Level Five

by Carla Cassidy

  “Look at me,” he yelled. He held out the plastic as she raised her head just enough for him to see her simmering blue eyes. “There’s a place for these things. You think I’m like her, that I just let things lay around?”

  He kicked her in the side, her sharp intake of breath not enough to ease his pain. He kicked her again…and again, until finally her cries of pain soothed some of the taut tension inside him.

  He suddenly became aware that she was saying something over and over again. A prayer? Prayers wouldn’t work here. A mantra of some kind? He stepped back from her in confusion as her words became audible.

  “My name is Edie Carpenter. My name is Edie Carpenter.” She finally raised her head, her eyes awash with tears. “My name is Edie Carpenter and I love buttered popcorn.”

  He stumbled back from her, confused and slightly disoriented. Edie Carpenter. She was Edie Carpenter and not his mother.

  The sharp awareness of her identity somehow ruined things and his desire to hurt her ebbed away.

  He drew several deep breaths and became aware of the plastic balls in his hand. He squeezed and released, squeezed and released as the last of his anger dissipated.

  He took the first wrapper and walked back to his folding chair where he carefully straightened it out on the seat. When there were no wrinkles in it he folded it in half, and then folded it again. He did the same with the second wrapper. As he methodically worked, his anxiety slowly finally fell away.

  When he was finished he looked at her. She was lying on the floor, half-broken by his kicking fit, but her eyes held an intelligence that rose above whatever physical pain she must be feeling.

  He held up the neatly folded plastic. “This is perfectly good to use again. I don’t throw out paper or plastic. But, I’m not like her. I have a place for everything.”

  Still holding the neat plastic wrap, with his other hand he folded the chair and picked it up. He was afraid to remain any longer, afraid that he might lose his temper. He wasn’t ready to be done with her yet.

  They still had so much work to do together.

  He left the room, set the folding chair just inside the kitchen then closed and locked the door of the paper room. He carried the folded plastic to the countertop where thousands of folded plastic wrap were contained in two plastic bins.

  It was only as he set the new wrappers into one of the bins that the he shuddered with the last gasp of emotion. He slowly headed upstairs to his bedroom.

  Jake awoke with a start, surprised to find himself on the sofa in Edie’s house. The edges of dusk moved in outside the windows.

  It had been around six that he’d sat on the sofa to take a break, to regroup after he, Teddy and two more Detectives had spent most of the day carefully checking the back yard for the cell phone. Chief Decker had assigned the same two to the case that had been there the day before to investigate the poisoned dog.

  The Detectives had spent much of the day checking with neighbors and combing through the front yard in search of the phone.

  The search had stopped at noon when pizza that Teddy ordered had been delivered. Teddy insisted Jake sit and eat. When Jake rejected the idea it was the first time he’d seen his partner angry.

  He’d finally given in and had managed to choke down one piece of the pie. Then he’d returned to the large yard, going over it inch by agonizing inch to see if the cell phone was there.

  He stirred from the sofa and realized he was alone in the house. Everyone had gone home to their wives or families. It was growing too dark to continue any search.

  Pulling himself to a sitting position he swiped a hand down his face, knowing there was little more that could be done tonight and dreading the next day.

  It was time to go public, to make up posters and ask the public if they’d seen Edie. It was time to acknowledge that she hadn’t just gone off in a pique but was in danger.

  The unexpected nap had left him half-groggy and he was grateful for the numbness that had taken over his senses, keeping his emotions at bay for the moment.

  He didn’t know what to do next. He didn’t know how to save her. He knew that just because the other Detectives weren’t here with him, it didn’t mean they weren’t still working the case.

  They’d be checking her bank records, looking for unusual charge activity on her credit cards. They’d be on the phones, attempting to find somebody who knew something. Jake knew they had called Edie’s mother who said she hadn’t seen her daughter in years. Jake wasn’t surprised. Edie had been a missing person in her mother’s life since the day Francine had been murdered.

  Unable to sit still, knowing that any more sleep would prove impossible, Jake grabbed his car keys and headed for the front door.

  Up until this point, there had been a tiny little bit of hope in his heart that Edie had gone off somewhere to think about her life, to think about him. That hope had died throughout the day.

  All he wanted was for things to go back the way they were. He wanted Edie home and sitting at her computer in a pair of sexy panties and a worn T-shirt, bitching about the heat and falling into his arms. He wanted Rufus dancing around the table as he and Edie made breakfast together. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel. God, he wanted her back so badly, on any terms.

  The numbness took over again as he pulled into the driveway where the sign announced he’d arrived at the Healthy Pet Animal Clinic. He didn’t drive up to the neat little ranch house, but rather drove past it to a long, low building with fenced areas on either side.

  Jake had been here several times when Edie had brought Rufus in for his shots and once because Rufus was limping and neither he nor Edie could figure out why. A bee stinger in the pad of Rufus’s foot had been the culprit. Once it was removed, Rufus happily danced back to the car.

  As he parked the car his stomach tensed. Dr. Burrows called earlier in the day to say that Rufus had made it through the night but it was still touch and go.

