All in the Family (22 page)

Then she felt the pain subside. It was the pain in her backside, though she could not pinpoint the origin or why the pain was there at all. She felt the pain and dealt with the pain, not understanding, only enduring, and then it had dissipated. The man-dog was gone then, and there was only her in the grass on the ground. Only the grass turned to mud, and the sun was darkened, no longer giving its brilliant light. It was only her, and the pain was growing again, not a shooting pain, but a gradual pain that built and then remained. She wept on her knees.

Then she opened her eyes. The room was a blur. She was up on her knees, but with her face on the ground. The pain was still there in her rectum. Across the room, something moved and whimpered. She tried to wipe the sleep-snot from her eyes to clear her blurry vision. The thing in the far corner whimpered again. She couldn’t make it out, but could swear it sounded like a dog’s whimper. She thought the room even smelled faintly of a wet animal. She hoped that the dream had nothing to do with this animal.

Then she caught the faint whiff of cologne. She wept again.

* * * *

Amber had been awake for what seemed like days; at least twelve hours had passed since she had last seen anyone. She had listened to the dog whimper on and off at all hours. It would shift slightly, but never did it attempt to stand or move, nothing more than a shift. She wondered why it just laid there; she wondered what they had done to it to keep it docile. Worry crept in that they would do the same to it that they had done to her; she didn’t want to think about the awful things that had been done to her while she slept.

The door opened, and she felt a rush of fear and a simultaneous and overpowering feeling of relief. She didn’t want to starve to death, though she feared what lay ahead. She knew that for the moment, she would live.

It was the boy from dinner. She couldn’t remember his name, but she knew him when she saw him.

“Help,” she whimpered.

The boy said nothing, stepped in and closed the door. It was dim in there again, but light shone from a hole in the far wall across from the boy. He came close by and looked at her; she licked her sore and cracked lips. She waited on a sign from him, anything that might tell her his intentions.

He pushed his glasses up on his face and then turned away from her and toward the dog. From his back pocket, he removed a long bladed chef’s knife and moved in toward the dog.

The whimpering stopped, the dog squealed and then there was silence. The boy worked quietly, hunkered down in the corner. The liquid squishing sounds brought a sickening feeling to Amber’s gut, and she dry heaved a few times off to the side. Her abs was sore from the abuse and lack of food; she was unaware of how many times she had actually vomited, but she was feeling the aches now.

There was silence for a moment, but the air filled with her screams as the boy turned around and brought her the dog’s leg. They were dry, intermittent screams that crackled like bacon in a skillet. Then she was silent, exhausted. The severed leg lay only inches from her face.

The boy looked at her and in a hushed voice said, “Hey, if you are hungry, you can eat this. Everyone was busy today, and I think they forgot about you.”

She rose up and looked at him. She was hungry, but she didn’t know if she could bring herself to eat a raw dog’s leg. There wasn’t concern on his face; even in the dim light she could see that. He was cold and stone-faced. What could drive a kid to be like that? She didn’t know, but she knew that she couldn’t stomach the dog’s leg. “Why don’t you let me go?” she asked. “I won’t tell anyone. I just want to go home and eat real food.”

“This is your home,” he said. “This
is
real food.” He left, closing the door behind. She heard metal clanking as if she were being locked in, and then there was silence again. There was no more light coming from beneath the door. She looked at the dog’s leg; her stomach grumbled, and she felt as if her own stomach might turn against her and grow teeth and eat her from the inside out. She picked up the severed leg and could see where he had peeled away the hide. There was red meat underneath, and blood trickled down her hand to her elbow, slowly dripping off. Her mouth watered; the idea of it sickened her, but she was starving and so very thirsty. She bit down into the meat, tearing off a small chunk. She chewed instinctively and tasted the salty, iron-rich flavor. It wasn’t as bad as she assumed it would be. She hoped, though, that she didn’t get sick from it. She ate, and before it was done, she found that she enjoyed the flavor of the meat after all. She ate all of the meat off of the bone and craved even more. It gave her energy and made her feel alive again. She wanted more, she needed more, but a rush of sadness wrapped around her. She knew that the dog was out of reach, and she didn’t know when she would see the boy or anyone again.

