by Taft Sowder
There was silence for a moment, but the air filled with her screams as the boy turned around and brought her the dog’s leg. They were dry, intermittent screams that crackled like bacon in a skillet. Then she was silent, exhausted. The severed leg lay only inches from her face.
The boy looked at her and in a hushed voice said, “Hey, if you are hungry, you can eat this. Everyone was busy today, and I think they forgot about you.”
She rose up and looked at him. She was hungry, but she didn’t know if she could bring herself to eat a raw dog’s leg. There wasn’t concern on his face; even in the dim light she could see that. He was cold and stone-faced. What could drive a kid to be like that? She didn’t know, but she knew that she couldn’t stomach the dog’s leg. “Why don’t you let me go?” she asked. “I won’t tell anyone. I just want to go home and eat real food.”
“This is your home,” he said. “This is real food.” He left, closing the door behind. She heard metal clanking as if she were being locked in, and then there was silence again. There was no more light coming from beneath the door. She looked at the dog’s leg; her stomach grumbled, and she felt as if her own stomach might turn against her and grow teeth and eat her from the inside out. She picked up the severed leg and could see where he had peeled away the hide. There was red meat underneath, and blood trickled down her hand to her elbow, slowly dripping off. Her mouth watered; the idea of it sickened her, but she was starving and so very thirsty. She bit down into the meat, tearing off a small chunk. She chewed instinctively and tasted the salty, iron-rich flavor. It wasn’t as bad as she assumed it would be. She hoped, though, that she didn’t get sick from it. She ate, and before it was done, she found that she enjoyed the flavor of the meat after all. She ate all of the meat off of the bone and craved even more. It gave her energy and made her feel alive again. She wanted more, she needed more, but a rush of sadness wrapped around her. She knew that the dog was out of reach, and she didn’t know when she would see the boy or anyone again.
Chapter Sixteen
There was a knock at the door. It was odd for this time of day, but Loretta knew she had to answer. The kids were at school, and that was a bit of a worry at first. She wondered if they were alright. Herman had been gone for most of the morning. She worried about his as well, though she knew after all that she had seen, he could very well take care of himself. Then, she thought of the girl in the basement. She hoped that no one had traced her to here. She opened the door.
“Good morning, Loretta,” Glenn said. He was in uniform, and that worried her. She hadn’t been expecting him, and it was a shock to see him.
She cleared her throat. “Hello, Glenn,” she said. After a second of odd silence, she said, “Is there something I can help you with?” She was looking sexual as usual. She licked her lips and gave him the once over, trying to get back to herself.
He smiled. “I’m not here for that,” he paused, “at this time. I’m here on official business. Have you seen this girl?” He held up a picture.
After a moment of careful consideration she replied, “No.” Though it had struck her that it was a mug shot of the girl in the basement, she had to play it smart. “Why do you ask?”
He sidestepped a bit and then back into place, “See that guy in the car?”
She nodded.
“He’s a state-boy, a detective. This girl is missing, and he’s out to find her or what happened to her. He wants to inspect the house and then, if necessary, use this as a base for the night.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why?”
He held up another picture. “You know him?”
She nodded again. It was another mug shot, only this one was a man, and not just any man, but her brother. “He’s my brother,” she said. “Why are you looking for him?”
“We’ve had reports that he may have come here, and with his history, state-boy thinks that he may be involved in this girl’s disappearance.”
“He did come here,” she admitted, “but he only stayed a night or two and then left. I have no idea where he went.” The last part was a lie, but she was good at those.
“There’s more,” Glenn said with a solemn look on his face. “Your friend, Barbra; it’s her car that was reportedly seen picking up the girl in question. She’s a streetwalker, a likely target for your brother. Have you heard anything from her about her car? Was it stolen?”
“Not that I know of,” Loretta said. The shit had hit the fan, and it was getting deep quick. “I haven’t talked to her in a while, but I’m sure she never said anything about her car.”
“Look, I don’t think that Barbra had anything to do with it, but I’m thinking maybe your brother took their car or borrowed their car and did what he does. There is another option that I’ve been weighing out,” Glenn said.
The butterflies flapped wildly in her gut. Loretta couldn’t stand it, the terror of being caught and the thought that she would lose it all. “What is that?”
“Barbra’s husband,” Glenn said. Then there was silence between them as the other man approached.
“Thank you for inviting us in, Mrs. Adams,” the man from the car said. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair.
“Mister Sparks,” she nodded, “I’m always willing to help.” She eyed Glenn with that seductive look. Glenn returned her glance.
The stocky man glanced around, stroking the stubble on his chin. What he looked for was anyone’s guess, but he was suspicious of everyone. It came naturally to him not to trust anyone; he had been that way since high school. Maybe it was the girls who always gained his trust and love and then turned out to be whores. Maybe it was the so called friends he acquired who used him for his car to drive, his house to crash at and his fridge to raid for free food. No matter, he trusted no one, and Herman had given him an odd feeling before during his earlier investigation. Though he had no proof of wrongdoing, Herman struck him as a man with secrets.
