Level Five

by Carla Cassidy

  Deep in his gut he knew she was in trouble. He wouldn’t rest until he found her…hopefully alive.

  “Come on, Francine, I wanna go home.” Edie heard the whine in her voice, but she was tired of waiting for her sister to leave her friends.

  “Shut up, little baby. I’ll be ready in a minute.” Francine’s eyes flashed with anger.

  Edie sighed. She adored her big sister, but when she was with her friends Francine turned into a mean girl. At home the two of them spent lots of time playing together.

  Edie’s favorite game was when they played teacher. Francine always let Edie be the teacher and Francine would pretend to be a stupid, bad-behaving student. Usually the two would dissolve into giggles as the make-believe game went on.

  Today Edie didn’t like Francine very much. She was in major mean girl mode and every time she said something snotty to Edie, the other girls cackled like little witches.

  Edie wanted to tell them all to go to hell, but she knew Francine would tattle on her for saying a bad word. Then she’d be grounded for the rest of her life.

  As she glared at her sister, Francine began to fade. The royal blue of her blouse became lighter, turning to a robin’s egg blue as her skin began to take on a transparency.

  Francine’s face took on a look of horror and then she was gone.

  Edie came to with a gasp, her head pounding with an intensity that made her believe if she opened her eyes, if she moved in any way she’d throw up.

  She heard the sound of water running. Maybe Jake was taking a shower? Was it morning? No, that wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right. Jake had said he didn’t want to see her anymore.

  For a moment her heart ached as much as her head. As the fog that had encased her brain began to lift and the sound of the running water stopped. She became aware of the smell.

  It was like nothing she’d ever smelled before, an odor of filth, of decay and of death.

  Her eyes snapped open and in the first snapshot of the room she thought she’d lost her mind.

  A bare light bulb hung from the high ceiling illuminating paper. Towers of papers precariously stacked rose all around her. Like a movie fast-forwarded, she remembered Rufus lying in the yard, rushing to his side and then something covering her mouth and nose.

  And then nothing.

  Her heart thundered a thousand miles an hour as she saw the chain attached to the ring around her ankle. She was in trouble. She was in bad trouble.

  Don’t panic. And yet it was difficult to hold onto that thought. She realized the papers were moving, subtly shifting. A faint clicking noise could be heard. The towers were infested with bugs and gave an optical illusion of the towers closing in around her. Her throat felt as if it was closing off as well.

  The floor beneath her smelled faintly of bleach and an underlying odor that was definitely unpleasant. As she pulled herself to a sitting position, a wave of dizziness let her know that whatever had been used to drug her hadn’t left her body completely.

  Don’t panic. The words thundered in her head, but could find no purchase against the terror that grabbed her by the throat.

  Where was she? Who had brought her here and why? The questions flew fast and furious through her woozy head. She fought against the horror and the fog to find some semblance of sanity.

  She had no idea if it was day or night. She couldn’t begin to guess how long she’d been drugged. The worst part was she knew it might be days before anyone realized she was missing from her home.

  She’d told Colette she wouldn’t be seeing her this week. Jake had called and said he needed time away from her to figure things out. She was appalled to realize there was nobody else in her life who might care if she disappeared.

  Tears stung her eyes but she willed them away. The first thing she had to do was figure out where she was and how she could escape. She shook her head several times in an attempt at clarity and then began to crawl.

  It didn’t take her long to find the paper-filled bathroom, where only the stool and the sink were accessible. She pulled herself up to the sink and turned on the water. Sluicing water over her face she tried to think of what she had done, how this had happened?

  Who had made these mountains of paper? It had to have taken years. She’d watched enough television to know what kind of people collected items like this, to know that the stink that filled the air meant she was in the middle of a hoard. But, whose hoard?

  The chain allowed her to get only partway to the second door in the paper room and by that time she had exhausted herself. She moved back to the bare floor in the center, where she felt as if she were on stage and the mounds of paper was an audience for whatever show was about to begin.

  Once again panic swelled up inside her, pressing painfully tight against her chest, surging up the back of her throat. Eventually somebody was going to walk through the door that she couldn’t reach. Would she recognize him? What were his plans for her?

  The fuzz of the drugs made thinking difficult. She felt as if she was in some kind of strange dream and yet she knew she was awake.

  She frowned as she saw something on the floor near her, something small and white. It looked like a slightly irregular-shaped little pearl. What would a pearl be doing here? She picked it up, frowning as she studied it.

  She turned it over in her palm and froze as she realized what it was. A tooth. A human tooth. With a cry she flung it away, where it disappeared into the paper stacks nearby.

  Shaking uncontrollably she curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes tightly closed. “My name is Edie Carpenter and I love Jake Warner,” she whispered and only then did she allow her tears to fall.

  Chapter 21

  Anthony must have looked at his watch a hundred times throughout the day, willing five o’clock to come so that he could go home to Edie.

