“We have to get you out of here,” Livia said. “We have to hurry, all right?”
The girl nodded. “The chain is shackled to the wall. I’ve tried to loosen it, but there’s no way.”
Livia moved to the wall and crouched down to the chain that was anchored there. She grabbed the chain and pulled. It didn’t move. She looked to Megan, who was stuck, unmoving, at the bottom of the stairs. “Megan! Come help me.”
Megan snapped to attention. She shook her head. “You won’t be able to,” she said. “Not without a tool or a hammer.”
Livia shined the light around the cellar. There was a table near the corner. She went to it and found a bottle of spray paint, noticing for the first time the dual X’s painted onto the far wall, excess paint weeping down in long streaks to the floor. The sight sent an eerie flutter through Livia’s gut. She resisted the morbid urge to examine this troubled place, and instead opened the drawers in search of anything that might help her pry loose the shackle. The drawers were empty.
“Okay,” she said. She turned to the girl. “Sweetie, what’s your name?”
“Elizabeth Jennings.”
The name was familiar. Livia had searched during the last weeks for other missing girls in the area, and she vaguely remembered coming across this girl’s story. She remembered, too, this girl’s profile in Nate’s black binder. She was another girl from a bordering state.
“Okay, Elizabeth. I have to go out to the car to—”
“No! Don’t leave me.”
“Elizabeth,” Livia said in the darkened basement. “I have to get a tire iron so we can pry this chain loose. There is no other way. We’ll be right back, I promise you.”
The girl began to shake and cry.
“We are not leaving you. We’ll be back. One or two minutes, I promise.”
“No!” the girl cried.
“I’ll stay,” Megan said.
Livia paused. She knew what it would take for Megan to remain here on her own.
“Are you sure?”
“Go,” Megan said. “But leave the flashlight.”
Livia handed Megan the light and ran up the steps. Outside, she bolted for her car, which sat two houses away, parked at the end of the winding road that led nowhere and everywhere. She reached into her pocket as she ran, fished her phone out, and dialed.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” the female voice said.
“My name is Dr. Livia Cutty,” she said, trying to control her voice as she ran. “I’m in an abandoned subdivision in West Emerson Bay. In one of the houses I found Elizabeth Jennings, a missing girl I believe from Tennessee. I need help right away.”
“You are in a subdivision in Emerson Bay, is that correct?” the calm voice asked.
“Yes. In West Bay. Stellar Heights. Off Euclid and Mangroven. I found a missing girl. Elizabeth Jennings.”
There was a short pause as the woman tapped a keyboard. “Elizabeth Jennings has been missing for two years. Is this who you’re referring to?”
“Yes. I need an ambulance right away. And police.”
“Officers are being dispatched now, ma’am. Would you like me to stay on the line with you?”
“No.” Livia shoved the phone in her pocket and raced to her car.
* * *
The girl sat quiet and still on the bed. Megan stared at her in the shadow of the flashlight. She shuffled around the cellar in a way she was never able to do during her two weeks of captivity. There was nothing restraining her. She shined the light onto the painted wall.
“Three exes means he’d kill me,” Elizabeth Jennings said.
Megan’s eyes darted up and down the wall. Ever since her rogue therapy session things had been falling into place for her. With the lure of discovering the next bit of the mystery, she’d never stopped to piece it all together. Until now. Until she stood in the cellar with another girl her father had taken. A numbing sense came over her, and all the facts she had built up in her mind collided with the ache in her heart. She shined the light onto the thick bolt socketed to the base of the wall, and followed the chain to the girl’s ankle. Could her father really be responsible for such a thing? Megan remembered Nancy Dee. She’d read the articles that chronicled her parents’ desperate search. The shallow grave where her body was found. And just recently, she’d seen the leaked photos online that captured Paula D’Amato’s body lying abandoned in the woods next to an empty hole that waited for her. Could the man who raised her have done those things?
“Will you hold my hand?” the girl asked.
Megan looked up from the girl’s ankle, where her mind had wandered.
“Until the doctor comes back?”
Megan nodded. “Of course.”
CHAPTER 60
Since the tragedy last year—when he made the horrible discovery after walking down those stairs to adore his new Love and found his daughter instead—everything had fallen apart. He could still feel the humidity of that warm summer night when he thought back. He had believed, for the short while as he sped back to Stellar Heights, that he could make things work....
“Do you know,” the girl asked from the backseat, “about what happened? I didn’t mean to hit him. There’s a girl, too. We need to help her.”
Terry glanced down at the long fork on the passenger seat. It would solve his problem. He didn’t know exactly what waited for him back at Stellar Heights, or how difficult it would be to finish the man whom he’d left lying in the street. Discharging his firearm was out of the question. It would require paperwork and explanation. Strangulation carried the risk of bruising or scratching his hands should the man still have the strength to resist. The fork was morbid, but the night was getting away from him and time was his greatest enemy. He could hardly control his longings to see the new arrival. He’d waited so patiently for her, and tonight’s rendezvous was an untimely annoyance. But now, from potential disaster came opportunity. He had just settled another girl into the backseat. She was exquisite. The night was turning out pleasantly well.
