by Dori Lavelle
As he unlocked the door and pushed me through it, I felt the sharp prick of his knife on my back.
“Don't do anything stupid,” he whispered hoarsely into my ear. “I wouldn’t think twice about breaking your neck right now. Instant death.”
I groaned in agreement. Tears flowed down my cheeks.
He opened the door and loud techno music assaulted my ears. I must have been naïve to think anyone would even hear my screams. Like most nights of the week, and weekends in particular, our apartment building sounded like a disco. I used to like the noise because it made me feel safe, assured me I was not alone. Who would have thought that noise would be the very thing to ensure my death?
Jude poked his head out and peered down the corridor. Seeing no one, he escorted me through it, toward a door just two down from mine.
“This is where I’ve been living for the past six months.”
He had been so close. Too close. And like last time, I had not even noticed. But how could I? He had been dead, for crying out loud.
The apartment door he led me to was the one belonging to Mary Lou, the old woman who had given me the calla lily a while back. My heart clenched as I thought of the innocent woman, and prayed she hadn’t become one of Jude’s victims. Jude had killed the couple who helped him in Stony Creek. What would stop him from murdering Mary Lou? The thought made me shudder.
“Welcome home,” Jude said and switched on the light. All the blinds were closed.
As soon as I saw what was inside the room, my whole body went cold and I started to shake. A wave of déjà vu washed over me.
This place, this apartment just two doors from mine was almost an exact replica of the home I had shared with Jude in Madison. It was decorated with the same furniture and décor, from the couches, cushions, and vases to the curtains. It seemed he had kept all the furniture, perhaps in some storage place somewhere, while he had been abroad.
“I knew you'd like it.” I flinched as he closed the door and turned the key, trapping me yet again. “Looks like home, isn't it? Way too small, but we can make the most of it.”
I swallowed hard as tears coursed down my cheeks. How could history be repeating itself like this? Here I was again, staring pure evil in the face.
He grabbed one of my shoulders and pushed me forward. I tried to shrug him off, but he tightened his grip. “Stop being a bitch,” he said in a low and dangerous voice. “Pull yourself together. I have a surprise for you.”
He led me down a corridor similar to mine. One thing that was different from Jude's mansion were the decorations on the walls. The walls I had lived inside during our marriage had been bare and whitewashed. These had dozens of photos of us together, some of them wedding photos, and some of me on my own. We walked past one that made my breath catch in my throat—a photo of me wearing a moss-green summer dress with a ribbon around the bust, a gift from Dustin last Christmas. That was not the only photo proving that Jude had been stalking me for a while. I had been photographed having dinner, shopping, even at a wedding shoot. My stomach roiled.
“You always wanted to hang pictures on the walls of our home. I wanted to show you what a changed man I am.” He kissed me on the cheek and his touch, his breath, caused my skin to crawl as if it were covered with insects. “But that’s nothing. I have an even better surprise for you.”
He reached for the door handle of one of the rooms and pushed it open. “Surprise.”
It was the same bed we'd had years ago, the same one we'd made love in as newlyweds, the one he had raped me in when the fairytale had died. Photos were on display in here too. All photos of me naked, each one a perfect shot of me inside my apartment. In one of them I was sleeping in my bed, the sheets only covering a part of my leg. I rarely slept naked, unless Dustin came over and we made love. I loved the feel of his naked body against mine after sex.
This photo meant Jude must have installed cameras inside my bedroom, that he had watched Dustin and me making love. I soon realized that the cameras had not only been installed in my room, but in most rooms of my apartment. In one of the photos I was taking a shower, and there was another of me sitting on the toilet. The shock to my system was so great, I didn’t even know how to feel anymore.
The photos covered every surface of the wall above the queen-size bed.
“Do you like it? I knew you would.” He rubbed his hands together and neared me.
I made a move to back out of the doorway, to get away from him, but he grabbed me by the arm and tugged me back inside, slamming the door shut with his foot. “This is where you belong. This is your home.” he pressed his lips to my ear and his breath was hot against my earlobe. “Your home is wherever I am. You hear me?”
I nodded, feeling sick. My stomach hurt at the thought of being locked up in this apartment until he killed me.
As if reading my mind, he moved closer and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. “We're not staying here for long. Soon we will leave this world and be together forever. I’m never letting you go again.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I totally forgot you needed the bathroom. So sorry about that.”
He squeezed his fingers tight around my forearm and tugged me in the direction of the bathroom. Unlike the rest of the apartment, it hadn’t been renovated to resemble our old home. In fact, it was in desperate need of a renovation. The only new thing was the small window, which had thick glass and bars.
He used both his hands and body to push me toward the toilet bowl. To my horror, he lifted my dress and slid my panties down my legs.
“Sit.” He didn’t make a move to leave the bathroom. This reminded me of the day he had forced me to take a pregnancy test when we were married.
To my relief, he removed the scarf from my mouth. I licked my dry lips while he moved to the door and leaned against it with his arms crossed.
“Give me privacy,” I said in a low, broken voice.
“What for?” His eyes darkened. “There’s nothing on you I haven’t seen before.”
