In spite of their fear, Valerie and Olivia were hungry—physically, if not emotionally. Common sense told them not to ask for food—not yet. The women exchanged only a few words while they sat or reclined on the mattresses—waiting for something, not knowing what. Olivia leaned on her elbow, saying she was reluctant to let her face touch the dirty fabric. Valerie agreed and sat cross-legged, eyes closed, her back against the wall for support. Their watches had not been confiscated along with the phones, so they were aware of the time. Time had seemed to stop, but the day was drawing to a close, and the dusk’s fading light no longer brightened or warmed the room as the sunlight had done.
They heard their captor rustling about in the other room, cupboards opening and closing, his heavy boots scuffing along the floor. Suddenly he was standing in the doorway staring at them with the usual gruff expression. “If you two want anything to eat, you have to do as you’re told.” Lenny walked over to Olivia and pulled a phone out of his pants pocket. She recognized it as her own. “Sit up and look at the phone,” he said, holding it in position to take her picture. The phone clicked several times before he put it back in his pocket. He left the room for a moment and came back with a pad of paper and pen. “Now you’re going to write a note to your parents and that brother of yours—let them know you’re alive … for now.”
“I don’t know what you want me to write,” Olivia said in a soft and shaky voice.
Lenny handed her the pad and pen and told her to write down what he was about to say. “Dear Daddy,” he said, stopping momentarily to chuckle. “I’m being held here because Mum has to do something for these people. Please tell her to do it. If she doesn’t, they will kill me.” He stopped dictating, told Olivia to stop writing, and then looked at Valerie. “Who’s this anyway?” He looked back at Olivia. “We only wanted you. Now I’m saddled with this bird.”
Olivia complied, answering his question. “She’s my friend. She used to be married to my brother.”
As the words left her mouth she knew it was the wrong thing to say. Now he would see Valerie as another means of controlling her family. Valerie sighed, realizing that Olivia had now made her more valuable, although she didn’t really believe that they were likely to survive anyway. They had both seen their captor’s face. That was likely to seal the deal. She had seen enough television shows to know that’s how it goes.
Lenny returned to the task at hand and told Olivia to continue writing. The rest of the note confirmed the danger she was in and emphasized that her mother and father were to tell no one, and that her mother must follow instructions to the letter. When she had finished writing he ripped the tablet from her hands and then left the room. Several minutes later he announced he would be gone for a while, then added a warning to be quiet if they wanted to keep breathing. Exhaustion won out over Olivia’s reluctance to lie on the mattress. She fell into a restless sleep. Valerie watched her, fighting to stay awake, but finally succumbed to her own fatigue. When they awoke the room was completely dark, the house quiet. They assumed they were still alone. Their hunger pangs were now more severe and they wondered if starvation would be his method of getting rid of them.
The room had become chilly, and Valerie did her best to wrap the blanket around her shoulders. She couldn’t seem to accommodate for the arm that was stretched out and handcuffed to the radiator. Olivia had used her blanket as a pillow and continued to lie there staring at a dark ceiling, the handcuffed wrist over her head. Soon Lenny came through the front door, his heavy steps once again accompanied by the rustle of plastic bags. They heard the bags hit the table and waited quietly.
He appeared in the doorway and flipped a wall switch that turned on a glaring ceiling light. “I brought you some food. If you don’t like it, eat it anyway. I may not feel so generous tomorrow.”
Valerie summoned the courage to speak up and said, “I know you’ve given us buckets, but could we please use the bathroom. We’ve done everything you’ve asked, and now that you’re back there’s no privacy in here without a door.”
Lenny stood still and stared at her. She wondered if the next step was to slap her as he had done Olivia. She maintained his gaze and waited for an answer. Only a few seconds passed, but to her it seemed longer. “You should have used the buckets while I was gone. Remember that next time.”
Grumbling under his breath he walked over to her and proceeded to unlock the handcuffs. She quietly said thank you and tried to get up. Her body was very stiff and she let out a groan as she stood. Lenny laughed, obviously enjoying her discomfort, then motioned her toward the bathroom. She took a few steps then asked if Olivia could go as well, when she was back in her handcuffs. He grunted, which she interpreted as a ‘yes.’ Olivia smiled at her. Once they were both back in restraints, Lenny brought them each a Styrofoam box containing a Spanish tortilla, some tomatoes and a small pile of anchovies. He noticed the two empty bottles of water and fetched two more, tossing them onto the mattresses.
Valerie saw that Olivia was picking at the food. “You have to eat. We have to stay as strong as possible. No matter what he gives us, eat it. And drink your water. We can’t survive if we kill ourselves with starvation and dehydration. We don’t want to make it easy for him.”
Olivia nodded and began to pick at the egg and potato tortilla. Once she started, she began to eat faster, her basic hunger pushing ahead of the fear. Both women finished every morsel and were thankful for it. At least they knew there would be sustenance of some kind. They had water, a blanket and perhaps, just a little hope.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ben and Ana were both awake at dawn, alone in separate rooms. Without the other knowing, each had planned an early walk around the grounds. Ana was sure it would be too early for ne’er-do-wells to be up and about, and that she wouldn’t incur Ben’s wrath for having sneaked out on her own. Ben came downstairs moments later and found her sitting at the kitchen table, tying her shoes and humming. She looked up, saw him enter the room, and broke into a self-conscious smile, all the while wondering how to explain her actions.
