Level Five

by Carla Cassidy

  At nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning, the restaurant wasn’t too busy. It smelled heavenly. The scent of fresh baked cinnamon rolls rode the air, battling with the odors of crisp bacon and fried onions.

  Edie’s stomach rumbled. She wasn’t sure if it was because she hadn’t eaten any breakfast or due to a bad case of nerves. Colette had agreed to meet with her. That didn’t mean she was going to agree to allow Edie to write her story.

  This meeting was nothing more than an audition for Edie. She looked around the restaurant and tamped down the jump of nerves by mentally listing every which way an egg could be made edible…fried, poached, boiled. Sunny-side up, omelets, and scrambled. The egg list fell away as she tried to find her potential client.

  At first glance she didn’t see Colette at any of the booths. Then she spied a blond seated in a booth, facing the back wall.

  Unsure if it was the woman she sought, Edie tentatively made her way toward the booth, sidestepping a waitress carrying a full tray of plates.

  Edie stepped next to the last booth and saw the face of the woman seated there. She just managed to swallow a gasp of shock.

  It was Colette, but not the woman in the pictures Edie had seen. This woman’s face had been ravaged by something sharp. Angry, ropey scars criss-crossed what had once been lovely features.

  “Colette, I’m Edie Carpenter,” Edie said as she scooted into the bench across from her. “Wow, he really did a number on you.”

  Colette smiled, and despite the scar that bisected her lips, it was a pretty smile. “You just passed your first real test.”

  “Really? And what was the test?”

  “You didn’t throw up and you didn’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

  Edie returned her smile and hoped her pity didn’t show through the admiration she felt for this survivor. “To be honest, there’s no way to pretend it isn’t noticeable. It must be very difficult.”

  Colette shrugged slender shoulders. “It was at first, less so now. There are even hours at a time that I actually manage to forget about it.”

  “Have you considered plastic surgery? Sorry if I’m being too forward. If you decide to work with me you’ll quickly discover that I have an insatiable curiosity.”

  Colette reached up with one beautifully manicured hand and ran her fingers across her cheek. She had the most beautiful eyes Edie had ever seen. They were a haunting pale blue with long lush lashes. “This is who I am now.” She dropped her hand back to the table. “Somehow I always felt that if I got surgery to fix what he did, then it meant he won. He didn’t get to win. I won by surviving.” The last words were fierce. Edie realized not only was she going to go to the bowels of hell with this woman, she’d come out on the other side proud to know her.

  Over breakfast specials the two women got better acquainted. Edie told her about losing Francine and loving Jake. Colette shared that six months before, she’d married Frank Burgess, the man she’d been dating at the time of her disappearance.

  “Frank never stopped looking for me in the three years that I was held captive. In the five years since, he’s never stopped telling me that he wanted me in his life, as his wife. Six months ago I decided to believe him and married him.” Once again a hand went to her cheek. “He says he doesn’t care about the scars on my face. Some days I almost believe him.”

  With the meal finished, Colette gathered her purse in her lap to prepare to leave. “I’d like to go ahead with this project,” she said. “And I’d like to work with you.”

  Edie gave her a tremulous smile. “And I’d love to work with you. I think you have a lot of things to say about the time you spent with your captor – important things that need to be shared.”

  “That’s why I wanted you to tell my story. I knew you’d understand.” Colette reached across the table and touched the back of Edie’s hand. “We’re both survivors, whether you know that or not. I think maybe we have some things we can teach each other.” She drew her hand back and stood. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Edie watched as she walked toward the cash register at the other end of the restaurant. She held her head high despite the stares from the other diners.

  Edie remained in the booth long after Colette had left, scribbling notes in a notebook she’d carried in her oversized purse. She always worked in long hand first, and then typed up notes on the computer later.

  When she was finished memorializing her first impressions she leaned back against the vinyl and stared down into her coffee cup.

  She’d done it. She’d managed to snag a coup that would make her name a respected one in the field of true crime writing. A sweet euphoria swept through her, loosening the tension in her shoulders. She paid her bill and headed for her car in the parking lot.

  Heat radiated from the asphalt but even the oppressive air couldn’t staunch the excitement that danced in her veins. She was just about to open her car door when her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her purse and answered.

  “I need you.” The deep gravelly voice instantly sucked all the joy from her body. She sagged against the car and closed her eyes.

  A crushing guilt quickly swallowed the swift flash of resentment. “Where are you?” she asked.

  “At home.”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” she replied and ended the call. The heat of the day no longer felt oppressive, it positively suffocated her, making it difficult for her to draw a breath.

  She opened her car door and slid behind the wheel, eager to get the engine started and the air-conditioner blowing on maximum force.

  The joy she had felt moments before seemed like an emotion scarcely remembered. A bone-weariness filled her as she pulled out of the parking lot.

  Shame was a silent passenger as she headed toward The Skylark Motel. Shame kept this part of her life a secret. Shame kept her from reaching out for the happiness that marriage to Jake might provide her.