  The front door of the building led to a reception area. Jake knew it was a family operation and the only person who occasionally ran the receptionist desk was Ed Burrows’ wife, Sarah.

  Sarah wasn’t present at the desk, but the door that led into the examining rooms and actual clinic opened and Dr. Burrows greeted Jake. “Detective Warner, I assumed either you or Edie would show up here sooner or later.”

  “Edie’s missing.” The words clawed from Jake’s throat with scratchy emotion he barely controlled. He quickly told the older man about the search that had begun, a search that so far had yielded no results.

  “At least I have a bit of good news,” Dr. Burrows said. “I think Rufus has turned the corner. I suspect he ingested some sort of rat poisoning and that it was delivered by way of a piece of steak. I found a piece of meat still in his throat.”

  “So, the poisoning was deliberate,” Jake said flatly. He’d suspected as much. But he also knew that like most dogs Rufus was curious and he’d thought it possible the dog had gotten into something poisonous on the property.

  “Definitely deliberate,” the vet said, obvious irritation in his eyes. “I don’t understand people who do things like this. I can’t understand anyone who preys on the weak.”

  “Can I see Rufus?”

  Dr. Burrows nodded. “Follow me.” He led Jake through the door, past the examining rooms and into a small surgery facility. From the room where Jake knew animals were boarded came the sound of raucous barking.

  “He’s still pretty weak, but he’s definitely a little fighter. I’ve been pumping liquids in him and in the last couple of hours he appears more alert so I’ve stopped the liquids.” Dr. Burrows raised his voice to be heard above the dogs. “I’ve kept him isolated so he doesn’t get too anxious.”

  He opened a door that led to a smaller room with a large pen. In the center of the pen was Rufus. He lay on his side, as if too exhausted to rise, but as he saw Jake his tail thumped once.

  “Can I sit with him for a little while?” Jake asked.
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  “As long as you want. I’m heading to the house. Just let me know when you leave so I can come back out and lock up.”

  Minutes later Jake entered the pen and sank down next to Rufus, who crawled to him and laid his head in Jake’s lap. The room was silent except for the sound of Rufus’s slightly labored breathing.

  “It’s going to be all right, buddy. Everything is going to be fine.” As Jake stroked Rufus’s soft fur the emotions he’d been stuffing since the moment he’d realized Rufus was in trouble and Edie was gone, began to spill from him.

  She had to be okay. Edie was a fighter. She was smart…smarter than any woman Jake had ever met. But, he’d investigated the murders of lots of smart, savvy women who had found themselves at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Would you wait for me for three years?

  Edie’s question played and replayed in his mind. He’d told her at that time he’d wait forever for her. But he didn’t want to wait three years or forever. He needed her now.

  As the tight control he’d fought so hard to maintain slipped, he leaned his head into Rufus’s fur and began to cry.

  Chapter 23

  “My name is Edie Carpenter and I love Mr. Wok’s sweet and sour chicken.” Edie stood in the center of the paper room, her body aching with the abuse it had taken the night before.

  By her estimation she’d been gone for three days and two nights. That made it Friday. She had come to realize that the sound of water running was Anthony showering for work in the morning. When he appeared with the folding chair and a sandwich it was evening.

  She’d saved the orange he’d given her the night before and

  had eaten it this morning. Remembering the debacle with the plastic wrap, she’d stared at the orange rind in her hands, unsure what to do with it, save it in case he had a special place for it? Hide it someplace where he wouldn’t see it? To solve the problem she’d eaten it.

  After doing what exercises her battered body would allow, she sat on the floor and stared around her, her thoughts racing in a hundred directions.

  She had no idea if anyone knew she was missing, if anyone was searching for her. She also knew that if she had any hope of surviving this ordeal she had to rely on herself alone. And so far no magical escape route had come to mind.

  She thought of the man who was her captor and went over what she’d managed to learn about him so far. He’d been raised by a hoarder. It was evident from this room that he had become one himself. He also suffered a severe case of obsessive/compulsive disorder, as did most hoarders. And he hated it…and he blamed his mother for not loving him, for making him what he’d become.

  His rages were unpredictable and that made him extremely dangerous. She had a feeling that the ones who had come before her had died in the midst of one of his fits of rage. She didn’t want to end up like the others, but as she shifted positions and felt the pain in her ribs from his kicks the night before, she realized that would be her fate unless she could outwit him somehow.

  She’d tested the strength of the chain a thousand times and knew there was no way she could get out of it. Her ankle was already red and swollen and bruised from her attempts.

  The only way she might have half a chance was if she could talk him into unchaining her. She certainly couldn’t escape out a window and he kept the door to the room locked.

  A frantic laugh escaped her as she recognized her odds of his removing the chain was minimal. Even if she did there was no way out.

  She stared upward, noting the fly paper that hung in strips from the ceiling. The flies in the room had been an irritant and let her know that beyond the door he kept locked was probably more filth and garbage than she’d find at a dump.

  At least in this room and the bathroom all she had to contend with was paper and bugs. She had yet to see a rat, but was sure they had to be in the house, along with all kinds of other vermin.