“And just what are you up to this early in the morning?” Ben asked.
“I think the grounds are quite safe at dawn,” she answered. “I’m going out for a little walk, and I thought Sir Freddie might come along.”
“Oh you did?” He paused and gave her a ‘you won’t get away with it’ look, then continued. “Well, of course he’ll take any opportunity to join someone on a walk, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why are you down so early? And with boots on?”
“A walk.”
Still fussing with her laces, Ana looked up at him through her dark lashes. Her response was short. “It’s not a good idea for you either. Together then?”
“If that’s your pleasure,” he said, opening the pantry door.
Freddie bounded out, dancing circles around him and panting with excitement, as if he’d heard the plan and heartily approved. All three went out the back door and into the hazy glow of first light. A low fog during the night had left everything as wet as if it had rained. The heavy moisture had dispersed and turned into wispy clouds tinted pale orange by the sunrise. Before they had taken ten steps across the grass Ana’s shoes were wet. Ben took her by the hand, leading her back to the kitchen door and into the pantry. Two pairs of Wellies stood along the wall, and he picked up the smaller ones, handing them to her. The fit was adequate and they were on their way in a flash.
Ana followed Ben to the back of the garden and then through a wooden gate set into the vine covered wall. The surrounding property consisted of lawns and venerable trees with wide-spreading branches. Beyond the lawns and across the two-lane road was a field of Rapeseed, its brilliant yellow flowers made even brighter by rays of sun reflecting off the remaining moisture. They walked the lawns, Ana stopping at times to look up through the branches of the English oak and Chestnut trees. Sir Freddie had caught a scent a short distance away and busied himself with an investiga
tion. Ana stopped to look at the trunk of a particularly large Chestnut and then turned around to lean against it.
Ben stopped and faced her; his arms folded across his chest. “You look relaxed, even contented, leaning against that tree.” Ben cocked his head and looked squarely into her eyes. “It’s hard to believe you’re a city girl.”
“I think I’ve made it clear that I like to try new things.” Ana smiled sweetly, but Ben found the glint in her eyes very alluring. While he was wondering about the meaning of her comment, she continued. “It seems we’ve both had new things foisted upon us.”
Ben took a place beside her, leaning against the massive trunk. They remained there for a few moments without speaking, until Ana said, “I wonder what this tree has seen in its very long life. I can imagine lovers having clandestine meetings under the spreading branches of this very tree. Perhaps a medieval princess was being forced to marry without love, and she would sneak away from the castle to meet her true love for a moonlight assignation under this tree.”
“You have quite an imagination.”
“I remember something else about Chestnut trees. Of course you’ve read Orwell’s book, ‘1984?’” Ben nodded yes, and she continued. “Remember the poem? ‘Under the spreading Chestnut tree, I sold you and you sold me.’” He nodded again and she went on. “Above the Chestnut Tree Café, a man was suffering from lost love.”
“But Orwell’s story found romantic love to be a betrayal of love for Big Brother, the only permissible love. That’s the point. Lovers saw betrayal as their only choice.”
“I know,” said Ana. “The connotation is very negative… and a sobering reminder that love is always a risk.”
“True. But in spite of your analogy, it seems safe to say that you are a romantic.”
“I guess I am.” She looked down at her feet and added, her tone suddenly somber, “Too many fairy tales as a child—guess I believed the lies.”
“I’d never peg you as a cynic.” He turned to look at her, but she casually looked away. He could see the subject was uncomfortable, so he said, “I won’t ask how you got that way—at least not right now.” Ben took her by the hand, pulling her away from the tree and toward the road.
Freddie had abandoned them for his own sort of fun and was headed back toward the house. They crossed the road and Ben stopped at the edge of the field. Ana was amazed that the Rapeseed seemed almost tall enough to hide them. She wanted to be lost in its beauty and asked Ben if they could make their way toward the middle of the field. Her request surprised him, but he hadn’t yet learned how to refuse her, so he went ahead, just far enough to push the plants aside for her to pass.
The ground was still damp from dawn’s heavy fog, but they trudged on until Ben concluded they were close to the middle. Ana was just tall enough to see 360 degrees of brilliant yellow surrounding her. She laughed with the delight of a child, and Ben tried to remember that kind of innocent joy. All at once she became quiet. There was no sound other than the soft rustling of flower stalks as a breeze began to swell. She hugged herself and looked at the sky. Ben was confused. He put his hand on her shoulder then turned her to face him. Ana’s expression was troubled, her brow wrinkled.
“Ana, what happened? You were so happy a minute ago.”
“Too happy—it’s a dangerous state.”
“Come on, don’t get philosophical on me,” he said, trying to make her smile.
“That’s not what I’m doing. It’s just that this is all too lovely, too perfect. I have a feeling of foreboding.”
“In what way?”