  Edie. Her name sang through his veins as he anticipated going home to her. He checked his watch. Fifteen more minutes and he could walk out his office door.

  She’d been the first thing he’d checked on when he’d rolled out of bed that morning. Before he’d showered he’d peeked into the paper room and seen her curled up on the floor. He didn’t know if she was awake or not. She might have been playing possum, but he hadn’t wanted to begin working with her then anyway.

  She’d tantalized his thoughts all day, making concentration on anything else not only difficult but irritating. He checked his watch again. Five more minutes.

  He watched those minutes tick off, then shut down his computer and got out of his chair. His entire body trembled with the need to get out of the building, into his car and home to her…to Edie.

  At exactly five o’clock he stepped out of his office cubicle and bumped into Susan. His first thought was that she’d been lurking there on purpose with the specific objective of seeing him.

  “Susan.” He forced a light pleasantness to his voice.

  “Hi, Anthony. I just wanted to stop by and say hello to you before you left for the day. We’ve hardly seen each other all week and I was wondering if everything was okay?” A line of worry creased her forehead. She smelled of her spicy perfume and more than a hint of desperation.

  There was no question that this last week, Susan had been the last person on his mind. Edie had consumed him.

  As he gazed into Susan’s desperate eyes he realized it was still important for him to keep up the charade with her.

  “You’ve been on my mind all week, I’ve just been so busy with projects at the house and work here, the week has gotten away from me. I was just going to find you and ask if you wanted to have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

  The pleasure that washed over her features was pathetic. He was aware that anytime he spent with Susan was time he wouldn’t be spending with Edie, but he had to be smart. He had to stay in control of the world that he had built. Like it or not Susan was an important part of his world.

  “You know I always love spending time with you,” she replied, her face beaming wit
h happiness. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

  “Great!” He felt as if a thousand fire ants had invaded his body, his need to escape from her, from this place was so great. “We’ll go right after work,” he said as he backed away , deciding he’d use the rear exit from the building to leave. “I know a great little place not far from here. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  Without waiting for her reply he turned and half-ran toward the exit. The fire ants of anticipation were eating him from the inside out. He’d waited all day. His grasp on his

  control was slipping away.

  It wasn’t until he got into his car and headed toward his house that he felt like he’d regained his control once again. He turned the radio to a soft listening jazz station and drew deep cleansing breaths.

  He couldn’t let his need dictate to him. He had to be the master of it. If he lost control then he wouldn’t be able to get what he needed from Edie. He knew what happened when he lost control. When he regained it he had to dig another grave.

  By the time he reached his house he was in the zone. He parked in the driveway and went into the garage and carefully hung his business suit on the rack that held his other business clothes. Naked he left the garage and went into the house and directly to his bedroom.

  He pulled on a pair of stained jeans and a T-shirt that had been used for several of his projects and then headed for the kitchen to fix something to eat. It was important to maintain his routine. He’d eat a microwave dinner and then begin his work on his new project.

  He chose a fried chicken dinner with the mashed potatoes and a side of corn. He ate methodically, fighting the temptation to forget the food and go into the paper room where Edie awaited. He tasted nothing but his own desire, his own need. The food was utterly tasteless but he finished every bite.

  When there was nothing else to eat he washed the carton container in the sink and placed it on top of a stack of similar containers.

  He faced the closed door that led into the paper room, his blood pounding at his temples. It was time to begin.

  Edie felt the whoosh of displaced air and then heard the sounds of footsteps and knew somebody was in the house or whatever the place was that she was being held.

  She stared at the door, her heart beating so hard her chest hurt as she waited to see who would come through the door. Nothing happened.

  As she continued to wait she heard a faint ding that she recognized as the sound of a microwave that had finished cooking.

  Was it breakfast being made? Dinner? It was impossible to track time in a room where no window was visible behind the massive paper stacks. The only light in the room was the bulb that had burned since the moment she’d become conscious. She’d spent most of the last couple of hours dozing off and on, as if sleeping off a hangover. She’d also spent part of that time screaming for help that didn’t come.

  Now she was painfully alert, awaiting a monster. Only a monster would have her chained in this hell hole. In the time that she’d been awake, she’d explored the area as much as the chain around her ankle would allow, afraid of what else she might find, but also afraid she might overlook something that could help her.

  There was only one thing she was certain of…there was no way out except for the door she couldn’t reach. She had no idea what lay beyond the door. At the moment it didn’t matter.

  She knew somewhere behind the mounds of paper there had to be windows, but the multiple stacks were so high, so precariously balanced that she feared trying to move anything in any way. It might bring it all tumbling down and she’d be crushed.

  But at the moment her fear wasn’t focused on being smashed to death by old papers, rather it was on who was behind door number two.

  In her terrified mind she fantasized that perhaps it was a wicked gnome or a troll with filthy hair and long dirty fingernails. He’d reeked like this place and he’d sport madness in his eyes.

  Edie had never realized that fear was not just an emotion that quivered her heart. It also shot a tangy metallic taste into her mouth, and made her blood cold as it flowed through her veins.

