Night Vision (24 page)

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Authors: Ellen Hart

BOOK: Night Vision
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She slept until ten the next morning, then took a swim in the pool outside the bungalow. Feeling safe for the first time in months, she ordered lunch from room service, then spent the afternoon on the phone. Her lawyer was out of town, so she was passed along to one of his partners, a man named Stan Hilliker. She had a long conversation with him during which he told her to start documenting Gordon's attempts to harass her. And he insisted that she hire another bodyguard, said he would vouch for the agency he recommended. He offered to arrange it and said he'd call her back later in the day with more specific information.
After hanging up, Joanna felt resigned to the fact that she would have to do the bodyguard thing again. Gordon had left her no other choice. Hilliker echoed her own thoughts that Gordon would eventually get tired of harassing her. But who knew how long that would take? Hilliker said that a bodyguard would ensure that it was sooner rather than later. When Luberman saw she was being protected, he would realize that contact with her was impossible.
From your mouth to God's ears, she thought, closing her eyes and hoping like hell it would happen just that way.
Joanna napped until four, when a phone call from Hilliker woke her. He gave her the name of the agency and the agent to ask for, explained the fees, how the service worked, and said that if she gave him the go-ahead, he could have the man stop by the bungalow in the morning. She agreed to everything he suggested.
After a swim in her private pool, she watched some TV and dozed. As it was getting dark, she flipped through the hotel menu again and ordered dinner. Her agent, Marybeth, called while she was eating, just to make sure everything was okay. Joanna said she felt more confident now that she'd talked to a lawyer. Marybeth said to call her in the morning, and Joanna promised she would.
Around ten, she went out by the pool to have a cigarette. She thought about fixing a drink but didn't feel like going back inside. She was too comfortable. It was such a beautiful fall evening. She realized it had been months since she'd had the guts to sit by her own pool. She watched the light play on the water, let her mind drift.
A click next to her ear startled her. Ducking away, she looked back and saw Gordon standing over her. He was holding a gun. Her world slid sideways.
“Scream and I'll kill you. Get up.”
“How … how did you find me?”
“Why, Joanna, I never lost you.”
“But … I never saw your truck.”
“I sold it. Move.”
She did what he asked. He pushed her back in through the patio doors, told her to sit down on the edge of the bed.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice weak and trembling.
“What would you like?” He pulled a roll of duct tape from behind his back, making quick work of tying her hands and feet. And then he forced her to lie back.
She sucked in her breath when he knelt on the bed next to her and touched her hair.
“Don't, Gordon. Please!”
“Christ, woman, it's been so long. I told you when we were first together that I was nobody's one-night stand.”
“I know. I believed you. You were never that.”
“No?” He slapped her hard across the face. “That's exactly what you made me. You never understood me. I told you I wanted to be with you forever—for eternity.”
“Yes,” she said quickly, hoping he wouldn't hit her again.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I remember you saying that.”
“I told you I loved you.” He straddled her, put his hands around her waist, and lifted her up. “And what did you do? You spit in my face.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You are?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“I don't believe you.”
“It's true! But you scare me.”
His grip eased. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“I know you don't.”
He brought his face close to hers, searched her eyes. She could smell the beer on his breath. The fact that he'd been drinking scared her because he never drank.
“Are you worth loving, Jo? Are you?”
“Yes!”
His face softened. “I thought so once.”
“Gordon, you have to understand—”
He slapped her again. “Shut up! God,” he said, rubbing a hand through his hair, “I'm so tired.”
“I know you are.”
“You can tell?”
“Sure.”
He looked around, saw the minibar. Climbing off her, he yanked the door open and stared at the contents. “Lots of booze. Some peanuts. Chocolate chip cookies. A feast.”
She didn't respond. She had to lift her head to see him now.
“You've made me into a drunk, Jo. Are you happy?” He removed several of the small bottles. Dropping down on a chair, he opened them one by one and drank them. “I'm on my last three hundred bucks thanks to you. Had to sell my truck. Bought a junker, which I've been living in for the past few weeks.” He looked around at the suite. “This place is much nicer. I told myself when I left home that I'd never live in a dump. I like it here.”
“Then you should stay,” said Joanna.
“Yeah, think I will, Jo, whether you like it or not.” He reached over and removed a bunch more bottles, then eased back in his chair, let his legs fall wide apart. “I'm still thinking we should go to Texas.”
“Sure, I'd like that.”
“No, you wouldn't.”
“I
would.
It's just … like I said … you scare me sometimes, Gordon.”
He grunted, downed the liquor in a couple more of the tiny bottles.
“That's why I don't want to be around you.”
“That's all?”
She couldn't tell if he was drunk, but if he kept removing bottles from the minibar, he would be soon. Maybe she could wait it out. If he drank enough, maybe she could get away.
He sat for a while in silence, drinking and eating peanuts. When he got up to retrieve a few more bottles, he stumbled, nearly fell. “Crap,” he said, opening the minibar door and staring inside. He filled his arms this time, looked a second more, and grabbed a package of Ritz crackers.
“Let's talk,” he said, dumping it all on the bed next to her. Sitting cross-legged, he ripped open the crackers. “You miss me?”
“I missed you a lot.”
He snorted, cracked a bottle of Dewar's. “You can blow shit with the best of them, Jo.” As he continued to drink, he talked about his girlfriend in high school, how she fell out of a four-story window and broke her neck. Joanna was waiting for the punch line. About an hour after he'd started the tale of woe, it finally came.
“I pushed her,” he said, his words so slurred by then she could hardly understand him. “She was a skank. Total skank. Didn't deserve to live.”
All the bottles were empty. Gordon teetered to the right, then to the left. He pushed off the bed but fell back onto it, his body half covering hers. She waited a few minutes until he started to snore, then tried to wiggle free.
He woke with a start, reached his arm around her and pulled her even farther underneath him. “Don't leave me, Jo,” he mumbled.
She didn't dare move for the rest of the night.
 
