by Roya Carmen
Dorothy wraps an arm around my shoulders. “They’ll find her soon. I’m sure of it.”
I want to believe her but who knows where the bastard could have taken her. “Thanks, Dorothy.”
“I knew there was something off about that man. That’s why I didn’t give him any information.”
“You did good, Dorothy.”
She stands up, and for a quick second I’m comforted by the picture of the two kittens on her pink sweater.
“Can I get you a coffee, sweetheart?” she asks kindly.
I shake my head. I can’t stomach anything right now. I don’t even know when I’ll be able to eat again.
Jade
We get off the highway, and the roads get rougher – I can feel it in the vibrations of the car. My whole body is on alert. I know this place. Even blindfolded, I know where we are. He’s taken me to Karl’s cabin. It’s the perfect spot to keep me. It’s removed from other properties, spread out on its own piece of land, and probably completely isolated this time of year. Even if I attempt to run away, where could I possibly go? He can restrain me without tying me up at all. He can pretend we’re a happy couple in love living in domestic bliss.
As soon as we reach our destination, he parks the SUV. I can’t see a thing, but I can picture the small cottage – robin’s egg blue, wrap-around porch, cozy under the canopy of tall pine trees, looking out over the lake. It’s a dream.
Although at the moment, for me, it’s a nightmare.
He pulls the scarf off my eyes. “I brought you to our favourite spot, princess. What do you think?!” For the first time tonight, I really see him. He hasn’t changed; same dark sad eyes, thick beard, wide mouth curving down at the edges, and dark slicked back hair. I search for any hint of kindness and I think I spot it, but there’s still so much anger in him. Maybe if I’m good, I can make him trust me. I can break his shell and get him to take me away from here. If he takes me back home, I can find Flynn and my new life again.
“I’m sorry about the cuffs, babe, but I didn’t want you going crazy in the car.” He uncuffs me, knowing I can’t go anywhere. “Put your boots back on.”
I do as I’m told. He pulls me out of the car and pats me down, digs through my pockets, slides his large hands along the curves of my hips, up my thighs and up around my ass. I hate the feel of his hands on me. “You don’t have a phone on you?”
I shake my head. I don’t. I want him to stop touching me.
“Let’s go,” he says and I follow him to the cottage. I could run but where would I run to? And even if I tried to run, he’d catch up to me in no time.
As soon as I step into the cottage, memories of the two of us hit me; beautiful memories; dinner and wine at the rustic table by the large windows, making love in front of the fire. He was never hurtful here – he never hit me once here. Perhaps, that’s why he’s brought me here, to make me believe he can be that person again. My gaze darts across the space – the high ceilings, wood beams falling at all angles, the large stone fireplace, the oversized brown leather sofas and cozy throws – the perfect place to make someone fall in love with you again.
I know Michael like the back of my hand. He’s manipulating me already. And I won’t let him.
“Can I get you something to drink? I have all your favourites… iced tea, orange juice, Shiraz… even chocolate milk.”
My throat is dreadfully dry. “I… I’ll have water please.” My first words scratch the back of my throat. When he turns his back to the refrigerator, I pick up the telephone on the table next to the sofa – the line is dead.
I’m not stupid. I know there are no phone lines, no cable, no internet connection, no tie to the outside world. The only connection can probably be found on Michael’s mobile which he keeps in his pocket at all times.
He brings me a tall glass of water filled with ice. I take it without a word and gulp half of it down.
“I’ll draw you a bath. I think that would do you good.”
Uh-oh. A bath. Baths have often been a part of our lovemaking ritual. I take a long bath, pull on a teddy, then he proceeds to take it off and lick every inch of my body – he likes me clean before we fuck.
I don’t want this. I start to panic, not quite able to breathe right.
“Don’t worry,” he says, reading me like a book. “You can go straight to bed after.”
I sigh a breath of relief. It might be silly but I still have hope that I’ll be found soon. I’m sure Flynn has already called the police. They’ve probably already started their investigation. Michael hasn’t taken me to Siberia – I’m sure it won’t take them too long to find me. Or I can possibly get a hold of his phone…
I just need to hold him off until I’m rescued. The last thing I want is Michael between my legs.
I sit at the table by the window – my legs are still trembling. My whole body feels stiff. I try to self-talk and calm myself down: all I need to do is go through the motions, be amiable, but not too friendly. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. I’ll be found soon, I’m sure.
The bath is ready.
Michael invites me into the bathroom. I walk slowly, not wanting to step into that room. He sits on the toilet and watches me intently. He’s dressed in black from head to toe again – that’s his signature – I used to call him Johnny Cash. He seems comfortable there – unfortunately, he’s not going anywhere.
I stand in the middle of the room, motionless. The bath is inviting, full of bubbles, and very warm, I’m sure.
“Go on,” he says.
“Uh… can I… have some privacy?”
He laughs. “Jade… I’m your husband. I’ve seen you naked thousands of times.”
I’m at a loss for words, shaking inside.
“I want to see you,” he says quietly.
