Sara's Game (14 page)

And sitting behind it, along one of the windowless walls, was an unconscious, bound and gagged man.

In the soft burn of the lantern, it wasn’t difficult to make out the shirtless, miniature form of Teddy Rutherford.

***

Everything that Sara had anticipated, everything that she thought she knew, imploded like an old building brought to the ground with a bevy of well-placed explosives.

“
Teddy!”
she said.  “What’s he doing here?”

“Waiting,” said the tall man.

“Waiting for what?”

“Pain,” he said, motioning toward the table. 

Beside the lantern were four objects she hadn’t noticed before.  A blowtorch, a knife, a set of clipping shears, and a cleaver.

If Teddy’s here, then who has the kids?  Who’ve I been talking to this whole time?

What if Teddy
wants
you to think he’s being tortured? 

Teddy slowly lifted his head.  Sara watched him blink and then his eyes went wide as he focused on her.  He mumbled a surprised, “Sara!  Sara!” through the gag, then added something that sounded like, “Help me!”

Her notion that this was part of Teddy’s plan disappeared as the tall man walked over, pivoted, and swung a bowling ball fist into his jaw.  The crunch was sickening as Teddy’s head whipped to the side and then flopped down to his chest, the blow knocking him unconscious.

“Why?” she said.  She didn’t know what to think, how to feel.  Her emotions were bundled up with the promised confusion and tossed into the well of her consciousness.  Switching to pity after so many hours of focusing her rage on Teddy was...difficult.

But she did.

As much as she detested him back in the real world, seeing his slumped, limp body straining against the ropes set her bottom lip to quivering.  He was sleazy, offensive, and deceitful, but whatever sins he committed on the rest of humanity weren’t deserving of this.  Why was he here?  What purpose did it serve to torture Teddy in front of her? 

Confusion, Sara.  Distraction.  She wants you to know that you were wrong.

Who?!  Who is SHE?! 

Someone at the office.  She knew I’d think it was him.  He’s the obvious choice.

The tall man said, “In,” as he pointed toward the cage.

Sara looked down, saw the padlock on the cage’s door. 

Keys open locks, locks open cages.  She wants me to cage myself.  Why?  What does that prove?

Control.  She can make you do whatever she wants.

“I’m not getting in that thing,” she said. 

“Expected.”  The tall man grabbed the blowtorch, ignited it, and shoved the flame at Teddy’s bare shoulder.   His skin seared and the sudden shock of pain brought him back to life.

His muffled scream clawed at Sara’s eardrums.  She dropped the paper bag, covered her ears, tried to block the sound of his wailing.  “Enough!” she said.  “I’ll get in, I’ll get in.  No more, okay?” 

Seconds later, she sat inside the cage, the door open in front of her, padlock dangling from it.

“Key,” the tall man said.

She flung it at his legs. 

He closed the cage door with a clank and a rattle, snapped the padlock shut with a click. 

The black blanket covered half the cage, making it darker inside, blocking her view of Teddy.  The metal rungs dug into her skin, pressing through her running shorts and into her thighs, her buttocks.  She tested the distance of the sides, the top, each of them a half an arm’s length away.  It gave her room to move, to turn around if she needed.

 Sara had never been claustrophobic, but the feeling of confinement overpowered her mind as it crawled its way over her body, sending her breathing into short, ragged bursts.  Her chest hurt from straining to get enough oxygen.  Fingertips tingled.  Dizzy.  The floor tilted underneath.

The tall man said, “Calm.”

Teddy whimpered behind her, inhaling heavily through his draining nose, exhaling around the slobber-soaked rag.

Sara dumped the contents of the paper bag onto the cage’s floor.  The water bottle bounced.  The apple rolled and settled.  The jewelry box landed with a
thunk
and came to rest against her foot.  She kicked it away, held the bag up to her mouth and breathed.  Inhaling, exhaling, inflating the bag with air, sucking it back into her lungs.

Inhaling.  Exhaling.  Inhaling.  Exhaling.  Bringing herself to a controlled cadence.

Tempered normality returned.  The tall man knelt down, shoved a familiar slip of paper through the bars. 

“Instructions,” he said.

She snatched it from his hand, held it around to read in the light.

SECOND HALF OF LEVEL 2 – SELF-PRESERVATION

HIS PAIN = YOUR COMFORT

REMEMBER – 24 HOURS

IF YOU THINK HARD, THE ANSWER WILL COME.

