Read My Sister's Keeper Online
Authors: Bill Benners
Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #General
My Sister's Keeper (10 page)
As Sam and his team pawed through my house, I headed off to our first rehearsal. From the moment the first actor arrived, I was in my element—stroking egos, exploring characters, experimenting with blocking. There were even moments when it took my mind completely off the investigation, and—considering the events going on in my life—I thought it went quite well. Just before 10 p.m., we wrapped for the night.
Finding the police cars still at my house, I went to my parents’ house, let myself in, and looked into Martha’s room. The head of her bed was raised and her fingers typed madly into her laptop. Riveted on her project, she looked like the sister I’d known growing up. She lifted her hands, then typed a bit more before laying her head back and looking my way. “Hi.”
“
I brought you something.” Keeping the book I’d bought for her hidden, I moved into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, then handed it to her.
“
Oh, wow! You didn’t have to do that.”
“
I know, but I thought you’d like it.”
“
It’s a book of birds. Thank you.” She flipped through the pages.
Leaning over, I kissed the side of her forehead and whispered, “Let’s go for a walk.”
“
What? Now?”
“
Why not now?”
“
It’s after eleven and
I don’t know
it’s dark outside.”
“
This street looks better in the dark. Besides, when’s the last time you were out at night?”
She changed the subject. “Uh-oh. Something must be wrong. What is it? That woman you had over the other night? Is that it?”
I placed my hands on her bed and jiggled it roughly. “Why does it have to mean something’s wrong every time I come to see you?”
“
At this time of the night?” Her sweet laughter lifted a load off me. “There must be something wrong.”
I stepped around her bed, rolled the computer stand aside, and moved her wheelchair up next to her. “You’re right. I need to talk. Are you coming?”
Minutes later, with her coat secured tightly around her, a blanket tucked around her legs, and a knit cap pulled over her head, we headed out the door. Though summer was just around the corner, the nights were still cool. I rolled her down the ramp and onto the sidewalk where I abruptly dashed off speeding down the block.
“
Oh, my God!” she shrieked. “Stop!”
“
Hush,” I laughed. “You’re going to have the whole neighborhood thinking somebody’s getting murdered out here.”
Martha’s scream reverberated back from all directions and lent an eerie mood to the night. I turned left at the corner and charged past eighteenth-century front porches heading toward the river, but it didn’t take long to wear me out. By the time I reached the end of the next block, I had slowed to a fast walk with the moon trailing along behind the pecan and oak trees that lined the street.
Smoke rising from chimneys hovered around the street lamps and permeated the cool night air with the ancient scent of burning oak. Martha flapped her arms in the air as we glided past a graveyard of seventeenth century weather-beaten statues, headstones, and moss-laden trees. “Hey, this is great! Hello-o-o night-time!”
“
Shhh. Let’s not wake the dead or attract too much attention.”
“
What happened to that adventurous spirit you had growing up, Richie?”
“
I got old.”
“
You aren’t old.”
“
My hair is starting to turn gray, my eyes are failing, and I don’t attract women anymore.”
“
Tell me about your company the other night.”
“
Actually that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“
Ooooo, this sounds serious.”
“
It is serious, but not in the way you’re thinking.”
“
What’s her name?”
“
Her name’s Ashleigh.”
“
She sounds young.”
“
She is. Or was.”
“
Was? Is it over already?”
“
Yes, I think it’s definitely over, but I wouldn’t call it a date.”
“
Oh, I thought
”
“
I know, but it wasn’t.”
“
Then what was it?”
As we moved into a part of town I’d long ago forgotten and whose charm and beauty had somehow evaded the younger me, I told her everything about Ashleigh’s visit. She listened without interrupting as I told her about passing out and waking up outside in the rain, the scratches on my face and arm, and the visits by the police.
“
Is that the girl? My God, Richie. It sounds like you’re a suspect.”
“
Oh, yes. I’m sure I am. They came back tonight with a search warrant.”
She caught her breath. “A search warrant?”
“
And they found the flashlight I took over to her house.”
“
So?”
“
They found it under a cushion on my couch and I think it had blood on it.”
“
Oh, Richie!”
“
And that’s not all.” I pushed her up to the railing at the edge of the river, stopped under a street lamp, and bent to catch my breath. The air smelled fishy. I pulled out the ripped, bloodied panties and unfolded them for her to see. “Just before they showed up tonight, I happened to find these.”
Martha’s eyes studied the panties, then rose and questioned mine. There were tears in their corners. “Where?”
“
Under the same cushion where they found the flashlight.”
“
Did you and she…”
“
No.”
“
And you don’t know how they got there?”
“
No, I don’t.”
She held her hand out. “Give them to me.”
“
What are you going to do with them?”
“
You don’t want them to be found in your possession do you?”
“
But
”
“
Just give them to me.”
As she raised her shoulder and stuffed them into her coat pocket, I noticed her grimace. She lifted her coat collar higher around her neck and turned her gaze to the river. Lights were twinkling up and down the opposite shore and a few moved along the river itself. The U.S.S. North Carolina Battleship Memorial was brightly lit on the opposite shore to the right. “This reminds me of the night I was thrown out that window.”
