Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (39 page)

This time when I woke up, I was still lying on the floor of my kitchen. My head was throbbing—and I’d cut my hand on the knife I picked up before I fell. I looked around the room for the person who’d done this. I didn't see anyone and the house was quiet, eerily quiet. I slid across the floor, my legs still not wanting to work, to where Gabriel had fallen. He wasn't there, only a small bloody smear. Holding on to the counter, I forced myself to my feet. Dizzy and weak I pushed forward. I crept towards the hall diligently watching for an attack. I still saw nothing. I made it to the phone in the hall and picked it up. Dead. Of course. I heard someone walking down the stairs, one slow deliberate step at a time. I moved back into the kitchen, the knife clutched in my hand. I pressed myself against the wall and waited.

The person whistled a happy tune. The sound filled the silent house with an eerie echo making it impossible to know just where he was. I heard the footsteps pause at the bottom of the stairs and the whistling stopped. I looked down at my hands, one held the knife and the other—Shit! I’d forgotten to hang the phone back up.

“Ella, are you awake already? I'm impressed. You must not have had very much.” The voice was familiar, but the fear prevented me from placing it. My jaw clenched and I held my breath. Now I heard nothing. I strained to listen for any hint of movement that could offer me some advantage. Where was he?

I was tempted to go around the corner instead of waiting in agony. I took a couple deep breaths and came around wide in case he had the same plan as me, only there was nothing. I slowly peeked my head through the doorframe. Someone grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides, twisting my wrists until I dropped the phone and knife to the floor. I struggled but it was useless. The person who seized me was much stronger than I was and once again had all the advantages.

“That isn’t a very polite greeting, Ella.” I wrenched around, finally got a look at my attacker.

“Right and I must have missed the Emily Post about drugging people. Let go of me,
Doug
.”

“Always so witty. Always such a bitch. Don’t worry, Ella, we have all day. I can make this last as long as I want.”

I tried to talk through my fear. “Why’s that?’

“You have no more friends. No one will come looking for you.”

“You didn’t—w here's Gabriel?”

“That part will come later. Trust me, you’ll love it.” He pushed me forward.

I dragged my feet, not wanting to do anything willingly. He pushed harder, sending me tumbling to the floor in the hallway.

“You’re always so difficult, El. No wonder Danny turned to Susan. She was . . . . what's the word I'm looking for?
Easy
.”

I tried to scramble up and run, but he kicked my side, knocking the air out of me. “Am I going to have any more problems from you?”

I shook my head no, gasping for air. He reached down and hefted me up from the floor. I used his awkward position to my advantage. I kicked hard against his knee with both feet, buckling it into an unnatural angle. He toppled over with a shout as I climbed to get up. His hands grasping for my legs as I made my way to a standing position; I jumped back out of reach. My ribs screamed with pain, but I kept going.

As I sprinted back into the kitchen, I heard him get back on his feet. I had only seconds to decide what to do. I didn't have a clear way out of the house. I considered going to the living room—but then I’d lose sight of him and not know which way he would be coming at me. The backdoor was blocked by a large cabinet that Doug must have moved while I was passed out.

I ran to the basement door and raced down the stairs as fast as I could. Once I was down there I wasn't sure what my plan was, but I knew it had to be good and fast. I started looking for a place to hide. I hid in a mess of empty boxes that were covered in dirt and cobwebs. I could hear each thump as Doug limped down the stairs. I only had a thin sliver in which I could see through. I had picked up a couple glass jars from the shelf and had them hiding with me. They were the only weapons I could find with no time to spare. I watched, straining to see. Finally, I saw him limp towards the bathroom under the staircase, wielding a large butcher knife and a sinister smile. He scraped the knife along the wall as he walked, toying with me.

“Come out, come out where ever you are,” he said in a sing-along voice. He hit his fist hard against the bathroom door. I bit my lip, willing myself not to jump or give away my position. Then he rammed his shoulder into it with such force that the old door splintered. He opened it fast, screaming as he did, but found nothing.

“Tricky, tricky. Come out, my pet. I love you . . . Didn’t you get my story?” Doug limped back in my direction, knife tapping against his leg. “Danny never deserved you or appreciated you. From the first moment I read your books, I knew we were kindred spirits, but you've been so damn disappointing.”

My legs burned and it felt like something was crawling on my back, but I didn't move. Doug continued walking in slow circles waiting for me to slip.

“You didn't do anything right since Danny died. You gave up. Your characters would have never given up!  And then you didn’t turn to Susan, which was a necessary part of my plan, buying her a much longer life than the whore deserved.” Doug abruptly stopped. His head tilted in my direction, I didn't dare breathe. He waited a moment then began walking his strange looping pattern again. “But far and away, the most disappointing was the cop. Why would you turn to a cop, the enemy? You were supposed to be mine after I got rid of Danny and Susan. Mine!” he screamed and knocked several things off the shelf, smashing them to bits.

He moved slower now, muttering more quietly. “You've made me wait for a very long time, and for that, you'll be punished—but in the end all will be forgiven. You are my destiny  . . . if you refuse . . . you'll die.”

My mind couldn't follow what he was saying. I wasn't his. We hardly even spoke. I didn't even know he read my books. Anger and repulsion mixed with fear making me clench my jaw against any retort my mind wanted to make. I needed to move, but I forced myself to hold still just a little while longer.

