Level Five

by Carla Cassidy

  He’d spent most of yesterday away from the house, gathering treasures and thinking. He’d consciously willed himself to stay away from the paper room, to stay away from her as he thought about the idea of a book.

  He also understood his own limitations and feared that if he spent Sunday with her she might do something or say something that would provoke his darkest emotions and she’d be dead before he could make a final decision about her proposition.

  So he’d left her alone and now sat in his office, still thinking about her and about a book.

  He leaned back in his chair and templed his fingers thoughtfully. He’d known she was the one. The minute he’d seen her publicity poster in the bookstore window he’d known.

  Maybe this was all meant to be. She was a true crime author, he had a story to tell. He’d known she was the one to tell it.

  Even if she didn’t use his name, the story would still be about him. And she only wrote books about the victims of crimes. What his mother had done to him had been a horrendous crime.

  It was brilliant, really. When she finished it, she could send it to her agent or editor or whatever. There was no question that eventually it would make its way to the bookstores. He didn’t care about the money it would make. What he liked was the fact that Edie was well known enough that a lot of copies would be sold. People would be talking about him.

  It would truly be all about him as it had never been before. A rush of emotion whirled through him. He realized with surprise the alien emotion was pleasure.

  At that moment Susan appeared in the doorway of his cubicle. “Ah, sweet Susan,” he exclaimed.

  Her cheeks grew pink as she offered him a brilliant smile. “I baked some of those chocolate chip cookies you loved last night so I thought I’d bring you some.” She held out a ceramic platter with half a dozen cookies on it.

  “You are the greatest woman in the world,” he said as he looked around for someplace to place the cookies so she could have her platter back.

  “Just keep it,” she said, obviously recognizing what he was doing. “I’ll get it back from you another time.”

  “We’ll plan something together over next weekend and I’ll bring it to you then,” he said, although he wasn’t sure at all he’d follow up on any weekend plans with Susan.

  Edie was in his paper room and he wanted every minute possible to spend with her, to work on the project they would complete together. He smiled, realizing he’d come to a decision. He focused back on the woman in front of him.

  “I’ll call you or we’ll talk this week.” He recognized the promise in his voice and as usual it was enough for the stupid cow.

  “Great. I’ll let you get back to work. Enjoy the cookies and I’ll keep my weekend open.” With a wiggle of her fingers she left.

  Of course she’d keep her weekend open, he thought with derision. She was his little chess piece that he could move around at will.

  He picked up one of the cookies and chewed, his thoughts returning to Edie. If they worked together often enough she could probably get the book written in four to six weeks.

  All he had to do was maintain his control of his wrath. All he had to do was make sure in the process of writing his story, his temper didn’t get the best of him. He couldn’t kill her before they were finished.

  Chapter 26

  Sunday had been the longest day yet for Edie. She’d awakened with her eye completely swelled closed. Her body hurt as it never had before. Bruises darkened the outside of her thigh and the ribs on the side he’d managed to kick. There was no question in her mind that if she hadn’t managed to stop him, she wouldn’t have survived. He would have kicked and punched her until he’d killed her.

  She’d spent most of the day curled up on the floor, her body too sore to move. She feared at any moment that he’d return for another day of abuse.

  As she’d waited her mind raced with thoughts. She should have married Jake when he’d asked her the first time. Funny, at the moment she couldn’t remember exactly why she’d told him no.

  She tried not to think about him too much. It was too painful to remember what they’d shared, to realize she might never see him again. She also tried not to think about Rufus. There was no question in her mind that he was dead. Thinking of life without him was almost as agonizing as the thought of never being with Jake again.

  Most of her thoughts were consumed by Anthony. There was no question he was a narcissist, probably a sociopath to boot. It was a dangerous combination. He saw the world only as it revolved around him. He had no capability to empathize with anyone.

  His pain. His need. That was all that mattered to him. He’d obviously go to any lengths in an attempt to alleviate the bad feelings he carried with him.

  Would he bite on her offer to write his story? Hard to tell. Certainly it would appeal to the narcissistic tendencies he possessed. What concerned her was that if he agreed to the plan, it was possible that in chronicling his childhood his killing rage would explode out of his control.

  It was a risk she had to take. She had no other bargaining chips. “My name is Edie Carpenter and I love watching Criminal Minds,” she said aloud.

  She’d forgotten her affirmation when she’d first opened her eyes. The pain had been too intense. How had Colette managed to survive for so long? Edie had known that with Colette she was writing a book about a woman of strength. She’d had no idea what kind of strength Colette had possessed in order to survive for so long.

  She knew the floor where she laid held the blood stains of others. She’d couldn’t help but remember the tooth she’d found. Had those women fought to survive until the very end? Or had there come a time when their bodies had been so broken, so injured that they’d begged for death to take them?

  Edie wasn’t anywhere close to that place. Her fight for life was still as strong inside her as the day he’d first taken her. If Colette could survive her ordeal, then Edie was determined to somehow survive this.

  Sunday passed without him coming into the room, and she’d been grateful for the time to heal, to screw her head back on straight, to prepare for the next battle she’d have to endure.

