by S. J. Lewis
The office phone rang, and Marabel answered with her invariably cheerful “Good morning! Cole Investigations. How may I help you?” She might look a bit like Winston Churchill in drag, but she had a telephone voice that radiated warmth and charm, and had led more than one caller to inaccurate assumptions about what the owner of that voice must look like.
Claudia stood up, stretched, and went to get herself more coffee. This was going to be a long day, no doubt about it. Her head felt a bit fuzzy, her body already tired. This was one of the days she usually went to the gym after work. She knew she wouldn’t be going today.
***
Jerry came into the office a half-hour before lunchtime, looking as disheveled as ever. He had a long cardboard tube in one hand, and with the other he was mopping his balding brow with a handkerchief.
“Hi, Chief; hi, Marabel,” he grinned as he entered. “Gettin’ warm out there.”
“Are those the plans?” Claudia asked, pointing at the tube.
“Huh? Oh, yeah!” Jerry chuckled. “What I could get, anyway. It took a little while to find them, and then they wouldn’t let me take the originals. There’s a copy shop in the same complex, though, so I had prints made there. It took some talking for them to let me even do that.” He handed the tube over to Claudia.
“How many prints did you make?” Claudia asked, looking into the tube. There was a lot of paper scrolled up in there.
“Uh…two sets of each. That building had a lot of tenants over the years, and some of ‘em did a lot of work on the interior. Here, let me do that.”
Claudia surrendered the tube back to Jerry and let him pry the contents out. He set the emptied tube aside and began unrolling the plans on Claudia’s desk. There wasn’t quite enough room.
“Let’s put these on the table for now,” Claudia suggested. “I’ll have a look at them after lunch.”
“Oh, sure,” Jerry agreed, taking up the plans again. He carried them over to the table, spread them out and weighted down the corners.
***
Not much later, after Jerry had gone off to pick up lunches for the three of them, Marabel came over to Claudia’s desk.
“You feeling okay, Miss Cole?” she asked.
“Hm?” Claudia looked up from the paper she was doodling on. “I’m fine, Marabel. Why do you ask?”
“You look tired to me,” Marabel replied. “You’re acting tired, too. If you weren’t, you’d have been looking at those plans right from the start, and worked through lunch if I didn’t remind you.”
“Oh,” Claudia laughed weakly. “Yes, I am a bit tired. It’s just that I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” Marabel nodded, “Miss Cole, you’ve been working yourself into the ground here since I started. You ever think you might need a little vacation?”
“What?” Claudia was startled for a moment, then realized Marabel couldn’t possibly know what that word meant to her. “Well, maybe I could use a little break, but there’s no time for me to take a vacation.”
“You won’t do yourself any good to wear yourself completely down,” Marabel said, shaking her head slowly. “Everybody needs some time off.”
“Maybe after we get this Bowman thing solved.” Claudia shrugged. “There’s something about it that just bothers me, and I can’t quite figure out what it is.”
“Don’t put it off too long, Miss Cole,” Marabel replied, looking at her solemnly. “You’re a good boss, but Jerry and I could handle things here for a week or so.”
Claudia smiled, “Okay, okay Marabel. You win.”
“One other thing,” Marabel went on, “you came in this morning looking strung out, and you don’t even look that good to me now. Why don’t you go home early today and catch up on your sleep? Maybe a good night’s rest will help you think better.”
“I couldn’t…” Claudia began, but Marabel cut her off.
“You’re too tired to think straight right now. Get on home and get some rest. Right now you’re like someone trying to run a race with a cast on her leg.”
Claudia almost began to argue, but Marabel was almost always right. She certainly was this time. “Okay,” she conceded. “I’ll go back home after lunch. Maybe this Bowman thing won’t be so hard to figure out with a clear head.”
***
She kept her promise, but when she tried to take a set of the building plans with her, Marabel stopped her. “You just rest.” Marabel had said. “We’ll all be here in the morning, and so will those plans.”
