CHAPTER 3

You'll Catch More Flies With Honey Than With Vinegar

The insistent pain in my bladder finally forced me awake. Assuming I was in my own bed as usual, I threw the blanket to the side and jumped up. As soon as the metal cuffs rubbed against my raw ankles, white, hot fire shot up my legs, and I fell back on the bed screaming. Tears streamed down my face as I panted for breath and waited for the burning inferno to fade. When it was finally bearable, I carefully adjusted the cuffs to minimize the pain and tried again to stand, but the tiniest movement had me hissing and grunting. Realizing I was only prolonging my agony, I decided the best course of action was to get it over with quickly. I took a deep breath, knowing it was going to hurt like hell and got to my feet as fast as I could.

I felt my way in the dark as I carefully hobbled to the so-called toilet, one miserable step at a time. My movements were hampered by the length of chain connecting my wrists and ankles. I estimated it to be about two feet in length—just enough to allow me limited movement—but not enough to walk normally. As if that wasn't enough to ensure I stayed imprisoned in this dungeon, I also had to endure the metal collar digging into the delicate skin along my neck and the chain leading up to the ceiling where it ran along a cord of some kind that spanned the length of the room. Essentially, I was no better than a dog on a leash, tethered to a runner, only allowed so much freedom before his cruel owner decided to punish it.

I did my business and had barely slipped back under the blanket when I heard scraping on the other side of the metal door. In an instant, my back came up off the mattress while my heart tried to punch its way through my chest. Seconds later, the door swung open and he stepped inside. I shivered as he stomped the caked-on snow from his boots and gave me a sideways stare. He didn't frown or make any overt gestures, but I got the feeling he was displeased. My fear ratcheted up another notch and I clutched the blanket tightly to my chest.

I kept my eyes on him as he crossed the room, turning on lanterns as he went. When I caught a whiff of the wonderful aroma coming from the gray box he carried, my stomach growled painfully. I ignored my discomfort in favor of gauging what his next move was going to be. He simply exchanged the generator that was powering the heater with another one, and laid two deli sandwiches, two packages of Dorito's, and two bottles of water on the table. When he was done laying the food out, he stood staring at me, the intensity of his gaze was unnerving. He was so quiet… I was terrified to move let alone break eye contact. I wish he'd just say something… anything. The longer he stared, the redder his face became and when the vein on the side of his neck started bulging, I knew I was going to pay dearly for some absurd transgression.

"What did I say about the blanket?" he spit out. He was controlling himself, but barely. I swallowed heavily, my mind racing to figure out what he was talking about. He stalked across the room, one heavy step at a time in no hurry to reach me. I wanted to scoot away, but somehow knew it would be the wrong thing to do. When the tips of his boots touched my bare toes, I looked up. "Remove it or I take it away," he said.

My hands clenched the edges of the blanket tighter. "I'm cold," I tried to explain, but my voice was so hoarse it came out in a pathetic croak.

He ran his hand through his curly hair, trying to suppress his anger. "This is the last time I'm going to tell you. Take. Off. The. Blanket."

When his voice went low like that, I knew he meant business. Knowing I didn't have a choice, I shrugged my shoulders to let the blanket fall onto the bed behind me. As soon as the icy air hit my nipples, they tightened painfully. On instinct, I covered my breasts with my hands as fast as I could. I was afraid he was going to try to touch me now that I was uncovered, but he only gave a satisfied nod and turned away. I was so hungry I didn't wait for an invitation. I fought through the pain and slowly got to my feet, wincing with each step as I followed him. The sound of the chain dragging along the floor was loud in the quiet room.

I stood at the table, unsure of what I should do. He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite. "Sit down and eat," he ordered.

I dropped into the chair opposite him and quickly pulled the extra sandwich and bag of chips across the table. I wasted no time tearing the wrapper away and sinking my teeth into the ham on white bread. I was so lost in the taste of my food that I jolted when he spoke. "There was no mention of you in the news this morning." He said it like we were a normal couple, having casual conversation over breakfast.

My shoulders drooped. Three days and no one had reported me missing?

I hadn't expected to hear from Joe and after my last, uncomfortable conversation with Ranger, I didn't think he'd seek me out anytime soon. But my family should have been wondering why they haven't heard from me. While I let that sink in, I finished my sandwich and chips, taking my time with my water since I wasn't sure when I would get more.