  However, as usual when she heard the familiar ding of the microwave on Monday evening, fear flooded through her veins and a sharp alertness cleared out the fog from her brain.

  She had to be alert to face him. She had to have her wits about her so she could be careful with what she said. Any movement she made might set him off. The way to survive as long as possible was to identify additional triggers. When she saw the veins in his neck pulse with blood, she had to curl up in a fetal ball to protect internal organs from whatever punishment he might mete out.

  Minutes passed and then he entered. A flutter of anticipation went off inside her stomach as she saw that he carried a laptop computer and another bag from McDonalds.

  She wasn’t sure which she was happier to see. Her hunger pangs had been constant throughout the day. What she really longed for was a tall cup of coffee and a chocolate éclair.

  “Fish today,” he said as he tossed her the bag. “And a side salad instead of fries.”

  The thought of cold lettuce with a couple of juicy cherry tomatoes or sliced cucumber was as enticing as the idea of an éclair. He sat on the chair he’d left in the room the night before with the computer on his lap. “Eat,” he commanded.

  Dutifully she opened the bag and grabbed the salad. She opened the plastic container, grabbed the plastic fork that had been provided and began to eat.

  She ate slowly, savoring each and every bite, her good eye gazing at him frequently. When she finally finished with the salad she spoke for the first time. “I don’t know what you want me to do with the container.”

  “I’ll take it.” He set the laptop on the floor next to him and took both the plastic container and the fork from her. “I keep these.”

  Of course he did, she thought as she unwrapped her fish sandwich. He kept everything. He was a level five hoarder jus
t like his mother before him. She couldn’t begin to imagine what his house looked like outside of this room. What did surprise her was that she was becoming accustomed to the smell.

  When she was finished with her sandwich, she carefully folded the paper and bag, ridiculously pleased when he nodded with satisfaction. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome.” He set the salad container on the floor and picked up the laptop. “I spent most of yesterday and today thinking about your suggestion that you write my story. I like it. I want you to do it. I want everyone to know that my mother was a monster. I’m just her helpless victim.”

  He got up and handed her the laptop. “It’s only loaded with one program…Word. There’s no internet access, no games, nothing else except what you need to do your job. Of course, it’s going to require that we spend a lot of time together and you’ll have to use aliases for me and my mother. When it’s finished you’ll send it to your agent and then our work together will be done.” His eyes took on a shine of pleasure. “And I’ll be whole.”

  And I’ll be dead, Edie thought in desperation.

  Nine days and eight endless nights.

  For Jake it felt like an eternity that Edie had been missing. The case had gone public and sightings were being called into the tip line. Most of the calls were from psychics and crazies, but occasionally something came in that had to be followed up on. Those calls had yielded nothing more than a mistaken identity.

  Chief Decker had pulled together a task force to investigate the possibility of a serial kidnapper working in the area, a man who targeted women with long dark hair and bright blue eyes.

  Jake was still on personal leave and so wasn’t privy to the task force information except through Teddy, who had told him the men on the team were spinning their wheels and going nowhere.

  As the sun broke over the horizon on the ninth day she’d been gone, Jake lay in her bed, where the scent of her still lingered in the sheets and memories played through his mind.

  He’d been in the bed for the past two days, too weary to move, too broken to act. The transcripts from Edie’s cell phone company had arrived but there had been nothing in the texts to provide any kind of clue as to what might have happened to her.

  Rufus was still at the vet’s. He was well enough to come home but Jake hadn’t summoned the energy to go get him yet.

  Hopeless. Somewhere in the past forty-eight hours Jake had plunged into the abyss of sheer hopelessness. He hadn’t had a real meal in a week, hadn’t even showered in the past two days. Everything felt like such an effort. Living without Edie seemed almost impossible.

  He turned away from the morning sunshine and squeezed his eyes tightly closed, trying to recapture the feel of Edie in his arms, the sound of her laughter, the taste of her kisses.

  He’d always considered himself a tough guy, he’d faced killers without flinching, had taken down hopped up crackheads without hesitation. But this, this thing with Edie was too much.

  It wasn’t just the fact that she was missing that ached in his heart, it was the fact that she’d never known what it was like to be loved unconditionally. Her parents had abandoned and blamed her. Was it any wonder she was reluctant to believe in any kind of love that lasted?

  He burrowed his head deeper into her pillow where the scent of her vanilla shampoo lingered faintly like an afterthought. Another day or two and even her scent would be gone.

  Then there would be nothing left for him to hang onto, nothing left of her. The hollowness of his heart nearly consumed him at the thought.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” The deep voice thundered from the bedroom doorway.

  Jake shot up in surprise to see Frank Burgess standing next to the bed. Like a huge grizzly bear disturbed from his winter hibernation, the big man looked pissed.

  “Get up,” he snapped.

  “Go away,” Jake replied and he burrowed his head beneath Edie’s pillow. “Just go away and leave me alone.

  “I’m not about to go anywhere,” Frank replied.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Your partner called me and told me that you’d lost it, that you’d fallen apart.” The bed shook and the pillow was plucked off Jake’s head. “Get up, dammit. Get your ass out of that bed.”

