One Last Scream (40 page)

Grabbing a plastic patio chair, George pushed it against the side of the house, then he stepped onto the seat. It was a little wobbly, and he clung to the window ledge as he peered into the bedroom. He saw his son in the darkness, curled up on the bed, hog-tied with his hands and feet behind him. Duct tape covered his mouth. His eyes were closed. George was overwhelmed with rage and frustration. But at least Jody was breathing.

Two windows down, he looked in on Stephanie, tied up on her bed in the same fashion, like a little animal. She was trembling. He could see the tears on her cheeks. The piece of duct tape over her mouth seemed too big for her little face.

He kept telling himself,
at least they’re alive
.

Their backyard sloped a bit, and the kitchen was closer to ground level. George didn’t need the patio chair to look inside the window. He heard the TV going, a small portable they kept at the end of the kitchen counter. Suddenly, someone walked right past the window, and George quickly ducked down. He waited a moment, then straightened up and peeked over the window ledge.

The intruder in his kitchen was a young man with pale skin and very black hair. He wore sunglasses and a black suit. He’d probably seen
Reservoir Dogs
one too many times. He looked like a cocky son of a bitch. He turned down the TV and said something to Jessie.

George could see her, tied to a kitchen chair. At least she didn’t have any tape over her mouth.

The creep in the sunglasses grabbed the cordless phone from the kitchen counter. It looked like there was a gun on the counter, too, but George wasn’t sure. Beyond the kitchen, he had a glimpse into the living room, where someone was sprawled facedown on the blood-soaked sofa. It looked like his neighbor, Mrs. Bidwell.

“Oh, my God,” George murmured, horrified.

The young man picked up the receiver from the kitchen wall phone, and started dialing. He held the phone to Jessie’s face, and then he switched on the cordless from the study so he could listen in.

All at once, George’s cell phone went off.

“Shit!” he muttered, ducking down again. He quickly dug the cell phone out of his jacket pocket and switched it off. Crouched down against the house, he gazed at a patch of lawn illuminated by the light pouring out the kitchen window. He watched a shadow looming in that silhouette. He knew the young man was standing at the window directly above him, looking out. For a few seconds, George didn’t move. Finally, the shadow moved away. “Couldn’t have been anything,” he heard the young man say. “You sure you don’t know where this safe is? I’ve just about turned the master bedroom upside down.”

George dared to peek over the window ledge again. Jessie was shaking her head. “You heard him on the phone earlier. I don’t know a thing about it.”

“It’s screwy he’s not answering his cell,” the guy muttered. Then he said something else, but he moved too far away from the window for George to hear.

George glanced at the patio chair that he’d left beneath Stephanie’s bedroom window. He decided to try getting Jody out first. Jody would be faster, and less panicked than Steffie.

Crouched against the house, George caught his breath. He’d expected to see someone looking exactly like Amelia in there. But it appeared as if the man in the sunglasses was running the show by himself.

George wondered where Annabelle Schlessinger was.

Her head throbbing, Karen regained consciousness. She lay facedown on the dirty living room floor of the Faradays’ beach house. Her hands were tied behind her with some kind of cord. She could still hear Amelia’s muffled cries for help coming from the basement. But she didn’t hear the rain anymore. Karen wondered how much time had gone by.

A shadow passed over her, and she squinted up at Annabelle. Karen almost didn’t recognize her. Her hair was cut in a short shag style. She’d also changed into a black sweater and jeans. In her hand she held the revolver that had belonged to Karen’s father.

Karen realized she must have been unconscious for at least a half hour. Annabelle couldn’t have cut her hair and changed clothes in much less time than that. Thirty minutes. George was already at his house by now.

“Is Blade here?” Karen asked warily.

A tiny smile flickered across Annabelle’s face. “You know about Blade? Well, I’m impressed.” She shook her head. “No, Blade’s in Seattle, running an errand for me. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s finished and on his way here now.”

Karen was thinking of George, Jessie, and the children. They could already be dead right now. Tears welled up in her eyes. Then she heard Amelia’s muted cries again.

“Where have you got her?” she asked. “In the basement? Do they—do they have a storage room down there?”

“They have a fallout shelter,” Annabelle replied, still standing over her.

Karen shuddered. George had told her about his discovery in the fallout shelter at the Schlessinger ranch. “I’d have thought you wouldn’t want to be anything like your father,” Karen muttered, her face still against the carpet. “And here you are, Annabelle, following in his footsteps.”

