfy my nerves—but it was unlocked. I looked at it confused and tried to rationalize it against my paranoia; I could have sworn that I’d locked it, but clearly, I hadn’t. I shook my head and locked the door—again. I tried to think ahead to my getaway with Jax, but my nerves were getting the best of me. My heart was pounding so I went up and grabbed the knife off the counter again.

I cradled the cold handle in my hand and looked at the shiny metal blade. “God Sember, take a chill pill. You’re being ridiculous,” I said and put the knife back down. I took a couple deep breaths. He was far away and locked up, and I’d be damned if I’d let him steal away my sense of security inside my home.

Halfway through the living room, I resolved to go sleep with Liz for the night and made a mental note to suggest having a security system installed.

When my foot touched the first step, my hair
stood on end—I wasn’t alone. Then, I was grabbed from behind, and a cloth was put over my nose and mouth. I was overtaken by the smell of something pungently sweet. I kicked my feet and clawed at my face, struggling to get free and desperate for fresh air, but I was lifted and carried backwards.

“What were you going to do with that knife?” he said, through a throaty laugh as I slowly drifted out of consciousness.

****

When I woke up, my throbbing head was shrouded in a scratchy burlap-type material that smelled like stale cigarettes. I wanted it off. I tried to move my arms but quickly realized that I was tied to something—my wrists and ankles were both tied to something. And I was laying on something soft—a bed? I was spread eagle on a bed and felt naked but covered by some kind of a thin material,
maybe a sheet. I squinted my eyes, trying to gain some kind of bearing, but the tiny catches of light filtering in weren’t enough to decipher anything—it was useless. I moved my head then groaned as sudden waves of nausea hit me, adding to my growing dizziness. I swallowed hard and fought the urge to vomit. 

Panic set in, and I frantically pulled and twisted my wrists harder and harder, trying to get free, but the burns that were forming brought my attempts to a screeching halt, and I started crying. How the hell had John gotten out
, and what was he going to do with me now?

A calloused laugh. “Don’t bother trying to wiggle free. I’ve got you now.”

It didn’t sound like John, unless Jax had landed a few punches to his vocal cords. “John?” I asked.

“Nooo…”

“Where am I?” I asked.

“Somewhere no one will find you, at least not until I want them to,” he said.

My tears were soaking into the material gathered up at the base of my chin. The humidity inside my burlap prison was mixing with the stale cigarettes and the sweet smell still lingering in my nose. The nauseating fumes were making my stomach twist. I wasn’t getting enough air and felt myself beginning to fade, but passing out wasn’t an option.

My stomach heaved, and I coughed. “Can you take this off please? I think I’m going to be sick. I can’t breathe,” I said.

“I can. It was just for the pictures anyway, but if you try anything it’ll go back on,” he said.

“Ok. I won’t.” My heart pounded as I heard his steps closing in. He lifted the sack off my head, and I felt a stabbing pain behind my eyes as they adjusted to the light. The fresh cool air rushed in
, and the nausea instantly began to subside, but the dizziness lingered. “Please let me go. Please,” I begged, gulping the fresh air.

He just shook his head while I stared. It was confusing. I expected a deranged, hairy madman covered in tattoos, but he looked so…normal. And, I had no idea who he was,
but yet there was something vaguely familiar about him. I made a mental note to memorize his features so that when I did escape, I could give his description to the police, and they could lock him away.

He was of moderate height
and build. I wouldn’t say he was big, but I wouldn’t have considered him small by any means either. His short sandy brown hair was somewhat unkempt, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He was sweating profusely through his dingy white t-shirt, but still I would have classified him as normal looking—handsome almost, like a scraggl
y
Matthew McConaughey. His faded jeans and flannel shirt both looked dirty, matching his hair, but it was his eyes, his dark distant eyes, that scared me the most.

“What do you want?” I asked then looked down and finally realized that I
was
covered in a thin sheet. I didn’t have a shirt on but thankfully I still had on my underwear.

“W
hat I want is money, lots of it. And some satisfaction.” He looked at me and smiled then reached his hand out to touch my cheek.

“Oh my God! Please don’t!
” I shook my head and tried to scoot as far away from him as I could, but my restraints only lent me about an inch. Two attempted rapes in two days was more than I could handle. 

