It did. He sighed. “Aw, geez, Jen.”
My faked weeping increased. I heard the chair legs scrape the floor, then his body slid next to me. He laid a gentle arm across my back and drew me to him. “Ssshh. There, there. I know this is tough, but...” He kissed the crown of my head.
Something inside me snapped. Now, my psyche screamed. Do it now.
I shoved my elbow deep into his diaphragm. He groaned. In a split second I was on my feet. I jabbed my knee into his groin. He let out a pained roar, then rolled to the side in a fetal position. I dashed for the door and down the hall.
At the “T,” I turned right. The toilet and a dead end had been to the left. My bare feet slipped along the tiled floor, trying to get traction as I rounded the corner. I reached another wall. No door. I could hear his grumbles and groans as he edged closer. Frantic, I felt the walls for a panel, something. He’d gotten in. There had to be an exit.
“I told you there’s no way out.”
I swiveled to see him leaning against the wall, half-bent, his face grimaced with residual pain. He raised one hand. “Please.” He drew a shallow breath and shook his head rapidly several times. “Truce, okay?”
I stared at my incapacitated captor. Part of me wanted to rush to his side and look after him. The other wanted to snap his neck. His eyes beckoned me to choose the first.
“For the last time…I am not…here to hurt you.” The sentence came in short spurts as he eased his torso upright.
“Oh?” My voice bounced off the narrow walls. I hoped it hit him in the face.
Tom swallowed hard and waved his arm back down the hall. “Look. Go back. Eat your food. We’ll talk, all right? I won’t touch you again.”
I let out a humph and proceeded defiantly past him back to my cage with one couch, one chair, and a wooden end table. I don’t know why. Maybe my favorite deli delight drew me back there. Or, maybe deep down I knew my only way out was with Tom.
He knew it, too. I could see it on his face. Probably another calculation on his part. He’d planned this well. Whatever this was, it felt more and more like a late-night movie.
I sat on the couch, he in the wooden chair, this time flipped to the normal position, facing me. He slouched, arms on his knees, but remained alert. As I slurped the smoothie and reveled in my food, he kept his voice even-toned, matter-of-fact.
“Look, I know you have no cause to trust me. I’ve lied to you, kidnapped you, drugged you. I’m not who you thought I was, and I’m telling you your husband wasn’t either. That’s a lot to take in.”
“No. You think?” I garbled between bites.
My sudden burst of sarcasm amused him. His eyes twinkled. “Robert warned me you’d have a feisty side. But still...” He shook his head and wiped the laughter from his eyes.
A wave of deep melancholy washed over me. If this guy was being truthful, and it seemed he might be, then Robert had been the liar. He had a secret life. Our whole marriage, supposedly built on trust, had been a farce. “Did he ever even love me?” The words squeaked from my heart into my throat.
Tom looked me square in the eye, jaw set. “Deeply.” He blinked and focused on an invisible spot hovering over my left shoulder. “That was the problem. Still is. He tried his best to keep you cushioned from it all, but...” He shrugged.
Still is? What did that mean? I sat in silence, waiting for him to formulate his thoughts. He heaved a deep breath, nodded to himself, then returned his gaze back to my face.
“Yes?” I flipped my hand back and forth at him. “Go on.”
“Jen, Robert was investigating some pretty sleazy guys. They’ve discovered who you are. You can still be used as leverage to get my organization to back off.” He sighed. “I don’t know how much I should tell you. The more you know the more”—he glanced back into space then found the word he wanted. His eyes fixated on me once more and continued—“vulnerable you will become, and more likely, if caught, to actuate the headlines about your sudden and premature end.” He stood, hands jammed into his pockets again.
Fear rose to conquer me again. I forced it back with the last swallow of the smoothie. “You mean, they’ll kill me.” There was no need to make it a question.
“Probably. After they use you to get to me. You see, they’re now aware I know too much. And that Robert and I were, well, let’s say colleagues.”
“Who are you?”
He snorted. “Just the same ol’ Tom you always knew.”