***
As she drove back to her apartment, Claudia knew that Marabel was right. She was too tired, physically and mentally. She needed sleep more than anything. Maybe after a good night’s sleep she could focus better on Bowman, but without Bowman to focus on, even fuzzily, her mind kept straying back to Dianne, to Sam, to that “vacation” two years ago. She shook the thoughts off and concentrated on her driving. It was a temporary solution, but the only one she had right now.
Her apartment was on the third floor, with a southern exposure that let in the light all year round. She’d never been able to sleep well with too much light, so she drew all of the heavy drapes shut, plunging her place into a deep twilight. That done, she headed to the bathroom for a good, long hot soak, dropping her clothes behind her as she went.
It was some time later when she awoke to the sound of her phone ringing. The bathwater had gone tepid, the last of the bubbles had long since popped. She got up out of the tub with an effort, wrapped a towel around herself and went out to answer the phone, grumbling to herself. It stopped ringing just before she got to it. She picked the receiver up anyway, growling a sleepy “Hello?”
No reply. Whoever it was had hung up. She looked up at the clock that hung over the small phone table. It read 5:35. Well, that explained why her hands were so wrinkly now. She’d been sleeping in the tub for nearly four hours. That also explained the crick in her neck, along with a number of other twinges now calling for her attention. She yawned hugely and stretched, and the towel slid off of her and on to the floor. Chuckling ruefully, she picked it up and headed for her bedroom.
A few moments later, comfortably clad in panties and an oversized men’s T-shirt, she went back to the bathroom to hang up the towel and drain the tub. That done, she went to the small kitchen to make some tea. She might have slept, but she didn’t feel rested, and it was far too early to go to bed.
The tea helped a little. Claudia curled up in her treasured oversized and overstuffed armchair to sip it slowly. It was very quiet: Perfect for thinking, and there was that big, heavy coffee table which would have been perfect for laying out the building plans. She sighed and laid the mug of tea aside. She really ought to call Dianne.
Dianne’s phone just kept ringing and ringing. Claudia was about to hang up and try again later when there was a sudden clatter on the other end. Then she heard Dianne’s voice, blurred by sleep: “Hello?”
“Dianne? It’s me, Claudia.”
“Claudia?” There was a barely-muffled yawn. “Claudie? Hey…how are you?”
“I’m fine, Dee. How are you…really?”
“Oh….” Dianne giggled. “Oh, my. I feel all limp and boneless, you know?”
“I think I do,” Claudia chuckled. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Mmmmm….” Dianne purred. “I’m better than okay, girl. I’m all used up and feelin’ loose as can be. What time is it?”
Claudia glanced at her clock. “Almost 6:30.”
“Morning or evening?” Dianne asked, yawning again.
“Evening,” Claudia replied. “Did I just wake you up?”
“Uh-huh.” Another yawn. “Oh, man, did he ever work me over.”
“He didn’t hurt you, though?”
“Nah…” Dianne chuckled wickedly. “Well, not in a bad way, you know?”
“All too well,” Claudia replied wryly.
“So…what are you going to do, Claudie?”
“About what?”
“About him. He really wants to see you again.”
“I think he wants to do more than see me,” Claudia said. Dianne didn’t laugh. After a pause, Claudia went on. “I really don’t know right now,” she said. “I’m in the middle of a tough case, and I don’t think I want to see him at all until it’s over.”
“So you might want to see him after it’s all over?”
Claudia shook her head. “I don’t know about that either. I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night, Dee, and I’m not thinking very clearly.”
“Oh,” Dianne’s voice was small. “Sorry.”
“No, no…nothing to be sorry for, Dee, really. I never thought he’d try to see me again.” Claudia sighed and fell silent, thinking.
“Claudie?” Dianne spoke up after a moment.
“Yes?”
“Claudie, I think you really got deep under his skin…back then. I think he’s been wanting to see you again ever since.”
“No,” Claudia said. “He’s not the type. He’ll…ahem…romance a girl, get her to do things she never thought of doing…well, not for real, anyway…and then he’ll move on to the next challenge.”