He began laughing. “No, no. Not
that
kind of satisfaction.” He laughed harder then launched into the chunky bark of a heavy smoker. “That would be disgusting. You look like…that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about,” he said, smoothing my hair. “My satisfaction will come from someone else seeing you like this, and the pain it’s going to cause him. He deserves to suffer like I’ve suffered.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Your boyfriend.”

“Jax?”

“Yes, Jax,” he snapped. “I’ve been watching both of you. It’s obvious why he likes you, and well…it shouldn’t be so easy for him. He can’t just replace her with you.”

I realized who he was
. I saw him in my mind’s eye, the man who’d been watching Jax and me kiss after our first lunch, I remember looking up and seeing him…and our first dinner together…he was the one I bumped into on my way back from the bathroom. I thought he’d looked familiar that night, but I hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought. The pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together. He’d been following Jax—us—the whole time.

“You’re Grace
’s brother,” I said.

He lunged at me. “Don’t. Say. Her. Name.” Then grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back.

I winced. “I’m sorry I’m sorry please just let me go.” His face tensed then he released my hair and turned his back to me. “It hasn’t been easy for him, it hasn’t. He told me everything that happened with her. He’s sorry. ”

“Ha
! He will be sorry.” He turned back to me. “I’ve sent him a few pictures of you like this and judging from the responses I’ve been getting, I think he’s in agony.” He patted my head again. “I’m sorry. I bet that still stings, doesn’t it? You know I saw what that guy did to you. I was watching from the window. I wouldn’t have let him rape you either.” It seemed a slightly ironic statement, and it wasn’t lost on me. “I was pissed at first because I thought he was going to mess up my plan, but with just a little tweaking, things worked out better than I thought. And then he made it so damn easy for me to get in. By the way, cardboard?” he said through a laugh. “Only a woman would think of fixing a broken pane of glass with cardboard. Hell, I even thought of posting that asshole’s bond as a thank you, but then I couldn’t have any record of being in the city, now could I?”

“I guess not,” I said, slowly digesting every
word. He’d been sending pictures of me to Jax, so at least Jax knew I was missing—Jax, my family, Liz—they’d all be looking for me. We were all living in the same nightmare, although on different sides. The sooner it ended the better, and I refused to let it end with me dying.

Without saying a word, he suddenly left the bedroom. I heard mixed sounds of him shuffling around outside
. Drawers and cupboards opened and closed as a hard rain started to fall, hammering on the metal roof with heavy thuds. I scanned my surroundings. It was an old house with beaten up wood flooring. The one window in my hellish abyss was covered in an antique sheer flowered curtain with fraying ends through which I could see a forest. All I could see were trees—beautiful trees just bursting to life showcasing their vibrant green, virgin spring leaves. Then the heavens opened up, releasing their deluge, and drowned the foliage in its tears. I was sure they were crying for me. I tilted my head and wiped my eyes on the pillow. I took a sobering breath—crying would do me no good, so I continued on with my lesson. If—
when
—I was able to get free, I was going to need a weapon.

I looked at the
old, floral print, nicotine stained wallpaper that was peeling up in random sections throughout the room. The wooden chair, where I imagined he sat and watched me sleep, was across the room in a corner next to an end table. The tabletop held a simple brass lamp and an overflowing ashtray.

Then the cheap-looking hollow core door creaked open, and he walked in with a small plate of food and a glass of water. I started to salivate at the sight of it, becoming
acutely aware of my hunger. I wondered how long it had been since I’d eaten. How long had I been tied up here?

“It’s nothing fancy, a peanut butter sandwich, but I bet you’re hungry,” he said.

“I am. Thank you,” I said. I told myself to be nice—the sweetest, nicest person I could imagine. “Could you untie me please so I can sit up? I won’t try anything, I promise. This is just really uncomfortable.”

“I’ll untie you, but I’m warning you, if you do try anything, you’ll end up being more uncomfortable than you are now. I’ll tie you naked to one of those trees outside. There’s lots of wild animals out here, and I’ve been putting out scraps of meat to lure them closer to the house. I’m sure you’d smell really nice to the coyotes and wolves sitting next to a couple of steaks. Bet it could take a couple of days for them to eat—” He closed his eyes and
shook his head “You understand me?” 

It goes without saying that playing out that scenario in my mind was not appealing. When I did make my move, I would have to strike hard and
strike fast. “I understand,” I said and nodded.

