“Altru-what?” She felt stupid asking.
“Altruistic. Doing something good for someone without the desire for anything in return.”
“Ahh.” She couldn’t help but adopt a soft smile.
“But as it turned out, you were giving me as much as I was giving you. You’re not a taker, Elizabeth; you’re a giver.”
“But I was taking advantage of your offer to photograph me.”
“No, you graciously accepted my offer. Yes, it excited you, but I could tell that it wasn’t all about you. There was more in you than that. There is more in you than that.
“Listen. The long and the short of it is this: Two years ago, my marriage failed and I got divorced. There were things said and done that were so hurtful. I died quite a bit inside when that happened.
“But there was something about you, Elizabeth. It felt like I was healing as we spent time together. I wasn’t just seeing a sixteen-year-old girl. I was experiencing the heart of a good woman, regardless of how old you actually were … are.”
Mark’s words were immeasurably beautiful in her ears. She thought she might cry.
“Trust me, I don’t want to have feelings for someone who is underage,” he continued. “Who knows? Maybe it means there’s still something broken in me. How much time have the two of us spent together?”
“Two days? Three-ish?” Elizabeth answered.
“Total the hours together, and maybe we’ve spent close to one. It’s crazy to me that I could fall for you in such a short span of time.”
What did he just say?
His words caught Elizabeth unexpectedly. She caught her breath.
This time, the tears did come and rolled quickly down her cheeks.
She would try to hold it together until Mark was done speaking.
“You see, I’m no longer looking at you as too young. I’m looking at myself as too old, like I was the one born too early.”
He shook his head, eyes lowered.
“I know we shouldn’t be here. We should be sitting at a restaurant, eating Italian.”
“I’d rather be right here with you,” Elizabeth confided. She leaned into him again. “I’d rather be right here more than anywhere else in the world.
“When I first saw you, Mark, I thought you were handsome. Yes, I noticed you were older and didn’t think anything beyond your handsomeness. I had no idea that I’d end up feeling like this with an older guy.
“I think most girls my age, you know, see older actors in movies and have ‘What if?’ thoughts about them. Things like, ‘What if I were older?’ and ‘What if I were the one performing the scene with him?’
“We don’t think about the age gap; we think about the beauty of what we’re seeing played out before us.
“Mark, I saw you playing out before me, and suddenly you were no longer older. I really do appreciate your confession, but if you’ll just believe me … I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing.”
Her last statement silenced Mark. He just stared at her.
After several seconds, she felt she had to break the silence.
“Mark, I still want you.”
There, she’d said it again. Her body was now heavily responding to the hormones coursing through her. He had stimulated her mind and heart, and now her body was responding. She didn’t think she could resist him at this point even if she had wanted to.
She got up off the bed to stand in front of him. She lifted his hands and placed them on her hips.
Mark’s fingers hit the phone in her back pocket. Apologizing quickly, she pulled it from her pocket and set it on the dresser beside her.
“Now, where were we?” she asked, turning back to him.
She stared down into his eyes.
He began to smile, as did she. She was feeling playful again.
“So, good-looking man, are you hoping that I’ll kiss you … or … something else?”
There was a twinkle in his eyes.
“Well, criminy. Yes. Those two things.”
She giggled.
Leaning down, she placed a kiss on his lips.
He scooted closer to the edge of the bed so he could pull her firmly against himself. Then he leaned back, causing her to lose her balance and free-fall forward with him until they were both laughing. She rolled off of him and moved up to lie against the pillows.
Mark rolled over and looked at her, and she called him toward her with a seductive finger gesture.
He complied.
Then something began to niggle at her thoughts. It was something he’d just said.
Criminy.
Where had she recently heard that?
Mark moved up next to her. He smelled her hair then drew her face to his.
She kissed him. She kissed him deeply.
A chat room conversation.
A scary thought erupted in her mind. Very scary.
She had to think it through—determine if it was significant.
She pulled back from his lips and presented him with a sweet smile. She scrambled for an idea.
It came to her.
“Can I use the bathroom for a few minutes? Probably best if I … you know … make sure we’re safe.”
Mark smiled with realization. “Sure. I’ll just be right here.”
“Thank you. Don’t go anywhere.”
He released a small laugh.
Elizabeth got to her feet and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her, leaned back against it, and began to think.
Someone said that word. I think he used those other ones too…. What were they?
“Criminy.” “Those two things.” Those exact words! “Those two things.” Who? Who?
Think, Elizabeth. Remember!
Then it struck her. Oh no.
It was NewProGuy.
Reflexively, her right hand went up and covered her mouth.
Oh God.
She forced herself to breathe.