"I have dessert," he said as he got to his feet, gathering our garbage. "But I think we should let our food settle first."

He slid the table back against the wall, revealing my nakedness. I crossed my legs and arms, hiding what the table had been shielding. He sat back down again, this time facing me with nothing in between. I felt like he was waiting for me to say something. "Thank you… " I paused. "For the food. It was… good." I wanted him to keep feeding me and it seemed like a safe thing to say. When he only stared, I pasted a fake smile on my face while my leg started to shake. "What is this place?" I let my eyes wonder to the ceiling, thinking we were in some kind of basement. "Do you live upstairs?"

His silence was making me sweat. Several seconds went by before his lips started to twitch and then they tipped up at the edges, turning into a sly smile. "Once upon a time, there was a house, but not anymore." Just when I thought he wasn't going to say anything else, he continued. "I came across this old homestead when I was just a boy. There was nothing left but charred boards and the remnants of a brick chimney. I used to play up there for hours, digging in the rubble, and hunting for buried treasures. Then one day, I discovered a hatch in the ground. Imagine my surprise when it led down here to this cellar."

My mind scrambled to understand—to look for hidden clues about where I was. "Did you live nearby?"

He shook his head. His eyes were still staring, but I don't think he was seeing me. "My grandparents owned a cabin a few miles from here. I used to visit every summer since I was eleven."

If he was willing to talk, I needed to get as much information about him as I could. I had no idea what would be useful, and if I had any chance of getting away, I needed to understand who he was and what made him tick. "You didn't spend the summers with your parents?"

"My parents stopped paying attention to me a long time ago." He jumped to his feet. The sudden movement had me lurching back in my seat. He started walking around the room, preoccupied with his thoughts. When he got to a large curtained off area, he stopped. The way he stared at the dark brown fabric made me wonder what was behind there. "They blamed me for what happened to my sister." He glanced back at me as he toyed with the curtain. "My father became an alcoholic and my mother wallowed in depression and guilt." He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. "My father always warned me about the dangers of driving drunk and then he went and did it himself, taking my mother to the grave with him." He shrugged. "By then, it didn't matter. They hadn't paid attention to me in years."

I could feel his sadness from across the room. My nerves were almost shot, but I needed to get inside his head. "What was your sister's name?"

His eyes brightened and then clouded, as if he was lost in memories. He was quiet for so long I didn't think he was going to answer. "Her name is Emmie. We're twins. We get our curly hair from our mother, but Emmie has more curls than me." He laughed as he ran his hand through his hair, smoothing the curl that had fallen over his forehead. "She has more curls than you too." He turned quiet again, seeing a picture that I couldn't. "She's our father's little Princess. That's what he always calls her. Whenever our parents wanted to give us a reward, Emmie always picks ice cream. It's her very favorite thing in the whole world."

I got the feeling something bad happened to her, but he made it sound as if she was an active part of his life. I was afraid to ask. What if he killed her? I took a deep breath, bracing myself for his response, and softly asked, "Where is Emmie?"

He kept talking as if he hadn't heard me. "She loved chasing lightning bugs," he said with a fond smile while looking to the side of my face off into some distant memory. "The summer we turned ten, Mommy called us inside to get ready for bed. Later, Emmie woke me up, daring me to go back outside with her. She knew I wouldn't let her go alone." His sad eyes met mine, pleading with me to understand… as if I could absolve him of some terrible crime he'd committed. Our eyes held for a minute and then he turned away and began pacing. "She was following a lightning bug when I lost her. I searched everywhere, but I thought she was playing a trick on me, so I got angry and went home." He came to a stop, eyes sad and full of guilt. "The next morning, she wasn't in her bed. Strangers from all over Western Pennsylvania searched day and night. They finally found her seven days later, curled up in a crevice, deep inside an abandoned mine shaft."

He'd managed to pull at my heartstrings. I was actually feeling sorry for him. What was wrong with me? He seemed to be waiting for some reaction from me, so I gave him a thin smile.

His nostril's flared and his voice went higher. "Mommy wouldn't stop crying. The rescue workers said Emmie was dead, but she wasn't. She was only resting." He started pacing again, shaking his head like an angry bull. "They said she died from lack of food and water, but they were lying."

