Lulling the Kidnapper

by O. L. Gregory

  Just the mere thought of living any place near the equator had me shuddering at the perpetual sunburns that I would have to learn to deal with. What were the chances that the company would want to expand down into southern South America, or up in some tall mountains? Now I was more determined than ever to get out of here.

  I was determined to lay low today. I would keep up appearances, keep my head squarely on my shoulders, and focus on appearing to be spending my time doing exactly what I’d told him I would be doing. Time to wipe that still-stewing-about-the-shock-of-South-America look off my face.

  I dried my hands from washing the dishes and then clapped and rubbed them together in eager anticipation. I set off for the stairs, and that closet. I casually kept a roaming eye searching for any new cameras in the spare bedroom as I organized my piles of boxes and tools. I still saw none, but I didn’t let myself relax my guard. My behavior would remain impeccable today. I would give him no reason to not get on that plane.

  I decided the best course of action would be for me to paint the closet first, before I put in any shelves or organizational units. My logic made perfect sense, and gave me the opportunity to find the pesky new camera that had been mounted into a newly chiseled out hole in the corner of the crown molding. Huh, well, that made me want to go back into the spare room and look twice.

  I kept the bulk of my supplies in the spare room, where I had the ability to keep it organized without the hassle of tripping over everything. Going into and out of the room so much allowed me ample opportunities to check out the room and be certain that he had, in fact, not put up any new cameras in here, which he hadn’t.

  At the end of the evening, I made sure that all painting implements had been thoroughly cleaned and stacked into a pile that I was officially done with. Then I made sure all the rest of my supplies were sitting exactly where I wanted them.

  Then off to bed I went, right on time, just like I would have if he had been there.

  Chapter Eleven

  Moonlight Rendezvous

  I dozed in and out of an impatient, sleepy restlessness. Yes, my emotions were that exhausting and turbulent. I was waiting for midnight, because he was always in bed by midnight. I even listened as additional minutes tick by on my watch, just in case he was reviewing recordings from the day as his roommate slept. I mentally paced around in the recesses of my mind, going over and over my plan as I waited.

  I waited until one o’clock before creeping out of the bed. The moon was angled so as to lend the house no interior illumination tonight. Good. If he was absently watching the dark house on his phone, I hoped he wouldn’t be able to detect my movement on the small screen. I’d spent months roaming this house, I knew it well.

  I grabbed the blanket off the foot of the bed and then skulked through the dark into the spare bedroom and grabbed the full five-gallon bucket that I’d placed just inside the door. I carried my loot down the stairs, expecting to feel like he would jump out at me at any minute. But, somehow, I didn’t end up feeling that way. I kept myself calm, my breathing was normal, and nothing was alerting my heightened senses to any danger.

  I kept my step light and stuck to the darkest of shadows in the great room, trying to hide from the cameras. I don’t know why, but I was taking incredible care to not make any noise as I slunk through the darkness. Though I was pretty sure that he couldn’t hear anything, it seemed an appropriate response to the situation. I made my way into the kitchen and stepped inside the pantry. I closed the door, stuffed the blanket into the crack underneath, and turned on the light.

  I’ve spent gobs of time in this pantry. I’ve watched his activities around the kitchen like a hawk. I was confident that no camera lurked anywhere between the boxes, cans, and appliances. And I had done absolutely nothing out of the ordinary to draw any of his attention to this closet.

  I set about emptying my perfectly organized pantry shelves along the back wall of the closet, distributing everything to the shelves on either side. - Oh my goodness, I’d lived in perfect organization for so long that moving everything around felt positively naughty. - Next, I dug into my bucket of fun and pulled out the screwdriver. My, sometimes intelligent, captor had decided not to trust me with a power drill, after all. He thought that, if I had to do everything with a traditional screwdriver, it would slow down my progress and make the closet take up more of my time during the three days alone. - Whatever, I had more than enough stored energy to twist the screws out of the wall all night, if need be.