“It's really a perfect plan. Everyone knows your reputation. Did you find the blood and the ring I left for you as a token? We are forever bound by it.” He went over to the tool bench and pushed it out of the way with such ease. He was so much stronger than me I shuddered. 

He chuckled. “You are prolonging the fun—have you found one of my better hiding spots?” He pressed on the wall with both hand and stepped on a small lever near the floor that Gabriel and I had missed completely. The door opened, but I couldn’t see what lay beyond it.

He was very close to my hiding place now. I had to do something quickly. He disappeared into the room reaching for the light switch. I quickly jumped up, boxes falling around me jars in hand. I was only a few feet behind him. He was surprised, but recovered quickly.

I threw one jar. It glanced off the side of his head. I pelted the other. It hit dead center and shattered, covering him with an unidentified liquid that smelled like kerosene.

Doug screamed and covered his eyes, trying to protect them from the gas and blood pouring down his face. I pushed the hidden room’s door shut while I had a small advantage and stomped on the lever, but not before I saw the room was filled with TVs showing videos of rooms in my house. I thought I saw another room off to one side, too, but I had no time to linger.

I raced upstairs, locked the basement door behind me, and started to run for the front door—I could escape. My hand was on the doorknob when I realized I was deserting Gabriel. I looked up the staircase, not hearing anything.

A voice in my head told me he was probably dead, I should get out and save myself, but my heart said otherwise. It said I had to at least check after all he had done for me. I owed him that.

“Shit,” I muttered and climbed the stairs. I looked in my room first, but he wasn't there. I then looked in the master bedroom. The room was filled with candles, and he was bound and gagged in the center of the room, slumped over and facing away from me. I ran to him, worried I’d find him as I had in my dream.

I shook with relief when I got to him; though unconscious, he wasn't visibly hurt.

“Sorry,” I said as I tore the tape off his mouth. This opened his eyes. I covered his mouth to keep him from yelling, and pressed a finger to my lips to indicate for him to be quiet, then removed my hand.

“We have to be quick. I don’t know how long he'll be trapped.”

“Who is that, your partner?” he spat at me.

“What?”

“You drugged me.”

“We don’t have time to argue. He'll be here soon.”

“Who?”

“Doug.”

The knots Doug had tied were tight and impossible for me to untie. I had nothing to cut him free with either. I frantically searched in the nightstand and produced a small pair of fingernail clippers— not what I was hoping for, but they’d would have to do. I started with cutting and sawing at the rope around his feet. It was slow going but I was getting somewhere. After a minute or two that seemed like an eternity, I made it through.

“Ella, you can talk and do this. What's happening?” Gabriel sat up and I started working on his hands.

“It’s Doug. It’s been Doug the whole time. I think he knew about the affair and it pushed him over the edge—and yeah, he is obsessed with me. He has the whole placed rigged with cameras—Shit! I forgot about the cameras. He knows exactly where we are. We have to hurry.” I sawed even more vigorously. My hand burned from the friction, and I made progress but not enough.

The closet door flew open. There stood Doug, filling the doorway, looking like the devil himself. Gabriel stood up to defend us but looked completely useless without the use of his arms. I placed the clippers in his hands and stepped in front of him.

“I see you have chosen to be my scapegoat, Ella—I am disappointed. We'll see if you sing a different tune while you watch me gut your boyfriend.”

“Doug, why are you doing this? You don’t really want to hurt us. We haven’t done anything to you.”

“Oh, you're wrong—so wrong. I do want to do this. It's all I ever wanted to do. Every time I see a nice happy normal looking person walking down the street, all I desire is to make them hurt. I want to see blood trickling down their head and their pretty little faces twisted in pain.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he laughed. “Why? Because I can. The cops are stupid and humans are natural victims. Who's going to stop me? Not you and your pretty little boyfriend. You can die knowing that you’ve been my very favorite. I played with you for years and honestly only recently got bored.”

“You’ve only killed two people,” I scoffed, desperate to keep him talking. “Hardly going to put you in the serial killer hall of fame now is it?”

“Wrong again.  Do you know how easy it is to go into the city and pick out a random victim? A hooker, a bum, a tourist, a college girl—they’re all within my grasp. I look just like them. They don't see me. Just like you never saw me.” He was slowly and steadily advancing. I didn’t have a plan, but I hoped one came to me in the next couple of seconds.

“I see you now, though.”

“You do, don't you? Maybe I'll take one of your pretty eyes as a souvenir.” He placed the tip of his knife against my cheek; I refused to let myself flinch away.

“Not if you plan on framing me for all of this. No one will ever believe I cut out my own eye.” He tapped the blade against my cheek a couple times.

“Perhaps. Unless they can’t tell that it’s gone. I could place a gun shot wound right in the socket.” He seemed pleased with himself. “Guilt's a bitch.”

“Yeah . . . so was your wife.”

Doug chuckled at that and lowered his knife slightly. “I'll miss you,” he said just as I felt Gabriel tap my back.  His hands were finally free. I didn’t break eye contact with Doug.

“Of course you will.” I reached up gently as if I was going to stroke his face, but instead I stomped on his instep and dropped to the floor, making no effort to slow my fall or catch myself, trying to get out of the way as soon as possible. As I dropped, Gabriel caught him with a front hook. Doug slashed out wildly as he stumbled backwards. Blood started gushed from Gabriel’s forearm. Everything happened in slow motion.