“Do you know about the girl?”
Terry was finished talking to this one. There would be time to discuss the rules later, but he needed to stay focused for the moment. He slowed his patrol car as he came to the entrance of Stellar Heights, waited for an oncoming car to pass and disappear in his rearview mirror before he turned into the dark subdivision. He stopped the car and exited, closing and locking the tall, cast-iron gates behind him. When he shifted the car into drive and continued along the dark road, the girl went frantic.
“Why did you close those gates?”
Terry blocked her out, compartmentalized her pleas. The Buick Regal came into view as he sped along the winding road.
“Good,” he said when he saw the man still lying in the street.
His first order of business from a long list in his head was to check his new arrival, make sure she was secure. He pulled the keys from the ignition and locked the doors. The girl in the back tried the handle but he knew she could go nowhere. He walked past the man in the road; he was still moaning but clearly unconscious from his deformed leg. Terry stepped over him.
He walked through the threshold of the home, number sixty-seven, and felt the familiar coital urge within him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to act on those desires tonight. It was a shame, but this evening called for diligence and efficiency. He took the stairs quickly and turned the corner at the bottom, redirected his flashlight to the girl who waited. But something was wrong.
The hair and headband. The slope of her neck and angle of her jaw. The freckles and eyelashes. It was not possible. His urgings suddenly made him ill. She stirred on the bed, and he went for her before stopping himself. He couldn’t. If she saw him, there would be no way to fix tonight. There was not enough time in a single night to hide his years of presence in the homes of Stellar Heights. And no matter how much he wanted to go to his daughter now and help her, he knew it was not possible.
From urgings to nausea
, his emotions finally funneled to rage. He was a wild animal as he bounded up the steps and into the night, ripping open the front door of his cruiser and grabbing the long fork that was there. There was no thought as he approached the man lying in the road.
“Help,” the man whispered.
“My daughter!” he said as her brought the fork down. He repeated his motion five times with his teeth gritted and eyes possessed.
“My daughter!” he repeated constantly until a noise brought him back. He looked around, panicked suddenly since there were never any sounds at Stellar Heights. The girl was screaming from the back of the squad car, staring at him through the window. He stood from his knees and kicked the front door closed to quiet her.
The man’s shirt balled in his fist as he pulled his lifeless body behind one of the houses where the rubble was cleared and soft clay waited. Retrieving a shovel from the garage of one of the homes, he dug a hole. He sweated through his uniform until the grave was large enough, then kicked the man in and threw dirt over him until he was no more....
Since that night, his life had been the rickety jerk of a rollercoaster climbing to its peak. He knew, deep in his core, that he would eventually reach the top, hang for a moment, and then crumble downward. He didn’t want to believe this, and did everything he could to convince himself otherwise. For a full year he’d managed to prevent the world from finding his secrets. After the release at the bunker and his daughter’s triumphant return, he should have known to lie low. He had made a terrible situation workable, and the world bought what he sold them. The media attention was greater than he predicted, and for a time he had pulled back. But then, as if the universe were conspiring against him, Stellar Heights was slated for demolition, threatening to expose all the secrets he had stashed within those houses. He berated himself now as he considered all the mistakes he’d made.
In a panic, he had dug up the man’s body and, without thought, disposed of it in the bay. The job was rushed and haphazard, without detail or clarity. It wasn’t long before the fishermen made their discovery. The stress caught up to him later when he too severely punished his Love when she tried to escape through the window. This error forced him to bring her to the forest, and there his mind played tricks on him. His feelings for her were so great that his cloudy mind had caused him to leave her there, to be discovered next to her resting place. And now, the pathologist from Raleigh had shown up and was closer than she knew, offering him a profile that so closely described himself he could have authored it. This same woman had corrupted his daughter, filling her mind with things she should never have to think about.
Now, his hand was forced. Survival required him to make a move.
It was close to one a.m. when he pulled his squad car to the shoulder. The Stellar Heights sign glowed in his headlights. He tortured himself by replaying the last year, mulling each ill decision he’d made. He cursed himself for failing to control his desires. He’d spent hours playing out scenarios that would allow him to avoid what he was about to do. Hundreds of ways to prevent the proverbial rollercoaster from reaching the top and sliding into free fall. The opportunities were many, but they all required clairvoyance. And they would require him, as much as he despised the thought, to end the only relationship that remained at Stellar Heights. He’d kept her the longest, and their bond had once been undeniable. But, sadly, the events of the last year had caused them to drift apart. With the homes scheduled for demolition by the county, his survival could not be achieved if their relationship continued. He could trust only one with such a burden. The special one. The one that meant the most to him. So tonight he came to Stellar Heights to make his final visit to the one the media would soon call Elizabeth. It was a wretched name that did not suit her in the least.