  I’d originally thought to just tear the freaking shelves out with my bear hands, but space was limited and this seemed to be a less likely way to get hurt. Besides, slow and methodical was what was keeping me so calm. Carelessness is what had defeated me the last time. There would be no carelessness tonight, no mistakes to kick myself about later.

  Those back shelves were longer than the others, running the entire length of the wall. I only removed the ones from the bottom third of the wall, and I laid them across the top of the side shelves, one end on either side, so that they formed a bridge overhead. I dumped the screws into a cereal box and the brackets now stood on end, sticking out of the top of a gallon-sized pitcher.

  The builders of this house had been very helpful, and had done their job well. The screws for the shelves had been anchored right into the studs. I pulled the hammer out of the bucket and started knocking holes into the drywall, right between my two easily located studs. Once the drywall was out of my way, I put on Idiot’s work gloves, - that he’d so thoughtfully left with me to protect my hands - and I pulled out the insulation. I got lucky by not running into any wiring or pipe work in my little sixteen inch, by thirty inch, hole in the wall. I stopped after I’d removed the insulation, and left the siding alone. If there were cameras all around outside, I didn’t want him to be able to see a hole and start running.

  Hopefully, if there were cameras outside, he wouldn’t have bothered with the two walls without windows. I’d be taking that chance tomorrow though, not tonight.

  Last, but not least, I grabbed three gallon sized baggies from their box. I unzipped one just enough to make a small opening. Then I blew it up with air and closed it back up. Then I repeated the process with the other two and set them aside.

  I was methodical in my cleanup. I didn’t want any dust stirred up outside of the pantry. I pulled a trash bag out of its box on the shelf and bagged up all of the debris. Then I grabbed the broom and dust pan from their mounts on the back of the door and swept up every little speck of drywall I could find. I tucked the bag into the hole in the wall that I’d cleared, so that it would be out of the way.

  The last thing I did was to retrieve the marinating steak that I had hidden in here a few days ago. Plan B had been to cook the rancid beef for him tomorrow, if he hadn’t left for his trip. I had been hoping that the marinade would have infused enough of a smell to cover any odors or weird taste he may have detected in the cooked meat. I could go ahead and throw it away now.

  The camera I had found in the kitchen was mounted to a decorative plate that hung above the pantry door. Its focus being my activity at the stove, maybe so that he could see I wasn’t trying to poison him. At any rate, that camera wasn’t monitoring anything I was doing in this closet, or what I kept in here. But still, there was always the possibility that I’d missed a second kitchen camera. Luckily, since he’d brought home that bag of ready-made food for me, I could easily avoid even having to open this door throughout the day.

  I gathered the tools and put them back into the bucket just as they had been before, turned off the light, pulled the blanket out from under the door, tiptoed out of the pantry and over to the trash to throw away the steak, crossed over to the drawer holding the duct tape so I could grab it, snuck across the kitchen and great room, and crept back up the stairs. I was careful to put the bucket back in the exact same spot I’d retrieved it from, and then I went into the bedroom to fold and place the blanket back on its spot at the foot of the bed.
/>   I tossed the duct tape into the closet and lay back down on my side of the bed, facing the window so the sunlight would hopefully help wake me up when the alarm on my watch went off.

  I could only hope that he was really gone, because if all this was an elaborate test for me, I was done. Tonight would prove to be game over. Those cameras didn’t look all that sophisticated as compared to the larger ones he’d kept in the basement. The ones here just looked like some sort of nanny-cam. I prayed they weren’t night-vision, or motion-sensored. Night vision would have defeated the purpose of me creeping around in the dark. And motion-sensors would have caused the kitchen camera to be filming the entire time I was banging away on the wall, even if it would only be inexplicably filming an empty room.

  All I could do was hold my breath and wait. If he came home because he saw that I had been up to something… if he saw that closet… Forget the steak. I threw out the meat because I knew I’d never get the chance to cook it for him. If he catches me planning this, he’ll kill me on the spot, for sure.