  Jake turned over and stared up at Frank. “There’s nothing to get up for.”

  “So, you’re just going to wallow in your own self-pity. That’s how you plan to spend your time?”

  Anger stirred Jake to a sitting position. “What, exactly would you have me do?”

  “Certainly not give up on her.” Frank kicked the bed, making the mattress shake. “Trust me, man. I’ve been where you are but you can’t just quit. It’s only been nine days. You could still get a happy ending.”

  Once again a wealth of anger stirred in Jake’s heart and drove him out of the bed. “You and Colette were one of the lucky ones. Happy endings just don’t occur in my line of work. I find the bones of women years after they’ve gone missing. I find their decomposing bodies. I’m the guy that has to break the news to their families that their loved one is never coming home. I have to hear their screams of pain, their lives ripping apart.”

  “But sometimes you get a lucky break. Sometimes they do come home, Jake. Elizabeth Smart, Jaycee Dugard, Shawn Hornbeck, do I need to go on?”

  “Miracles. Those were damned miracles, not the norm.”

  “And Edie isn’t worth believing in miracles?” Frank features twisted with his own anger.

  Jake stared at the man who had suffered for three long years, a man who had stayed steady and faithful throughout Colette’s absence. “You never gave up hope?”

  Some of the anger left Frank’s features. “I told you, I’ve been where you are. I spent three days in bed, wishing everyone away, swallowed whole by the emptiness and darkness. When I finally pulled myself out of bed and time continued to pass, I realized there were other cases for the police to investigate, more crime calling them away from the cooling case of Colette. By the time a couple of months had passed I realized I was all she had left, the only one who still believed in miracles. Can’t you be that man for Edie?”

  He didn’t wait for Jake’s reply. He disappeared into Edie’s master bathroom and returned a moment later. He threw a large towel at Jake. “Take a shower and when you’re finished I’m taking you out to breakfast.”

  He stalked out of the room and Jake had a feeling if he didn’t do what Frank had asked the big man would return and bodily throw him into the shower.

  He pulled himself out of bed and stumbled into the shower. Tilting his head up, he allowed hot needles of water to sting his face, to beat on his shoulders. He welcomed the pain that cut through the anguish that had immobilized him, but wasn’t at all sure he was ready to rejoin the land of the living, a land without Edie.

  An hour later he sat across from Frank in a booth at Rosemary’s Café, a little place known for big, inexpensive breakfasts. Jake ordered a cup of coffee and Frank took the liberty of ordering two of the Lumberjack specials.

  The men didn’t speak until the food was delivered. “Thanks,” Jake said as he picked up his fork. Suddenly he realized he was starving.

  “No problem. My brother was the one who pulled me out of bed and threw me into a shower,” Frank said as cut into a stack of pancakes. “It was on the twelfth day of Colette’s disappearance. Nobody had any answers. There didn’t appear to be any leads. I sat down on the sofa and didn’t get up for three days except to go to the bathroom. I just shut down, turned off and wanted to be left alone.”

  “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

  Frank offered him a sympathetic smile. “You keep putting one foot in front of the other.” His smile fell. “I heard about your meeting with Edie’s father.”

  Jake frowned and grabbed a piece of toast. “She told me on our first or second date that her father was dead.”

  “You must have been angry to find out that she’d lied
to you.”

  Jake chewed a bite of toast thoughtfully. “She didn’t really lie to me. For all intent and purposes James Carpenter is dead. What bothers me is that he obviously blames Edie for her sister’s death. I can’t imagine Edie putting up with him for so long and not having anyone else to take his blame out of her head.”

  “Shame is a huge motivation to keep a secret. She obviously loves her father in some way. She provided for him, but she had to be ashamed of what he’s become. Maybe in some irrational part of her, she believes she’s responsible for her sister’s death.”

  The two men fell silent as they focused on their meals. Jake was ravenous despite the turmoil that whirled inside his head. It was a testimony to the fact that the body continued to function even when the heart was dead.

  After his plate was clean he leaned back against the booth and wrapped his hands around a fresh cup of coffee. “Okay, you’ve pulled me from my stupor. You’ve got me showered and fed, but I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  Frank smiled sympathetically. “You keep looking for her. You keep thinking about what might have happened to her. You get back to work or start a new job. You do whatever necessary to keep on living a productive life despite the hole that’s been carved out of your heart.”

  “I’m not ready to get back to work. I’ve still got some vacation time I intend to take. Emotionally I can’t be effective as a detective right now. All I can think about is Edie.”

  “Then you need to keep pounding the pavement, searching out leads. Someplace, somewhere maybe there’s a clue that hasn’t been found, a lead that hasn’t been followed.”

  “Teddy told me the task force is trying to find a connection between the three victims, but I’m certain there isn’t one except for the fact that they all looked similar.” Jake took a sip of his coffee, hoping the warm brew would chase away some of the chill that had gripped his guts since the moment he’d seen Rufus in the yard and realized Edie was gone.