by Marie Ellie
INTO THE VAULT
‘‘A psychological thriller about a young woman locked in a life that she does not recognize.’’
MARIE ELLIE
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual places or events are purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Marie Ellie
Al rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, or store in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
I dedicate this book to the people I love the most, my parents, Angel and Nilda and the love of my life Gabriel Muratti. Thank you for helping me achieve this dream that was always at the bottom of my priorities. Thank you for being part of this process and for sharing the experience of being a writer with me.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER I THE ARRANGED DATE
CHAPTER II A PERFECT DINNER
CHAPTER III A STRANGE KIDNAPPING
CHAPTER IV BACK HOME
CHAPTER V SURPRISE AFTER SURPRISE
CHAPTER VI A PLAN FOR ESCAPING THE HOUSE
CHAPTER VII THE LONGEST WAY HOME
CHAPTER VIII A PLAN IN THE BASEMENT
CHAPTER IX A DANGEROUS MOVE
CHAPTER X STRAIGHT TO THE VAULT
CHAPTER XI A PLEASANT VISIT
CHAPTER XII A FORCED ESCAPE
CHAPTER XIII REMOVING THE MASKS
CHAPTER XIV PREPARING FOR TORTURE
CHAPTER XV THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
It all started in that cabin full of winter luggage. The room looked like something out of a luxury magazine, and the festive mood disturbed the silent morning. The weather sprang to life violently, as was the custom in that humid and cold corner of Colorado Spring. The breeze churned the thick snow that fell endlessly. My father watched me as he uncontrollably drank his dose of caffeine. He was happy to see me enjoy all the gifts they had bought just to pamper their beloved daughter. My mother looked restless as she slowly paced the hallway that overlooked the road again and again. Unlike my father, she was in a state of nervousness and concern that I did not understand. I remember that the phone rang, she answered with a timid, “Hello,” and spoke covertly with a suspicious tone that brought about the real suspense. “We’re waiting on the situation, we’ll let you know if there is any change in her behavior.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks and hung up without saying goodbye. My father served her a cup of coffee so that she would accompany him in his usual addiction and there, in the kitchen and looking steadily and intently at me; he comforted my mother tenderly.
It was already 9:00 in the morning and I still felt the atmosphere of horror inside me that was woken that dark morning. I did not understand what was happening, but whatever it was; it was slowly consuming each one of our dreams and the expectations of my parents. They did not tell me, but I felt it. They looked at me worriedly and with regret.
I was only 9 years old when all the commotion that had undoubtedly worried those closest to me started. My parents decided not to torment themselves more than they already were and drew up an agenda for that special day in Colorado Spring. That morning we celebrated Christmas as a family and then strolled along some roads flooded with tourists hypnotized by the icy snow covering the ground. We decided to ski for the first time, one of my greatest wishes. After parking the car, we climbed up the hill and walked amidst tourists in to reach the cabins, finally rent our snowsuits and start the adventure in the snow.
“Good morning! There are three of us; two adults and a 9-year-old girl,” my father responded to the woman in charge of renting the gear.
“That’s a total of eighty-five dollars and forty-nine cents!”
The older lady, owner of the cabins, unloaded all the necessary equipment for the winter sport and handed it over to my father. As if we were the most experienced skiers in town, she neglected to give us instructions on how to use it. So, I remember we started looking around at what the other people were doing.
We spent the whole morning there enjoying the weather and the snow, skiing on it like little kids in a great adventure. Later in the afternoon, we left for a restaurant and further at night we drove to the house of some close friends to close out the day.
My father always took care of the money. He was always a good provider and stood out from the rest in his pediatric pneumology practice. He always wanted to be a politician and reforming the country's health system. He used to keep us in a productive and happy environment in order to spend his free moments totally disconnected from his hectic work. My mother was a peaceful person and blindly supported everyone around her. She stopped practicing law to devote herself to me as well as my father. She managed my father's practice just like an entrepreneur capable of bringing about a successful and profitable environment.
It was not until I was 14 years old that they decided to confront that secret that they had witnessed during my childhood. This was the second time it had happened, but the first time it was of real importance. A more complex event, more accurate and tragically unpredictable. I started that drug treatment, under the magnifying glass of my parents and the entire arsenal of doctors that my father knew.
That evening my mom took me to my room, and I laid down gently on the bed covered with stuffed animals that had kept me company during the night.
“I’m coming, don’t fall asleep,” my mother told me while she stroked my forehead with the love so deep that only mothers can feel.
She left and quickly returned with a glass of water and the medication that brought back hope. I took it, and she said goodbye to me with such great confidence that it echoed in the room full of nostalgia.
“Goodnight!” she said goodbye again just in front of the door and turned the light in the room completely off.