  I couldn’t leave tonight because I needed the entire night to get out and get to the police, before he realized I was nowhere to be found on the cameras. I needed the tide to cooperate because I used to be a strong swimmer, but I was now sorely out of practice. I’d been timing the tides. I could hit it perfectly by prepping my escape hole tonight, and hitting the water the tomorrow. One way or another, I had one more day and then I was out of here.

  I awoke with a start when the watch started beeping. I hopped into the shower, washed, got dressed, and then headed downstairs for breakfast. Calmly and casually, but with a wistful frown, I cleaned my dish and went to look through the glass wall. I’d be keeping up my whole ‘I’m busy, but I’m still sad that my man is gone’ act. I was hoping that if he had seen something last night, that my demeanor would help him overlook it. Perhaps he might even fancy that I was having a hard time sleeping without him.

  After taking my fill of the view, I headed back up to the spare bedroom closet. I was fretful throughout the day that he would reappear behind me, waiting to startle me, to beat the life out of me. I kept my ears on high alert, waiting to hear the car in the driveway.

  He’d said that he trusted me, that I needed to trust him to trust me. I guess after today, I’d find out for sure if he did or didn’t. I had to force myself to concentrate on the closet, to keep my face sad and not paranoid. Ugh, this was going to be a long day.

  After dinner that evening, I sat down and ate the Skor bar that had been in that grocery bag. I thought about how my parents must be feeling, to know that I wanted to come home but hadn’t been able to find my way. Frustrated, to no end, because I seemed to be slipping right through everyone’s fingers. Blind because I was being spotted in this town, right under their noses, but they couldn’t find me.

  Just hang tight for a few more hours, guys. I’m coming home tonight.

  Once again, I headed to bed at our usual time, just like clockwork.

  My brain wouldn’t shut off so I just lay there, letting my body rest. I waited until twelve-thirty, ‘til I just couldn’t lie there anymore.

  I got up, grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed, and went into the master bedroom closet. I stuffed the blanket under that door, just to be thorough, and turned on the light.

  I dug behind a pile of sweaters and pulled out the zipped baggie that I had used to store the loose hair I had stolen from his comb. Then I grabbed the roll of duct tape that I’d chucked into the closet last night. I quickly stripped down and used the tape to secure and seal the baggie onto my back. DNA, baby. I changed into my bathing suit, then layered jeans and a t-shirt overtop. Then I set about unearthing the evil steel-toed work boots from the back of the closet.

  These were the boots he’d worn when he kidnapped me. The same boots that had thunked and clunked their way down the stairs and into the basement whenever he had decided to visit his caged little pet. The boots that had kicked me over and over again the last time I had escaped. The boots he had worn the day he’d brought me here. If he expected trouble from me, he wore these boots. They had been yet another of his weapons, and tonight they would be mine.

  I put the boots on and laced them as tightly as I could, slipped my hand through the roll of duct tape to wear it like a bracelet, turned off the light, and picked up the blanket.

  Down the stairs and into the pantry I went, sticking to the shadows and staying as out of the way of the cameras as I could. I shut the door, stuffed the towel, flipped the switch, flung the garbage bag out of my way, and made sure I had as much floor space cleared as I could get. I grabbed the three air-filled bags from the shelf. I looked them over, pleased to see that none had deflated since the night before from an unseen pinhole. I lined them up, side by side, and duct taped them together, wrapping the tape around them in three different directions, to form a cube of sorts. Then I set it aside.

  I dropped to the floor, planted my feet against the inside of the siding, laid a bit scrunched up on my side, braced my arms against the door at my head, drew my legs up into the fetal position, and started kicking and pounding with the boots for all I was worth. Breaking through was the hardest part. Once I had the hole started, I could easily chip away at the edges of the siding until I was satisfied with the size. Then I shut off the light, moved the blanket to cover the rough edges along the bottom of the hole so I wouldn’t get scraped up, and shimmied on out feet first.