Chapter Sixteen

There was a knock at the door. It was odd for this time of day, but Loretta knew she had to answer. The kids were at school, and that was a bit of a worry at first. She wondered if they were alright. Herman had been gone for most of the morning. She worried about his as well, though she knew after all that she had seen, he could very well take care of himself. Then, she thought of the girl in the basement. She hoped that no one had traced her to here. She opened the door.

“Good morning, Loretta,” Glenn said. He was in uniform, and that worried her. She hadn’t been expecting him, and it was a shock to see him.

She cleared her throat. “Hello, Glenn,” she said. After a second of odd silence, she said, “Is there something I can help you with?” She was looking sexual as usual. She licked her lips and gave him the once over, trying to get back to herself.

He smiled. “I’m not here for that,” he paused, “at this time. I’m here on official business. Have you seen this girl?” He held up a picture.

After a moment of careful consideration she replied, “No.” Though it had struck her that it was a mug shot of the girl in the basement, she had to play it smart. “Why do you ask?”

He sidestepped a bit and then back into place, “See that guy in the car?”

She nodded.

“He’s a state-boy, a detective. This girl is missing, and he’s out to find her or what happened to her. He wants to inspect the house and then, if necessary, use this as a base for the night.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why?”

He held up another picture. “You know him?”

She nodded again. It was another mug shot, only this one was a man, and not just any man, but her brother. “He’s my brother,” she said. “Why are you looking for him?”

“We’ve had reports that he may have come here, and with his history, state-boy thinks that he may be involved in this girl’s disappearance.”

“He did come here,” she admitted, “but he only stayed a night or two and then left. I have no idea where he went.” The last part was a lie, but she was good at those.

“There’s more,” Glenn said with a solemn look on his face. “Your friend, Barbra; it’s her car that was reportedly seen picking up the girl in question. She’s a streetwalker, a likely target for your brother. Have you heard anything from her about her car? Was it stolen?”

“Not that I know of,” Loretta said. The shit had hit the fan, and it was getting deep quick. “I haven’t talked to her in a while, but I’m sure she never said anything about her car.”

“Look, I don’t think that Barbra had anything to do with it, but I’m thinking maybe your brother took their car or borrowed their car and did what he does. There is another option that I’ve been weighing out,” Glenn said.

The butterflies flapped wildly in her gut. Loretta couldn’t stand it, the terror of being caught and the thought that she would lose it all. “What is that?”

“Barbra’s husband,” Glenn said. Then there was silence between them as the other man approached.

“Thank you for inviting us in, Mrs. Adams,” the man from the car said. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair.

“Mister Sparks,” she nodded, “I’m always willing to help.” She eyed Glenn with that seductive look. Glenn returned her glance.

The stocky man glanced around, stroking the stubble on his chin. What he looked for was anyone’s guess, but he was suspicious of everyone. It came naturally to him not to trust anyone; he had been that way since high school. Maybe it was the girls who always gained his trust and love and then turned out to be whores. Maybe it was the so called friends he acquired who used him for his car to drive, his house to crash at and his fridge to raid for free food. No matter, he trusted no one, and Herman had given him an odd feeling before during his earlier investigation. Though he had no proof of wrongdoing, Herman struck him as a man with secrets.

Tyler Sparks walked through the house constantly stroking his chin, as was his nervous habit. What did they have to hide? Why would Herman act so strangely? “Mrs. Adams, I’m not sure if your husband mentioned me, but I worked with him recently to wrap up another missing persons case.”

“No, he didn’t mention it, but Herman is usually pretty quiet about his work. He rarely even talks about it,” Loretta said. “I’m glad that he could help you with the case, though.”

