by J. E. Taylor
“I hate him,” he said. “I hate that my wife loves him.” He tossed the shackle as he stood up and faced them. “After everything he did to her, she forgave him. I still don’t get that.” He shook his head.
“Maybe it’s time you see some of those tapes,” John said.
Tom looked at him and tilted his head. “You’ve seen them?”
John nodded. “She showed me them and I asked her to write the script.” He pointed in the general direction of Sharon. “Tom, he loved her.”
Tom nodded. “I know that.” He still does. He looked around the room.
“He treated her differently than any other prisoner over the years,” Sharon said.
“Lucky me,” Tom said sarcastically and walked into the adjoining bathroom. He looked at the shower and leaned his head against the wall. He glanced over at the mirror and remembered the day she healed the bruise on his face with a kiss. These were things they didn’t know about, things they couldn’t see in the videos. The script calls for a malfunction in the chain shackles because they couldn’t fathom any other reason as to how Ty got loose and saved them. Even with the miracle speech.
Tom walked out of the bathroom and out the door into the hallway. Jessica hadn’t done anything until Eric was in danger and then all hell broke loose. He put his back against the wall in the hallway and closed his eyes.
They came out of the room.
“Where is her room?”
“Just a couple rooms down,” John said and started walking in the direction of the elevator. He opened the door and let Tom walk in. This time he didn’t follow and he didn’t allow Sharon to follow. Tom looked at the set up. There was a chair and a mattress, which was a recurring theme in all the rooms and to his left was the treadmill that she had spoken about. He walked over to it and picked up one of the shackles on the handrail.
Rust graced the metal and he knew better, it wasn’t rust, it was her blood. “Jesus,” he whispered.
“That’s just the beginning,” a voice laughed from behind him.
Tom whirled around. There was no one in the room with him but the temperature dropped and he shivered. Tom turned toward the mirror and Frank grinned back at him.
The door slammed shut and his mouth went dry. He backed into the concrete wall, feeling the cold rough surface with his fingers.
“I am going to finish what I started here. Starting with you.” He pointed a knife at Tom. “I want her to watch you die.”
The banging on the door snapped his attention away from Frank and the spell broke, the temperature returned to normal just as the door flew open. Tom glanced back at the mirror and all that was looking back was his wide, scared eyes and pale, blotchy face.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Sharon said.
Tom tore out of the room and into the hallway. He fell to his knees for a second and fear tore through him. Trembling, he caught his breath, kneeling with his hands on his thighs. He felt the hand on the back of his neck and Sharon crouched next to him.
“Please don’t,” he said. “Just leave me alone right now.”
John leaned down next to Tom. “What happened in there?”
“I think this place is haunted,” he whispered and looked over at John.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” John said. “We’ve been down here at least a dozen times.”
Tom swallowed and nodded.
“Maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you,” John said.
Tom nodded again. John would have him put away if he told him what was happening in their lives for the past two weeks. He slowly stood up, breathing through his nostrils, slow deep breaths that reigned in the fear. He prayed that Jessica and Chris would be able to get rid of Frank before he started filming, otherwise, who knows what would happen to the cast and crew down here.
John walked him through the rest of the complex including the kitchen areas and then back into the control room. Tom flopped down into the chair and put his head in his hands. He slowly looked up at the monitors and rested his chin on his fists, taking a deep breath. This trip did nothing to put his demons at rest; it only stirred up more.
He turned in the chair slowly. “Are the tapes here?”
“I only brought a couple with me,” Sharon said.
Tom put his hand out. Sharon stared at it and looked over at John. He nodded and she reached into her purse and pulled out two discs and handed them over.
“I’m going to call up to have lunch sent down,” Craig said from the doorway and when they nodded, he picked up the phone on the console and pressed 0. The CEO’s secretary answered and took the order for them, telling them the food would be delivered in about an hour.
Tom slipped the disc into the DVD player and pressed play. The main monitor filled with a scene of Jessica tied to a mattress in a red dress and Ty sitting on the side feeding her grapes and strawberries and whipped cream.
His fists kept clenching and unclenching under the table as he watched Ty seduce her. He asked for the words, even though it was evident in her eyes. She wanted him and that burned Tom to the core. She never looked at him the way she looked at Ty. Not back then, and not now. A small spark brightened in his soul, the fires of anger burning low, stoked by each gentle scene they showed him.
Shock encompassed him when Ty left the room instead of finishing what he started. The next several scenes dug under his skin, and he shifted in the seat, the burning in his soul scorching with new kindling. The poker game where Jessica bet her freedom on one hand of five card stud struck a chord.
“I never lose,” Ty commented after he won the poker hand and Tom shivered. Could he win this battle too? Could he really yank Jessica out of his life?
In the next scene Ty asked Jessica if she believed in redemption and a cold sweat broke out on his neck.
“Jesus,” Tom said. Jessica had actually granted his wish of redemption, or more specifically, Eric had.