Tyler Sparks walked through the house constantly stroking his chin, as was his nervous habit. What did they have to hide? Why would Herman act so strangely? “Mrs. Adams, I’m not sure if your husband mentioned me, but I worked with him recently to wrap up another missing persons case.”
“No, he didn’t mention it, but Herman is usually pretty quiet about his work. He rarely even talks about it,” Loretta said. “I’m glad that he could help you with the case, though.”
“Yes, he was quite helpful, but it was a very unfortunate event. Do you mind if I take a look around?” Tyler asked.
“Feel free,” she said. “Would you like a tour?”
Tyler didn’t answer, but he did wander around the house, never straying too far, ever vigilant and alert. He listened to her talk about her family and her home. How much the home meant to them, and the memories each room held. The bedrooms were clean and well kept. There was nothing odd or suspicious about any of the rooms. That wouldn’t bother most people, but Tyler was a special breed; the cleanliness threw up red flags, but he had been wrong before.
They stood before the basement door, Tyler waiting impatiently. Loretta hesitated, but opened the door.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but this is the worst room of the house. It’s quite cluttered down here, and you’ll have to excuse the moldy smell.” Her face flushed, and she was unsure of whether anyone picked up on her nervousness. Unbeknownst to her, Tyler picked up on it. After all that he had seen, he wrote it off for the moment as just a woman nervous about clutter.
Downstairs, the basement was dimly lit, and there really was clutter all around. The floor was lined with boxes and junk. A starter lay here and an alternator lay there. Work tools of all kinds lined the walls. All of the walls were covered in black plastic behind the shelves that ran parallel along each wall.
Tyler diddled a loose piece of plastic and looked at Loretta. She returned his glance and shrug
ged. “It was covered in newspaper when we first bought the place; I guess a way of weatherproofing. You know how it was in the olden days.”
Tyler smirked and nodded. He looked around the room, still looking for something suspicious, but found nothing. The earthen scent bore down on his nerves, and he returned to the stairs. “I think that will do,” he said, almost disappointed in his findings. He looked forward to finding dirt, but not that kind.
“Mrs. Adams, I appreciate your patience, I have a new theory now, one that better suits the situation,” Tyler said, leaning against the kitchen counter. This caught Glenn off guard, and he leaned in, listening intently. “I think that it was Barbra’s husband.”
“You no longer think that it was her brother?” Glenn asked, nodding toward Loretta.
Tyler stroked is chin some more, a ponderous silence came over him. “No. He may still be involved, but I’d like to know more about the husband. I think he is the key to getting this case closed.”
“Good,” Glenn said, “I’m tired of these missing persons cases anyway.” Tyler shot him a look that told him that he should have kept his mouth shut.
“You could always go home, and I could put that in my report,” Tyler said.
Glenn became quite then.
“How do you propose to find out about her husband?” Loretta asked.
“We’ll head back to the station for now; I’d like to run his background. We’ll be in touch if we need anything more of you.” Tyler turned and headed toward the front door.
Glenn grimaced and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I’ll see if I can keep you out of it from here on in. I know it will be Thanksgiving in a couple days. We are trying to get this done before the holidays.”
Loretta nodded and gave a quick smile. It was a fake smile, and Glenn knew it. It wasn’t her usual sensual, seductive smile.
They were gone, had been for nearly half an hour. Loretta sat at the dining room table. It had become so important lately worrying about getting caught, yet in another way, it didn’t matter, not to her anyway. She was unsure if she could contend with the pressure any longer. The tears ran down her cheeks, black tears, stained by her mascara. An idea burrowed itself inside of her mind, an awful and wonderful idea. She did not want her family to go through the embarrassment of being caught, yet she wanted to see her dear friend happier. The black streams stopped flowing, and she sat with her hands on her cheeks. A smile curled her lips and turned into a cackling laughter.
* * * *
She walked there in the cold, her oversize purse strapped to her arm. It did not take much to convince herself. It was self-assurance more than anything that the two men had returned to the police station and that she would be in the clear. It was cold out, the wind whipping through her hair, burning her naked face. She hadn’t bothered to make her face back up after she cleaned the black streaks from her cheeks. In the mirror she had looked like a crying clown, where the mascara had smeared all around her eyes and then ran. Maybe she looked more like a psychotic clown. The stains left on her skin looked like crevices, scars of her past, sins that she had committed. She realized that she didn’t look like herself without the makeup, but she had only one real shot at this.
“Loretta, what a nice surprise; and where is your makeup? You look rough.” Barbra answered the door, and her tactlessness shined like the morning sun. That had always been something that Loretta had appreciated about her friend, the fact that she was honest, at least with her.
“I thought I’d come by to say hi,” Loretta said. She shivered on purpose, so that Barbra would ask her to come in. “Where’s Jack?” she asked after stepping through the threshold.
“He’s at work like usual,” Barbra said with a huff. “That’s all that man does is work, work, work.”
“Have you ever considered what if he wasn’t working all the time? I mean what if he was busying himself with other activities, like our activities when he’s gone?”
