Eyes of a Stalker (18 page)

I would have kept on crying, but just at that moment a mouse ran into view. Even in the dark, I could make out his features enough to see him stop to check out his unexpected guest. He stood up on his back legs and looked me over before deciding I might pose some sort of danger and darting off.

Relief flooded me now that I knew the noises I'd heard earlier were from a mouse, not a rat. I've never been particularly afraid of mice, though I'd jump and probably screech just as fast as anyone else if one startled me.

This mouse had a good bit of curiosity in him, because even though he'd run off, he was soon back, taking another look at me. He did this a few times, and then must have decided I wasn't a threat after all because he settled down and busied himself with his morning grooming session.

And, believe it or not, I actually found myself
glad
that he was there. In fact, I mentally christened him Scurry. There was something comforting in having the little guy nearby and, as odd as it sounds, I felt like he'd been
sent
to me to keep me company.

Mr. Stanley's prayer at dinner the night before (it hardly seemed possible that it had only been yesterday!) came to my mind. “
Thank you for watching over this little girl, who we all love
.” It reminded me that there would be a lot of people praying for me, and the thought brought some comfort and peace. Let me tell you, comfort and peace were two things I really needed right then. It felt as though the day would just go on and on without end.

Even with the blankets, cold penetrated through, chilling me until my teeth chattered. Thirst and hunger brought more misery as the moments and hours crept slowly by. It was the longest day of my life, even with Scurry's company. It was nice to have him there, but he wasn't much of a conversationalist.

I dozed off and on, sometimes wakened by the
maddening sound of voices nearby. Each time I'd hope more searchers were coming, but no one came near.

Nightfall came, bringing deeper cold and another wave of self-pity. I felt there was no way I could stand the total dark, and hopes of even a little warmth tormented me.

And then he was back. Jason. My captor, and yet, at that moment, my rescuer. I willed him to hurry, to get me out of there. When I heard the furniture being pulled out of the way and the floorboards being lifted, tears of gratitude swelled in my eyes.

“Hello, darling,” he said. “I missed you.”

He seemed to take longer than he needed to, untying the cord and helping me up out of the crawlspace. My legs felt wobbly as I stood waiting for him to put the floorboards, table, and stools back.

Then, when everything was in place again, he turned to me and very gently peeled the tape from my mouth.

“I have to use the bucket,” I said bluntly. He got it, untied my hands and gave me a few moments of privacy.

“I hope you were warm enough while I was gone,” he said when I'd finished and gone to sit on a stool.

“It's very cold down there,” I said. “And unbelievably dark.”

“I'll bring another blanket the next time I come. Should I bring a light, too?”

“No light,” I said quickly, knowing he was either testing me or trying to trick me. “Someone might see it.”

“I brought you more water, and some food,” he said. His eyes mocked me and I knew he wasn't at all fooled by what I'd said. “Are you thirsty?”

“Yes.”

“And hungry?”

“Yes.”

Even though I'd said yes to both, he took his time, pausing to tell me how clever he'd been while the search went on.

“My whole family joined the search,” he laughed. “I started out with a group down by the woods and then cut back, went home, and slept under my bed all day. When I heard them come in, I waited for another hour and then crept out through the basement window and ‘came home,' pretending I'd gotten lost. Still, I'll probably ‘help' again tomorrow because that's just the kind of guy I am.”

When he'd finished bragging, Jason finally pushed a bottle of water and a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper over to me. I took a few swallows of water, controlling the urge to drain the bottle. The less I had to suffer the indignity of using that bucket, the better.

The sandwich was salami on white bread. It wasn't something I'd normally eat, but it tasted good. He offered me another one, but I shook my head.

“Thanks, but I'm full.”

“You have to keep your strength up,” he said, touching my face, my hair.

“For what? More nights under this shed? Is that how you treat someone you're supposed to care about?”

“Small sacrifices,” he said mildly. Then, without warning, he grabbed a handful of hair and jerked my head sideways. I gasped, more in shock than pain.

“You still don't know your place,” he said. His voice was angry, venomous. “Don't you understand that I
chose
you! Four nights from now — when the moon is full — I plan to make you my wife, and yet you dare speak to me that way.”

“Your wife?” I repeated incredulously.

“There! See what you did? You ruined the surprise!” He stood and paced as he spoke. “Well, now you know. I don't suppose it can be helped.”

“But, how…?”

“Don't worry,” he smiled indulgently, like he was humouring a child. “I've written the ceremony just for us. No one else is needed. We will take our vows together, the two of us. And then we will drink a toast to our love and drift off into that endless sleep that seals the destinies of true soulmates.”

So he meant to kill me… to kill both of us. My stomach churned with fear and nausea. Jason looked over, sighed, and shook his head.

“Don't worry. When the time comes, you will be ready,” he said. “You will come with me gladly.”

“And where will this, uh, ceremony be?”

“Here. Right here, my love. And now, I've waited so long, I must kiss you.”

He came over, leaned down, and made good on his threat. Somehow, as repulsed as I was, I managed to kiss him back and smile when he pulled his head away.

“Our wedding night will be so special,” he said huskily. I tried not to shudder.

I wondered, as the hours went by and everything he said just proved more and more that he was mad, how Jason had managed to keep it hidden up until now. And was he still carrying off a normal act when he wasn't here in the shed? I suspected he was. It was the only way he could guard his secret and keep from getting caught. Besides, he might be crazy, but he wasn't stupid. His planning had been thorough, and I could-n't think of any details he'd overlooked that might help me to get away.

I had to accept the fact that I might never leave this place alive.

“Can I leave a note for my family?” I asked.

“We shall see.”

“But do I have to stay under the building when you leave? Can't you tie me somewhere up here?”

