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Psychosis_When a Dream Turns Deadly

Page 19

by Roger Bray


  Chapter Fourteen

  Alice ate the second slice of her Granary Italian pizza and washed it down with a swig of beer. Steve was more than happy to be sitting there. He was opposite the best-looking girl in the place and in the best company that he had been with in a long time.

  She looked down the length of the bottle at him and took another swig, almost finishing it before looking around and catching the bartender’s eye and indicated that she wanted another two beers. She wiped her fingers on her serviette before answering him.

  “I almost gave up a few months ago,”, she started, “before I met you.”

  “And I got you back on track?”

  “You were an annoyance.”

  He laughed, “Gee, thanks, Alice and here was me thinking that I was trying to help.”

  “Sorry,” she waved her hands at him, “That sounded terrible, but you were.”

  “Why?”

  “I had given up. All the shit I’d been through. Everything that Alex had been through and here we were, him at OSP and me driving up and down that goddamned highway, week in and week out. And I had pretty much given up.”

  “And I was an annoyance?”

  She smiled and laughed a sad little laugh, “I had given up, but can you understand that I was sort of happy to have given up? This was it now, no more ups, no more downs. We had found an equilibrium and there were no more surprises. The appeals had failed, and we were where we were. No surprises, no more false hope and no more disappointment.”

  He nodded, understanding.

  “Then you came along with your promise, your muscles, and your eyes and gave me the kick up the ass that I needed. Suddenly I started caring again.”

  “My eyes?” he laughed.

  Two more beers arrived, and she passed her empty bottle to the bartender with a smile. She took a swig from the fresh bottle before ignoring Steve’s comment and continuing.

  “I had to care again, you made me care again. I know you didn’t promise anything, you more or less told me not to get too excited, that it might all come to nothing. Well you were right, and you were wrong. It hasn’t come to anything yet, but the more we dig the more I’m convinced there’s something there, something the DA didn’t or wouldn’t look at. You said that we’re nibbling at the edges and, like with this pizza, we are, but we are definitely getting somewhere as well. Truth is, when we left Rowe’s today, I wasn’t even upset. I can’t even say I was angry.

  “I suppose I was a bit of all of those. The sheer stupidity of Rowe. If we are to believe he’s innocent, he annoyed me and of course I was angry at him. More than anything though, I was elated. We seem to be getting somewhere. And we’re not nibbling at it. Rowe’s confession took a big bite out of the evidence against Alex. Even if the DA fights us, I know we’re moving forward.”

  “To where though, Alice? Can we get enough to get Alex out?”

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  “Sure, but I’m plodding through the evidence and seeing where it’s going to take us. But I’m fairly sure that we’re moving forward and getting enough to crash through the DA’s case.”

  “And we will.”

  Alice took another drink before tackling another slice of her pizza. Steve couldn’t help but smile at the change in her since the last time they had sat here. She noticed him smiling, wiped her lips on her serviette and stuck her tongue out at him before smiling a smile that touched her whole face. In that moment he felt even more grateful to be in her company.

  They finished their pizzas and Alice came and sat on Steve’s side of the table while they watched a blues combo playing into the evening. The beers were flowing well, and they were both relaxed, Alice was as relaxed as Steve had ever seen her. They were relaxed and enjoying the evening and it took him a few minutes to realize that her hand was resting on his thigh and he hadn’t even noticed when she had put it there.

  It was a pleasantly warm evening and this time when they left the Granary, she slipped her arm into his elbow and they walked slowly south along High Street before walking down 19th Avenue toward Alice’s house. Although Steve had now been into her house many times over the past few months, he thought it might be a little presumptuous of him to assume he was invited in. As with the first time he had walked her home, he stopped at the gate, but Alice slipped her hand from his elbow, took his hand in hers and led him to the front door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As Hazel stood on the cold floor, she heard the sliding sound again and then there was silence.

  Reaching up, she pushed the edge of the hood up until it was past her eyes and sat on the top of her head like a trendy floppy beret. She stood blinking for a moment until her eyes adjusted. Feeling around the back of her head, she felt the strap of the gag until she found the join and ripped on the Velcro she undid it. With relief, she pulled the ball from her mouth with a sigh and a dribble of saliva, opened and closed her mouth like a stranded goldfish to relieve the ache in her jaw.

  She looked around and saw that she was in a small motel-type room. There was a kitchenette area in front of her with a bedroom area containing a large singe bed and nightstand to her left; on her right was a self-contained shower cubicle with a clear glass door and a toilet to the right of that.

  Turning around, she saw the door was a heavy one, metal or metal lined with large rivets holding it together. A metal sliding hatch set in the door was only large enough to pass small objects through and locked from the outside. Trying anyway, she pushed against it, but it refused to give even a little. The hatch was solid, but above it was a peephole lens, so she could be observed from outside without it being opened or even alerted to someone standing on the other side. The door opened inwards and there were no hinges, brackets or handles on her side. A slab of white, painted metal, the tight-fitting hatch, and the peephole. Hazel put her hand onto the back of the door and it was cold to her touch and had a colder draft coming under the bottom edge. The room wasn’t that cold, but it wasn’t warm either and there was no sign of any type of heating.