  Chapter 3

  Susan Springer had a crush. She’d only been working at B&R Software for five months, but the moment she had seen Anthony Tompkins her heart had thumped a wild rhythm in her chest and she’d felt more than a little bit breathless.

  Working as a receptionist for the company, she had very little daily interaction with the programmers. Each had their own cubicles down the hall from her desk. But once a week on Wednesdays a bunch of them got together and walked to a nearby McDonalds for lunch.

  When she’d dressed for work that day she’d put on a pretty pink blouse that she knew pulled attractive color into her cheeks. A black flair skirt almost hid the saddlebags on her thighs. She’d added an extra layer of mascara to her blond eyelashes. Today was the day she would someway let him know she was definitely interested in him.

  For the last five months she’d thought about Anthony, fantasized about him and yet hadn’t done a single thing to advance any kind of a relationship with him. When she was around him she became a tongue-tied idiot, too shy to open up, too shy to even make eye contact with him.

  Today was going to be different, she vowed as she looked at the clock on her computer. Today she was going to get up enough nerve to talk to him, to move her non-existent relationship with him into something different.

  At five minutes to twelve she checked her reflection in a hand mirror. She got up from her desk and headed for a side door in the building where they all met.

  Anthony was already there with another programmer, Chad Warren. They both smiled at her but continued with their conversation. She stopped about three feet from where they stood.

  He made her heart dance with his neatly cut dark hair. His green eyes whispered of spring. His features were attractively sculpted and his shoulders were wide, his hips slim. He was just like one of the heroes in the romance novels Susan loved to read.

  She’d made discreet inquiries about him and knew he lived alone on the outskirts of town in an old two-story farm house he was renovating. She knew he had no girlfriend and that he was exceptionally good at
his job.

  One of her fantasies was that she was there with him in the old farmhouse sanding floors and varnishing wood. When the work was over for the day, they fell into an old brass bed and made beautiful love together.

  Within minutes several others had joined them, including Peggy Winters. Peggy was the only other person on the face of the earth who knew about Susan’s secret crush on Anthony.

  As they all started out the door, Susan and Peggy walked several feet behind the rest of the group. “Did you even say anything to him?” Peggy asked.

  Susan shook her head and shoved a strand of her blond hair behind an ear. “He was busy talking with Chad. I just didn’t get a chance.”

  “Girlfriend, you’ve got to make a chance. You can’t be too subtle with men. At heart they’re really stupid creatures. It’s been my experience that computer geeks are more stupid than most males when it comes to understanding the nuances of courtship.”

  Peggy had been married to her husband, a computer geek, for twenty-five years. “You’ve got to hit them in the face with a naked boob before they recognize you might be in the mood.” Peggy grinned as Susan blushed.

  “That’s probably not appropriate at this point,” she replied.

  Peggy laughed. “Probably not, but you’ve got to do something. You can’t go on like this. You’re on the verge of spontaneous combustion.”

  Within minutes they were all seated at a large table inside the fast food restaurant with their food before them. The conversation revolved around the latest project they were working on. Susan listened, waiting impatiently for an opportunity to say something specifically to Anthony.

  Her opportunity came when Chad asked about his renovations on his home. “I do a little faux painting,” she said as she made eye contact with him. “I’d be happy to help you if you decide you want some of that done in any of the rooms.”

  “Thanks, Susan. I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied. He smiled at her and the warmth of a blush swept over her face.

  That was it. It certainly wasn’t much, but it was a beginning, Susan thought.

  Within minutes they had all finished their lunches and were ready to head back to work. Susan hoped to maneuver her way to walking back next to Anthony, but as they all stood to dump their trash and leave, he remained at the table. “You all go on,” he said. “I’m working out something in my head and just need a little time alone before I head back.”

  Susan tamped down her disappointment. She left the building with the rest of the group. There’s always next week, she thought. Eventually she was determined she and Anthony would be a couple.

  Anthony watched as they walked across the parking lot and then he stared down at the yellow paper that had held his cheeseburger.

  Just get up and throw your trash away, he thought. But, he remained seated. A growing agitation tensed all of his muscles as he considered placing the yellow wrapper in the trash bin.

  He might need it later. No mustard or ketchup had leaked on it. It was still perfectly good for using once again. It would be such a waste to just toss it away.

  He had a special affinity for paper. He had an entire room in his house devoted to the storage of magazines, newspapers and any other paper goods he possessed. The idea of tossing out this particular piece of paper made his heart race frantically, his palms sweat and his lungs burn.

  He hated Wednesdays when he had to come along with the group and pretend he was one of the guys, but it was necessary. He didn’t want anyone to think he was weird or different. And so he came to eat and acted like he cared about what they said, what was going on in their stupid little lives.

  He glanced back down at the wrapper. God, he needed it. As he thought again about throwing it away, he felt as if the result might be his death. His hand trembled and his lungs squeezed tight, so tight he feared his next breath might not come.

  His mother’s blood. It ran through his veins no matter how hard he tried to deny it. Along with the gut-wrenching anxiety of the moment, he experienced a surge of the old familiar rage.

  She’d made him what he was. No matter how he tried to pretend he was different than her, he was his mother’s son. That bitch had ruined him, creating a monster inside him that he couldn’t shake.