“It's not safe,” he said. “But it's only for a few more
days, and then it will be over and we will be gloriously sealed together.”

“The hours are so long… when you're away,” I said. “Could you bring me something to help me pass the time? Something to read maybe?”

“In the
dark
?” He laughed and touched my nose with a finger playfully, like we were just a couple of friends joking around.

“Oh, right. What about an iPod or Walkman or something like that that only plays through earphones?”

He looked thoughtful. “I don't suppose there'd be any harm in that.”

“Thank you, Jason,” I said softly. “It will make it more bearable for me down there.”

“For today, you'll have to manage,” he said. “It will be light soon, and I don't have time to go home and back. I'll bring another blanket and a Walkman tomorrow. But for now, you know what we have to do.”

I stood up. As much as I dreaded spending another twelve hours or more in the crawlspace, I was determined not to fight it.

I made up my mind to relax and sleep as much as possible the second day I was in the crawlspace. Even so, it was hard to stay calm. Thoughts of my parents tore into my heart. I knew they were suffering as much as I was, though in a different way. I tried not to think of them too much, but sometimes I couldn't help it. I knew they'd be out of their minds with worry and grief, and it only added to my misery.

And Greg. What was he thinking? I knew he'd be frantic and worried, no matter what had happened between us.

Once, just once, I let myself fantasize about being free and seeing Greg somewhere. I played it out in my head. We'd hug and kiss and everything would be all right.

Only, that just made me feel worse. My chest hurt and tears spilled out and I had to tell myself
very
sternly not to do that again.

I found myself still wide awake when daylight came, which made me realize why I was having difficulty falling asleep, in spite of my fatigue.

My whole system was thrown off by the reversal of sleep and wake times! All of a sudden I was forced to stay up during the nights — when Jason showed up — and sleep during the daytime. Not that the light was a problem by any means, since so little of it filtered in between the boards. Still, it was enough for me to see dimly once my eyes adjusted.

It was only completely dark down there when I first went in — before the sun came up — and again later on after it went down. But at least then I knew that Jason would be coming along. He moved under cover of darkness, and now he didn't even have to worry about his footprints. With all the searchers that had been around, no one would think anything of track marks, wherever they went. He'd laughed about the tracks up to the shed's door, telling me he no longer had to worry about brushing his away with branches. I understood then what the whishing sounds were that I'd heard the first time he left me, and it actually angered me that I hadn't figured out something that simple.

No doubt my difficulty sleeping also had a lot to do with the fact that I now knew Jason meant to kill me. That's not the kind of thing you can just put out of
your mind. But I did my best by telling myself over and over that I
would
escape somehow.

And then, of course, when I did manage to sleep, it was fitful and light. I woke a number of times to the sounds of Scurry scampering around, and also when voices or footsteps were near enough for me to hear them.

It was torturous, knowing that help was so close and being completely unable to do anything about it.

Thankfully, it seemed a bit warmer down there this time, and I think I managed to sleep more than I had the day before. It helped the time go by faster, and when the light faded I found myself looking forward to Jason's arrival. When he came, it seemed much later than it had the night before.

He was in a bad mood, grumbling about having to go to school all day and not getting enough sleep afterward. I could barely keep myself from snapping that it was probably better than spending twelve or fourteen hours under the shed.

After relieving myself and having some water and a sandwich (today's was peanut butter), I was treated to more hours of listening to Jason's plans. He told me that he'd be bringing me a “bridal gown” for the ceremony.

“It would sure be nice to have a shower first,” I hinted. As expected, he ignored the comment and just went on about how he'd bought the so-called gown pretending it was for his mom for Christmas.

“A bridal gown for your
mom
?” I said, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice.

“Well, it's actually a nightgown and housecoat,” he admitted, “but it's all white and flowing. It'll be perfect, you'll see. I can't bring it here until the big night, though, because there's nowhere to hide it up here, and,” he nodded toward the floorboards, “we wouldn't want it to get dirty down there.”

No, but it's fine for
me
to be stuck down there in the dirt, I thought. Outwardly, I nodded solemnly, like he'd just made a very good point.

He talked on and on about the “wedding night.” As you can imagine, I found it a bit difficult to look thrilled and excited about what he was describing. Vows he'd written for us to say to each other, food he'd bring for our “wedding feast,” and the “special” champagne. On and on he went. Crazy details, disjointed thoughts… all nonsense, but all the more dangerous because they made perfect sense in his twisted mind.

“I almost forgot to tell you about the music!” he said, clapping his hands together. “I've burned a special CD for us with just the right songs. Just wait until you hear them.”

I smiled.

“Oh, that reminds me. I brought a Walkman for you, like you asked.” He reached into the bag of supplies, a lot of it junk food that he snacked on all night, and pulled
out the Walkman. “I thought about bringing our wedding CD, but then it wouldn't be special for just that night. Anyway, there are only a couple of CDs with it, so you'll get some repetition.”

“That doesn't matter. Anything at all will be an improvement over laying there listening to nothing.” Another smile — I felt like my face would crack soon. “Thank you, Jason. And, could I ask for one more thing?”

“What?”

“A toothbrush and toothpaste?” I forced a little laugh and added, “I guess that was two things, wasn't it? But anyway, I'd sure like to be able to brush my teeth.”

“No problem,” he said. “I'll bring them tomorrow night. And now, as much as I hate to leave you, I've
got
to get home and try to grab a couple of hours sleep before school.”

“I understand.” More time in the hole, but I decided even that was better than having to sit there and keep listening to him rave. I stood compliantly while he went through the routine of moving the floorboards, tying me, and taping my mouth. Then he lifted me down into the crawlspace, put the earphones on me, and positioned the Walkman where I could reach it to turn it on and off, or change CDs.