Then, although Judy Davis, the special projects secretary, didn’t come right out and say it, she was obviously troubled by the cool, even-tempered manner in which David had taken his wife’s failure to arrive at the hotel on time. The secretary kept referring to the way her own husband would have reacted. Was David’s frantic and excited behavior at the hotel all some sort of act?
He had to investigate the percentages, and more women fled their unhappy home circumstances than were kidnapped or done away with. And in more cases than not, it was the husband who did the “doing away” when they were. Maybe David Oberman had sensed Chicky’s skepticism and had grown disenchanted.
Chicky shrugged himself out of his car and looked back at Main Street. Traffic was at a lull; the village almost took on its post-resort-season look of serene calm. The Sullivan County Catskills was a remarkable area, he thought. It was like some kind of sleeping giant ten months out of the year; and then suddenly…July Fourth and the place burst into life. Lights came on, traffic increased tenfold, stores opened, movie houses came to life, new restaurants were born, and everybody busied themselves with vacationers. Everything was hectic. Police business certainly boomed.
He thought about the chief. Carl Krammer was nearing retirement, and the closer he got to it, the more cynical he became. Chicky thought he had no reason to be. Law enforcement hadn’t been bad to him. He was always at the right place at the right time when it came to promotions. He had been the youngest man appointed police chief at the time. Maybe it was because he looked the part. He stood six feet two and weighed a little over two hundred pounds. He was always trim and neatly dressed. His hair was cropped short and his face cleanly shaven. Even on duty very late at night, even when they were deeply involved in unraveling some capital crime, Krammer always looked like a West Point graduate. Here he was in his late fifties and he looked as though he could take on any of the young patrolmen—and win.
Chicky had been working under him for nearly fifteen years now, and he knew that there was little love lost between them. On four different occasions, Krammer had fined him for being overweight. He was constantly after him to follow the correct procedures, and yet he never moved to have him dismissed. Harry Borman told him he thought Krammer kept him around “because you make him look good. He needs the contrast.”
“Thanks a lot.”
Chicky didn’t feel inferior. He believed he and the chief were two completely different people, almost completely different species. There was nothing wrong with that. It was still up for grabs as to who was the better cop as far as he was concerned. He had a pretty good record of achievement and, for his money, Krammer was more image than substance. He looked the part, so he got it; and he could keep it.
Chicky chastised himself for being so defensive and maudlin. Something was making him pensive and philosophical tonight and it wasn’t just his cold-turkey frustration from not smoking. It was the Oberman thing. He knew it; he felt it. If there was any such thing as police instincts, they were coming alive in him now.
Would this turn out to be one of those bizarre cases? Could Oberman have done away with his wife and child himself and created this whole diversion? Chicky shuddered at the thought. In this day and age, it wasn’t possible to discard any theory because it seemed too horrible.
When he entered the station, he found it unusually quiet. Harry was at the front desk eating yogurt and reading one of his health magazines. The thirty-eight-year-old vegetarian drove everyone mad with his theories about eating. Actually, Chicky thought he looked sickly. He had a kind of yellowish tint to his complexion, was at least ten pounds underweight, and his red hair was thinning prematurely.
“What d’ya have on that handyman?”
“Two priors, one for stealing a car and one for burglary.”
“Smelled it.”
“Krammer wants you to bring him in. We’ll grill him into a confession.”
“Why the hell didn’t you radio me?”
“I did. Couldn’t raise you. The chief’s pissed off about it, so I would just turn my ass around, if I were you, and go get the son of a bitch. Then have your radio checked.”
“Christ, my brother-in-law probably loosened a wire or something. It worked all right earlier today. Anything on that Oberman affair?”
“Not a word.”
“Didn’t he call in?”
“Not since you asked this morning.” Harry looked back at the inner offices and then leaned forward over the desk. “Chief says you shouldn’t be worryin’ about it anyway. It’s out of our jurisdiction. It’s a state matter now.”
“Something could have happened within this township.”
“Don’t push your luck. Buzzy’s in Dutch. He wrapped his patrol car in Hurleyville. Backed into a ditch. All kinds of damage. There’s steam coming out of Krammer’s ears.”
“I hope they didn’t tow it over to my brother-in-law,” Chicky said. “All right. I’ll go back for the handyman. Looks like another pleasurable evening here at the station.” He started to leave and then stopped. “Give me that phone a minute,” he said, coming back to the desk. Harry handed it to him slowly. Chicky dialed David Oberman’s hotel and asked for David’s room. After half a dozen rings, the operator came on and he asked for Barry Hingen.
“Security.”
“Barry, Chicky Ross. Have you heard anything from Mr. Oberman?”
“Not a thing. What’s the story there?”
“I don’t know. He went out looking himself.”
“Haven’t seen him,” Hingen said with little concern or emotion in his voice.
“Okay, thanks.” Chicky hung up and stood by the desk a moment. “You’d think the guy would call in periodically to see if we found out anything, even if he was upset with our investigation. He was pretty uptight about it when I met with him at the hotel. It doesn’t make sense. In fact, none of it does.”