“Please, Jude. I need a moment alone. It’s uncomfortable… going to the toilet with you in here.”
His eyes bore into mine. “No need to feel uncomfortable. Pee or shit. I’m not going anywhere. We’ve lost enough time together already. I want to spend each second with you.”
“You’re full of shit,” I said, refusing to sit. He could pull my panties down, but he couldn’t force me to do the deed. I still had that power. I hung on to every little bit of power I had left. Thank God I didn’t actually have the urge to pee. I had thought he would take me to my own toilet, inside my apartment, where I could think of a way to escape. But now I was in an unfamiliar place.
When I refused again to pee, he pulled up my panties and dragged me back into the bedroom, where he shoved me onto the bed. I ached between my legs at the thought that he wanted to rape me again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Haley
I sat on the bed feeling nothing as Jude moved around the room, sprinkling rose petals everywhere. He went on about wanting to create a romantic atmosphere for us. He’d initially wanted to light candles, but said he could no longer trust me to behave myself around a fire.
My thoughts drifted to Dustin. Was he trying to reach me? What did he think when I didn’t pick up? There was no way he would buy it that I would be unreachable. I wouldn’t leave town without talking to him in person, especially on our anniversary.
But even if Dustin did suspect something fishy, never in his wildest dreams would he think I was being held hostage next door.
I prayed that something, anything, would happen before Jude killed us both. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to have come this far only to lose it all. I didn’t want to never see Dustin again. If I survived this, I would never again hesitate about starting a life with him.
Please, let me survive.
When Jude was done, he reached under the bed and produced a bag. He pulled out a pair of blue pajama pants and changed into them. If someone were able
to look through the window, they would have thought we were an ordinary couple getting ready for bed. Or, thanks to the handcuffs, about to have kinky sex. But of course no one would be able to see. The barred windows were shut and the blinds were drawn.
Talk, talk, talk, Haley. That’s the only weapon you have.
He spoke before I could.
“Did you like the flower I asked Mary Lou to deliver to you?”
My head snapped up. “It was you.” I was talking to myself. “You were using Mary Lou.”
“I was. Her Alzheimer's and loneliness made her a great tool. All I had to do was tell her I was her long-lost nephew, the son her brother had turned his back on, and had nowhere to go.” He laughed. “She didn’t even have a brother. I did my research. But for six months we lived like family. Until she started getting in my way.”
“What did you do to Mary Lou? What did you do to her?”
Jude shrugged. “I used her, and when I no longer needed her, I killed her.”
“You’re evil,” I said between clenched teeth.
“And I think a part of you is attracted to that part of me.”
I shook my head and decided to change the subject, trying not to think of Mary Lou’s dead body. “What’s your secret, Jude? You said you’d tell me… after dinner.”
He looked up as if surprised. “Oh yes, that.” He came to sit on the bed next to me. “I guess it’s about time. Let me tell you a bedtime story. Even better, let me show you.” He rose and went to his jeans, which now hung on the back of an armchair. He pulled out his wallet and returned to the bed.
He flipped the wallet open and pulled out two photos. One was of me and the other of his ex-wife.
He placed them on the bed between us. I dropped my gaze. Both photos were taken during happier times, when we had both been fooled by Jude’s expressions of love, and trusted him to the point of blindness. Our eyes sparkled and we were both smiling into the camera.
After Jude died—or so I thought—I had thought of the woman who had come before me. I wondered what kind of person she had been, how they had met, and how their life had been before it crashed and burned.
“What do you see?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Me and your ex-wife.”
“Lacey. Lacey is her name.” He was talking as if she were alive. He picked up the photos and brought them closer to my face. “Look at both your eyes, your smiles. You don’t see it, do you?”
I narrowed my eyes, searching for what he wanted me to see. The longer I gazed at the photos, I felt something, a flicker in the pit of my stomach, a pull inside my gut.
“You feel it, don’t you? It’s okay, you don’t have to deny it.”
“What am I supposed to… to see or feel? What do you want—”
He moved the photos away from me and held them in front of him at arm’s length. “It’s right there. Don’t you see the similarities in your eyes? The same full lips?”
It was no surprise to me that he had picked me because he thought I resembled his first wife. The longer I looked at her photo, the more I saw the similarities. Gazing into her eyes was like looking into my own. He was right; something about her smile reminded me of mine.
I understood now. Jude had not been obsessed with me after all. He saw his wife in me. He was obsessed with her. “You seem to be attracted to women who look alike.”
“You’re right.” He kissed both photos. “It’s even that much more exciting when they share the same blood.” He flung his hands in the air and let them drop again. “Haley, your sister, Liz, did not drown that day. She did not die.” He looked at me with a triumphant smile. “She was my first wife. Lacey.”
He pulled out more photos. Photos of Liz as a child, the way I remembered her. Liz as a teenager, resembling my mother. Then photos of her all grown up, looking like someone different, a stranger, but still clearly my sister.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Haley
He grinned at me. “I told you it would blow your mind.”