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want him to see me. Slowly, I reach for the band of my leggings and slowly pull them down, along with my panties – my oversized sweater still covers everything he wants to see. I pull off my socks with my toes. I don’t look at him – I won’t give him the satisfaction of looking into my eyes as I undress for him. I snake my arms into my sweater and hug myself for a brief moment – I’m still shaking. I reluctantly unclasp my bra and let it fall to the ground. Thankfully, my heavy knit sweater still hides me from him.
He might get a look, but it will be quick. It’s down to the sweater, and I pull it off as fast as humanly possible and instantly wrap my arms over my breasts, hiding myself from him as best as I can. I hop into the water, quick as a flash. I quickly sink into the bath and it does feel very nice – he knows just how warm I like it. I close my eyes, letting myself enjoy it just a second or two. I feel sick to my stomach – I shouldn’t be enjoying a single second of this – he’s already getting to me, crawling under my skin.
When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me. “I’d almost forgotten how beautiful you are, princess.”
I stare down at the water under my chin. I refuse to look at him.
“I wish I could get in there with you, babe. The sight of you makes me so fucking hard.”
Fuck him.
Despite the fact that I know I should be a good girl, I can’t help myself when I hiss at him, “You can’t. Just go jerk off, you asshole.”
A flicker plays across his eyes. My heart pounds as I retreat deeper into the hot water.
Fuck.
He smirks. “Feisty… you’ve changed, princess. Not sure I like it though.” He grabs a towel from the armoire and throws it at the bathtub. “Here, you can dry yourself with this when you’re done. There’s also a robe for you up on the hook.”
And he’s out the door. I roll my eyes to the ceiling and thank the heavens.
Following about ten minutes in the bath, I quickly dry myself and wrap myself in the bathrobe he’s left for me.
Michael comes in and hands me a glass water and a small white pill. “Here, take this.”
My breath catches and I start to panic again.
/>
“It’s a sleeping pill, princess… just like the ones you used to take,” he explains. “What… do you think I want to roofie you and take advantage of you? Is that really my style, Jade?”
No, it’s not.
“You’ve had a long day and I want you to have a good night’s sleep,” he says softly. “You can sleep in the guestroom. Remember how comfortable that bed is? I don’t think I’ll ever forget the time we first fucked in it, trying so hard to be quiet because you didn’t want Karl and Janet to hear us. So bashful…”
I don’t let my mind go there. I don’t want to remember.
“You have a good night’s rest and tomorrow we can start again.”
I just want all of this to go away.
I take the pill.
Flynn
Amber has made meatloaf and mashed potatoes but I can’t manage to eat a single bite. “I’m sorry,” I say, my gaze stuck to my plate.
“Don’t worry about it,” Amber says. “None of us have an appetite. How could we?”
I want to let go. I want to cry like a child. A golf ball is lodged in my throat as I desperately struggle to hold it together. I can’t fall apart. I’m surrounded by my whole family, and Trevor is already so confused and scared. I just want to be alone, but everyone wanted to be by my side.
We thought we could all put our heads together and come up with a solution – it’s what we do when we encounter a problem. It’s what we did following Ken and Paul’s tragic deaths, when our dad passed away, when Trevor went missing.
“What are they looking into exactly?” Ruby asks, her plate untouched.
I set down my fork. “Right now, they’re investigating their home—”
Amber makes a face. “Oh… like he would take her there. Idiots…”
“They’re looking at his work, interviewing all his friends and employees, investigating all his properties, and his plant operation. They’ll be going up to their cottage up on Georgian Bay,” I explain. “There are a lot of avenues to take and I don’t think they have enough resources. I just wish it could go faster.”
“Why don’t we all help out… look where they might not be looking,” Eric chimes in.
“They’re looking everywhere. I’ve told them everything I know.”
Almost everything…
“There’s a private investigator I work with,” Eric adds. “He’s a consultant… helps me out with my books. I could give him a call. Perhaps he could help us out.”
The more help, the better. “Yeah… thanks. Maybe, yes. Anything we can do to find her.”
Amber jerks abruptly from the table and whips back around with a pen and notepad. “Let’s write down everything we know.”
I’ve been through all this with the cops, but I don’t mind going through it again. The more eyes, the better. We might see something the cops don’t. After all, we know Jade better than they do.
I bang my fist on the table. “Let’s do this.”
Jade
My heart practically leaps out of my chest when I wake and see him sitting next to me, watching me. “Good morning, princess.”
I jerk my head around, suddenly brought back to the horrible reality of my situation. The room is pristine and quiet, but I’m completely shaken inside.
“I have the perfect day planned,” he says as he hands me my bathrobe. I’m thankful for the robe – I don’t want him to see me in the flimsy silk slip he gave me last night to wear to bed.
“We’ll have a nice breakfast, and then we’ll go snowshoeing. For lunch, we can have soup by the fire and play Scrabble like we used to. I bet you can still beat me.”
I feel sick to my stomach.
“Maybe you could make us your famous veal parmigiana for dinner… I’ve brought all the ingredients. And I have the perfect wine. And then we’ll watch a movie. What do you think?!”
There is no mention of sex, no mention of romantic baths, bed ties or negligees. “Uh… sounds okay.”
