Chapter 4: Captivity
Maybe it was the residual effect of being zapped or her ride in the car trunk. Or maybe it was the lumpy cushions of the ancient sofa, but Stephanie reminded herself of her Grandma Mazur. When she stood and made her way to the corner of the room she'd been avoiding, she was walking like her Grandma did in the morning. Her joints were stiff, and she ached in places she normally didn't. And her bladder was full.
She'd been alone in the room forever. Judging the passage of time wasn't something she was good at, so she didn't know if it was the middle of the night or early morning. What she did know is that she couldn't put off a visit to the toilet any longer. She wanted to know why she was here, what they planned to do with her, who they were. She wanted her captors to come back so she could ask them questions, but she hoped they wouldn't come back when she was squatting over the toilet … because there was no way she was sitting on it!
After the shock of being dumped in the room and left alone had worn off, she'd explored her prison. It looked like she wasn't the first person to be held in this room. The toilet and floor around it looked like the room had been used many, many times before, and she could tell Mr. Clean had never been a guest here. There were small holes and rust marks around the base of the porcelain. It looked like the toilet had been enclosed in a stall at one time.
There was something familiar about this space. Had she been here before? A shiver ran up and down her spine and made her forget about her room perusal. She had to pee!
As she pulled her pants back up she knew her first demand was going to be for toilet paper. Her stomach growled loudly. Okay, second demand. First would be for food. She'd eaten only a small lunch, saving herself for the treat Ranger said he had planned for her. She'd missed dinner, and maybe breakfast. She had no idea what time it was. Falling asleep had been a blessing last night. It took away the fear, but it also took away any sense she might have had about passing hours.
Her mind was bouncing in every direction. She walked back to the sofa and sat down. The moldy odor of the sofa rose up around her, enveloping her in an invisible cloud of foul-smelling decay. Resigned to the smell, she pulled her cold bare toes under her thighs. The temperature of the room was moderate, but the floor was icy. The ceiling was crisscrossed with several spans of dusty gray ductwork. She made a mental outline of the things she would think about while she waited for her captors to come back. She hoped they would come back. She needed some answers.
First, she wondered why the room seemed familiar to her. She thought about rooms where other people she knew had been held prisoner. She smiled, a real smile, not just one in her head, when she remembered the basement apartment where Eddie DeChooch had held her grandma prisoner. Grandma hadn't even realized it was a prison. She'd thought it was Eddie's love nest. She could use some of Grandma's optimism right now, because this place didn't look like any love nest she ever imagined.
A love nest … is that what the Bat Cave was? Did Ranger have a personal space for just the two of them? She thought he did, and she thought maybe he was going to show it to her last night. But this little abduction thing had got in the way, she mused with an automatic eye roll. She'd really been looking forward to spending the evening with Ranger. She ran her left thumb across the base of her fourth finger. Had Ranger found her ring? She hoped so. She tried to remember if there were signs of a struggle in her apartment. He'd be looking for her, but how could he find her? She had no idea where she was or who had taken her, so how could he? Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sound. At first it seemed like a low hum, maybe electrical. The sound ebbed and flowed. She also detected a whiff of cigar smoke. Curiosity overcame her mini-panic attack, so she got up from the sofa and made her way around the room. But she couldn't pinpoint the location. There was a louder noise that she recognized as a human voice and she knew what she'd been hearing were fragments of a conversation.
She'd fallen asleep with the single light burning in the room. It had been on since before she'd arrived. It only lit part of the room, the other half was in dim light. She had an idea. She walked toward the door where the light was and pulled the long, dirty, dangling cord and the room fell into inky darkness. Or did it? As her eyes adjusted she could see a faint halo of light coming from above. She moved to stand underneath the spot where she saw it and tried to remember what she'd seen there when the light was on.
She thought the light was coming from an area where the ductwork disappeared into the ceiling—maybe a floor vent for the room above. The scent of cigars was stronger here. She couldn't make out words, or even differentiate between speakers, but someone was definitely having a conversation above her. She wasn't completely alone. It probably shouldn't have made her feel better, because they were the enemy, but it did.
