Level Five (2 page)

“So, where are you meeting with Colette?” he asked.

“Perkins’s Restaurant tomorrow morning at nine.  I wanted this first meeting to be on neutral ground, just a breaking the ice kind of thing.”

“I guess I’d better rock your world tonight. I know how you get when you are involved in a project.”

“And how’s that?” she asked. 

“Obsessed, possessed and totally inaccessible to us normal human beings.”

She laughed.  “I think you’re exaggerating more than a little bit. But if you want to rock my world tonight, I don’t have a problem with that.  I’ll break down and turn on the air conditioner.”

“And I’ll clean up out here,” he replied.

An hour later she spooned in his arms, sated and drowsy and her mind racing. His light snores filled the air.  She’d always felt safe and warm in his arms, not because he was big and strong and a well-respected detective.  Rather, because he looked at her with the primal intensity of an animal who had claimed his mate.

His left arm was around her, his hand possessive even in sleep against her breast.  She knew he’d hoped by this time there would be a gold band on the ring finger of that hand.

Six months ago he’d officially proposed to her.  He’d gotten down on one knee and extended the diamond ring in a beautiful velvet box. She’d painfully watched the excitement and anticipation die in his eyes when she’d turned him down.  She’d broken his heart just a little bit that day. But she’d assured him her decision had nothing to do with loving him. She just wasn’t ready to be married.

She closed her eyes, seeking sleep.  She wanted to be well-rested for her interview in the morning.  The last thing she wanted was to think about all the reasons she couldn’t commit to Jake, all the secrets she had yet to share with him, all the secrets she would never share with him.  She squeezed her eyes tightly closed against a sudden welling of tears. Instead, she focused on the interview the next day.

             
He was right about one thing. She could feel the obsession with the book beginning and she hadn’t written a single sentence yet.

             
A new project always began the same. She got lost to the world, immersed in the passions and perversions that drove some people to commit horrendous crimes.

             
As she thought of the interview with Colette excitement sizzled through her. It was an excitement tempered slightly by the man next to her and the distance that would always remain between them.

             
Jake sought the darkness in men’s souls to arrest it. She did the same to understand it.  What scared her more than just a little was the fear that somehow Jake would see the darkness inside her.             

                 
Chapter 2

He woke just after dawn as was his habit. It wasn’t the morning sunshine drifting through the window that awakened him, but rather the internal clock of years of routine.

The sun couldn’t shine into any of his windows.
He kept them covered with heavy drapes and black plastic to keep out prying eyes.  He didn’t want a utility worker or a salesman to inadvertently get a glimpse into his home.      

His bed was a single, shoved against the wall in a room filled with toys.  Intellectually he knew that hoarding these items was a way to hang onto the childhood he never had. 

He was eight-years-old when he’d lost the ability to get to the toys his mother stored in a wooden box in their living room.  She piled her crap so high on the lid he didn’t have the strength to open it any longer.  Those old toys were now on a shelf in his room, along with other toys he’d picked up from dumpsters and thrift stores.

He consciously ignored the emotions that pressed tight against his chest when he thought of his childhood and his mother.

Control. 

It was what made him better than her.

It was what separated him from everyone else.  He controlled every aspect of his life, to keep his secrets, to assure his needs.

In order to leave his room he had to crawl over a rocking horse and sidestep half a dozen boxes of metal trucks and cars.  A jack-in-the-box smiled from the top of a plastic bin.

He went into the bathroom where he showered quickly, efficiently. He grabbed his car keys and walked naked from the house to the detached garage.  He made the walk naked from the house to the garage every single day, summer or winter. 

This building was pristine and held only toiletries and work clothing and a washing machine and dryer. Nobody would ever call him stinky boy again.

As he dressed for his day at work, he felt the thrum of anxiety. In the pit of my stomach, a slow burning rage begged for release.

Even though only a couple of days had passed since he’d said goodbye to his last project, the monster wanted loose again.
All he needed was a perfect victim who would spend time with him, who would hopefully be the one who healed him. If not, she/they would eventually be added to the growing hoard of buried bodies in the yard.

Sooner or later he would find the one who would quiet the monster inside him forever, the one who would make him happy.

Edie was uncharacteristically nervous as she got out of her car in the parking lot of Perkin’s Restaurant. Bad dreams the night before had affected her like a hangover when she’d finally gotten out of bed that morning.

She now slid a slender, slightly trembling hand down her black pencil skirt. She prayed that this interview went well.  Her research had yielded a photo of Colette Merriweather at the time of her disappearance eight years ago. 

She’d been an attractive twenty-five year old blond, engaged to be married. She’d worked as a saleswoman in an upscale dress boutique.  There had been no photos taken of her after her ordeal. Edie hoped to include some in the book. 

At nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning, the restaurant wasn’t too busy. It smelled heavenly.  The scent of fresh baked cinnamon rolls rode the air, battling with the odors of crisp bacon and fried onions.

Edie’s stomach rumbled. She wasn’t sure if it was because she hadn’t eaten any breakfast or due to a bad case of nerves.  Colette had agreed to meet with her. That didn’t mean she was going to agree to allow Edie to write her story. 