He makes us a breakfast of eggs, bacon and English muffins. I struggle to down a few bites. The texture of the food repulses me and with every morsel, I sip a drink of juice to make it go down.
After breakfast, we venture outside for snowshoeing. He’s brought my snowsuit along. I realize that everything is planned perfectly. This kidnapping was premeditated, prepared carefully. It was a pragmatic act, not an impulsive one.
I’m sure he’s had this little ‘romantic getaway’ planned for a while. He’s trying to win me back. He’s attempting to recapture what is lost, what will never be found again.
“Hey, check it out.” He points at a hare hopping into the trees.
Another second of happiness sneaks up on me. There’s been a few and I hate myself for that.
I spend the rest of the hike pondering my options, trying to work out a strategy. The only plan I can come up with is somehow stealing his phone. I could possibly do it when he’s sleeping, but if he’s planning to knock me out with sleeping pills every night and sit by my bed to watch me wake, that plan won’t be too plausible. Another option would be to swipe his phone while he’s in the shower.
Unfortunately, that would only be an option if I seduced him into the shower with me and that could only lead to a dangerous place I really don’t want to go. I could also try to nick it while we make out, but he would probably figure it out and end up overpowering me – he’s twice my size.
I sigh, feeling completely defeated. My muscles start to tire as I struggle down the trail in my snowshoes. It’s going to be another long day.
Flynn
The private investigator looks like he belongs in an episode of Law & Order; a tall and slick bearded silver fox, the kind of man the ladies go crazy for. Rob is a nice guy and pays attention. The cops, on the other hand, seem flustered, overwhelmed with too much on their plates. They’ve somehow managed to make me feel like I was being a nuisance. My girlfriend is taken against her will, and they can’t be bothered to give a shit.
Rob clearly loves his job. He seems excited, raring to go. He asks a million questions and jots down notes at rocket speed. He’s a panther. The cops are as slow as snails.
“You mentioned they have a cottage on Georgian Bay,” he continues.
“Yes, the cops have already been there,” I tell him. “It’s clear.”
“And they’ve checked all his other properties?”
“Yes,” I say. “Unless he has hidden locations they don’t know about?”
“Well, that’s always a possibility in his field of work.”
Damn him. Why couldn’t he have been ordinary; a construction worker, a teacher, or an accountant?
“I want to dig deeper into his friends,” Rob says, “and find out where they live.”
I’m quiet as I watch him jot down notes – he’s a doodler. We’re not paying him to draw cartoons, but I’ve heard doodling helps you think and solve problems, so I’m all for it. He seems to favour stars and skulls.
He draws a series of stars, each one larger than the preceding one. “Did Jade ever mention any special spot they shared?”
I shake my head, at a loss.
“From everything you’ve said, this strikes me as a crime of passion, without a doubt. I’ve personally never dealt with these kinds of kidnappings, but I know enough to know that the kidnapper usually wants to build intimacy, rekindle a relationship, and make the hostage fall in love with him again. He’d be likely to bring her somewhere nice. He wouldn’t keep her in a dark basement or filthy shed.”
His words make me cringe. The thought of him touching her makes me sick. Ever since he shoved her into his car, I’ve been trying to fight off those images.
“He might want to take her some place they’ve been to before, somewhere special to them—”
“Well, they’ve been to a lot of places. He has money…”
Then, it dawns on me – a spark of hope. “She did mention a cottage in the Muskokas.”
He perks up. “Their cottage?”
>
“No…” I scramble to remember the conversation. For the life of me, I can’t remember the name she mentioned; the name of the owner. All I can see is Jade in my arms, in her sexy little black dress, a thin strap fallen off her shoulder. “It belonged to a friend of his… it was blue. She loved it there. That’s all I know.”
If only I could go back in time. If only I could remember the name of the owner, ask her for the name of the lake…
“This is great stuff,” he says. “I can ask around. Talk to the investigator in charge of the case and get their list of all his acquaintances. I’ll contact each and every one.”
“You need some assistants?” I ask eagerly. “I’m great on the phone. And so are my sisters.”
Jade
I’m tucked in the corner of the large sofa, as far away from him as I can possibly be. He grabs the throw from the armchair and gently lays it over my shoulders. “It’s kind of chilly in here,” he says.
I try not to scowl right at him. I scowl at the leaf patterns on the throw instead.
“Do you want some popcorn?”
No, I don’t want any fucking popcorn, you fucking psycho asshole.
I could barely eat dinner. The veal I made was perfect, but I could scarcely get it down. I certainly had my fair share of wine though – anything to take the edge off. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
He takes a seat at the other end of the sofa. Far from me, thankfully. “I’ll take your silence as a no. I’m pretty stuffed too.”
Why hasn’t anyone come for me yet? It’s been almost twenty-four hours. Don’t they say that after twenty-four hours, a missing person is pretty much as good as dead? I’m not dead, but I don’t want to know what he has planned for us. Right now he’s taking things slow, trying to lure the skittish kitten to the bowl of milk.
I don’t want his fucking milk.
He jerks to his feet again. “How about Jerry Maguire?” he asks, flipping through a stack of DVDs. “It’s one of your favourites, right?”