His pain equals my comfort?  God, this is insane.  If I get hungry?  Thirsty?  If I have to pee?  Torture Teddy, get rewarded.

She wants to see how selfish you are.

The tall man rattled the door.  “Understood?” he asked, returning her earlier threat, returning to control.

“Yes,” she said.  “But she won’t break me.”

He nodded and slid another slip of paper through the cage.

This one read:

SO PREDICTABLE

HIS PAIN = YOUR CLUES

SOLVE THIS RIDDLE AND THE FIRST ONE IS FREE

WHAT IS GREATER THAN GOD, MORE EVIL THAN THE DEVIL?

THE POOR HAVE IT.  THE RICH NEED IT.  AND IF YOU EAT IT, YOU WILL DIE.

Sara almost laughed with relief.  Sometimes luck aligns with the universe.

Two weeks earlier, Lacey had come home from school with the exact same riddle and had flaunted it at her for hours.  She had been tired and cranky after another day of dealing with Teddy’s inadequacies and Jim’s demands.  She’d wanted to relax and unwind, to forget about the day, and Lacey’s teasing had been so relentless that Sara had almost sent her to her room.  The threat had worked well enough for her daughter to apologize and give her the answer.

Sara wadded up the slip of paper and threw it at the cage wall, toward the tall man’s face.  He didn’t flinch.  She said, “The answer is
nothing
.”

“Quick.”  He slid yet another slip of paper into the cage.

CONGRATULATIONS.  YOUR FIRST CLUE:

WHY DO I HAVE BRIAN’S WEDDING RING?

LITTLE ONE’S PAIN = MORE CLUES 

LITTLE ONE’S PAIN = YOUR COMFORT

HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?

Little One...she knows his nickname.

When she finished reading, she peered through the bars, glared at the tall man.  “Are you done?”

“Temporarily,” he said, sliding the black blanket over the cage, covering her in darkness, wrapping her in a shroud of solitary confinement.  The only thing that penetrated her square tomb was the steady sound of Teddy’s erratic, panicked breathing.

CHAPTER 15

DJ

DJ walked beside Barker down the hospital hallway, passing busy nurses and a couple of doctors who had their noses buried in clipboards.  He had mixed feelings about the place.  Spend enough time interviewing victims, you got to see every aspect of the darker side of humanity and what people are capable of doing to one another.  But, on the opposite end of the spectrum, it also offered the prospect of seeing the power of human strength, resolve, and will.  How hospitals managed to be simultaneously uplifting and demoralizing was as much of a mystery as the one they were trying to solve.

They located Room 323 and walked in, finding Anna lying in bed, a nurse hunched over her, checking her pulse.  The nurse pushed her patient’s hair back from her face, and told them to keep it short—doctor’s orders.  They agreed, then waited until she left to approach their only lead in a case that was falling apart faster than a house of cards.

Anna tried to smile, croaked out a raspy, “Hi,” and then cringed when she tried to readjust herself upward.

DJ held up a hand, urging her back down.  “No need to get up.  Save your energy.”

“Thanks,” she said, voice dry and hoarse.

DJ looked at the swollen and bruised face.  Lips puffy, eyes black.  Long scrape down her cheek.  He could see her former beauty underneath all the destruction.  Felt his stomach fill up with pity and anger.

Barker said, “Getting along okay?  Full recovery?”

“Something like that.”

“Your husband knows you’re here?”

“On his way.  He didn’t want Hank to see me like this, so he’s dropping him off at my mom’s house.”

“Good idea,” DJ said.

“Hank’s a great name,” Barker added.  “Strong.”

“My grandfather’s name.  So, I guess you want to know how I got—how I got so pretty, huh?”

DJ pulled a seat up beside the bed, sat down face to face with her.  “Just a few questions, if you’re up for it.” 

Barker leaned against the windowsill, crossed his arms.  “Can you remember what happened?”

“She said her name was Deana.”

Barker said to DJ, “D on the necklace?” then to Anna, “Did she give you a last name?”

“No.  Didn’t say much about herself.  She asked me a lot of stuff, though.”

“Personal questions?”