“So why does he want to see you again?”
She had no answer to that. Claudia chewed at her lower lip for a moment. “I don’t know,” she admitted at last. “But he got under MY skin pretty good, and I don’t want to let him in there again only to have him up and leave when he’s done.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Dianne said. “He is awfully good in bed, isn’t he?”
“Oh, he is,” Claudia nodded. “He’s very, very good and he knows it, damn him. And right now I’m just a bit too…vulnerable. It’s been too long for me.”
“So? Why don’t you just let him scratch that itch for you?”
“Because it’s not just an itch and he wouldn’t just scratch,” Claudia responded. “It’s more like…an addiction.”
“He got to you THAT bad?”
“Dee….” Claudia drew a deep breath. “Part of me…a big part…was willing and eager to follow him around on the end of a leash if he wanted. You don’t know how tempted I was to put all my plans on hold, just for another day, another couple of days.”
“You sure didn’t show it.”
“I couldn’t afford to. I couldn’t. I’d worked too hard to just toss everything aside. Especially,” Claudia went on, “since I was sure he’d toss ME aside when he was done.”
“Oh.”
“Right.” Claudia leaned back in the chair, tucking her legs under her. “You’re sure he’ll come here?”
“Pretty sure.” Dianne replied. “I…I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble…”
“It’s okay, Dee. I’ll just have to handle him if and when he shows up.”
They talked for a little while longer, catching up with each other’s lives and finishing with a promise from Dianne to come and visit sometime soon. Claudia sat in her chair for a while afterwards, looking at the fading light that still filtered in around the edges of the curtains and thinking. She was still tired, but her mind felt uncommonly sharp and alert. Even so, it wasn’t coming up with any solutions to her problems.
Sighing, she got up, returned the phone to its recharging cradle, and stretched once, yawning, before padding into the kitchen. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but it was dinnertime and she really should eat something. Something simple and light ought to do it: Something microwaveable, and preferably in its own disposable container.
***
It was almost 11 PM when she finally crawled into bed. She’d killed time flipping through all the cable channels trying to find something that could keep her interest. Nothing had. The news was pretty much all the same, the network programming seemed flat, boring. The few movie channels she subscribed to didn’t seem to have anything much on either. Her mind kept turning the Bowman problem over and over when it wasn’t conjuring up memories of Sam: His eyes, his voice, even his scent. The memory of the feel of him against her, and in her, was vivid enough to make her body start tingling.
The last thing she did before turning off the light was make sure her alarm was still properly set and then move it too far away for her to hit the snooze button from the bed. That done, she snuggled down under the covers. Sleep came quickly.
She awoke suddenly when someone jumped onto her bed, straddling her as she lay on her back. Hard hands laid a strip of duct tape across her mouth, blotting out her attempt to scream as her sleep-fogged mind was still trying to figure out what was going on. The first clear thought she had was that it must be Sam, come for her at last. The thought made her angry: furiously angry. Then the light came on, and she saw the face of the man on top of her. He wasn’t Sam: He was a complete stranger, hard-eyed with a pockmarked face grinning down at her evilly. There was a second man standing by the lamp, wearing an identical grin.
Before she could begin to struggle, the man atop her slapped her hard, stunning her and blurring her vision. She was still stunned when he got off of her and he and his accomplice each grabbed her by an arm and dragged her out of her bed, slamming her face down onto the carpeted floor at the foot of the bed. They twisted her arms behind her, and she heard the unmistakable noise of a zip-tie being used even as something hard, sharp-edged and unyielding bit into her crossed wrists. She grunted in pain, and they pulled the plastic tie even tighter, tight enough for the tips of her fingers to go numb.
They flipped her over onto her back, and she grunted again behind the duct tape gag, her heart pounding furiously. Who were they? What the hell was going on?
The first man straddled her again, settling his weight onto her hips, still grinning. She noted absently that he was missing a tooth, just behind his left canine. His partner stood nearby, looking down at her hungrily.