“Oh, sure.” I slammed my back into the cushions, crossed my arms over my chest. “If you want me to perhaps, one day, begin to trust you an itsy bit…” I raised my thumb and forefinger to barely touch, emphasizing the minute amount. “Then drop the dramatic cloak-and-dagger act, okay?”
He stopped mid-stride and hung his head like a schoolboy in front of ruler-whacking headmistress. Then I saw the glint in his pupils. I threw the now-empty smoothie cup at him.
Tom ducked in mock fear and laughed, shattering the silent echoes in the bare-walled bomb cellar. It made him so attractive with those glistening blue eyes, dark locks, toned muscles, and wry smile. Hollywood would have snatched him up for a contract in a blink.
Oh, how I wanted to hate him. I loathed myself for not being able to, no matter how hard I tried. Why did I ever agree to go with him to Bob’s Burgers in the first place? He’d known I would. He’d played me.
“Exactly how long had you been planning this?”
Tom wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Robert and me? Months. At least two before, well, you know. The night he died.”
I blinked back fresh tears. “If you knew he was in danger, why didn’t you do something? Why didn’t he?”
He stepped toward me, then rocked back, obviously thinking of the last time he let my womanly weakness sway him. A touch of pain still showed in his jaw line. “Jen. It couldn’t be helped. It was inevitable. The odds were too much stacked against him. Robert knew it too.” He waved his hand around my prison walls. “That’s why we prepared this. First for him, then for you, or so was the original idea. Fake your deaths. Have you both hide out for a while then re-emerge with new lives, new IDs, in another part of the world.”
This cage would have been a second honeymoon seclusion. The two of us, Robert and I, tangled in the darkness. If only I hadn’t overreacted about him and that woman in the seedy hotel and…no, I refused to go in the deep hole of regret again. I had been there too many times already.
I opened the pita chips and plucked through the bag for the right piece. I needed time to collect my emotions again. Tom politely waited.
I crunched, then swallowed. “Want one?”
That took him back. His face brightened. “No, thanks. Already ate. I guess I have answered your questions to your satisfaction then?”
“Hardly. I’m just tired.” I looked away.
“It’s a lot to absorb, Jen. I understand.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, I need to do something. I’ll be back in a few hours. But first, do you want to, uh, you know?” He nodded toward the opening in the wall and the hallway.
“Yes. Please.”
He bobbed his head twice. “Let’s go.” Then he stopped and shrugged. “Sorry. Bad pun.”
I laughed, in spite of myself. “Yes, it was.”
We walked down the hall. I stopped in front of the door to the restroom. With one eyebrow raised, I smirked, “Are you coming in again?”
“Screw protocol. If you promise not to dismember me, I’ll give you your privacy.” He leaned in. “Besides, as I said. There is no way out.”
“You did, twice now.”
He motioned me toward the lone steel toilet and shut the door.
I did my thing, then opened the bathroom door. He was in the hallway, leaning against the wall, texting a message on his phone. The gun’s butt peeked out over his belt. I sighed. Either could be my passage to freedom, but it would do no good for me to try and grab one of them. He was way too strong, and I knew deep down he’d never let
me catch him off guard again.
I walked past him and back to my vault in submission. His footsteps followed. We didn’t speak. Back in the room, I refused to look at him.
“Jen. I am sorry I have to keep leaving.” His shoes shuffled across the concrete and then stopped at the door. “There is a lot I need to do to make this work.”
“Oh, sure.” My voice dripped of insincerity.
“Look,” he huffed. “Let me do my job, then maybe we can both leave this place, okay?”
A few minutes later I was alone again, locked in my cage with one lousy light bulb over the door illuminating the room with its mighty forty watts. Pita chips don’t taste as good in semi-dark, not by yourself.
I wanted Robert. Then, I wanted Tom.
CHAPTER NINE
True to his word, Tom came back. This time he had a discount store’s sack. “If you promise to be a good girl and not whack me over the head—or kick me somewhere else...” He cringed. “I’ll give you a present.”
