by Edwin Dasso
Using the barrel of his gun, he parted the drapes and peered out the window. Noah’s gaze stretched beyond the driveway toward the trees, hyper-alert for movement. A neighbor. A cop. A set of headlights creeping down the dead-end road toward the driveway. Any sign that this place was no longer safe. But a layer of fog had settled at the bottom of the valley, rendering the gloom nearly impenetrable.
He thought the cop believed him, but there was no way to tell for sure. And if he was wrong…
No one was going to take Eden away from him. Not ever. Since his father had died, she was the one good thing that had happened to him. They belonged together. She might not know that now, but in time she would.
Without Eden, his life had no meaning. He would do anything to protect her. To protect them.
Noah dragged a chair across the floor and sat, staring out the gap between the drapes and into the night. He was bone weary and yet, sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He popped the gun’s magazine and checked it. Again. Fully loaded. If someone came, he’d be ready.
No one was going to destroy what he had so painstakingly built.
The seemingly endless night gave way to morning and Noah bolted awake. His back ached and his head pounded from the long hours spent keeping watch. He stood and stretched. The fog hovered a few inches from the grass, as thick as pea soup.
The cop hadn’t come back. He’d been worried for nothing. They were safe.
The feeling of dread that had plagued him all night slowly lifted, and Noah pulled the phone from his pocket. A quick check of the surveillance cameras confirmed that Eden was awake too. She had spent the morning cleaning. The plastic plates and water bottle were stacked on the tray near the door, as he’d instructed. She shook the wet hair away from her face as she scrubbed at the jam stain on the wall. Everything he’d told her to do, she’d done.
Noah smiled. Her obedience pleased him.
Good behavior should be rewarded, and he cooked a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and a sliced orange. He slid a rubber spoon onto a plastic plate, the kind you would bring camping. Grabbing a bottle of water to add to the tray, Noah descended the stairs, whistling a tune as he went. He slid the key into the lock and let himself inside.
He braced for an attack that never came. Like a good girl, Eden sat on the edge of the bed. A sheen of sweat covered her pale face.
A pang of guilt tore through Noah, and he knew he’d made a grave mistake. She wasn’t like him. Sometimes he could go a whole day without eating and never think about it, but she was hypoglycemic. She was suffering. She had gone too long without food. And he was to blame.
Noah set the plate on the table beside the bed and retreated, giving her space. Eden devoured the food like a starving animal. This couldn’t happen again. He would stock her room with snacks, crackers, dried fruit, peanut butter. There was no excuse for not having done it sooner.
“Thank you for cleaning up.”
Eden dragged the back of her hand across her mouth and swallowed hard.
“Thank you for breakfast.”
The warmth of her words radiated through him. “Did you get enough? I could bring you something else.”
“This is okay. Thanks. I could use more water though.”
Noah nodded eagerly. “Sure, I’ll bring a few more bottles down in a little bit.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering if you could get me a few other things.”
“Like what?”
“Personal stuff — deodorant, moisturizer. A razor.”
Of course, he’d stocked the shower with shampoo and soap, but probably not the kind she was used to, and there were other things, girl things, he hadn’t thought of.
“We can make a list, and I can go to Target. No razors though…” He shrugged, as if the reason should be obvious.
Her shoulders slumped a little, but she gave a small nod as if she understood. Buoyed by the sense that things had taken a turn for the better, Noah took the empty plate from Eden, and added it to the other dirty dishes stacked neatly on the tray.
By the time he finished washing the dishes, he was whistling. He’d make a Target run. Nothing local. He’d drive somewhere out of the way. Wear a baseball cap. Pay cash. It would be fine. It would be—
The song he was whistling died on Noah’s lips as he heard the high-pitched yapping of a dog. He stared out the kitchen window in time to see the small, white, fluffy beast break through the line of trees. An older gray-haired woman rushed after it.
“Comet!”
The dog frolicked through the tumble of fallen leaves as if it hadn’t a care in the world. “You get back here right now, Missy.”
The woman’s gaze shifted from the dog, across the clearing toward the house. Noah backed slowly away from the window. At this time of day, there was no way she could see inside, even so, the thought of her anywhere near the property raised his hackles. His hand drifted to the gun he had stashed in his belt.
His fingers wrapped around the cold grip. He withdrew it slowly. But then the woman caught up to the dog and scooped it into her arms. She shot a final glance over her shoulder at the house, before she and the dog disappeared through the trees.
15
Noah waited by the window long enough to convince himself the that the old woman and her dog weren’t coming back before he left to run his errands. Not only had he picked up the things Eden wanted, but he’d also stocked up on snacks. She was napping when he dropped them off in her room. Not wanting to disturb her, he set them by the door and left.
After his gross lapse of judgement yesterday, he wanted to make it up to her by cooking a nice dinner. Like his mother, he wasn’t much of a cook, but after scouring numerous websites, he’d settled on a recipe that looked good.
It couldn’t be that hard to make pasta. Eden loved seafood, and the frozen bag of shrimp he’d found in the freezer sealed his plans.