  Was this how Colette had felt when she’d first awakened in the room that would be her prison for three long years? Edie frowned, unable to remember anything about her conversation with Colette. All she could focus on was the fear inside her and the door that she sensed would be opening at any moment to allow the monster to enter.

  As if on cue she heard the sound of a key being pushed into a lock. The doorknob began to twist and her stomach clenched in dreadful anticipation.

  The door opened and he walked in. For a moment confusion swept through Edie. He wasn’t a gnome or a troll, rather he was a handsome man who looked hauntingly familiar.

  “Hello, Edie.”

  His voice was low and pleasant. The fact that he knew her name shot a new terror through her. She didn’t answer him, her throat was so tightly closed she wasn’t sure she could squeak out any sound.

  He smiled. “You don’t remember me?”

  She frowned and slowly shook her head.

  “I bought your book at your signing at Barnes and Noble.”

  Now she remembered. He’d been there at the signing. She’d autographed a book for him. Was this some sort of obsession thing? Shades of Stephen King’s Misery came to mind. Was he her number one fan? “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name,” she replied, her voice scratchy and deeper than usual from all the screaming she had done.

  “No offense taken. There were a lot of people there that day. My name is Anthony.” He reached outside of the doorway and pulled a folding chair into the room. He opened it a few feet from her and sat.

  Surreal. Everything was surreal to Edie. He smiled at her as if she was a special guest. The best she could hope for was that he had a manuscript he wanted her to read, one that had been rejected by all the big New York publishers and he was desperate to find a way to get it published.

  The best case scenario was that she could explain to him the process of self-pubbing the book, tell him about the money that could be made from such a process. By that time he’d think of her as his mentor and friend and he’d let her go.

  She wanted that, she wanted to go back to her house where it didn’t stink, where she wasn’t surrounded by paper towers. She wanted Jake to love her and Rufus to lavish her with kisses. At the thought of Rufus, a shaft of pain stabbed through her.

  Reality was she had no idea what this man wanted from her. Jake had distanced himself from her and Rufus was probably dead. The only person who would really miss her was her alcoholic father. And he wouldn’t miss her, he’d only miss the money she spent to keep him off the streets.

  Tears blurred her vision as she looked at Anthony. “Why am I here?” she asked, afraid of the answer and yet needing to know. “And where is here?

  “My home. It really doesn’t matter that you know the exact location. What’s important is that you know we’re a long way from neighbors and you can scream all day long and nobody is around to hear you.”

  “Why am I here?” She asked again although she didn’t want to know the answer, yet she had to ask the question.

  His green eyes took on a dreamy quality as he gazed at her. “You look just like her,” he said softly.

  Instantly Edie’s mind went to the crime against Colette. Did this man take her because she looked like his ex-wife or a lover who had betrayed him? Her stomach clenched tight again. “I look like who?” Her voice was whisper soft.

  “Her…my mother.” His voice held reverence.

  “You love her.” Edie felt as if she were walking on egg shells, afraid that one false move would crack a shell and something terrible would happen.

  “Loved…I loved her. She’s dead now.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure she loved you very much.”

  The brutal slap whipped her head to the side. She bit her tongue and her mouth filled with the taste of her coppery blood. There had been no warning. She turned her h
ead to look up at him and saw the rage that had replaced the dreaminess in his eyes.

  “You didn’t love me. You didn’t even see me.” Veins popped in his neck as his face turned red. “All you saw was your stuff, the treasures you dragged home day after day.” As his hands fisted into balls at his side Edie scooted backward, attempting to escape him.

  Danger! Danger! Her mind screamed the words as he advanced toward her. “You stupid, filthy hoarding whore.” He slapped her again and she cried out, her ear ringing as she brought her hands up to cover her face from any further assault.

  Nothing happened.

  She could hear the sound of his breathing above her own, felt his presence hovering over her. She squeezed her eyes closed. Her brain scrambled to make sense of the senseless, but her brain had stopped working with the first unexpected slap.

  When several minutes had passed, she lowered her hands and saw that he was once again seated on the folding chair, his features composed and his hands resting comfortably in his lap.

  If her face didn’t ache with the force of the blows, if the taste of blood didn’t linger in her mouth, she could almost believe he hadn’t left the chair at all.

  “You asked me why you were here,” he said, as if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes blazing with a fevered heat. “I think you’re the one.”

  She said nothing, afraid to speak, unsure of what might set him off again.

  “I was wrong about the others,” he continued. “They were only pale imitations of her…of you. I should have known when I took them that they wouldn’t do.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to dismiss thoughts of the ones who had come before her.

  “You will be my salvation, Edie. You will take away my pain, my rage. I’ll become whole because of you.” He flexed his hands and stood and Edie cowered once again, fearing another blow.

  Instead he folded up the chair and tucked it under his arm. “I think we’ve done enough for tonight. Tomorrow when I get home from work the real process will begin.”