By seven the next morning, sunlight was streaming in through the partially open curtains. Joanna couldn't believe she'd actually slept, but she must have because time had passed. Gordon had been lying on top of her all night. He'd never moved. She was wide awake now, her mind moving at the speed of light. When he finally opened his eyes, he'd have one hell of a headache, which meant he'd be in a foul mood. He hadn't raped her last night, but that didn't mean he wouldn't.
She lay motionless for the next few hours, listening to his soft snoring. At exactly ten after nine, the phone rang.
Gordon jumped. Turning on his back, he looked up. “God, stop that noise!”
He sat up, glanced at the phone, then back at Joanna. Rubbing his face hard with the flats of his hands, he said, “Answer it. Sound normal.” He picked it up and held it next to her ear.
“Hello,” said Joanna, clearing her voice.
“It's Marybeth. Did I wake you?”
“No.”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, no,” said Joanna, emphasizing the last word but sounding as casual and chipper as she could under the circumstances.
“You're not?”
“Yeah, not at all.”
“What's … I mean … you're
not
okay?”
“No, dummy. Don't be so dense.”
“Is …
Christ,
is Gordon there?”
“Yup. But I can't talk now. If you're around tomorrow, maybe we can connect.”
“Holy shit!”
“Yeah. That's nice of you to say. Later, babe.”
“Who was it?” asked Gordon, hanging up the phone. He seemed a little dazed, not quite awake. Thank God he wasn't, or he might have listened to the call.
“My agent.” Joanna needed to use the bathroom but was afraid to ask.
He stared at the phone a moment, then took it off the hook. “We don't want any interruptions.”
She wasn't sure what to say. Staying calm was primary. “Want some breakfast?”
He pressed a hand to his stomach, then got up and rushed around looking for the bathroom. Joanna could hear him throwing up. He came back eventually, a wet towel around his neck.
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Do you think I could use the bathroom?”
He eyed her. “No funny business.”
“None. Promise.”
He took a knife out of his pocket and cut off the tape, then stood outside
the bathroom door until she was finished. She took so long that he told her to hurry up. She assumed Marybeth would call the police. She had to stall until they arrived.
“Think maybe we should have some breakfast,” he said, forcing her back down on the bed.
“Don't tie me up again. Please?”
He gave her a grumpy smile. “I never wanted to do that.”
“I know. The menu's on the couch.”
He stepped over and picked it up. “Hell, let's just order what we want.” Pressing the phone back on the hook, he punched in the number for the restaurant. “What do you feel like?”
“Whatever you're having is fine.”
He ordered eggs over easy, bacon, toast, American fries, orange juice, and coffee black. He listened a moment, then said thanks. “About half an hour,” he added to Joanna. “Hmmm, wonder what we could do to while away half an hour.”
Her stomach flipped over. “Gee, don't know.” She forced a smile.
“God, but you're beautiful.”
His breath stank of vomit, but she kissed him anyway. He came so fast he couldn't even get his pants off. Lying on his back, his breath was labored and raw. “Let's try that again,” he said, looking over at her and smiling. “Only this time, let's do it right.” He ordered her to get undressed while he watched. As she unsnapped her bra, he opened up the bed and crawled in, staring at her with a grin on his face. “Come here,” he said, opening his arms.
Joanna sat down on the edge. She was just about to lie down next to him when the door was rammed open and three cops rushed into the room, guns drawn. Joanna screamed, jumped off the bed, and ran behind them, shouting, “He tried to rape me! Look at my face! He hit me!”

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