  Gazing around and noticing that nobody was paying him any attention, he carefully folded the wrapper and stuck it in his pocket. Instantly relief banished the tightness of his chest and the sense of anxiety that had been quickly spiraling out of control.

  He got up from his chair and that’s when he saw her. That cashier hadn’t been behind the counter when he’d ordered his meal. The roar of hunger resounded in his ears, the sound of sweet release from his inner demons. He could drown himself in the silk of her long dark hair and the sparkle of her blue eyes.

  The sight of her, so perfect with her dark hair falling in cascades around her shoulders and lush red lips curved up in a smile, shot a wave of longing through him. She found the very core of his emptiness and promised sweet release.

  Her name tag read Maggie. As he left the building he knew he’d be seeing Maggie again, only the next time it would just be the two of them in his home. She would be his next great project.

  Chapter 4

  Colette Merriweather Burgess lived in an attractive ranch house on a tree-lined street in an older neighborhood on the north side of town. Edie parked in the driveway and for a moment remained seated in her car taking in the ambience of the area.

  The yard was neat. Colorful flowers had been planted along the walkway to the front porch. The house looked newly painted, the white pristine and with contrasting dark brown trim.

  Edie was naturally an observer, picking up nuances and impressions that others often missed. It was one of her strengths as a writer and perhaps one of her curses as a human being.

  In a week her latest book would be released, chronicling a murder for hire scheme that had involved a respectable church-going woman. She had hired an ex-felon to murder her son’s wife. Thankfully the scheme had been foiled before the young woman had been killed.

  Writing that book had been a breeze. She’d found it difficult to connect with any of the players on a deep, emotional level.

  She had a feeling things would be different this time. She already felt oddly connected to Colette, whose story she knew would be both gruesome and heart-rending.

  Grabbing her tape recorder and notepad from the seat next to her, she got out of the car and headed for the front door. Before she could knock Colette opened the door. “I almost called you this morning to cancel this whole thing.” She stepped aside to allow Edie into the entry.

  “Second thoughts?”

  “And third and fourth. Come on into the living room and get comfortable.”

  Edie followed her into an attractive room decorated in shades of rich navy blue and beige with hints of peach to add a splash of color. A bookcase held a variety of knick-knacks but Edie noticed there were no photos and no mirrors anywhere in the room.

  She sat on the sofa as Colette sat in a nearby chair. The old wounds on Colette’s face were just as shocking now as they had been the first time Edie had seen them.

  “So, you’re having second doubts,” Edie said. It wasn’t unusual for somebody in Colette’s position to waffle about telling a story that was sure to wrench every emotion they possessed.

  “You know he was never caught.”

  “And you’re afraid that by writing this book he might somehow find you again?”

  Colette smiled thinly. “If he does, he’s a dead man. I have top of the line security here at the house and I always carry a gun with me. If he had wanted to find me again, I’ve made it relatively easy for him. I didn’t change my name until my marriage and I live in the same city. His face is burned into my memory and I don’t think he could ever disguise it enough to get close to me again. What I don’t want is a book that somehow gives him the glory that makes him look smarter than law enforcement, bigger than life.”

>   Edie leaned forward, wanting to assure her. “Colette, I want this book to be about you, not him. I want to know how you kept your sanity for three long years while he held you captive and tortured you.”

  She flashed a quick smile. “What makes you think I remained sane?”

  Edie laughed. “I have a feeling you’re more sane than most people I know. So, what’s your final answer – in or out?” Despite how excited she was about the project, the last thing Edie wanted to do was push Colette into doing something she really didn’t want to do. If Colette’s heart and soul wasn’t in it, the book wouldn’t be the genuine story Edie wanted to write.

  “In…for now.”

  Edie sat back in relief. “Then let’s start at the beginning. Tell me about the day you were kidnapped.”

  They worked for two hours before Colette finally called a halt. Her face was pale, her eyes haunted and her hands trembled. She pushed herself out of the chair to walk Edie to the front door.

  “You did a great job, Colette. I know how difficult this must be for you.” On impulse, Edie reached out to give her a hug.

  Colette remained stiff for a moment and then returned the hug with a sigh. When the hug finally ended she stepped back. “Other than Frank people don’t touch me very often.” She raised a hand to the worst of her scars. “It’s like they think this might somehow be contagious.”

  “Then you’ve definitely been hanging around the wrong kind of people,” Edie said fervently.

  Minutes later as she drove home she looked at her watch and realized Jake would be at her house by the time she got home unless his work kept him late.

  She hoped he was there. She needed to talk about what she’d learned, about her own feelings and reactions to Colette. Already she felt herself being sucked into emotions she didn’t know she possessed. That wasn’t a good sign. She needed to keep a certain objectivity to accomplish good journalism.

  Jake’s car was parked in the driveway. As she pulled up next to it, she was eager to get inside and decompress. This was her safe place, here with Jake and Rufus. This was her sanctuary where life at least pretended to be fairly normal. Rufus met her at the door, his tail wagging even as he gave her a distinctly guilty look.