  She looked to her left and saw the chute that the electronic voice had told her to put her dirty clothes in. It was like a laundry or garbage chute and when she pulled it open it, swiveled around to form a shallow bucket shape to deposit whatever she needed into. She let go of the handle the chute door swiveled back to rest with a soft clunk.

  The ache in her jaw was finally easing and Hazel took off the hood completely and threw it across the room where it landed on the floor near the end of the bed. She felt uncomfortable, her bra was still pushed up over her breasts and she reached up to pull it down and adjust it into place when she realized how dirty she felt.

  She thought for a moment of being groped in the other room. How the rough fingers had played with her nipples and that was enough to make her feel dirty, but it wasn’t only that. She had no idea how long she had been in the room next door or how long it had been since she had been taken from the road outside her house. From the staleness and a foul taste in her mouth, compounded by whatever had been on the cloth and having the ball gag in her mouth, it could have been hours or a few days. She was still wearing the same clothes as when she was taken, and she felt dirty and disgusting. Maybe, she considered, between twelve and twenty-four hours but couldn’t be sure and found she didn’t care.

  There was a tall, solidly built, double cupboard fixed to the wall near the toilet. She opened it and saw on the shelves on one side towels, bed linen, and blankets, neatly folded and stacked and, clean—when she lifted a towel and held it to her face, it smelled of some flowery laundry detergent and felt soft against her face. On shelves on the other side of the cupboard were her own clothes, her underwear, jeans all the clothes that had been in her large suitcase. On another shelf lay the lingerie she had been given by Nicholas and she wished, now that she had left it behind. Or, she thought if she had left it would she have still found it there?

  Placing the towel that she was holding on the workto
p near the shower, Hazel looked around again and saw something that she had initially missed. The ceiling was high, well over ten or twelve feet from the floor and above the door, out of reach, she saw a small dark dome. A closed-circuit camera of some sort. She stopped and glared at it before looking around at the door-less shower cubicle. Looking back at the camera housing she knew that whoever was observing her would have a full view of her in the room. Wherever she was and whatever she was doing.

  She thought for a moment before her unwashed state overcame her modesty and she removed her jumper with her bra tangled up in it, unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them, and her underwear, to the floor.

  “I hope you’re enjoying this, you creep,” she thought.

  She turned on the shower and was surprised by the hot water that came through quite quickly. Adjusting the temperature, she stepped in with the soap from her vanity case, which was standing on a small shelf next to the shower, and lathered herself up. She continued to wash herself until she was starting to feel satisfied that she felt as clean as she could, and the temperature of the water dipped, indicating that the hot water was running out.

  Stepping out, she dried herself, not caring if she was being watched or not, and dressed quickly in a pair of thick, fleece jogging pants, a T-shirt, and a thick jumper. She couldn’t find any shoes or her boots, so she pulled on a pair of thick socks to insulate her feet a little from the cold floor. She bundled up the clothes she had taken off and, along with the black hood and ball gag, shoved them into one of the plastic bags she had found in the cupboard. She opened the chute and pushed the bag in until the door could swing back closed on its own. The bag tumbled out of the other side and she knew it hadn’t fallen far.

  Hazel looked around again and started to open cupboards and drawers in the kitchenette, all the utensils she might need were there, pots and pans, crockery and cutlery, there was an electric water kettle in one cupboard along with a small toaster; but all the cutlery was plastic and flimsy as were the utensils all usable but useless to her if she wanted to use one as a weapon or a tool to try to work on the door.

  There was a double hot plate cook top standing on the top of a small fridge. She opened the door and saw the shelves were full of food, the small freezer contained a couple of loaves of sliced bread, some breakfast sausages, and bacon. The cupboards had jars of jam and peanut butter, flavored quick rice and pasta, a couple of cartons of UHT milk and a large jar of instant coffee. In fact, all manner of easy to store ingredients, tinned, dried, and pickled food, enough to sustain her for a couple of weeks, maybe a month as she didn’t actually eat that much, anyway.

  Above the stove was an exhaust panel, turned on by a switch on the wall. She shook her head as she looked around the room again.

  “Where the hell am I?” she thought. A lot of effort has gone into this room, it has been purpose built to keep someone in like this.

  She didn’t consider that this room had been built for her. Some of the pots and pans had been used and were quite old. Either second-hand or they had been in here for a while. She checked the cupboard of clothes again and found that while they were nearly all her size, most of the clothes were not hers. They were clean and pressed where needed, some had the distinctive smell of dry cleaning.

  Where the hell have these clothes come from?

  The cupboard didn’t smell like a second-hand shop, so the clothes had been new, worn, and washed. They had been put away again and again into the cupboard.

  How many times? she wondered, had these clothes been through the chute on the far side of the room, whose clothes were they?

  All these questions and more came to Hazel in a rush but the question she couldn’t face and didn’t want to consider was who the clothes belonged to.