This meeting was nothing more than an audition for Edie. She looked around the restaurant and tamped down the jump of nerves by mentally listing every which way an egg could be made edible…fried, poached, boiled.  Sunny-side up, omelets, and scrambled. The egg list fell away as she tried to find her potential client. 

At first glance she didn’t see Colette at any of the booths. Then she spied a blond seated in a booth, facing the back wall.

Unsure if it was the woman she sought, Edie tentatively made her way toward the booth, sidestepping a waitress carrying a full tray of plates.

Edie stepped next to the last booth and saw the face of the woman seated there. She just managed to swallow a gasp of shock.

It was Colette, but not the woman in the pictures Edie had seen.  This woman’s face had been ravaged by something sharp. Angry, ropey scars criss-crossed what had once been lovely features.

“Colette, I’m Edie Carpenter,” Edie said as she scooted into the bench across from her.  “Wow, he really did a number on you.”

Colette smiled, and despite the scar that bisected her lips, it was a pretty smile.  “You just passed your first real test.”

“Really?
  And what was the test?”

“You didn’t throw up and you didn’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

Edie returned her smile and hoped her pity didn’t show through the admiration she felt for this survivor. “To be honest, there’s no way to pretend it isn’t noticeable.  It must be very difficult.”

Colette shrugged slender shoulders.  “It was at first, less so now.  There are even hours at a time that I actually manage to forget about it.”

“Have you considered plastic surgery?  Sorry if I’m being too forward.  If you decide to work with me you’ll quickly discover that I have an insatiable curiosity.”

Colette reached up with one beautifully manicured hand and ran her fingers across her cheek.  She had the most beautiful eyes Edie had ever seen. They were a haunting pale blue with long lush lashes.  “This is who I am now.” She dropped her hand back to the table.  “Somehow I always felt that if I got surgery to fix what he did, then it meant he won. He didn’t get to win.  I won by surviving.”  The last words were fierce. Edie realized not only was she going to go to the bowels of hell with this woman, she’d come out on the other side proud to know her.

Over breakfast specials the two women got better acquainted.  Edie told her about losing Francine and loving Jake. Colette shared that six months before, she’d married Frank Burgess, the man she’d been dating at the time of her disappearance.  

“Frank never stopped looking for me in the three years that I was held captive. In the five years since, he’s never stopped telling me that he wanted me in his life, as his wife. Six months ago I decided to believe him and married him.”  Once again a hand went to her cheek.  “He says he doesn’t care about the scars on my face. Some days I almost believe him.”

With the meal finished, Colette gathered her purse in her lap to prepare to leave.  “I’d like to go ahead with this project,” she said.  “And I’d like to work with you.”

Edie gave her a tremulous smile.  “And I’d love to work with you.  I think you have a lot of things to say about the time you spent with your captor – important things that need to be shared.”

“That’s why I wanted you to tell my story. I knew you’d understand.” Colette reached across the table and touched the back of Edie’s hand.  “We’re both survivors, whether you know that or not.  I think maybe we have some things we can teach each other.”  She drew her hand back and stood.  “I’ll be in touch.”

Edie watched as she walked toward the cash register at the other end of the restaurant.  She held her head high despite the stares from the other diners.

Edie remained in the booth long after Colette had left, scribbling notes in a notebook she’d carried in her oversized purse.  She always worked in long hand first, and then typed up notes on the computer later.

When she was finished memorializing her first impressions she leaned back against the vinyl and stared down into her coffee cup.

She’d done it. She’d managed to snag a coup that would make her name a respected one in the field of true crime writing.  A sweet euphoria swept through her, loosening the tension in her shoulders. She paid her bill and headed for her car in the parking lot.

Heat radiated from the asphalt but even the oppressive air couldn’t staunch the excitement that danced in her veins.  She was just about to open her car door when her cell phone rang.  She pulled it from her purse and answered.

“I need you.”  The deep gravelly voice instantly sucked all the joy from her body.  She sagged against the car and closed her eyes. 

A crushing guilt quickly swallowed the swift flash of resentment.  “Where are you?” she asked.

“At home.”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” she replied and ended the call.  The heat of the day no longer felt oppressive, it positively suffocated her, making it difficult for her to draw a breath. 

She opened her car door and slid behind the wheel, eager to get the engine started and the air-conditioner blowing on maximum force.

The joy she had felt moments before seemed like an emotion scarcely remembered.  A bone-weariness filled her as she pulled out of the parking lot.

Shame was a silent passenger as she headed toward The Skylark Motel. Shame kept this part of her life a secret. Shame kept her from reaching out for the happiness that marriage to Jake might provide her.

                    Chapter 3

Susan Springer had a crush.  She’d only been working at B&R Software for five months, but the moment she had seen Anthony Tompkins her heart had thumped a wild rhythm in her chest and she’d felt more than a little bit breathless.

Working as a receptionist for the company, she had very little daily interaction with the programmers. Each had their own cubicles down the hall from her desk.  But once a week on Wednesdays a bunch of them got together and walked to a nearby McDonalds for lunch.