  He’d apparently left the house less than an hour ago, which meant she had hours to pass before he returned. She shivered and held her bruised rib as she thought of the night to come. And then there was tomorrow…Saturday. Did he work on the weekends? God, she prayed he did, but she had a feeling that tomorrow he’d have the whole day to spend with her.

  There were moments when panic threatened to consume her, when she wanted to scream with terror until her throat ached and she could scream no more.

  But in the hours she’d contemplated her situation it had been her work with Colette that had kept her sane so far. Edie knew that panic was her enemy, that giving into her fear could result in her death. Colette had survived a mad man for three long years. Edie was determined to do the same, no matter how long she was held.

  She had to survive. She believed that Colette’s spirit and the wisdom Edie had gained from her would somehow see her through this nightmare.

  One of the things Colette had tried to do was glean as many clues about her captor as possible. If and when she finally got away, the police would have something to work with to capture the man.

  The only thing Edie knew at the moment was that her captor’s name was Anthony. She didn’t know his last name. She had no idea where he worked or what he did.

  Although his features were indelibly burned into her brain for the rest of her life, she had seen no distinguishing features and knew that if he didn’t have a police record and wasn’t in the mug book, the odds weren’t good that anyone would be able to find him.

  She needed to learn more about him and with this thought in mind she walked over to one of the stacks of paper. Somewhere in the mass of papers and magazines, she’d seen a mailing label.

  Unfortunately she saw tons of mailing labels. None of them were addressed to anyone named Anthony. He must dumpster dive or pick through other people’s trash.

  A new horror swept through her as she found a small pile of things she knew were from her own trash can. That meant Monday night he’d taken her trash. She remembered the way Rufus had barked at the back fence. Had he been out there then? Watching her? Stalking her?

  She’d felt uneasy for the rest of the night and she remembered what Colette had said about women’s intuition, that it shouldn’t be dismissed.

  She returned to the center of the bare space and sat, staring at the mounds that surrounded her. Why paper? Edie was the first to admit that she suffered more than a little bit of obsessive compulsive disorder, but there was no way she could crawl into the mind of the man who had created the world in this room.

  You’d better crawl into his mind, a little voice whispered inside her head. The voice belonged to Colette, reminding her that it was imperative that Edie get inside Anthony’s mind. In order to somehow beat him, she had to understand him.

  She had to figure out what drove him, what he wanted, what he needed. What frightened her was that even if she figured that out, his wants and needs would come with a price tag. She had a horrid feeling that price would be her death.

  Another endless night had passed. Teddy had shown up at dawn and by seven the two other detectives assigned to the case were also there.

  It was Saturday, the day that he and Edie should be spending together. Once again the search began for the missing cell phone. Jake was just about to go back out to the woods after noon when Frank and Colette Merriweather arrived at the house.

  “No word?” Colette asked.

  Jake shook his head. The sight of the scarred woman and her bear of a husband threatened to break him. “Nothing,” he finally managed to say.

  “What can we do to help?” Frank asked.

  Jake gestured toward the back yard. “We suspect that someplace out there in the woods is Edie’s cell phone. If we can find it, then I’m hoping we can see if maybe she got a call that could lead us to her whereabouts.”

  “I have a copy of her publicity picture. Should I make up flyers and get them distributed?” Colette asked.

  Flyers made it so official. Going public meant they had no clues and were depending on the ave
rage Joe on the street to find her. Maggie’s Black’s mother had slapped up posters on every light pole and street sign in the area.

  Jake frowned at thoughts of the missing teenager. And before her there had been Kelly Paulson. Both of them had possessed long dark hair and bright blue eyes.

  Like Edie.

  So much like Edie.

  To date no trace of the two missing young women had been found. To the cops investigating the cases although no official determination had been made, the unofficial opinion was that the two were dead.

  But it was too soon to presume that about Edie, he thought fiercely. She had to be still alive. Any other outcome was intolerable.

  “Jake?” Colette’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Posters?” she asked again.

  He was reluctant to tell her yes, afraid to tell her no. He was frozen with indecision when Teddy walked up next to him. Teddy’s presence reminded Jake that he wasn’t in a position to make any decisions. He wasn’t assigned to the case but rather was on personal leave. He felt almost grateful not to be the one making the decisions.

  As Teddy spoke with Colette and Frank, Jake walked to the kitchen window and looked out beyond the fence where he knew Detectives Art Conrad and Larry Kincaid, along with a couple of neighbors still searched for Edie’s phone.

  He needed to get out there, but before he could move from his position, a light touch fell on his back. He turned and forced a smile at Colette. She didn’t return his empty gesture.

  “She’s strong, Jake. If there’s a way to come back to you she will. She’s like me, a survivor. We don’t go down easily.” She cleared her throat, as if she, too, had emotion that needed to be swallowed. “I’m off to make posters. Frank is going to stay here and help the search. I’m going to make sure the posters are all over the area. We’re going to find her, Jake. Somehow, someway, she’ll make her way back home.”