She fumbled for the light cord in the dark, and flooded the room with light that had initially seemed dim. She took a moment to assess the area from which the voices had filtered through. She needed to do more thinking, and it seemed she had time to do it. Her bare feet were numb on the bottom from the cold seeping through the concrete floor. She made her way back to the sofa and once again sat with her feet curled under her.
She would be brave and strong and smart. She'd figure this out. Ranger would figure this out. He'd find her. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
A short time later she heard a noise at the door. Someone was coming in. Did she stand? She opted to remain seated. If she stood maybe they'd think she was trying to escape and stun her again. She wasn't in the mood for that.
A ski-masked man opened the door and stepped in. He wasn't limping, but she thought it was the guy she'd gotten the groin-shot in on.
"Food, for youse," he said.
A touch of relief flooded through her. At least they weren't going to starve her. "Who are you?" Stephanie asked. He didn't respond. "Why'd you abduct me?" Still no response. She could see the stun gun in one hand and a grease-stained brown paper bag in the other. She started to get up from the sofa.
He lifted the hand holding the weapon in an aggressive wave. "Don't move, ya damn bitch. Stay away from me. I can make your life here real unpleasant."
Stephanie snorted. She shouldn't have. She should have stayed completely quiet. It's what Ranger would have done, but she couldn't help it. This guy acted like he thought he'd been pleasant up to this point.
He frowned at her, but didn't come any closer. She watched as he made his way, ever mindful of her, to the table where he dropped the bag on the marred tabletop. Then turning toward her and grinning, he slammed his meaty fist down on top of the bag, squishing whatever contents were in it. With a chuckle, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a bottle of water from it. He set it next to the flattened bag.
Stephanie did another eye roll. That gesture was becoming a habit for her. The ski-masked man started moving back to the door, and Steph had a little jolt of awareness. He'd left the door open. She could have made a run for it. She should have made a run for it, but her captor had been closely watching her.
"Don't even think about it," he said. "I got a real gun here, and I don't want to use it, but if you make me, I will. I won't kill ya 'cause we don't want you dead ... yet. I'll just wound you and make you hurt so bad you'll wish you were dead."
His words shocked her. They didn't want her dead ... yet? She'd been kidnapped several times in the past and each time, death was a possibility, but she'd always known why someone had taken her. But this time, she was being held captive and didn't have a clue as to who had abducted her or why. The man was moving closer to the door, and Stephanie realized she was once again about to be left alone. "Wait! I need toilet paper!"
He smirked at her through the red-rimmed mouth hole of the black ski mask. And then he left. She heard a series of locks tumble, and another tear ran down her cheek.
She stayed immobile for a while, but her hunger got the better of her. She walked to the table and pulled the chair out. It wobbled as she sat on it. It was no more comfortable than the lumpy sofa, but she stayed there. She'd eat at the table instead of where she slept. The realization that she was starting to build a routine in her new prison both startled and scared her. Another tear fell.
Breakfast, flattened as it was, was a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit. It was cold and congealed, but she ate it readily. She unscrewed the lid on the bottle of water and took a drink. It made her think of the toilet. Looking back at the table she had a Eureka! moment. There was a crumpled napkin inside the bag, and there was the bag itself. If she was careful, she would have toilet paper for the entire day. If Grandma Mazur had had to use the pages of a Sears, Roebuck & Co. catalog when she was a young girl, Stephanie could make do with what she had.
The thought cheered her. Ski Mask Man had given her a brief glimpse of the outside world when he'd left the door open. She hadn't seen much other than the bottom stair that she'd traversed the day before. She'd seen gray light, so she assumed it was early morning and the breakfast sandwich had confirmed that.
There were things he'd said and done that gave her pause for consideration, even if he hadn't answered her questions. She finished her meal, took one more drink and went back to her new thinking spot. She had plans to make.