So what if he was missing a few ingredients the recipe called for? Cooking was an art not a science, and he was good at improvising. Setting the burner on high, Noah added the butter to the pan. The kitchen filled with a nutty scent as he measured out the shrimp. Butter sizzled happily in the pan as he prepped the other ingredients. The smoke alarm went off. Goddammit. The stove was too hot. He grabbed the pan from the stove. The burnt butter slopped over the edge of the pan and scalded his wrist.
“Shit!”
He dropped the pan and sent the melted butter flying. Grabbing a wad of paper towels, he cleaned up the mess and started over. This time, he was careful not to let the butter burn. The frozen shrimp clanged into the metal pan.
Cooking the shrimp took longer than expected, but he supposed that made sense. They were frozen after all, and no one wanted to eat raw shrimp. The recipe called for fresh tomatoes, but he didn’t have any of those. He found a jar of pizza sauce in the pantry. It would work.
Noah dumped the pizza sauce into the pan on top of the sizzling shrimp. He stirred the sauce, careful not to let it spill over the sides. Minutes later the contents of the pan simmered while Noah poured the box of penne into the boiling water. He set the lid back onto the pot and stirred the sauce. Half a minute passed. A flood of foamy water boiled over the sides of the pot and spilled onto the element. Noah hissed in frustration at the mess it caused. He grabbed the lid and threw it into the sink. The hot metal burned his hand.
The cool tap water felt like heaven as it ran across his fingers. Once the pasta was cooked, he used the pot’s lid to strain out the water, but as the hot steam wafted up, he lost his grip. The wet pasta fell into the sink then slid and disappeared down the garburator.
“Son of a bitch.”
What now? The sauce was still bubbling happily away on the stove as Noah scoured the cupboards looking for something he could cook in place of the penne. He found spaghetti. It would work. After all, pasta was pasta.
Twenty minutes later, he’d found one of those strainer thingies in a cupboard and managed to drain the spaghe
tti. He dumped the sauce over the noodles and stirred it around. The pasta was kind of clumpy. Still… it was better than the alternative—peanut butter sandwiches.
Noah divided the pasta and sauce between two bowls. It didn’t look as pretty as the picture from the recipe, but it wasn’t bad. Loading the items onto the tray, he carried it downstairs. With a curious look, Eden eyed the two bowls.
“I thought we could eat together,” he said. “I wanted to make something nice. I hope you like it.”
They sat cross-legged on the floor facing each other. He handed a bowl to Eden. Noah buried his camping fork into the heap of spaghetti. Twirling some pasta around her camping fork, Eden took a tentative bite. Her nose wrinkled.
“You don’t like it,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment.
“What? No,” she said. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
Noah wadded the spaghetti into his mouth and the taste… Oh, god, the taste of it was awful. He spit it back onto the plate.
“Is the shrimp bad?” he asked, grabbing his water and taking a huge gulp to wash the taste from his mouth.
“What kind of sauce is this?”
“It’s a… It’s got shrimp and tomatoes... It’s, uh… red.”
Noah pushed the bowl away in disgust, disappointed that he’d failed at even this small thing. He was an idiot. Hayden’s mother had probably taught him to cook. Noah pictured a Rockwellian scene, where Hayden’s family spent their weekends making pancakes from scratch. His parents existed on cigarettes and coffee. As a kid, he never ate anything that didn’t come from a box.
Noah threw the virtually untouched bowls of pasta back onto the tray. Spaghetti sauce slopped onto the rug.
“Sorry, I don’t cook much. I’ll make you some eggs, or maybe a peanut butter sandwich.”
“Next time maybe I should cook,” Eden said.
“You?”
“We could eat upstairs. It would be nice. Like a date.”
Eden’s tentative smile sent a flare of hope searing through Noah. A date?
He hadn’t dared to hope. And yet… And yet as much as he wanted to believe that they were turning a corner, he couldn’t ignore his instincts.
This isn’t real. She’s playing you. She wants you to lower your guard.
“Let me think about it,” Noah said.
A date. He tried to dismiss the thought, but it had quickly taken root and while he couldn’t imagine letting her cook—giving her ready access to knives and other things inside the kitchen that could be used as weapons, there were other options. He could order takeout from one of the local restaurants and they could eat upstairs like a real couple. She’d have to be secured to the chair of course, but it could work.
She was the one who’d called it a date. Not him. That had to mean something.
“I don’t suppose…” Eden said haltingly.
Noah came back into the moment and refocused his attention on Eden. She was staring at him with a look of trepidation in her eyes.
“Don’t suppose what?”
She shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Do you need something?”
“Well, there’s this…”
Her small white hands flailed, gesturing toward her hair and face. Noah shook his head, clearly not understanding what she meant. Eden rolled her eyes.
“Look at me. I’m a mess.”
“No. Oh my god, no. You’ve never looked more beautiful,” Noah said.
And he meant it. The day he’d met her, he’d thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world, and it was even more true today.
“Look, I know I already asked you to get me some stuff, but I could really use a few more things. Hair products. Makeup.”
“You don’t need it.”
She frowned, and Noah felt the sting of disappointment, knowing he’d said the wrong thing. Why couldn’t he ever get it right?