I didn’t know how I felt, but it was more than shock. What stood out most was the numbness that started at the top of my head and ended at my feet. I couldn’t move, and my breath had solidified inside my throat. I sat there gazing at him, my mouth unable to close, my blood cold and pounding loudly in my head. Suddenly everything swept through me at once, building into a wave of nausea that was too powerful for me to hold back. I shot up from the bed and almost tripped on his feet as I burst into the bathroom just in time to throw up in the toilet. Thank God the seat was lifted because my wrists were still handcuffed.
I threw up until I had nothing left inside me but piercing shock that rocked each one of my nerves. When I was done, throwing up nothing as my body jerked, I saw his hand at my side, offering me a piece of toilet paper. I turned away from it, from him, and used my arm to wipe my mouth instead.
Then I dropped to my knees and curled up into a ball on the cool floor. I wept. From the pauses in my sobs I heard the toilet being flushed. I didn’t look up. He tried to touch me but I recoiled. So he kicked the top of my head.
He moved away and I guessed he sat on the bath, sighing with frustration. “Want to know more about your… little sis?”
I didn’t respond, didn’t even know how to at this point. My body didn’t feel like it was my own.
“I’ll tell you anyway. We don’t have much time so I’ll try to cut the long story short.” His voice carried a thread of triumph. “I met Elizabeth in a homeless shelter in Serendipity…back when I had nothing.” He paused for effect. “She was found by a jogger on a Florida beach, and was in a coma for months, unable to tell doctors who she was.”
“No. You’re lying.” My hands flew to my mouth as my mind transported me back to the day that caused me everything, reminded me of the family holiday that had turned into a nightmare when Liz was washed away by a powerful wave and couldn’t be found for weeks and months. She couldn’t be alive. Jude had to be messing with me yet again. “I don’t believe you.”
“Let me finish and then you can tell me what a big liar you think I am.” He rubbed the burnt side of his face.
“When Elizabeth finally emerged from the coma and was able to speak, she revealed her identity, and your mother was tracked down in Boston. But guess what?” He slapped his forehead as if in surprise. “She was barely able to support one child.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retorted, pulling myself to a sitting position. “My mother was not perfect but she loved Liz. She loved us. She would have done anything to get her back. She was devastated when—”
“Poor, poor, Haley. When are you going to remove your rose-tinted glasses? If she was so perfect, why then did Elizabeth grow up in an orphanage? Why did your precious mother not do everything to get her daughter out of that shit hole? Why didn’t she visit her?” He tapped his nose as though thinking hard. “Oh, I know, she chose the booze instead.”
That was the first sign that there could be some kind of truth to what Jude was saying. I had never told him about my mother’s drinking problem. In fact, I had never told him much about my childhood, just enough. But he was an intelligent man. He could have done his research.
“Call me a liar again and I’ll tell you more.”
I looked up, my eyes and nose dripping. “You’re a fucking liar. If Elizabeth were really alive, my mother would have told me. She would have.”
“Except she didn’t, did she? Could it be that she was never sober long enough to even think straight? You know what’s funny? Elizabeth didn’t believe your mother would turn her back on her either. At sixteen, she ran away from the orphanage and followed you and your mother to Serendipity, where you both were by then. Oh, I’m sorry, I meant to keep this short.” He sighed and continued. “Elizabeth found your mother inside her favorite place, a whorehouse. She told Elizabeth she didn’t know who she was and walked away. Can you believe your sweet mother would do that? Maybe it was shame, or maybe she was litera
lly too fucked up.” He roared with laughter, and slapped his knees.
I was trembling now, and anger boiled in my veins, anger at my mother for turning her back on Liz, and for never telling me that she was alive. I was furious with Jude not only for keeping this secret from me, but for murdering my sister. My rage gave me the strength to get up, to lunge for him. Even with handcuffed hands, I punched and clawed at his scarred face, screaming, shouting, swearing. “You bastard!”
“Bitch,” he said through clenched teeth and gripped both my wrists. He brought his face a breath away from mine. “Don’t you dare do that again. Get that?”
I spat into his face. “You are an asshole. You are nothing inside, nothing but scum.”
I felt the slap on my face and my head snapped to the side before I even saw his hand.
I turned back to face him, feeling the heat in my eyes, daring him to strike me again.
He grinned, pure evil stretching across his face. “Want to know why you didn’t recognize your sister immediately? She was skilled with a makeup brush. See, she resembled your mother too much, the woman who had turned her back on her. She hated that.” He paused. “She ditched the name too, asked me to call her Lacey instead. I worked my ass off to make her dreams of having a family come true.” He shoved me back and my head hit the toilet pot, and I bit my lip to steel myself. “Then she became an ungrateful bitch just like you. How dare she fuck another man, after everything I did for her?” Drops of spit sprayed everywhere with each word.
He stood and I tightened my whole body, bracing myself for the next blow. His foot landed in my stomach and I gasped with pain. But I was beyond pain at this point, too fueled by anger to stop. He was hurting me physically, but I was intent on hurting him where it hurt most—his ego.
“I’m glad she fucked someone else. You’re a lousy fuck. You never did it for me. Never. I faked so many orgasms.” I smiled up at him, my slapped cheek smarting at the movement. “Dustin, on the other hand—”