He waited for Ana to speak, but she hesitated, self-consciously rubbing her forehead. She was standing before him in sweatpants and wearing his mother’s muddy boots. Her hair was a tumble of rebellious curls, her nose pink from the morning chill. She was wearing the quilted vest his mother had loaned her, and the hodge-podge of her outfit could easily have made Ben laugh. But he didn’t laugh. To him she was beguiling, enigmatic, and although he didn’t understand her premonition, he had no doubt she felt it was genuine. How could he make it right, whatever was vexing her?
The breeze continued to swell, and the field rippled like a golden magic carpet. Ana’s expression changed. Ben locked his gaze with hers and saw the same need he was feeling. The current of desire between them had grown stronger each day since they met. No longer concerned about the right moment, he reached for Ana and pulled her close. He tipped her chin up to meet his lips. The first kiss was soft and lingering. They backed away from each other, just slightly, each struck by reticence.
Ben leaned forward, took her hands in his, then kissed her forehead and said, “We’re completely alone in the middle of this field, and it’s going to take all the willpower I have not to take you right here— muddy ground be damned.”
Ana was aroused by his remark, and as their eyes met again there was a rush to embrace. Ben devoured her lips— probing, deep, and with the complete freedom granted him by her eager mouth. Their stifled desire was set free—all in one passionate, seemingly unending kiss. Fears born of any previous emotional pain and disappointment continued to dissolve within each kiss that followed.
He held her tightly, his voice low and seductive. “I want you. It would take every word for ‘desire’ in this writer’s arsenal to tell you how much. There’s been too much waiting—for me at least.” He paused, fearing he might be pressuring her, then said, “But I know this may not be the right moment or the right place for you.”
Ana felt the same about him, yet tried to diffuse the intensity of the moment in order to gain control over her own longing. “If you want to fetch your thesaurus, I’d be willing to wait.”
Ben loved the way she sparred with him. It had heightened his attraction to her when they first met, and now the effect had become profound. The challenging look in his eyes led Ana to reveal her own need. She spoke softly, her mouth against Ben’s neck. “I’d hoped, but I didn’t know—even last night when your lips lightly brushed mine on the way to kissing my cheek— I wasn’t sure if it was a little accident and the kiss was just a friendly gesture.”
She gently put her hands on the sides of his face then kissed him again, aggressively. He broke away from her lips, took hold of her arms, closed his eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. “Why do there have to be complications messing up the natural order of things?”
“There are complications… and, so it seems, a mystery to solve. But should we completely put our lives on hold?” Her mind raced with thoughts, each valid reason to wait countered immediately by her lust for Ben. Finally the words tumbled from her mouth, and she said, “You aren’t the only one who’s anxious.”
“Your last kiss confirmed that.” Ben slipped his hands inside her vest, sliding them over her ribcage and around to her back.
He found the edge of her shirt and slid his hands underneath, beginning to stroke the smooth skin on her back. Her head fell back as she sighed with pleasure. He leaned forward and kissed her neck like a man yearning for much more than kisses. They dropped to their knees, hidden in the golden Rapeseed, removed from the world around them and oblivious to the damp ground. In an instant they were once again in a tight embrace, exchanging deep kisses accompanied by the soft throaty sounds of arousal.
Ana leaned away from him and said, “Ben, if we go any further, there’ll be no stopping—regardless of the mud—and I speak for myself.”
Ben looked up at the sky and then at Ana. “You’re right. And it’s been a very long time since I’ve been with anyone. Another kiss and I could be like a runaway train.”
As he pulled her to her feet Ana looked at him intently and said, “Neither have I, so all aboard… that train’s about to leave the station.”
Ben realized what she meant, and his eager body responded. He flattened and smashed the stalks where they had been kneeling, using his boot-clad feet. Returning his attention to Ana, he slid the vest from her shoulders and tossed it to the ground. His hands skimmed her
torso and waist, ending where the old sweatpants were tied.
“Wait,” she said, and then bent to remove the boots. She stepped gingerly onto the crushed stalks without thinking once about her damp socks and cold feet. There was fire in her eyes, but her voice was soft and sensual. “Now, get back to what you were doing.”
Both were breathing faster as he slid her sweats and panties down and off. He laid them aside then removed his jacket, dropping it onto the vest as a cushion for their bodies. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the torso Ana had admired when nursing his shoulder that first night. She lay down on the padded makeshift bed of leather and flowers then watched him undo his jeans, which he let fall to his ankles. His boxers followed.
Ben dropped to his knees, hovered over her, and met her lustful gaze. He eased the black jewel-encrusted tee shirt above her breasts and did the same with her wispy lace bra. He paused to admire what he saw then kissed each one softly before returning to her lips. He lowered his chest onto hers, and as flesh met flesh Ana gasped, while Ben let out a long sigh of pleasure. His kisses became more demanding, and soon he placed one knee between her legs, edging them open without resistance. Moved by the swirling wind, stalks of yellow danced in concert with the rhythm of their urgent lovemaking. Gusts whooshed and whined through the field, rising in crescendo with the lovers’ moans of passion.
Good Deed Bad Deed : A Novel Mystery Page 19