“Yes, he was quite helpful, but it was a very unfortunate event. Do you mind if I take a look around?” Tyler asked.

“Feel free,” she said. “Would you like a tour?”

Tyler didn’t answer, but he did wander around the house, never straying too far, ever vigilant and alert. He listened to her talk about her family and her home. How much the home meant to them, and the memories each room held. The bedrooms were clean and well kept. There was nothing odd or suspicious about any of the rooms. That wouldn’t bother most people, but Tyler was a special breed; the cleanliness threw up red flags, but he had been wrong before.

They stood before the basement door, Tyler waiting impatiently. Loretta hesitated, but opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but this is the worst room of the house. It’s quite cluttered down here, and you’ll have to excuse the moldy smell.” Her face flushed, and she was unsure of whether anyone picked up on her nervousness. Unbeknownst to her, Tyler picked up on it. After all that he had seen, he wrote it off for the moment as just a woman nervous about clutter.

Downstairs, the basement was dimly lit, and there really was clutter all around. The floor was lined with boxes and junk. A starter lay here and an alternator lay there. Work tools of all kinds lined the walls. All of the walls were covered in black plastic behind the shelves that ran parallel along each wall.

Tyler diddled a loose piece of plastic and looked at Loretta. She returned his glance and shrugged. “It was covered in newspaper when we first bought the place; I guess a way of weatherproofing. You know how it was in the olden days.”

Tyler smirked and nodded. He looked around the room, still looking for something suspicious, but found nothing. The earthen scent bore down on his nerves, and he returned to the stairs. “I think that will do,” he said, almost disappointed in his findings. He looked forward to finding dirt, but not that kind.

“Mrs. Adams, I appreciate your patience, I have a new theory now, one that better suits the situation,” Tyler said, leaning against the kitchen counter. This caught Glenn off guard, and he leaned in, listening intently. “I think that it was Barbra’s husband.”

“You no longer think that it was her brother?” Glenn asked, nodding toward Loretta.

Tyler stroked is chin some more, a ponderous silence came over him. “No. He may still be involved, but I’d like to know more about the husband. I think he is the key to getting this case closed.”

“Good,” Glenn said, “I’m tired of these missing persons cases anyway.” Tyler shot him a look that told him that he should have kept his mouth shut.

“You could always go home, and I could put that in my report,” Tyler said.

Glenn became quite then.

“How do you propose to find out about her husband?” Loretta asked.

“We’ll head back to the station for now; I’d like to run his background. We’ll be in touch if we need anything more of you.” Tyler turned and headed toward the front door.

Glenn grimaced and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I’ll see if I can keep you out of it from here on in. I know it will be Thanksgiving in a couple days. We are trying to get this done before the holidays.”

Loretta nodded and gave a quick smile. It was a fake smile, and Glenn knew it. It wasn’t her usual sensual, seductive smile.

They were gone, had been for nearly half an hour. Loretta sat at the dining room table. It had become so important lately worrying about getting caught, yet in another way, it didn’t matter, not to her anyway. She was unsure if she could contend with the pressure any longer. The tears ran down her cheeks, black tears, stained by her mascara. An idea burrowed itself inside of her mind, an awful and wonderful idea. She did not want her family to go through the embarrassment of being caught, yet she wanted to see her dear friend happier. The black streams stopped flowing, and she sat with her hands on her cheeks. A smile curled her lips and turned into a cackling laughter.

* * * *

She walked there in the cold, her oversize purse strapped to her arm. It did not take much to convince herself. It was self-assurance more than anything that the two men had returned to the police station and that she would be in the clear. It was cold out, the wind whipping through her hair, burning her naked face. She hadn’t bothered to make her face back up after she cleaned the black streaks from her cheeks. In the mirror she had looked like a crying clown, where the mascara had smeared all around her eyes and then ran. Maybe she looked more like a psychotic clown. The stains left on her skin looked like crevices, scars of her past, sins that she had committed. She realized that she didn’t look like herself without the makeup, but she had only one real shot at this.