The dinner followed by Jessica willingly giving herself to him was torture. Tom closed his eyes; his chest felt like someone dropped a fifty pound weight on it and he hung his head knowing he was going to lose and lose big.
Fear and despair laced through his bones. He blinked back the sudden onslaught of tears. How could he be so stupid, so blind? Could Jessie really refuse him?
None of them knew just how much these tapes scared him. Ty was alive and embedded in their lives and this just made him much more of a threat than Tom had imagined.
“What’s on the other disc?” he asked when the scene flashed to the room with the three of them in it.
Sharon switched the discs, pressing play. Tom hardly recognized the face on screen, the scar sure, but the eyes, the eyes were devoid of humanity, of caring and he pushed the chair back. He looked bored, except when they begged for him, and each and every woman did, their eyes drinking him in like he was some sort of god. When they begged, his eyes altered, turning into a vision of self-loathing, reminding Tom of the day he broke Jessica.
The rush he spoke of when they were in captivity only manifested itself when he flaunted his first seduction of Jessica to Mike; a devilish gleam glimmered in his eyes. Other than taunting Mike, Tom couldn’t find any hint of pleasure in the videos he participated in.
He came to life when Jessica appeared and that scared the shit out of Tom.
The only footage of Ty killing someone was the girl who cut his arm and that could have been construed as self-defense.
“He never pulled the trigger,” Sharon said softly as she ejected the disc.
Tom laughed and looked at his watch. It was almost four in the afternoon. They had been down there for close to seven hours. “Don’t let these videos fool you. Ty is a killer. He pushed the button setting off the explosive that killed my wife.” He looked over at Sharon. “You have no idea what that man is capable of.” He paused and looked at the three of them. “Do you have the video of us in the room that last day?”
They nodded.
“So you have it
on film. He castrated his stepbrother and pulled his eye out of the socket without a thought. He let that machine tear him apart and he smiled when he watched it,” Tom said. “Jessica didn’t see the smile; I did. He is a sick son of a bitch.”
“Many people will see what he did to Frank as just,” Sharon said.
Tom nodded. “True, he did get what he deserved,” Tom said. “I admit he was crazier than Ty.” He took a deep breath. “But Ty is not a hero and we have to do a little rewriting to remind the world of what he did before he met Jess.” He looked at them. “Otherwise, I’m not doing this.”
He stood up and headed toward the elevator. They followed him silently and no one spoke until they were back on the helicopter.
“So you will do the movie?” Craig asked, breaking the silence.
“Only with some rewriting,” Tom answered.
Sharon nodded. “But only if you work on it with me.”
Tom took a deep breath and looked out the window. Jess would not like that at all. He looked back at her and nodded. “But no funny stuff,” he warned.
Sharon touched the bandage plastered over the bridge of her nose and the hollow of her eyes still held the ugly black and blue tones. “Okay.”
Tom looked out the window as the helicopter made its way back to the city. The day had been grueling and a new terror, one worse than Frank, gripped him. Losing Jessica—to death, to Ty, it wouldn’t matter—losing her would destroy him.
Chapter 70
Jessica stirred, opening one eye in the direction of the clock. “Holy shit.” She shot up. It was already ten thirty. She jumped out of bed and high-tailed it into the bathroom to get ready for her lunch with Chris.
She walked into the Four Seasons at a little after noon, climbing the steps and scanning the restaurant. There he stood in a gray pinstripe suit with a blue shirt that was open at the collar. His hair was just as perfect as the fit of the suit, looking like he just stepped out of the pages of GQ. Chris turned when he felt her glance and the smile that lit up his face made her tremble.
* * * *
Chris nearly fell over as the smile spread across his lips. The red dress she wore looked so much like the one he made her wear that day in the complex and she was more stunning today than she had been five years ago Taking a deep breath to quench the heat that layered his skin, he walked up to her and took her hand, kissing it in gentleman’s fashion.
“Little red dress. Are you trying to kill me?”
“You, you look amazing,” she said, still studying the finely tailored suit.
“I told you I clean up well.” Chris signaled for the hostess and they were seated in the pool room next to the window. Chris held her chair for her as she sat and pushed it in gently, laughing lightly at her wide-eyed gaze.
“I had no idea,” she said and glanced around the restaurant.
“Can I get start you off with something to drink?” the waitress asked.
“Just as long as it isn’t Grey Goose, right?” Chris winked at Jessica.
Jessica blushed. “Can I have a glass of zinfandel?”
“I’ll take a scotch on the rocks.” He watched the waitress walk away before leaning back in his seat. He cocked his head to the side, studying her, wondering how much they had in common, like if she was a Yankee’s fan or even if she liked sports.
“What?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Not important.”
“What?” she asked again, smiling.
He rolled his eyes. “Red Sox or Yankees?”
“Red Sox of course.”
“Figures.” He glanced at the waitress, nodding as the drinks were set on the table.
“Don’t tell me you’re a Yankees fan?”
“Avid.” He nodded and shrugged. “What about football?”
She smiled. “Guess.”
“Pats?”