But how could that be possible? She’d never told him where she lived, never.…
I told him I worked at a restaurant in Millsville.
He was supposed to have lived out of state. He’d been playing her.
She took a moment to compose herself. She had to think if there was any possible way that this could just be a coincidence.
Elizabeth began to pace the length of the bathroom, back and forth, hands at her forehead in concentration.
He had portfolios at the restaurant. Camera. Someone from New York called him. She’d seen that on the phone.
It’s possible he’s legit. It’s possible that this is all a coinci—
A thought.
She walked up to the medicine cabinet beside the sink. She held her breath as she opened it. There were some prescription pill bottles. She grabbed one.
Darlene V. Parks. Not Johnson, but Parks.
Elizabeth began to feel sick.
Was he adopted? No. He’d have said so when I mentioned I was.
His mom divorced. No. That doesn’t fit.
She had to find out what his dad’s last name was.
How? How do I do that?
Panic was setting in. She reached for her back pocket.
It’s in the bedroom with him.
A wave of nausea hit and her stomach tightened. She hurried to the toilet. Lifting the lid, she got on her knees and vomited.
And again, she vomited.
Mark must have heard the noise of it.
“Elizabeth, are you okay?”
She was shaking, sweat beginning to erupt from the pores of her face and arms. Already, her bangs were matting to her forehead.
She had to answer him, or he’d come to the bathroom.
“I’m sorry,” she called back. “Got sick. Nerves.”
She heard Mark entering the hallway.
No, no, no.
“What can I do?” He was at
the door.
She tried to play it easy. “Oh, there’s really nothing. Not the first time. Surprised it didn’t happen before now.”
“I can grab you some mints. Mom always kept some spearmint candy in her bedroom. I’m sure there’s still some in there.”
She thought for a moment. That wouldn’t really make a difference when it came to putting distance between them. And just exactly what would she do even if she were able to accomplish that?
“No, just give me a few minutes to recover.”
She had to maintain the illusion that she was still fixated on him. “Everything’s going to be fine. Please, forgive me for interrupting our time together like this.”
“Nothing to apologize for. I just want you to be all right.”
She fake-laughed. “You are getting more than you bargained for with me.”
Now he laughed. “You’re worth it. Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you by hanging out here at the door. Do whatever you’ve got to do, then come out when you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Mark. I miss you already,” she lied smoothly.
He walked away.
Was everything a lie? Had she just been played this whole time? Was this all about—only about—getting sex from a girl … a minor?
Was he not a New York City model photographer?
Still, there had been that New York City phone call he’d received. That puzzled her.
Could he actually be from New York and only pretended on ShareU to be a young professional from Missouri?
She had to find out about his dad’s last name, but how to….
The storage room!
Chapter 62
T
here is a lot of his dad’s stuff in there!
Now, how to cross the hallway and actually get into the storage room without him knowing?
Her heart and mind were racing to keep up with her need to figure out how to accomplish the feat.
She felt another wave of nausea strike. Again, she bowed her head over the commode and expelled what little remained in her stomach.
“Sorry,” she called again.
“You’re sure I can’t do something? Get you something?”
An idea! One that she was sure would work if played right.
“Could you get that sports drink I left on the counter down in the kitchen?”
“Definitely!” He sounded genuinely happy that he could help.
“Just set it outside the bathroom door for me, okay?”
“I’ll do that,” he said, as he stepped out of the bedroom.
“That’s my man,” she said. “I truly feel awful about this!”
“No problem, pretty girl.”
He didn’t call me a woman that time.
When she heard Mark’s feet hit the steps, Elizabeth grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper, wiped her mouth, then flushed the toilet. She was on her feet immediately.
She unlocked the door, peeked out into the empty hallway, then stepped out. Closing the door behind her to maintain the illusion of it being occupied, she crept down and across the hall to the storage room.
She opened the door and stepped in. She was suddenly unsure how she was going to extricate herself after her search.
As quietly as she could, she pushed some boxes from the wall and against the door.
As close to the far end of the room as she could, she started to open the tops of cardboard boxes. The first few held clothes. She should have known by the sizes of the boxes.
She needed smaller ones. Ones that could hold papers. Two of the boxes against the door looked to be just what she needed.
She heard Mark’s footsteps again, on the steps and rising toward her. She stood perfectly still.
Mark walked past her and to the bathroom. He lightly tapped the door.
“Your drink’s out here. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
Just then, Elizabeth realized the flaw in her plan. She hadn’t accounted for him talking to her through the bathroom door again.
“Elizabeth? Are you okay?” He paused a few seconds, then, “Elizabeth. Answer me. You’ve got me concerned out here.” Another shorter pause. “I’m sorry, but I’m coming in to check on you.”