I almost expected him to jiggle like a bowl full of jelly and say “Ho, ho, ho” as he dug into the bag. But then again, he had neither a white beard nor a big belly. In fact, his physique was rather...I stopped myself in mid-thought and looked at the wall. A wave of guilt splashed over me. Even though widowed, I still felt married.
He pulled out a small camping lamp. He ripped open a package of D batteries and slipped them in the base, then twirled it upright again with a dramatic flair. With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he flicked it on.
“Here ya go.” He set it on the end table.
The stark whiteness of the bulb pierced my pupils. Little colored spots flashed in front of me. “Why now?”
“I thought you might like some more light. It’s getting dark outside.”
I blinked several times then shaded my eyes with my hand. “Very funny.” The pressure behind my retinas began to ease as my eyes became accustomed to the beam.
His mouth jerked slightly to one side as he dropped on the couch next to me. “Give it a minute. Your eyes will adjust. Look what else I brought you.” He patted my knee, but it didn’t feel like a seductive pass this time. More like a schoolboy giddiness. He pulled out a paperback. Of course it was by my favorite mystery author. Why was I not surprised?
“Entertainment? Guess that means I am not going anywhere soon, huh?”
“No, ’fraid not, dear. I was hoping we’d be able to clear out tomorrow, but it’s not looking favorable. Some of them need more convincing that you’re really out of the way.”
“Some of who?”
He gave me a you-know-better look. “And last, but not least, as they say.” He handed me a small, battery-operated video game. “Can’t allow you to have the Internet. Sorry.” Another shrug. He pointed at the screen. “But it does play sixteen different solitaire games.”
“Is this a hint you won’t be staying?”
“Do you really want me to?”
I couldn’t choose an answer.
“Yeah, I thought so.” He got to his feet. He raised his face to the ceiling and pointed. “By the way, see that little dark dome in the far corner? Camera. I’m right above you, so wave when you feel lonely.”
I shot him a look.
He blushed hard. “It’s not what I meant, Jen. Honest.”
“Freudian slip?”
He leaned over. I inhaled his cologne— citrus, slightly musky. The one Robert refused to wear even though it was my favorite. Did he know that, too?
He brushed his fingers across my cheek. “Perhaps it was.”
Then he was gone.
New questions spun like a merry-go-round in my head. Had he been watching me all this time? Surely I’d have noticed the hump when I felt around the ceiling. No, not in that corner—the spider-web corner. Maybe he installed it while I was in the restroom? Would he have had time? Concrete would be hard to drill through, wouldn’t it?
No, the camera had to have been there all along. Not your typical bomb shelter then. I felt like a rat in an experiment, or a pawn in a game of chess.
Speaking of games, maybe they would keep my mind off all these questions he’d never answer. I grabbed the video device. After five hands of Klondike and three of Golf, I decide to test his statement after all. I stood on my tiptoes, stuck my tongue out at the black dome, then wiggled my fingers behind my ears. A distant thud, thud, thud came in response from the general vicinity of the ceiling.
That freaked me a bit. Was he telling the truth about the reason I was here or was he toying with me to get me to rely on him in some twisted, sadistic way? I’d read about stuff like this—the ways captors try to psych out their victims. Was this all a fabrication, a means to get me to depend solely on him? I had to admit it was working.
I flopped onto the couch, buried my face in the back cushion, and bit my lip. Maybe he was a sociopath, and I his latest prey. He and Robert were never “Feds.” It was all part of his delusion. It made more sense than hiding me from “them,” whoever they were—the same “they” who’d also killed my husband even though the police were convinced it was an accident.
Yet there was an underlying “Tom-ness” which always remained—steady, deep-flowing like a river’s current. Caring and seemingly honest. Could I trust that part of him?
“I have to believe him,” I scolded my psyche in a whisper. “But dare I?”
Suddenly his voice, though tunneled, pierced the room. “Please try to believe me, Jen.”
A chilled splash hit my face again. So he could hear me as well. Which meant he’d heard my sobs, my Bible verse chants, even my singing. Dear Lord, what has he thought of me? Had he enjoyed watching me fall apart? The thought sent anger and embarrassment simultaneously seething through my veins.