Then, before the wrecking crews descended upon them, the houses would need sterilizing. Despite their imminent destruction, he couldn’t risk the discovery of evidence that might lead back to him. Too much had happened within those walls to hope that simply bringing them down would erase it all. The world knew about the ones they called Nancy and Paula. He’d make sure the world knew no more. And if he planned carefully enough, the one they might call Elizabeth would never be discovered. Four of the homes had, at one time or another, held girls. He would concentrate on them, expunge all evidence of their presence. Then, with breathing room, he’d tend to his daughter again and help her find her way back to the peace she was so close to reaching.
The plan, systematic and focused, would occupy many of the coming days. Time was both his enemy and savior. He needed to move quickly to erase his past. Taking too long would bring danger and exposure. But if he managed to pull off the first few steps—eliminating the last girl who resided at Stellar Heights and disposing properly of her remains, then making the homes immaculate before demolition—time would become his ally. He could concentrate on his daughter and help her heal. Days and weeks would tick past. Months and years, even. He would move further and further from his history. Stellar Heights would disappear and take with it all his secrets. His Loves would be missed, but with time the pain would resolve. He would be safe. His daughter would recover. The mysteries of the missing girls would fade. His heart would mend. Perhaps he could repair things at home and find a way to be happy again. He’d have to control the doctor. He’d have to placate her. He’d find a way.
His radio squawked and brought him back from his imaginings.
“We have a ten fifty-seven reported at Stellar Heights subdivision in West Bay. Request units and ambulance.”
And just like that, it was gone.
CHAPTER 61
Livia pulled the heavy, black-metal tire iron from her trunk with the help of the dome light, and raced back to the house, leaving her trunk wide open. As she ran, she tried to concentrate on the house in the distance, its image dark and shaky in her tunnel vision. Up the front steps first and then through the opened front door, Livia finally bounced down the darkened stairwell. Megan was standing with Elizabeth Jennings, holding her hand.
Livia crouched down and placed the end of the tire iron into the eye of the bolt. She leaned back, pulling with all her strength. After ten seconds of grunting, she checked her progress and noticed under the glow of the flashlight that nothing had budged, or moved, or bent. Repositioning the tool, she stood and placed her foot on the tire iron, then transferred her weight onto the bar. When nothing happened, she tried to bounce to increase the force but this resulted in the point of the lever coming free and Livia stumbling to the ground, the metal tool rattling onto the bare concrete floor.
Megan tried for another minute or two, before Elizabeth began to cry.
Livia turned to her. “I’ve already called the police,” she said. “Help is on the way. They’ll be able to free you.”
Livia watched Megan feebly work the pry bar against the bolt.
“In the meantime,” she said in the best calm voice she could produce, “we wait. All of us. We’re not going anywhere without you. Let me see how you’re doing.”
Livia passed the minutes by examining Elizabeth Jennings. She performed a cursory exam and determined the girl to be malnourished, underweight, and with signs of abrasions to her ankles and wrists as the method of bondage periodically moved to each extremity.
While Livia softly ran her hands over Elizabeth Jennings’s body, checking for broken bones or signs of infection, the girl spoke.
“Did you find the other girl?”
Livia stopped her exam, stared at Elizabeth. Megan stopped fumbling with the pry bar and looked over.
“What other girl?” Livia asked.
“The other girl who’s here. We talk to each other sometimes,” Elizabeth said, pointing to the ceiling.
Livia looked up and followed the beam of the flashlight as Megan slowly raised it to the ceiling. The light came to rest on an air vent.
“We can hear each other,” the girl said. “She’s the one who saved me. He hasn’t hurt me since she’s come. When
we’re sure it’s safe, we whisper through the vent. But I haven’t heard her for a while. Not since he came last time.”
Livia felt her breathing accelerate. “This other girl is upstairs?”
“Somewhere,” Elizabeth said. “Wherever the vent leads. Her name is Nicole.”
CHAPTER 62
Livia took the stairs two at a time, the flashlight’s beam bouncing erratically.
“Nicole!” she yelled when she reached the top of the stairs. She listened for a reply but there was none.
“Nicole!”
She moved through the first floor, shining her light into each vacant room and finding no sign of life in any of them. Near the front entrance, she looked up the stairs. Livia headed up the steps and called her sister’s name when she reached the top.
“Nicole!”
When no reply came, she oriented herself, picturing the vent above Livia Jennings’s bed and extrapolating where it might lead. She shined her light down the hallway and ran for the open bedroom door. Out of breath, she reached the doorway and brought the room to life with her light. Her heart broke when she saw the bed with wrinkled sheets, an armoire, and mirror. A shackle on the ground, the leather clasp open and free.
“Nicole! Are you here?”
Livia spent another minute futilely examining the other vacant rooms on the top floor before she ran back down to the cellar.
“Is she here?” Megan asked.
“No. Elizabeth, I want you to think. When was the last time you talked to Nicole?”
“We don’t talk. We whisper.”
“When was the last time?”
“I’m not sure. A few days ago.”
Livia wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear. A year ago would make it easier. A few days meant she’d just missed her. A few days meant that if she’d worked harder or faster she might have run up those stairs and found her sister lying on that bed, just the same as Elizabeth Jennings.
The Girl Who Was Taken Page 29