He leaned over me, untying my left wrist first. I got a strong whiff of the cigarette stench embedded in his clothing, and I closed off my nose while he undid the rest of my restraints. I rubbed the chaffing on my wrists first and then wriggled my feet and ankles the second they were free. I scooted myself up and leaned back against the headboard holding the sheet close to my chest.

“Thank you,” I said. “Could I have a shirt?”

“No. I think keeping you like this reduces the chances of you trying to run out of here, wouldn’t you agree?” He feigned a smile. “Here,” he said, thrusting the food onto my lap.

“Ok.” I tucked the sheet into my armpits then picked up the sandwich and took a bite. As far as peanut butter sandwiches go, I think it was the best one I’d ever eaten. I gobbled the whole thing in under three seconds. I gulped the cold water down and leaned back. I could have easily eaten another three sandwiches, but it was enough for now. He grabbed the plate and put it on the timeworn chest of drawers next to the door.

As he walked, I thought back to one of my college courses taught by a retired prosecutor. We researched into the minds of serial killers—not that that was what I was dealing with hopefully—but still information I drew from that I thought would be useful in this situation. I’d chosen to research Ted Bundy. One fortunate girl had been recorded, recounting her tale of release. She told Ted Bundy personal things about herself and tried to get him to relate to her and feel sympathy. She spoke to him about a Spanish test she had in the morning and about how worried her mother was going to be when she didn’t return home. It struck a chord with him
, and she was set free. She was one of the lucky ones. I never would have thought I’d have to draw from that girl’s experience to implement my own escape from a psychopath.

I said, “I saw her picture. She was really pretty.”

“What are you talking about?” He snapped his head around and glared at me.

“There was a picture of her in a book. I hear
d she wanted to be a writer,” I said. I softened my voice to make it sound more like that of a little girl.

“Yeah, what do you know?” he said.

“I wanted to be a writer too.” Ok, it was a stretch, but if there ever was a time to bend the truth. “I chose to get into law though, but it does involve a lot of writing. Did Grace ever talk to you about what she wanted to write?”

“Stop. Saying. Her name,
” he said, freezing me with his icy stare and creeping toward me.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” I said.

He went to his chair across the room and began to rock then lit a cigarette. His shaky hands went calm with the first drag, and he slumped back in his chair.

“What’s your name?”
I asked when I felt the nicotine had done its job of calming him.

“None of your business.” He rested his head against the back of his chair and looked to the ceiling. Half of his cigarette had already vanished.

“Well I know you know mine so…” I trailed off. “I just thought it’d be nice to know your name.” I forced a genuine smile.

He chuckled then turned to light another cigarette.

“Do you know that I have a sister too? And my parents…they’re all probably worried sick about me. If you do something to me…I’m sure you can imagine how they’d feel. I’m sure you and your parents have been through a lot. Plenty of people will get hurt, not just Jax if you do something to me,” I said.

“You think I
give a shit?” The cigarette positioned between his front teeth bounced as he spoke.

“I think you might. I know I look like her,” I said. “Do you really think you could hurt me?”

He began to rock again only this time he appeared more agitated. All the color disappeared from his eyes, and black orbs stared back at me. “I can see I’m going to need to shut you up.” He rested his cigarette atop the pile of butts in the ashtray. He opened a drawer and withdrew a syringe and poked it into a glass vial. I watched as it slowly filled with a milky white liquid, then he squirted a minute amount into the air.

“Oh my God, what are you going to do? Please don’t, please,” I said as he walked toward me.

“You’re going to need to hold still now otherwise I’ll have to poke you over and over. You can try to fight it, but trust me, it’s not pleasant when you do.”

“Wha-what is it?” I asked.

“Just a little Propofol. I need you unconscious so I can stage some more pretty photos for your boyfriend. He’s going to love the next batch, and I can’t stand to listen to you yammering on anymore.”

“I’ll cooperate! I swear I will. And I won’t talk anymore. You don’t need to do this. Please. I’ll pose for you, do anything you want.” I began to cry and hoped that somehow my tears would have an effect
on him.

“Shh
…now hold still. If you struggle, I’ll have to hit you, and I don’t want to have to do that.” He grabbed for my arm. I thought about punching or slapping him, or getting up and running, but I still felt incredibly weak. I couldn’t be hasty with my timing. I would have to be patient and wait for my chance.

I gave him my arm and watched as he tied a large rubber ban
d around it. He smacked my vein, and when it rose up, he slowly inserted the needle. I winced as it pierced my skin.

“There now,” he whispered. “J
ust a little bee sting.”