“It would be a sin to live in New England if I didn’t like them. Jets?”
Ty laughed. “No, Buffalo. You actually watch football?”
Jessica smiled. “Hell yeah, I love football. I never miss a game.”
“Baseball?” he asked hopefully.
Jessica held her hand up and shook it back and forth. “Not so much. It’s kind of boring, but I will watch the Red Sox if nothing else is on and they are playing the Yankees.” She smiled at him. “I like to see your boys lose.”
“They don’t lose very often.”
“They have lately.”
“Touché.” He grinned and picked up his drink. The waiter arrived and he ordered for the both of them. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Chris looked at her for a long time and his smile faded. “If you could have anything in the world what would it be?”
Jessica watched him as she thought about the question. “World peace.” She laughed, pulling his leg as the thought of a baby crossed her mind. She pushed it out just as quickly.
“Seriously, just for you. What would it be?”
“Seriously,” she repeated and he nodded. “Okay, I’d like my grandfather’s property in New Hampshire back. We used to go there every summer as kids and he had the best spot on Lake Wentworth. It’s called Sunset Point. The sunset streaked across the lake from Mount Ossopie directly to our dock. My best childhood memories are there.” She took a sip of wine. “What about you, what is it that you want if you could have anything?”
“You.”
“Besides me.”
He sat back in the chair biting his lower lip. “Anything in the world?”
She nodded.
He took a deep breath, homing in on the exact moment his life went to shit. “I’d go back in time to the morning my dad died and make sure he had his bullet proof vest on.” He took a sip of his drink and held eye contact with her. “My dad was a cop. He died in the line of duty.”
Jessica’s eyes softened.
“If he had lived, my mother, Anna, and Chris would all be alive today and I never would have done the things I have.” He snorted. “Hell, my brother and I would probably be cops hunting down psychos like me.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven.” He shook his head a little. “Sorry, but that was the beginning of the end.”
“Chris. What are we doing?”
He smiled a little and shrugged. “Being friends.”
“Okay, I’ll buy that for now.” She smirked at him and leaned back. “So what do you do?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Do?”
“Yes, what do you do?”
“Anything I want,” he answered as the waitress came by with their food.
“Seriously?” Jessica asked and cut into her steak.
Chris shrugged. “I take a lot of pictures. I take karate classes. I watch the ball games down at a bar on 7th Street.” He shrugged again. “Basically go where I want, when I want.”
“With who you want?”
Chris looked at her and shook his head. “There isn’t anyone else I want to be with, Jess.”
Jessica went to say something but decided against it; instead she took another bite of steak.
He watched her in silence. “We can’t talk here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Frank,” he said. “We’ll talk at my place after.”
“Oh no.” Jessica shook her head.
“I promise I will not make you do anything that you’ll regret. Besides, I can show you my portfolio while we talk.”
Jessica looked at him warily. “I don’t know.”
“We both had the nightmare. This isn’t the place to discuss that,” he said, sounding perfectly reasonable to Jessica.
“If I agree, you have to promise me you won’t let anything happen.”
Chris nodded. “I’ll do my best.” The knot in his stomach tightened. He wasn’t sure if he could keep that promise.
They finished their meal and he peeled off a couple hundred dollar bills and handed them to the waiter with the check and they stood
up to leave.
“What?” he said as they started down the stairs. “I tip for good service?”
“You tipped a hundred percent of the meal.”
“So,” he said. “It’s not like I’ll ever run out of money.”
She shook her head. “You do that to see their reactions.”
“No,” he said but smiled. Maybe she does really know what makes me tick.
“Ya huh.” She smacked him lightly.
Chris laughed and opened the door for her.
Jessica glanced at him. “You have such a nice laugh.” Their eyes met, taking the chill right out of the air and she took a deep breath, looking away.
* * * *
He hailed a cab and rattled off the address. They pulled up in front of the apartment building that flanked the north side of Central Park. Jessica scanned the scenery and stepped out of the cab. He escorted her inside and took the elevator to the penthouse.
Jessica actually sighed as she looked around at the deep brown leather furniture and rich walnut tables and book cases. He had a couple colorful throws on the back of the couch and chairs. The walls on either side of the entertainment center were filled with books and she recognized most of the authors. His apartment had warmth and character that she didn’t expect, much like the house in Maine. “It’s lovely,” she said and he opened up the French doors to the balcony and showed her out. The panoramic view of the city brought a smile to her lips.
Chris ducked out of view for a moment and came back with a black portfolio that he unzipped and placed on the table in the living room.
Jessica stepped away from the beautiful cityscape and took a seat on the couch, opening the portfolio. It was filled with 18 x 20 photographs he had taken and she shuffled through them. “These are phenomenal.” Jessica picked up a picture of a little Chinese girl playing with opsicle sticks on the sidewalk. “I love this one.” She held it up. “You’ve got a lot of talent. I mean a lot of talent.” She sifted through the pictures again.
Chris beamed. “Thanks.” He wanted her approval so badly that hearing it from her lips was the elixir he needed.