His voice sounded again. “For the umpteenth time, I am doing this for your own good. Really.”
I raised mine in response. “Then let me out of here.”
“No can do.”
“Why not?” I slid my legs to the floor, sat primly, and stared at the dome. “If you are hiding out as well, why aren’t you down here?”
“Is that where you want me?”
The question was loaded. I didn’t dare respond.
“Make up your mind, Jen. Time to decide if you believe me or not.”
I stared at my lap.
He cleared his throat. “Jen, listen. I’m giving you space, okay? I know you’re lonely, vulnerable. Robert was my dearest friend. I swore to him I’d protect you. I’d never, ever betray—”
“Shut up!” I threw the paperback at the black humped intruder on the ceiling.
Silence.
Heat flooded my face, so I flung myself onto the couch, my back to him. I shoved my fist in my mouth to stop the sobs from erupting. I felt violated, exposed.
I prayed the Lord’s Prayer once more through squinted eyes. It was the only way I knew to get through to the Almighty. I’d been away from Him for so long, I didn’t know how to pray on my own. Is that why He killed Robert and put me here? To punish me for turning my back on Him, as I now did to my captor?
Or was it to get my attention?
“God, You have it. I’m sorry I got so angry with You. I’m sorry I blamed You for Robert’s death. I’m sorry I’ve kept You out of my life. Help me, please.”
I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders. The dam of self-reliance, which I’d prided myself for maintaining, crumbled. Mourning for Dad, for Robert, and my once mundane life crashed over me in waves. My soft sobs lasted until disjointed dreams took over.
* * *
The next time I awoke, a small paperback Bible lay on my chest. A take-out egg, cheese and sausage muffin, apple slices, and foamy vanilla latte sat on the floor next to the couch on a tray, along with a long-stemmed peppermint carnation and a scribbled note. “I wish I didn’t have to do this to you. I’m just following orders. I prayed for you. Tom.”
The syrupy words almost dripped from the ink and rolled down the sides of the note. “Please.”
I growled to the black sphere. I wadded the paper and tossed it at the dome, of course missing the mark. Peppermint carnations and white roses had been my wedding flowers...but Tom probably knew all of that. I crushed the bud in my hand and chucked it as well. I hoped he was watching.
I’d swallowed the last of the latte when the wall slid open. But no one was there. A voice came from overhead. “Go ahead. You know where it is. By the way, there isn’t a camera in there. Just in the halls.”
I nodded to the black ceiling bump and walked to the doorway, half expecting it to close on me in a cruel joke. The now familiar hall stretched ahead. I noticed another black bump on the ceiling by the bare bulb. “This is like the Twilight Zone. I swear I’ve seen this episode,” I mumbled under my breath.
As I turned left, another one glared back at me. But where was the exit? Tom hadn’t materialized out of thin air. Then I saw it. A thin dark outline in the ceiling—rectangular, ten feet above my head. A hatch. Smart. I tapped my forefinger to my forehead and pointed to it as I nodded to the dome.
“Thank you. I knew you’d figure it out.” Tom’s voice cascaded down. “It’s all electronically controlled by my body temperature. Works best because yours, of course, is sub-normal. 97.2 as I recall?”
So that was how he got in and out.
“Why all this monitoring? Was that part of the original plan?” If Robert and I were to have shared this mausoleum-like place, would Tom have been watching? The thought made my stomach squeeze tight.
“Not originally. But now, since I have to keep you…well, let’s say safely out of the public eye...” He paused. “As attractive as you are, you’re still my best friend’s wife. It seemed better if we have separate quarters. So I rigged this system.”
“You mean best friend’s widow.”
“Semantics. Jen. You still feel married, don’t you? That’s why you tense up whenever I’m close?”
His intuitiveness made my skin crawl. I changed the subject. “Are you in a windowless area, too?”
A long pause. Finally the response came. “No, Jen. I have a lookout point. But we’re not anywhere you’d recognize. We made sure of that.”
Hush in the Storm Page 6