  Definitely other women and probably in this room. Other women of her size and height. Who they were and where had they gone? She thought back to the voice’s warnings. She felt sick at the thought; had someone else been here and broken the rules?

  Hazel sat on the edge of the bed and looked around at her white painted reality. She burst into tears, surprising herself at the despair that she suddenly felt as much as the act of crying, something she rarely did. Rolling onto her side she pulled her knees up to her chest and lay there sobbing, quietly but uncontrollably.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alice woke late, and a slow smile spread across her face as she remembered that the night before had not been another wet dream but reality. She turned slowly and reached out, frowning when she saw that the other side of her bed was empty. Sitting up, the sheet falling, she thought with a moment of panic that she must have disappointed him in some way and he had crept out before she woke so he didn’t have to endure an embarrassing morning after.

  Disappointed, she lay back again almost in tears as she contemplated another failure of her life before she heard a clinking noise coming from the kitchen and smelled cooking bacon. How she had missed that she couldn’t fathom as the delicious, smoky aroma filled the room. She got up and, pulling a pair of panties and a long T-shirt out of a drawer she put them on. Opening the bedroom door, she walked down the short hallway to the kitchen where Steve was lifting the crisp bacon out of the fry pan and laying it onto a plate piled with pancakes and eggs.

  She almost cried out to see him and he turned and smiled at her as she stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face wrapped in her blond hair into his chest. Steve returned the hug, and she was smiling as she pulled away and looked up at him.

  “I thought you said you didn’t sleep well?” he laughed, “I thought I’d have to come in and wake you.”

  “I thought you’d left,” she started, taking his hands and kissing his fingertips.

  “Left? Gee, Alice, I don’t think I ever want to leave you.”

  He held her head with both hands before kissing her on the forehead, then the tip of her nose and then on the lips, where he lingered, and she took the opportunity to push herself against him.

  Pulling away, but with a big smile on his face he said, “Come on, I’ve cooked heaps and after last night I think I’m going to need a lot of energy in the future.”

  She smiled and rubbed her hand across his chest before sitting down at the laid table, he placed the plate of food in front of her as he turned to pour the coffee. As she started to load up her plate, Alice could hardly contain her excitement and wondered how soon after breakfast she could take him back into her bedroom.

  She didn’t get the chance though, much to her frustration.

  As they were finishing breakfast, Steve’s cell phone started to ring, and vibrate, and generally shake itself across the dining table in a demented little dance.

  Answering it with a swipe, he spoke for a moment, long enough to give out Alice’s address and hang up.

  “Phil.” he said.

  “Coming here?” she asked.

  Steve nodded, “In about ten minutes, he’s passing through and has finished the report on Hazel’s car. He thought that rather than email he could drop in and give us the report and have a talk to us about it.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “I don’t know, it probably means he found something or needs to get some clarification about something. Either way, shouldn’t you go and put some pants on?”

  Alice realized that she was sitting with one foot on the chair next to her while she chewed on the last piece of bacon and Steve laughed as she jumped up to get changed. Halfway down the hallway, she stopped and came back, she leaned into him and kissed him deeply and then pulled away, looking him in the eye, “Thank you,” she said.

  “What for?” he started before she placed her fingertips on his lips.

  “Everything,” she turned, leaving him smiling and admiring the sight of her walking down the hallway.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alice sat at the table with Phil and Steve. They had been introduced on his arrival and as she had turned to walk into the kitchen Phil ga
ve Steve a big grin and a wink to indicate his approval, not knowing that Steve was well ahead of him already. Back to professional mode when he sat at the table and started emptying the attaché case he had with him.

  “You could have posted or emailed this to us,” Steve said, knowing that part of Phil’s mission was to check Alice out, and he seemed satisfied with the outcome so far.

  “I could have,” Phil said, with a smirk that Alice couldn’t see, “but I was passing through this way anyway, so I thought I would drop it off and talk to you about it properly.”

  Steve didn’t know if he was lying or not, but he let it go and concentrated on the folders that Phil was putting on the table. Alice sat at the table opposite Steve and Phil passed them one folder each, keeping one for himself.

  “A couple of questions before we start.”

  Phil turned toward Alice who was holding the folder he had given her and was resisting opening it.

  “How tall is your brother?”

  “Six feet, almost exactly.”

  Phil wrote on the notepad that he had on the table next to him.

  “And Hazel, how tall was she?”

  “I’m not sure exactly,” Alice admitted, “She was a couple of inches taller than me, and I’m five feet seven, but a couple of inches shorter than Alex.”

  “If we said she was around five nine, five ten we’d be close?”

  Alice considered a moment before nodding. “But maybe a half of an inch closer to Alex’s height than mine.”

  “She was quite tall?”

  “Statuesque.” Alice said nodding.

  “Probably five ten then?”

  Alice nodded again.

  “Did Alex ever drive Hazel’s car?”

  “You would have to check with Alex how much, but yes, he did.”

  Phil wrote some more on the notepad before looking up. He looked at Steve and then at Alice, smiling at both of them before looking down and opening his own copy of the report in front of him.

 

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