“
Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
“
No, it’s okay. I relive it every night anyway in my dreams.
Every
night. Same dream.
She didn’t have to tell it again. I’d heard it a thousand times...
“
CROUCHING AT THE BACK CORNER of the warehouse, I left a message on Sam’s phone, then brushed aside the dead leaves and spider webs and dragged myself back into the hot, musty darkness inside that warehouse where thick chemical vapors burned my eyes and collected in the back of my throat. There were thousands of holes in the walls and roof that looked like stars and reminded me of the planetarium in Chapel Hill where I spent a lot of my time when I first moved to Raleigh.
“
Hearing nothing, I’d about decided to back out and wait for Sam when the shrill scream of a frightened little girl hit me like a glass Christmas tree ornament bursting against the floor.
“
I froze. For the first time in my life I was truly terrified. I wanted to back out of that hole and run as fast and as far as I could, never to step foot near that building again, but my heart wouldn’t cooperate. I couldn’t leave thinking there could be a child in there about to be raped and murdered.
“
With my heart pounding, I slithered through the tight opening onto the stony cement floor inside ripping the knees out of my panty hose, then heard another panic-stricken cry that cut through me like an ice needles and brought me to my feet.
Sick to my stomach and hyperventilating, I groped along the wall in the darkness toward a faint glow high at the other end of the building. Stumbling over coils of steel wire and broken cement blocks, I fumbled my way to the base of a metal staircase rising toward the light and froze. At the top of the stairs I could see an open door and a room lit with a faint bluish light, but having fallen down that fire escape at the age of four, my acrophobia paralyzed me. I can’t get in an elevator or even look up at a tall building without breaking into a cold sweat. I knew there was no way I could climb those stairs.
“
But the child screamed again and it rattled through me as if I’d grabbed hold of an exposed electric cord.
“‘
No! Please, mister. Please don’t do that. NO! STOP! Pleeease.’”
“
Her fear was so intense, I gagged and threw up at the foot of the stairs, my lunch thick, lumpy, and sour in my mouth. I gripped the railing to keep from falling, spit nibblets from the corners of my mouth, and gulped deep breaths to calm my nerves. With tears streaming down my face, I listened to the child’s terrified screams until I heard a series of hard slaps and ripping cloth.
“
Rising up, I locked my eyes on the door at the top of the stairs and—fighting panic—I took a step. Then another, dragging myself upward one step at a time, trembling and gagging, holding myself up to keep my knees from buckling until, at two-thirds up, I spotted a TV screen inside the door at the top of the stairs and stopped.
“
Through tear-blurred vision, I saw the image of a grown man on top of a young girl one third his size, her chin jammed against his chest, her tiny hands clutched in fists at her shoulders. Then the picture froze and spooled forward at high speed and I realized I’d been listening to the replay of a video recording rather than the rape itself.
“
Closing my eyes and holding my breath, I took a step backward. Then another. But on the third step down, the metal stairs shifted with a loud clang and swung away from the wall. As panic seized me, I dropped to my knees and grasped the steel tread waiting for the stairs to stop swinging.
“‘
That you, Jack?’ a man called from the room above.
“
Holding my breath, I eased down another step, but the staircase again clinked and swayed. A chair in the room above creaked and rolled across the floor.
“‘
Jack?’ the man called loudly.
“
Reaching for the wall, my fingers hunted for something to grasp and discovered a hollow. I swished my hand through a thick mesh of cobwebs and touched something in the back of it that moved, revealing a thin line of light. I pushed against it harder and a tall narrow window swung back and I saw the moon rising over the river.
“
As heavy shoes crossed the room above me, I leaned into the opening and discovered a tiny platform attached to the outside of the building. Locking my eyes on the moon, I grasped the metal frame and dragged myself out onto that rotting perch careful not to look down.
“
The breeze off the Cape Fear felt icy as I grasped the sides of that tiny shelf and rotated slowly on it pulling my legs out the window behind me.
“‘
Who’s there?’ the voice commanded.
“
With gravity tugging at me pulling me over the side and the sound of feet clanging down the metal stairs, I eased the window shut behind me and, grasping hold of the hinges, pulled myself up onto my feet. But just as the man’s shoes clopped past the window, a blazing light beamed up at me from the ground.
“‘
Hey. Pssssst!’ a voice called up from below. Sam had made it after all, but his timing could not have been worse.
“‘
Martha? What are you doing up there?’ he called out, illuminating me with his light.
“
As I waved him away, the window banged open nearly knocking my off the platform and a fist clutched my ankle. I screamed and kicked, clutching at the building, smashing my foot through the glass, splitting my leg open as it connected with the man’s chin, screaming for Sam to help me.
“
Pulling his revolver, he fired a shot into the air and shouted. ‘Police! Get away from the window!’
“
But the bastard ripped my foot off the platform and shoved me. I fell backward somehow managing to catch hold of the deck, but the man leaned out, punched me in the face, and wrenched my hands away.
“
As I dropped toward the ground below, I saw a brilliant flash of blue light with the letter “N” and the number “3” within it. It would be the last thing I recall before crashing through a pile of wooden crates and slamming against a stack of steel rails
.”