She heard him open the door, then silence.
Listening carefully, barely able to breathe, she heard Mark make his way from the bathroom to his mom’s bedroom, then back out.
“Elizabeth, where are you?”
She knew she was going to be caught at any moment.
She hoped against hope that everything she’d started thinking about him was a mistake, that he really was Mark Johnson, photographer from New York who had just happened upon the Fairlane Diner.
Oh God, she thought again.
Elizabeth threw caution to the wind and opened the topmost of the smaller boxes. Inside were several stuffed manila envelopes set into the box on their sides. She pulled the first one up.
Handwritten on the front was “Taxes - 2002.”
Yes!
She tore it open.
At the top of the first page—an IRS Form 1040—were the names of Mark’s parents: Willard and Darlene Parks.
Her heart sank as Mark tapped on the door. “Elizabeth? Are you in there?” He twisted the doorknob and tried to open the door.
When it didn’t open, he said, “Elizabeth? I know you’ve got to be in there. What’s going on?”
And that’s when she began to cry. She’d been found, and there would be no escaping.
Her soft sobs turned to weeping as she turned herself around and slid to the floor along the flat surfaces of the boxes, lending her weight to the small barrier she’d created against the door.
“Elizabeth, sweetheart.…”
She found her voice. “Please … don’t call me that.”
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND. What happened? What’s going on?” Drew asked again, afraid that he already knew the answer.
Had he been found out?
“Come on, talk to me. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it out.”
From the other side of the door came a question that froze him.
“What’s your name? …your real one?”
His heart hammered. She did know.
He couldn’t think of a response that wouldn’t make things more complicated. What he came up with was, “Huh?”
“Your last name is Parks. What’s your real first name, Mark?”
She spat out the name like poison.
Drew tried to quickly weigh his options. Should he force his way into the room, break down the door if it was necessary?
That would just turn really ugly, really fast.
Was there a way out of this? A convincing lie he could tell?
He had nothing to lose by trying.
He faked a lighthearted laugh. “I think I get it! Shoot, you had me scared to death, Elizabeth!”
“Just out with it. I’m obviously stuck in here and can’t do anything.” She sounded defeated. Suddenly worn out. “I already know you can get in here by brute strength alone. There’s little chance I could do anything to you to prevent you from doing whatever you want. So, please, just tell me the truth before you come in. Okay?”
Drew’s heart began to ache. What had he done? He’d played the part of a good man and had been found out to be a liar. It was a direct hit to his ego and his self-esteem, if he’d any of that left to begin with.
He sighed, turned around, and slid his back down the door until he was firmly planted on the hallway floor.
“My name … is Andrew … Drew.”
Her response came back quiet and dejected.
“Oh.”
“This isn’t looking really good for me.”
“Nope.” There was a sarcastic pop to the “p” sound.
“I wanted to meet you. I didn’t think you’d want to meet anyone as old as I.”
“New pro
guy?”
His chin dropped to his chest.
“Yeah,” he said under his breath. “I’m sorry. I wish I could—”
“Don’t even.”
What was left to say?
It became quiet on both sides of the door. It gave Drew time to reflect.
His years-long fantasy had just been quashed. And now there was a girl on the other side of the door who was probably terrified of him. Scared of what he might do to her.
And just exactly what am I going to do?
He decided to open his mouth. “Elizabeth, you want to open the door and come out?”
“Not really.”
He sighed again. “Okay.”
She’s scared. She thinks I’m going to bust in and rape her.
He asked himself the hard question: Am I? Am I going to have her no matter what?
She was literally just a step away from him. Within arm’s reach.
He wondered how much of a barrier she had created to keep the door from opening. Could he budge it … force it open wide enough to get in?
If he was able to open it on his first attempt, it would just be a matter of unanticipated surprise for her. But if he tried and failed to open it, she’d be in there terrified of him until she was ready to come out.
And what if he did get in?
Would he manhandle her and drag her back to the bedroom? Force her to get undressed? Force her to receive him?
Rape.
He knew that, up to this point, he’d done nothing illegal. That he could think of, anyway.
Yes, he’d faked his identity and manipulated her to accept him sexually, but up until now—right now—he’d done nothing except blow the girl’s trust in him.
If he were to drive her back to her car—providing she’d actually allow him—and just let her go on her way, the only damage would be to his unfulfilled fantasy. He could live with that, couldn’t he?
But she was literally only a step away!
And the police were only a call away too.…
Taking her now, to simply satiate his pedophilic libido, would most certainly result in her calling the police. It would be rape. He would be convicted.
Was a fulfilled fantasy worth that?
Not hardly, he determined.
That Dark Place Page 35