  My feet hit the ground, I finished wiggling my head and arms out, and then I stood there for a moment before it really hit me… Holy-freaking-hell, I’m out!

  I reached back inside to grab my inflated baggies and pulled them out, too. Then I tossed the blanket back inside the hole. I stripped off the jeans and t-shirt, which I had worn to protect my skin from flying debris and jagged edges, and tossed them inside as well. I was tempted to throw the damn boots in the river, but took them off and put them back inside the pantry on the off-chance that they could be used as evidence.

  This was the moment that I really creeped myself out. Should I stick to the shadows alongside the house, or would that set off any motion detectors? Should I move away from the house and walk closer to the woods, or did he have motion-sensored lights focused on any approaching movement? I stared out into the darkness, towards the river, and thought about how in the movies, this is the moment the villain would jump out from behind something and grab the girl. Just when she thought she was free, when freedom was so close she could taste it.

  I couldn’t just keep standing there. This was go time. Since I’d never seen a light come on from the outside, and because I didn’t want to be close to the house, I decided to give the structure a wide berth. I moved to make my way around to the pier, with my baggies still clutched in my hand. Mentally, I was soaring as I made my way, aided by the moonlight, along the pier.

  I was unsure of the depth and didn’t want to jump in, so I sat down and edged my way into the water.

  Chapter Twelve

  Erica

  We didn’t have any lifejackets, so I made sure to keep a firm grip on my taped baggies. The tape running past the spaces between the rounded edges of the bags provided a wide enough handle to make it easier to hold on to.

  I paddled out a safe distance from shore as the current began to sweep me away from the home I’d called my prison. I needed to keep an eye on my general direction because I didn’t want to be slammed into another pier, or a docked boat, along the way.

  This side of the river was quiet tonight. I could see a couple pleasure cruisers off in the distance, but nothing headed my way. Truth be told, I wouldn’t have minded if the Coast Guard would happen by right about now. They were more than welcome to interrupt my escape plans.

  It was eerie to be swimming while surrounded by general darkness. Even though I was heading to safety and freedom, I felt vulnerable and unprotected in a completely different way than I ever had while in the basement. Back then, I learned to stay on top of my bed, w
ith my blankets wrapped around me to trick my brain into feeling some level of security. And once I was settled, I felt fairly secure. Except for a couple of spiders, and the one mouse that had ventured in, there was nothing in that dark to fear, except Asshole’s return. Most of the dark basement battle was mental, and I eventually learned to delve into my imagination and find a safe space in which to exist.

  But this, this was something else. There was no blanket here to wrap myself in. All I felt was the water moving around me as I was pushed through it. While the moonlight did offer some light, I had no clue what my legs or body would find under the darkened surface of the water. In daylight, you could at least look down and identify it, fish, seaweed, rope, trash, etc.

  I tried to tell myself that it was highly unlikely that I would run into anything harmful, but all I could imagine was running into a discarded mass of fishing line, getting tangled up in it, and drowning right before reaching safety. I gripped the duct tape tighter in my fist, trying to glean whatever small amount of reassurance I could from my blown up baggies. I wished I had made an entire raft out of baggies. Then I could be on top of the water, instead of in it. Too late now.

  The moon was all but full and the current was strong. I had very little to do, other than to let the water carry me. I had been counting on this, I needed to conserve my energy so that I could make my way back towards shore after treading water for the length of time it would take me to get to the marina I wanted.

  It was Friday night, so the trailer shouldn’t be empty. Somebody from the family was always down here on the weekends through the summer. This was another reason that I had stubbornly not left last night. I could certainly break into the house, but I wanted to know I’d have the comfort of family waiting for me. I know I could have left even with the current headed in the opposite direction and landed on shore somewhere upstream and could have found help from there, but I wanted to go home.