It was that day when everything changed completely. My parents kept me under surveillance in case my behavior gave away any problem. I just wanted to live a healthy life. Over the years, everything was falling into place by itself. I entered a university, started my studies and everyone began to relax. I felt like I was able to control everything and only gave free rein to the monster when I was locked alone in my room. For my parents everything was over, at least that is what I made them believe.
CHAPTER I
THE ARRANGED DATE
We have been married for 5 years, and this is our first outing together; just for us. Things have not gone well in our relationship and William seems to have decided to do something about it, finally. Today he called me at the club in the middle of my first afternoon tennis class. He told me to come home early, that he had a surprise that he was going to tell me after going out to dinner. So I canceled the class with my last student and rescheduled him for the following week.
I just arrived home, and I'm still thinking about how to get in. It's not that I don’t want this to work but it's been such a long time waiting for a reaction, or better said, an action on his part. There’s the house that has been our home, and it really is perfect. Two floors, a light wood color with a beautiful entrance featuring a high ceiling and a beautiful, modern, glass door welcoming you in. You have to climb four steps to reach the small balcony where we have pl
aced a beautiful orchid that, when blooming, adorns the entrance to our house, 134 A of Montauk Hwy in East Hampton, with white flowers.
I decided to get out of the car at once, walking towards the entrance and when I reached the stairs, my hand shoots out to grab the railing so I can shake my shoes, emptying out the small stones from the road that leads to the garage. I don’t want to bring them into the house; it's unpleasant stepping on them when you're walking around barefoot. I pushed open the unlocked door, and there he is, William, my husband. Sitting at the foot of the inner staircase waiting for me. I cannot avoid looking at him as if it were my first time seeing him. So handsome, that rectangular face with a beard that’s just nearing 5 o’clock, perfect lips, a straight nose and blue eyes that take the air out of anyone. His jaw is marked and makes him look healthy, beautiful, with that dark, abundant, hair, always perfectly styled even if he leaves without touching it.
“Grace! I was waiting for you,” he told me, walking towards me, while I’m still standing at the door looking at the very attractive man I chose to marry. “Get ready, we have an exceptional dinner.”
“Of course!” I couldn’t help but notice my excitement, anyone in my place would be excited to have a date with this man. He's perfect. “I’ll be ready in 10 minutes.”
William approves my words, giving me a smile followed by a wink. He knows it’ll be more than ten minutes, but he’s willing to wait for me.
I went to my room, left the bag on the bed and walked straight to the closet. I swung the door open and stood to gape at all my clothes. What the hell do I wear now? He is so hot with that thin blue shirt with white stripes; ah! True, he’s wearing jeans, some pretty tight ones that still look scandalous, maybe we’re not going to a very ritzy place, so I’ll pass on the black dress I always look good in because maybe, it won’t be right. I pulled down a high-waisted black skirt and a blue blouse with ruffled sleeves that was supposedly in fashion. I put them on the bed to see how they’d look together. I don’t know who told me to pay attention to that fashion magazine that blouse is ugly, and I’m going to look about 15 pounds fatter. Something else would be better. I head back to the wardrobe and remember a dress that I bought a few months ago and haven’t had the opportunity to use yet. I started looking for it piece by piece and as always happen when you search for something, it’s never there. I gave the wardrobe three revisions until I found it. It was hanging in a corner where even the best detective couldn’t have found it. Apparently, I’d already searched there twice, but I never saw it.
My eyes scanned the clock and more than 5 minutes of the time I asked William has already passed, so I have 5 minutes. I take out the dress, put it on a hanger and take it to the bathroom. I hang it there while I shower so that it gets ironed a little with the steam from the hot water. That always works for me, I remember it was my grandmother who taught me that trick when I asked her to iron my high school graduation gown. That day she gave me a lesson on how to iron perfectly and how I should never iron a gown if I didn’t want it to burn. So now, I put some difficult fabrics in the bathroom, and the hot steam gets rid of the wrinkles.
I turned the shower faucet, putting the water as hot as possible, I pulled my hair back in a way that only I understand to get the mane that reaches halfway down my back to become the size of an average onion. To be honest with you, it’s very impressive; it looks so good on me that when I look at myself in the mirror, it seems like a good option to go out to eat with, we'll see.
