Eleven

The man stood there in the doorway for a moment after he spoke. Ruthie found herself trembling there on the floor, completely unable to move. She knew she had just been caught red-handed, going through his personal belongings, unwittingly uncovering his criminal past. Now she knew too much and Ruthie was sure she just made her situation even more dire than it already was.

He seemed to be studying her and Ruthie wasn't sure what he was going to do next. Then, she realized that something was hanging at his side in his hand. It seemed to be some sort of rag.

Her heart skipped a beat as wild thoughts ran through her mind. He was probably going to gag her with it and do only God knows what.

He closed the door behind her and flicked a light on. Ruthie's eyes burned at the sudden change in the room and she had to screw them closed as her head pounded harder than ever.

She could hear him coming closer and she tried to control her breathing. He was standing right in front of her and she just waited for what was going to happen next.

But he didn't gag her. He didn't attack her. He just knelt down next to her and began dabbing at her head where the gash was with a warm, damp cloth. "I'm sorry about that," he said, softly.

Confused, she forced herself to open her eyes. Was he trying to comfort her?

"I get real mad when people don't listen. I seen you lookin' at that boy and I just lost it." He turned the cloth over to the clean side and continued dabbing at the dried blood. "You're real pretty."

Ruthie didn't know what to say, so she said nothing at all, but she was afraid that her silence would make her angry, so she settled for a slight nod in acknowledgment.

He finished cleaning her wound and smiled at her. "Yeah, I got big plans for you."

–

Peter was still at the Camdens' late that night. He had worked with a sketch artist earlier in the day and the story was supposed to be on the news in a few minutes. He had perched himself in front of their television with the sound muted, just waiting for it to come on. The police hadn't had any new leads since they had been there and Peter was getting impatient.

They said the car had been stolen, so they didn't know who was driving it. Captain Michaels said they had patrolmen out scouring every street but they hadn't found anything yet.

Simon sat next to Peter in silence. They both hadn't said much in a few hours. There was nothing either of them could say to make things better and they both had too much running through their own minds anyway. Martin had gone home across the street and that angered Peter even more. If Martin cared so much about Ruthie, then why wasn't he here, too?

–

Martin pulled the door to his son's bedroom so it stayed open a crack. He carried the baby monitor with him to the living room, where he sat on his couch and turned up the television. His stomach had been in knots ever since he had heard the news about Ruthie. Part of him was still in shock. He couldn't believe what had happened.

Ruthie had just been at his house that morning. And now she was gone. It almost seemed like a dream, and as long as he was by himself and not surrounded by the Camdens, he could almost believe that it was a dream, a horrible nightmare. He couldn't handle being around them. They would shatter his disillusionment.

Reality was something that Martin did not want to deal with.

He had already lost too many women that he loved; he didn't know if he could handle losing another one.

It just might break him.

–

The man had been gone now for a while. He had cleaned the blood from her face, but she could still feel it in her hair where it was all clumped together. She still had a headache and couldn't move much. Ruthie sat pressed up against the cold cement wall. Her whole body ached and she swore her ribs were bruised, if not broken.

Her mind wandered back to her family, who she was wondering if she would ever see again, but mostly, she thought of Martin and Peter. Strangely, her heart ached for both of them. Ruthie didn't know what those feelings meant, but it wouldn't matter. She didn't know if her future even held another day.

The footsteps were back outside the door and soon it opened, the man reappearing. He was carrying a long, royal blue dress made from silk and lace, with buttons down the back. He came to stand in front of her and held it out.

"Put this on."

Ruthie looked at it and gingerly reached out, taking it.

"Go on, I won't look." Like a child, he screwed his eyes closed, then turned around.

Eventually, she was able to put the dress on and it fit so perfectly, it unnerved her. She couldn't help but think of all the other girls and if they had worn this dress as well. Her body trembled at the thought and she swayed on her feet, feeling lightheaded.

"Okay," she whispered, signaling that she was finished.

He swirled around and squealed with delight. Ruthie desperately wanted to vomit on instinct, but she just stood there, her fingertips on the wall behind her, keeping her on her feet.

"Now, we're going to have some fun," he said, sounding sinister.

Ruthie wanted to cry. Silently, she prayed for someone to burst through the door and help her. She looked towards the door...

...but no one came.

As soon as the news story was over, the room was silent. Nobody knew what to say, not even Reverend Camden, who was a professional in these situations. Peter figured it was different when it was your own child that was missing.

Peter felt Lucy jump beside him as his cell phone began ringing from his pocket.

He pulled it out and answered, "Hello?"

"Peter," Gage's voice came through the speaker. He sounded grave and unsure of himself, as if he was afraid of something.

"What's up?" Peter asked, vaguely annoyed at having to speak to anyone at the moment, but also feeling unsettled at his friend's tone.

"I just saw the news...I swear, I didn't know he was like that...He's mentally ill, but I didn't know he could...I'm sorry..."

Peter's heart began to race. "You didn't know who was like that? What are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

"I know who it is. I know who has your friend. Ruthie? I know him."

Peter stood up fast from the couch and pressed the phone hard to his ear until it hurt, not wanting to miss any words. "Who is it? Tell me who has her, Gage."

"It's my uncle. He just got into town last month. He was at the party the other night. That must be how he..." Gage trailed off. "I swear, I had no idea."

"What's his name?" Peter urged, scrambling for a piece of paper and a pen.

"His name's Rich. Richard Meer. I think he's been staying at an old house out on Benning Road. You know that one that hasn't been lived in for years?"

Peter scribbled down the information, praying that he would be able to read it later because his hand was shaking so badly. "Yeah. I know the one. Thanks." And with that, he hung up the phone, uninterested in anything else Gage had to say.

He looked up and for the first time, realized that everyone in the room was staring at him.

"I know where she is." Peter shoved his phone back into his pocket and tossed the paper onto the coffee table for everyone to read. "Call the police. That's where she'll be. I'm going there."

Peter had his hand on the doorknob, but before he could turn it, he felt a hand grasp him around his upper arm.

"Peter, wait. You can't go by yourself! It's dangerous and you could make things worse for both Ruthie and you. Wait for the police," Simon begged.

Peter stared at him without expression. "I can't wait, Simon. She needs me."

He jerked away from the tight grasp and was out the door as Simon's voice calling him back faded into the wind.