“Just stuff about stripping and if I liked it.  Where I got my outfits, what my family thought.  I didn’t tell her I was married with a kid.  Gotta keep the fantasy alive.  I’m not bi, like some of the other dancers are, so I wasn’t really into her, you know?  But she kept flirting with me and I figured I’d play along, get some extra tips out of it.  No harm in that, right?  Money is money.”

“Understandable.  We spoke with Mildred, got a physical description.  Anything stand out to you?  Anything identifiable?  Any chance you remember the necklace she was wearing?”

Dead end, Barker
. 
Let it go.  Just a necklace.

Anna shook her head.  “Necklace?  No, but she was attractive.  About my age.  Oh, she had one blue eye and one brown eye.  Like that actress.  I can’t remember her name.”

“Different colored eyes?  You mean like two different colors of contacts?” Barker asked, scribbling something down on his notepad.

DJ said, “I think it’s a disease.”

“Let’s check into that.  Now, Mrs. Townsend, we were informed that you and some of the other girls offer, uh, offer...
after hours
dances.  Is that true?”

Anna tried to roll over to face Barker, but the depth of her pain was evident.  She winced and flopped onto her back.  “If I say yes, will I get in trouble?”

“That hospital bed says you’re free from judgment, the way I see it.”

“Same here,” DJ said.  “It’s important that we know the truth.  This woman could be involved in another case we’re investigating, and we need to know exactly what happened.”

He watched the physical discomfort morph into mental anguish on her face.  Eyes leaking tears.  Her bottom lip, swollen and split-skinned, began to quiver.  She inhaled deeply, tried to fight it.

“You have to understand—this whole thing—it’s not easy for me.  For us.  My husband, he’s been out of work for over a year.  He and my son mean everything to me, and no matter how hard I try to keep my chin up and say, ‘It pays the bills,’ I hate it.  Every second of it.  But you wouldn’t believe how much some of these pricks will pay to have you all to themselves.”

A knock at the door interrupted them.  The nurse poked her head in, reminded them to keep it short, and was gone as quickly as she had appeared.

“She’s right,” DJ said.  “You need your rest, so let’s fast forward a little bit.  She offered you money for a private dance back at her home?”

“Ten
thousand
dollars, Detective.”

Barker whistled. 

“She showed me the roll of bills.  Flipped through so that I could see it was really filled with hundreds.  I couldn’t say no.”

DJ sat back.  It was all a ruse, of course, but the amount was staggering, and it was easy to see how a young mother with an unemployed husband could get sucked in by the promises.  “And then what happened?  Mildred mentioned the woman left around two-thirty and you at three o’clock.  Did you meet her somewhere?”

“Out in front of the club.  She was waiting in her car.”

“Any chance you remember what it was?”

“Some hybrid.  Blue.  Look, I want you to know that we’re broke and desperate, and I realize how dangerous it is, but believe me, Detective, I’m usually
very
careful when I go somewhere for a private dance.  I don’t
ever
get into a car with someone and
always
follow them to their house.”

“What was different this time?”

“The amount.”  She put a hand on her forehead.  “Nobody had ever offered that much before.  And she seemed nice enough...but don’t they all?  She insisted it would be okay.  Over and over again.  And I thought I’d lose the money if I didn’t.  Look where it got me.  Look at my face.  What was I thinking?”

Barker moved away from the window, walked over and took her hand in his.  “Young lady,” he said, “at my advanced age, I’ve learned some things, and one of them is this...beating yourself up won’t do you any good.  Don’t make a bad situation worse.” 

“It’s my fault,” she said, wiping her eyes with her free hand. 

“You were looking out for your family, and that’s just as good of a reason as any.  Blame the bastards that did this, not yourself.  And I don’t want to hear another peep out of you about it being your fault.  Sound good to you?”

She nodded.

“That said, we need to hear what happened before they kick us out of here.  You want a little payback, give us some details.”

“It’s so not like me, but I got into the car with her, we drove about a block, and then I felt a hand grab me from behind and somebody shove a rag over my mouth.”

DJ said to Barker, “Chloroform.”

“Yep.”

“I tried to fight it, but I woke up half-naked in this basement.  Ball gag shoved in my mouth.  I could barely breathe.  She was standing over me, smiling.  Had a guy with her.”

DJ thought,
Rutherford?
  The silent look from Barker suggested he was thinking the same thing.  DJ said, “Short guy?  What did he look like?”