Harry nodded without saying anything.
“Ross!” Chief Krammer called from the hallway. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I was just on my way out, Chief. To pick up that handyman.”
“Well, why don’tcha give him a good head start, for chrissakes.”
“I’m on my way,” Chicky said. He shot a glance at Harry who pretended to be busy with some paperwork, and then hurried out the front door. He paused after he got into his car and started the engine. “It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
It was not good police sense to permit yourself to flit from one case to another, especially when you were right in the middle of taking action on one, Chicky thought, but all the way back to Mountaindale to apprehend the handyman, his thoughts shifted back and forth between the Oberman affair and the burglary he was investigating.
The only relationship they had to one another was that something was missing in both cases, and in both, someone was responsible. He was sure of it.
Stacey curled over on her back slowly and brought her hands to her face. She wiped her eyes and looked about in a state of confusion. For the moment, she was like an amnesiac. Where was she? How did she get here? What was she doing here? The answers to each of the questions came one after the other obediently, surfacing firmly and vividly from the darker recesses of her mind where she had tried to bury them. They wouldn’t stay dead. Resurrected, every moment of the terror was replayed.
She moaned and covered her eyes with her hands. Then came the realization that she was completely naked beneath the blanket. She reached down like an amputee unable to face the reality that something was missing.
“Oh God,” she muttered and pulled the blanket against herself protectively. The light from the hallway was dull because the fixture hadn’t been turned on and the early evening twilight barely penetrated the window on the west side of the house. She listened keenly to the sound of voices drifting from below. First that woman laughed and then that child.
Where was Tami? From the noises, Stacey gathered that they were all
eating. She looked about the room and thought about the clothing in the closet. Perhaps for the time being, she could put on another one of those garments. When she started to get off the bed, the clinking sound of the chain reminded her that it was still fastened around her ankle. There probably wasn’t enough length to reach the closet, but she had to try.
She wrapped the blanket around herself and stood up. She traveled as far as the chain permitted, but she was still a good foot from the closet door. Frustrated, she looked about her. What happened to the dress they had forced her to wear? Where were her undergarments? Why did they strip her? Did they think they could prevent her from trying to escape? How could she anyway with this damn chain clamped around her ankle? She started back to the bed, but before she reached it, the light from the hallway was suddenly dimmed by the body of the big man who stood in the doorway. In his hands was a dinner tray.
She gasped and backed up to the bed, sitting down slowly and clutching the blanket to her body more tightly.
“Need a light on in here,” he said simply. He went to the night table on the left and put down the tray. Then he reached under the lamp shade and turned on the lamp. For a moment he just stood there staring at her. She felt as though he could see through the blanket.
“Where are my clothes?”
“I don’t know. Irene put ’em somewhere. She’ll get you something to wear after your bath.”
“What bath?”
“She said you’re going to have a bath after dinner.”
“Where’s my daughter?”
“Downstairs, finishing up her dinner. She ate pretty good. Irene would have it no other way,” he said, smirking. Was that his attempt at humor? she wondered.
“I don’t believe you. She’s petrified. She wouldn’t eat anything.”
“Believe what you want.”
“Why are you keeping us here?”
“Irene and Shirley need companionship.”
“This isn’t companionship. This is…kidnaping. Don’t you know how much trouble you’re in?”
He didn’t reply. He started out of the room and then stopped and turned in the doorway.
“You’d better eat that. There won’t be anything more tonight,” he said, and left.
She continued to stare at the now empty doorway, fighting back her urge to panic. Her throat felt raw from all her previous screaming. What happened to Marlene came to mind. From what Irene let leak, Marlene had spelled her own doom by going into hysterics…if she kept her head, they would leave her alone. After all, they needed her for Irene and that little retarded girl. It was senseless to scream anyway. Who could hear it way out here? No one would be walking these roads at night and anyone passing by in a car would certainly not hear her.
She sagged back against the pillow. Of course by now David would be frantic, she thought. He would have contacted the police and there would be people looking for them. Maybe they would see her car, if the madman hadn’t hidden it somewhere. What if he had? How would anyone know to look here? The garage mechanic, she thought. They would trace her to that garage and the man would tell them she had taken this road. Then they would merely go from house to house until they found her.
The scenario seemed so obvious, so easy, it gave her comfort. These people had her chained up and hidden away, but they weren’t hiding Tami. Once the police saw Tami, they would know something was wrong. It was just a matter of time. She had to hold together; she had to for Tami’s sake.
Oh, God, the poor kid, she thought. What she was going through. They’d need to take her for psychiatric help for sure when they got out of this. She could just imagine the nightmares. What about the nightmares she would have herself? Maybe they’d both have to see a psychiatrist.
She permitted herself a small laugh. It helped her to relax and keep calm. The main thing to do now was fan her hope. If she found an avenue of escape she’d take it. But otherwise she’d work on her mental state. The end to this terrifying experience was in sight; it must be. David and the police couldn’t permit it to go on much longer.