It took me five minutes to take a quick shower, but I left the water running so that the dress continues ironing with the steam. I went to the dresser and opened the panties drawer. I picked out a very striking red color, actually pretty tiny. Overall, we are in reconciliation and today can be the big day. Also, they’re red, the same color of the dress. A very beautiful dress, I fell in love with it when I saw it on an online boutique website. They have very pretty clothes that seem like they hand make it stitch by stitch, detail by detail, and that’s how they charge for it. Anyway, I fell in love with the dress. It’s a modern style, the front comes a little higher than the mid-thigh, and in the back, it ends at the knee more or less. It’s made with a fabric that looks like lace and seems to be see-through, although the truth is that it has a skin-colored lining that doesn’t let anything be seen that shouldn’t be seen and the best thing is that you don’t need to wear a bra. That is very convenient for women who like me, think that medieval men invented the bra in order to torture the infidels. I snatched the panties; I put them on carefully watching to make sure I don’t break them since they’re lace and walk to the mirror to sit and start doing my makeup. There was one that I saw in a tutorial which will supposedly make me look like Jennifer Lopez in 5 minutes. So far, I'm not getting it, I don’t look like her at all, but really, it looks pretty decently on me. Of course, I don’t have time for eyelashes. I looked at the clock out of the corner of my eye while I put on my lipstick, it's been 20 minutes, 10 minutes more than I asked for. Maybe it's okay because I’m a woman, supposedly we take hours to get ready so surely William took that into account, and we're cool on time.
I ran to the bathroom, closed the water faucet, grabbed the dress and left the bathroom while removing it from the hanger. I stopped right in front of the mirror and put it on carefully from the bottom up, slipping my legs in one by one and then raising it to accommodate my breasts inside. It has straps that tie behind the neck to give support to your breasts and let you leave your back exposed. Tying the knots and bow always gives me a little bit of trouble when I'm not looking. I really don’t know how good the knot is so I don’t think that collecting my hair into a small onion is a very good option. I walked to the mirror; I have a look that does justice to the attractive man waiting for me in the living room of my house. I remove the barrette and let my hair fall by itself, natural. When I turned to look in the mirror, it made me reconsider ... I better comb my hair some. These straight haircuts are usually a little treacherous. Sometimes they are perfect and sometimes it’s better to wear a hat, especially when you decide to dye your hair blonde. I don’t know why I let myself be convinced to turn into this Balayage, it looks very beautiful, but now I’m a slave to my hair. I don’t think it lasts long like this.
I grabbed a very beautiful handbag that William gave me two years ago for my birthday, and finally, I can use it. It's cream-colored, so I'll combine my shoes with the bag. I take my ID, a couple of credit cards just in case, lipstick, and a small make-up case to touch up later. I head back to the closet to look for some shoes. I know exactly what I'm going to use, some Jillian Chinesse Laundry sandals that I also bought online. Their heel is more than 4 inches tall, which will make me look better since I barely measure five foot six and William is a tall man. I finish putting my shoes on, stand in front of the mirror and decide to complete my look with some long earrings.
Two more minutes in front of the mirror checking that absolutely nothing is missing. I stood sideways to see how I look in this dress from every possible angle and in one of those turns, I notice the envelope that is on the dresser. I remember what's inside, the divorce papers. I better forget about that for now and give this marriage a chance. I threw the envelope into the third drawer on the left and looked at the clock again and damn! It took me 40 minutes. I'd better hurry downstairs without falling flat on my face and ruining the evening.
“I’m ready! Did I take too long?”
“Just long enough to look this incredibly gorgeous. The wait was worth every second.”
“Thanks!” man, how romantic he’s gotten, wondering if he was practicing that response while I was getting ready.
We walked towards the door, and upon arrival, he removed his jacket from the entrance closet, opens the door and with a gesture of kindness, invites me to leave the house first. I left, waiting for him and standing on the second step of the front staircase while he activates the alarm and closes the door. At the end of the stairs, he extends his hand to me to help me do
wn the two missing steps before reaching the sidewalk where his truck is. I really appreciate the gesture, after all, I have 4 ½ inch heels, and any help walking on difficult surfaces is welcome.
We walked to his truck, and he opens the door for me to climb in. Wow, this is new; William opened the door for me for the first time in a long time. Surely he is reading a book or something because this is not normal.
“Thank you, William,” I told him visibly impressed.
“It’s nothing,” he answers me with a sweet and sexy tone, like one I haven’t heard from his mouth in a very long time.
As soon as I enter the light gray Jaguar F-Pace that he bought last month, I realize he made a very good choice. This truck is beautiful, the space and the seat materials make it a truly luxurious experience. I think I'll consider borrowing it one day. I would have bought a white one, but gray is beautiful. William gets into the truck, gets comfortable and says to me:
“Do you know what this is?” he asks me while signaling to a black sporty armband.
“A step counter?” the truth was that was the only thing that occurred to me and since they were in style.
“Ha! No,” he answered me, with a smile that showed he had really wanted me to give a bad answer so that he’d be able to show me the right one.
“It’s the key to the truck.”
“How? The key?”
“Yes, you wear it, and you never separate from it, it doesn’t fall off, you can’t forget it, you can’t even leave it inside the truck. It works with the regular key; I leave the regular key inside the truck, I go to the back, I bring the bracelet to the J in Jaguar and in a few seconds, the truck locks. To open it, I have to get close and remove the alarm from behind. I can play sports, swim, do whatever I want without losing the key.”