The man atop her slapped her again, not quite as hard. “Pay attention to ME, bitch!” he growled.
Shaking her head to clear it, she looked up into his eyes: They were brown, hard like wet marbles. He reached behind him and drew out a knife, wide bladed, long, and gleaming. He laid the flat of the blade along her neck, the point tickling her left ear. The metal was cold and hard, and she froze.
“That’s right…” he said quietly. “You ain’t gonna give us any trouble now, are you, bitch?” Claudia just looked up at him, wide-eyed, until he slapped her again.
“Answer me, bitch!” he snarled. She shook her head ‘no’. Her hands were growing numb and cold. All she could feel was the bite of the zip-tie.
“That’s a good bitch,” he chuckled, slapping her face, lightly this time. He leaned closer. “You got some people real upset with you, bitch,” he said in a low, conspiratorial tone, as if they were sharing some secret. He sat back up again, his free hand moving to fondle her breast through the cotton fabric of the T-shirt. When she started to squirm under his touch, he brought the point of the knife inches away from her eye.
“You forget?” he asked, grinning. Claudia shook her head ‘no’ again and closed her eyes as his fingers dug into her soft flesh. She whimpered.
“Think of this as a friendly warning,” he said. Claudia felt him lift his weight off of her and begin pulling the t-shirt up. She opened her eyes and looked down just in time to see him slide the blade of the knife under the bunched material.
“Just a friendly warning,” he repeated as he began to slice slowly through the T-shirt. The material parted easily, hem to neck. He used the point of the knife to flip the ruined garment open wide.
“Not bad,” he commented, mauling a breast again with his free hand. “Kinda small for my taste, but not bad.”
He shifted his weight down so that he was sitting on her thighs. He laid the gleaming blade flat against Claudia’s belly for a moment.
“Remember, bitch: no trouble,” he said, looking into her eyes. Claudia moaned despairingly and closed her eyes. She barely felt the brief tugs as the knife sliced her panties away. Then his hand was between her legs, fondling her. She kept he
r eyes shut, desperately trying to will herself away from there.
She felt him shift, pushing first one knee and then the other between her legs. She heard a zipper, heard the other man laugh, harshly. Hands slid under her legs by her ankles, slid up her calves to the backs of her knees. Then he lifted and pulled, dragging her the short distance across the floor, hauling her up and towards him…
***
Claudia came awake with a shriek, just as she was about to be impaled in her dream. Confused, scared, almost panicking, she looked around at first, seeing nothing in the darkness.
She stumbled out of her bed, tripped, fell, and scrambled back to her feet, clutching at her T-shirt. Her heart was beating so rapidly that she felt lightheaded, and when she backed into the wall she was grateful for something solid to lean against. Her bedroom was dark and quiet. Tentatively, she reached out, found the lamp, and switched it on in spite of her trembling fingers. She held her wrists up to her face, as if looking for the marks left by a zip-tie. Her wrists were unmarked. Her T-shirt was intact. So were her panties. Shaking, she went into the bathroom, one hand against the wall the whole time so she would not fall.
She looked at her face closely in the bathroom mirror, touching her cheeks gently where her nightmarish assailant had slapped her. There were no marks, no pain, nothing. Nothing at all. She turned on the cold water tap of the sink and picked up the white plastic tumbler with shaking fingers. She filled the tumbler and drank it all quickly. When she tried to return the empty cup to its stand, her hand was so unsteady that it slipped away and clattered to the tiled floor.
Still shaky, she retrieved the cup and put it on its stand with slow and exaggerated care. She was getting a little control of herself back, but her nerves were still jangling. In all her life, she had never had a dream so real, so vivid, so unsettling. Unlike most dreams, which faded from her memory too quickly, this one seemed branded onto her mind. It felt as if it was never going to go away. There was something even worse about it. When she reached down, tentatively, she confirmed it: Her panties were wet. As vicious and as brutal as that dream had been, it had aroused her.