David, dear David, she thought. How difficult all this must be for him, too. To have his wife and child vanish, seemingly into thin air…he must be so frightened. Although he would still be organized, logical, and intelligent about it. For the first time in a long time, she thought that was good. It was better to have a man like David around if you were going to get embroiled in a crisis. You could rely on him. He had strength. Maybe he wasn’t a physically strong man, certainly nowhere as strong as this madman who had incarcerated and chained her here, but he was stronger in many other ways. He was certainly far more intelligent.
She smiled to herself as she thought about him. She closed her eyes and imagined him side by side with the police, tracking her down, pointing out clues, arriving on the scene heroically. Later on, when they were safe and together once again, he would tell her the truth. He would tell her how terrified he was and how difficult it was for him to carry on while she was gone. He would hold her close to him and their love would be renewed in a thousand different ways. She wouldn’t complain about his job, about his cool nature, about anything…
She opened her eyes and looked at the tray of food. It looked savory in the face of her hunger pangs. She was convinced that they weren’t going to poison her. They might drug the food, but she needed energy, nourishment, and she decided to take the risk. She started to pick at the chicken and vegetables. After that, she took a few forkfuls of the apple pie and drank some coffee.
Filling her mind with hope and her body with food did make her feel better. She sensed a return of some strength and straightened up in the bed when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Irene appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, you ate well. Good, good. Didn’t the apple pie come out good? The crust was so firm and yet not a bit dry. Gerald said it was one of the best apple pies I’ve ever made. See how much better you can do when you’re in a good frame of mind?”
“Where’s my daughter?”
“Shirley and Donna are watching television in the basement. Gerald made such a nice playroom down there. I’ve got to show it to you sometime. It’s cozy and the children always love it.”
“What children?”
Irene’s smile faded quickly. “All the children who come here,” she said. “Shirley has other friends, you know.”
“Are any coming tonight?”
“No. It’s too late for them. Their mothers won’t allow it. But that’s all right. She has Donna now. She doesn’t have to be dependent upon any of the others. The others are so spoiled, too, and mean. Some of them are very mean. Children can be meaner than adults. Did you know that? It’s true.”
“Adults can be pretty mean, too. What do you call someone who chains you to a bed and takes away your clothing?”
“Oh, this is all just temporary. I told you not to be such a complainer.” She lifted the tray. “Now, how would you like a warm bubble bath? I have such pretty scents. It’ll make you feel so good.”
“I want my clothes back.”
“After your bath. You want a bath, don’t you? Marlene always wanted a bath.”
Stacey was stunned. The other woman had glimpses of reality. Seeing her opening, she said quickly, “I’m not Marlene. You know that. You just said, ‘Marlene always wanted a bath.’ Don’t you see, you only would have said it that way if you knew I wasn’t Marlene? Don’t you see?”
Irene blinked rapidly and then backed away. She shook her head.
“Listen to me. I’m not Marlene. That’s not Donna. My name is Stacey and my daughter’s name is Tami. My husband is out there looking for us. He’s got the police with him. They’ll be here soon and you’ll be in a lot of trouble. You’ve got to let us go.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said, her chin tilted and her lips quivering nervously. But she had enough capacity for denial. “I’ll get your bath ready.”
“You’re doing a terrible thing,” Stacey said as
calmly as she could. Irene turned away and hurried to leave the room. “A terrible thing,” she repeated just before Irene went through the doorway.
She fell back against the pillow and closed her eyes. Who were these people? How come no one has discovered how crazy they are? she wondered. Are they only crazy inside their house? When she mused about it, it wasn’t really that remarkable a thing. There were so many examples of really sick people going about their business undetected…mass murderers who seemed normal at their place of work.
This thought depressed her. What if the police didn’t spot Tami? What if they came to this house and spoke to that man and he acted normal and claimed he hadn’t seen them? Why, even the woman could put on a convincing veneer, she thought. Christ, how would this end? She would have to find a way out of here herself. Could she do it?
I’ve got to go back to playing along with her, she thought. I’ve got to win her confidence somehow and then take advantage of the moment. It’s the only way.
A few minutes later, Irene reappeared. She went right to the closet and began sifting through the clothing.
“You have such a pretty bathrobe in here. Here it is. Look, it’s pure silk. And don’t you just love this light blue shade?”
“Yes,” Stacey said, “I do.”
Irene smiled and draped the bathrobe over the foot of the bed. Then she went to the large dresser and opened the top drawer to take out a nightgown.
“It’s so sheer. Makes me blush to think of you in it,” she said. “Gerald just loves me to wear them.”
“Does he?”
“Oh, yes.” She pressed the nightgown to her bosom and smiled. “Gerald and I…well, we were quite an item once. When he dresses up, he’s quite handsome, you know.”
“I can imagine.”
“His father was a handsome man, too. When he was younger, that is, and his mother was beautiful. I’ll show you some pictures later. Would you like that?”
The Maddening Page 11