Barbra paused at that, catching herself about to make an automatic answer, one that she would use when her mother would ask her the same thing. She had pondered it, daily even; what is a housewife to do anyway? She can’t clean house all day, it only gets so clean. “Yes, I’ve thought and worried about it. It’s kept me up at night, and it’s kept me from enjoying my life. To tell you the truth, I think he is up to no good I think he has always been ...” A tear ran down her cheek, and she confided in her friend the fears she had about her husband and infidelity. Sure, she messed around on him, but what if he had been messing around from the beginning? Would that change anything? Would she still be able to kiss him? Would she still think of him as her husband? Would he still be the man who held her every night and provided for her? She confessed her deepest fears, toughest regrets and darkest secrets of her past. She excused herself to the bathroom, where she closed the door and the sobs continued. She felt guilty for her own deeds, but worried something fierce about the deeds of her husband.
It was her chance. Loretta had more on her mind than coming to just say hello or upsetting her friend. She would set her friend free of this burden, allow Barbra to be herself, while clearing her own name from the record and acting like a mother to her family and protecting them.
She hurried down the hall. She knew where their bedroom was, and she knew she had to move quickly. Opening her purse, she retrieved a torn piece of cloth with bloodstains on the frayed ends. She opened the drawers of the old oak dresser, unsure of where his was. The second drawer down held men’s underwear. Beneath the underwear, she found a stack of dirty magazines. The girl on the front of the first one was young, blonde and built much like Amber. She smiled as she put the torn cloth under the stack of magazines. Served the bastard right. He should have been a better husband.
Loretta stood in the living room when her friend emerged from the bathroom. Her makeup had been removed, and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Barbra gave a half smile that faded as quickly as it had come.
“Would you like some tea?” Barbra asked, but Loretta walked toward the door.
“No thanks, sweetheart,” Loretta said, “I just remembered I left a casserole in the oven.” She let herself out and was on her way down the street before Barbra could even say good-bye. There was nothing left for her to do now but wait and hope.
The evening went by smoothly. Herman was late for dinner, but that had become his usual thing. The kids fought over who would feed Amber her meal, and the task was finally given to Bobby. Loretta slept peacefully that night.
* * * *
The sky was dark when he left. He tried to keep it that way. Herman was always a night owl, but he preferred it now that he was a man of secrets. He would have to make a long drive into the inner-city to sign papers concerning some of Frank’s money, well his money now. He drove a rented car, not wanting to drive the hearse. It was too much an eyesore in the city and vaguely depressing to anyone who had to see it. He knew that, and therefore chose to ride in style. Besides, there weren’t many times he could rent a sports car and get away with it.
He arrived at one of Frank’s offices as the sun peeked over the horizon. It lit up the city, reflecting off the smog and fog and making driving conditions less than perfect. The streets were filling up with cars, and he knew that it would be rush hour soon. He would simply have to wait it out until he could safely get the rental back home.
The office smelled of fresh cut flowers, and there was already a lot of work being done as men and women rushed by him trying to get from A to B. He took a seat nearby to the door. He was three hours early for his appointment, but he would rather be early than late. He glanced at the magazines spread across the table in the center of the sitting area, selected one and flipped through it.
“Frank? Frank where have you been?” a high-pitched female voice asked. Herman looked up, the girl doing the asking was tall and blonde and curvy. That was Frank�
��s kind of woman and now, Herman could see why. “Frank, I’m talking to you! Don’t just stare at me like you haven’t missed our last few dates, and why don’t you answer your cell anymore?”
“Uh, excuse me?” Herman asked, still thrown aback by the abruptness of the situation.
“You heard me, Frank. I’m not going to be just dangled on a string like some puppet. You have to show me some respect. You have to give me what I have coming to me.” The blonde continued her rant.
Herman pushed a hand through his hair. He styled it a lot more like Frank would have, and he tried to straighten his posture. There were many aspects of Frank spilling into Herman.
“Don’t act like you don’t want me,” she said. “We’ve been seeing each other for the last year. Yeah, I know about the other girls, and I’m here to tell you that they can’t do it like I do.” Her face flushed; she laid it on the line, the entire affair. She had been seeing Frank for at least a year, and she did know about his love for many women, but she felt as if she deserved better. She was the one who kept him from going off the deep end when he was at the party in Cancun, and she was the one who cleaned up after him when he would leave her house a mess after a long night of sex-filled ecstasy.
Herman finally snapped into character; it only took a second, but for him the wait had seemed like an eternity. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“When’s your next appointment?” she asked.
Herman, or rather Frank, smiled. “About three hours.”
She grabbed his hand and led him to the elevators. After the doors were closed, and they were the only ones on board, she gave his crotch a squeeze. “My office,” she said. “You’ve been a naughty boy.” Her voice melted him like sugar in the rain, and he was putty in her hands, or more like clay because he hardened, becoming ever stiffer as she massaged him.
She led him down the empty hallway to an office, her hand on the tent of his pants. The tag on the door proclaimed, Heather Follis. Heather Flawless, he thought, would be a nice name for her. Her skin was perfect, pale, but perfect. No noticeable imperfections, not even a freckle. She shut and locked the door behind them and pressed herself against him. She kissed him on the cheek and her breath smelled sweet like strawberries. She put her finger to his lips, shushed him and then lowered herself, unzipping his pants. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he moaned despite her command.