“But maybe…” he started.
She looked up, hopeful. “If I had more of my own things, I’d feel better, you know? Never mind. It’s stupid.”
She waved her hands in a dismissive gesture, and Noah finally understood. He remembered how getting new clothes for the first time had made him feel, like he wasn’t poor, like he didn’t have to be ashamed.
Of course she didn’t feel like herself. She didn’t have any of her own things. He couldn’t go to her apartment and get her clothes, but he could do something to fix this.
As if sensing the shift in his attitude, Eden brightened. The thought of doing something that might make her happy appealed to Noah.
“We’ll make a list together. I can pick everything up…”
For a second, her expression wavered and the hope that had been building inside his chest crumbled.
“What?”
Her eyes moistened. She blinked and offered a brittle smile.
“Nothing. That would be great.”
“But?”
“Well…. I was just hoping… I could, you know, go with you.”
“You know that can’t happen.”
Noah laid a gentle hand on her arm. It angered him, how she trembled like a deer caught in a hunter’s sights whenever he got close. Especially now, when things were going so much better. Couldn’t she see how hard he was trying? Didn’t she realize that if he wanted to hurt her, he would have done it already? Her visceral reaction felt like a rejection, and Noah’s hands shook.
Patience. It had only been a few days. He had to earn her trust, and if buying her a few things would help her feel more at home, who was he to deny her?
Noah stood, shoulders rigid, belly tight, he drew in a breath. He needed to leave before his anger got the better of him.
“We’ll write a list.”
16
Noah was back from vacation. For the first time in a week he’d left Eden alone. The thought of everything that could go wrong ate away at him. As much as he hated leaving the house, leaving her, the plan he’d laid out required him to return to work. Everything had to appear normal, as if nothing in his life had changed.
Typically, Wednesday afternoons weren’t all that busy, but today the mall was a zoo. Was there a holiday he wasn’t aware of? It was as if all of Portland had descended on the stores like a pack of rabid wolves.
The noise of the crowd compounded his headache, setting his nerves on edge. To make matters worse, the overpowering scent of the perfumes being sprayed on sample cards outside of Nordstrom was nauseating.
Eden had painstakingly written out a list of products that she routinely bought at Nordstrom. He stood outside the entrance, nervously fingering the folded square of paper. He knew the people who worked here. They knew him and worse, they knew Eden. Claire would take one look at the list, and she would know.
As if the thought of Claire summoned her from thin air, there she was standing directly in his path.
“How was the camping trip?” she asked.
Ignoring her question, Noah dodged around her, but Claire grabbed hold of his arm.
“Look, about the other night, I’d had a few too many drinks. I was out of line. I’m sorry, Noah.”
He was so done with her, but it was important to keep up pretenses. He had to appear as if everything was normal.
“It’s all right,” he responded tightly, and shook off her hand.
Claire’s eyebrows raised, as if she expected something more. An apology? But that was ridiculous. He wasn’t to blame for the ugly scene she had caused. Why should he apologize for something he hadn’t done? Noah shook his head and started to walk away.
“Noah…”
“Look, Claire, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s a little busy. I don’t have time to chat.”
He gestured to the crowded thoroughfare and kept walking. Claire fell into step beside him, keeping pace.
“You heard about Eden?”
The sudden shock of hearing Eden’s name paralyzed Noah. He stopped in the middle of the crowded hallway and stared down at Claire.
“The Aphrodite chick?”
“She’s gone. Missing. God, Noah. You must have heard. It’s all over the news.”
“I was camping. Got home late.”
“Nobody mentioned it when you came on shift?”
Noah shook his head. “Holy shit.”
“She, like, vanished after work. She finished her shift and…” Claire snapped her fingers.
Noah searched Claire’s gray eyes, looking for a hint of suspicion buried in her gaze and found none. She looked genuinely concerned for Eden’s safety, which was very unlike Claire.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s okay. She probably had a fight with her boyfriend, or something. That guy’s an asshole.”
“Really? I thought he was nice.”
“There were problems. She said a few things.”
“Like what?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, my god. If he did something to her… Noah, you have to tell the cops.”
Noah shook his head. “I’m sure they’re already looking at him.”
“So you’re not worried about her? We’re all spooked. I hate walking to my car alone at night. I jump at every noise.”
A condescending smile flickered across Noah’s face. “Trust me, Claire, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I need to get back to work.”
Noah checked his watch. It was time for his break, which was good. He left Claire standing outside Nordstrom. He stopped by the food court to pick up some coffee and washed down a couple of Tylenols to blunt the edge of his headache.
By the time he returned to the security office, Noah was already starting to feel better. No one suspected him, not even Claire who was the last person he’d seen in the parking lot that night. Of course, she’d been out of it. Drunk. High. Whatever.
Noah’s rising spirits took a sudden dive when he found his boss waiting for him. Kurtis was a barrel-chested corporate type in his mid-thirties.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Though he’d worked at the company for five years, Noah could count the times he’d seen Kurtis in person on one hand, including the day he was hired. Most of their interactions were either over the phone or by email. The fact that he’d come all the way from the corporate office downtown to Tualatin was not a good sign.