The way he stared at me was unsettling. It was as if he was privy to some secret that I wasn't. I'd been so focused on the creepy way he was staring at me, I startled when he suddenly turned happy and laughed. "She's my best friend. She doesn't like the other boys at school. She says they're gross. When she grows up, she wants to marry me. She even arranged a ceremony once, in our backyard. She dressed our dogs up in her dolly's clothes to serve as guests and we promised to love each other forever."

I gulped—my throat so tense I could barely swallow. His obsession with his dead sister was like something straight out of a Stephen King novel.

"Mommy said not to look, but I saw Emmie that day." He appeared childlike as he looked right at me, but through me. "She was skinny, like a tiny little skeleton." He raised a hand to wipe tears from his cheeks. "I cried so hard when Mommy told me Emmie wouldn't be able to play with me anymore. It was all my fault. I thought she was playing another trick on me, but she needed my help and I let her down." He hung his head, letting his tears fall onto the concrete.

My heart wept for him.

My first instinct was to reach out and comfort him. Had I misjudged him? He'd been through a terrible tragedy. Then I remembered the chains and what he was doing to me and closed my eyes in disgust. What was wrong with me? Sure, his childhood was sad, maybe even the root of his insanity, but it didn't give him the right to keep me here.

He took a small object off the shelf along the left side of the wall. "My dad gave me this on the day I was born." He walked over and handed me a small, red, metal car. I held out my hand, not wanting to take it, yet afraid to refuse. "After my parents died, I came to live with my grandmother. She died just after I turned eighteen, and then it was just Emmie and me." He took the car back from me and placed it on the shelf. "That's when I started clearing the debris away. I wanted to build a special place for Emmie… for us." He pointed to the ceiling. I assumed he meant the ruins of the house that had once been above us. "If you didn't know to look for the hatch, you'd never know this place was down here."

That didn't sound good, but he had to be wrong. "If we're in the Pine Barrens, there has to be people around."

"Nearest dwelling is twelve miles away." He stared at me unblinking. "Do you think you could make it?" He chuckled and arched an eyebrow at me. "It's a little chilly out there."

"You could let me go." I reasoned. "I won't tell anyone about you. I'll just say I went on a trip. They'll believe it." My desperation showed through as my voice got higher and higher. "I have no idea where I am, you can blindfold me and let me out somewhere secluded and just drive away. I'll make my way home from there. It'll be like none of this ever happened."

He bit his lip and raised his eyes to the ceiling as if he was contemplating. I held my breath. Then he snickered and leaned over, hitting his hand on his jean clad leg. My eyes prickled, but I held the tears back. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my hopes dashed.

"Time for ice cream." He smiled and handed me a carton of Chunky Monkey, switching subjects as easily as turning a page in a book.

While I forced the ice cream down my throat, he sat across from me in his chair not taking his eyes off me. It occurred to me that it took money to feed me and I wondered what he did for a living. "Do you have a job?"

He swallowed the ice cream in his mouth and smiled. "My parents sued the mine for negligence, making me independently wealthy."

Great—looks like he has endless time to spend with me.

He took the empty ice cream container from me and motioned for me to stand. He placed my chair against the wall and went through the rest of his tidying ritual. While he was doing that, I was left standing in the middle of the room, clutching my bottle of water, afraid to move. This time I was determined to keep it with me. There would be nothing else to drink until he came back—if he came back.

My shoulders slumped in defeat when he made a circular motion with his finger. "Drink it!"

As I finished every last drop of the water, he got a bucket off the bottom shelf, squirted dish soap in it and took it to the sink. Once it was full, he sat it at my feet and took my empty bottle from me. "The water comes straight from the well. You'll want to give it time to come up to room temperature." He handed me a washcloth. "Wash yourself while I'm gone. If you don't do a good job, I'll do it myself."

Even though I felt grimy and disgusting, primping for him wasn't on my list of priorities, but a plan was slowly taking shape. "If I wash my hair with this dish soap, it will turn into a tangled mess."

His lips thinned and he gave an annoyed grunt. "What do you need?"

"I use Neuma moisture shampoo and conditioner and also DevaCurl styling cream. It's hard to find, but I have extra bottles in my apartment." My hope was for someone to notice him going into my apartment. Maybe Ranger and his men were watching by now and would follow him back here.

"Where do you usually buy them?"

"The hair salon." I tried to be vague.

He shifted his leg, impatiently. "Which salon?"

I let out a small dejected sigh but wasn't specific. "The one in the mall."

He didn't say anything else as he walked toward the curtained off area on the right side of the room. As he touched the curtain, he turned back to me, giving me a look I couldn't read. I wanted to know what was behind there but was afraid to ask. I sat on the bed—eyes wandering around the room.

"How are… " That was all I heard before his voice trailed off into low murmurings.

I held my breath—eyes darting left and right. Was he talking to me? I sat quietly… waiting… straining to hear. He sounded like he was carrying on a conversation. Was someone else back there? Is that why he had it closed off? Was it another woman? Was it his… sister?

The curtain was suddenly flung to the side, just enough for him to slip through, but not enough for me to see what was back there. I reared back, hitting my head on the wall behind me. He didn't look my way as he moved toward the door. I panicked. "Wait!" He stopped in his tracks and turned to me. I trembled. "What's back there?"

A slow smile broke across his face and then he reached for the door. I desperately called after him. "I'm hungry. Can I get more food… and water?" He didn't halt his stride, but at least this time, he left the lanterns on.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I screamed and then I remembered I might not be alone.

"Hello," I called out, my voice sounding small and unsteady.

I waited.

Nothing.

I called out again. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know if anyone's back there." I still didn't hear anything. What if they were too hurt to answer? "If you can't speak, maybe you could make a noise… bang on something… if you can."

Still nothing.

I grabbed the blanket off the bed and draped it around my shoulders as I took a closer look at the room. This place reminded me of the crypts you see in old late-night movies… or ironically the lair of a serial killer. I noticed that everything was conveniently out of my reach except for the chemical toilet. The door he just exited through was immediately to the right of my bed and looked to be made of metal. I walked as close as my collar would allow and reached out, but the door was still more than a foot away. Even if I could have reached it, there was no knob, only a keyed dead bolt and I didn't have the key or means to pick the lock.

The floor to ceiling curtain started just past the door. It spanned almost the entire right side of the room and back corner. Letting my chain slide along the runner, I walked to the middle of the room. I'd almost gotten used to the foul stench down here, but the closer I got to the curtain the stronger it became. I had to raise the blanket to cover my mouth. It smelled like something rotten was behind there. I swallowed heavily—fear almost crippling my steps, but my curiosity was too powerful. I strained to touch the curtain, but just like the door, it was also out of my reach.

I wasn't willing to give up. I had to know. I reached out again, this time pulling against my collar until I felt my windpipe shift, but my hand was only met with air. Frustrated, I called out, "Hello… Is anybody back there?" I waited and when no sound came, I tried again. "Emmie?"

After waiting for several minutes with no response and no sounds, I continued surveying the rest of the room. A metal shelving unit with three shelves was situated on the left side. It held pots and pans, a hot plate, three large plastic boxes with lids, and a spool of chain like the kind attaching my shackles. A space heater sat on the concrete floor in front of it. Next came the plastic folding table and chairs and beyond that was a white enamel utility sink attached to the wall with a mirror hanging above. In the corner was a round steel tub about three feet in diameter and two feet high, turned upside down on the floor.

I cataloged the mirror as a potential weapon. If I got the chance, I could break it and stab him with a shard of glass, but for now, it was out of my reach.

I stared down at my bed again—my circle complete. The bucket of water at my feet, taunted me with its thirst-quenching ability… but the suds had ruined it. I leaned down to check it over, searching for a handle or something I could detach and use as a weapon, but it was a simple plastic bucket—minus a handle. I could always hit him with it, I thought. But that wouldn't do any damage… to him, anyway. The only thing I would accomplish is pissing him off, giving him reason to hurt ME.

I stuck my hand in the water, hissed, and yanked it out quickly. It was freaking icy. I didn't think waiting was going to make it get any warmer. The small heater could only do so much. I wanted to show my strength and refuse to wash, but his threat to wash me himself was all the incentive I needed. By the time I was done sponging off, my skin was turning blue and colder than before. He hadn't left a towel, so I wrapped the blanket around my damp skin, shivering mercilessly and curled into a ball on the bed, teeth tapping a staccato as my body racked with chills.

Finally, I drifted off, peaceful… at least for a little while.