“Not exactly,” she replied. “I have no intention of killing Amelia. I don’t want that at all. But my sister will learn what it’s like to be abandoned and totally alone. She has that coming to her.”

Karen suddenly felt Annabelle’s foot on her neck. Some dirt from Annabelle’s shoe trickled into her ear. Annabelle started to apply a bit of pressure on her neck and the side of her face. “In just a little while, Amelia will have no friends or family left,” she said. “You see, Blade’s been at
Uncle George’s
house. So Amelia’s uncle, her little cousins, and your maid too, I’m afraid, they’re all—poof, gone. You’re going to be on the casualty list, too, Karen, very soon. Then Amelia will have no one, except me—the sister she forgot she had. But you know something, Karen? I’ll forgive her for deserting me. I’ll stick by her, the way she should have stuck by me.”

“For God’s sake, how could Amelia have
stuck by
you?” Karen countered. She felt even more weight pressing against her neck. “Your parents gave her up. They sent her away.”

“Yes, but she didn’t have to fucking
forget
me,” Annabelle shot back.

Karen felt more weight pressing against her neck. She could hardly breathe.

“We could have still been there for each other,” Annabelle said. “We were for a little while, after they put her in foster care. I could still sense what she was going through, and I knew she picked up on my feelings, too. We might not have talked, or seen each other. But we still
shared
. I didn’t feel so alone—until her life got better. Then she turned her back on me, Karen. It was like screaming in one end of a phone, with no one listening. I knew she was there, but she cut me out of her life. All I could offer Amelia was pain, so she decided to forget about me.”

“What would you have done if you were her?” Karen asked, barely able to get the words out. “Can you really blame her?”

To her amazement, the pressure on the side of her neck and face eased up. Annabelle stepped back. “Go ahead, I’m listening,” she said.

Karen swallowed hard and caught her breath. “Amelia was four years old at the time,” she said. “She didn’t make a conscious decision to forget you, Annabelle. She was just trying to survive. Didn’t you do some pretty awful things to survive, yourself?”

Annabelle stared down at her for a moment. “Well, thank you, Karen,” she said finally, with a trace of condescension. “Knowing that makes it easier for me to forgive Amelia. After tonight, the police will be looking for her. Me, too, I guess, since I have her face. I’ve already cut her hair.” She patted her own new, short hairstyle. “Like it? I bought us some coloring, too, Auburn Sunset, it’s called. Blade got Amelia and me fake ID’s, too. I posed for both of us in a wig. Blade thinks he’s running away with us, but I’m leaving him behind. It’s going to be just Amelia and me, the way it always should have been.” She let out a sigh. “You know, my parents used to tell people they’d sent Amelia to live with relatives in Winnipeg. Isn’t that funny? Because I think Amelia and I will end up in Canada someplace.”

Karen rolled over on her side, and stared up at her. “Your plan is flawed, Annabelle,” she said carefully. “You know that, don’t you? Amelia will never get over this…
genocide
of her adopted family and friends. She won’t forgive you for it. She’ll never understand.”

“That’s why I need you to talk to her for me, Karen. You’ll make her understand.”

Annabelle grabbed her arm, almost breaking it as she pulled her up to a standing position. Karen tried to keep from stumbling. She was dizzy, and her head ached.

“One last counseling session,” Annabelle said. “You’ve done family counseling before, I’m sure. It’s all about understanding, forgiveness, and moving on.”

Pressing the gun to Karen’s back, Annabelle prodded her into the kitchen, and then to the basement door.

With the screwdriver, George pried off the bedroom window screen. He stepped down from the patio seat, and carefully set the screen against the house. Then he grabbed the crowbar, and boosted himself back up again. The window wasn’t locked, but he still had to prod the crowbar along the sill to get the damn thing to move. It resisted, making a loud creaking sound.

Jody suddenly squirmed on the bed and rolled over on his side. His eyes lit up when he saw his father. But George couldn’t help worrying. That little bit of noise could have given him away. Any minute now, he expected Annabelle’s friend to appear in Jody’s doorway with a gun in his hand. He’d just seen what that lowlife had done to Mrs. Bidwell.

His heart racing, George worked quickly. He pulled the window open, stopping only for a moment as it squeaked again. The patio chair beneath him moved, and he almost lost his balance. Grabbing hold of the ledge, George pulled himself up. He climbed through the opening, then into Jody’s bedroom. He could hear the TV more clearly now. And he could hear Jessie, too.

“Would it kill you to go in there and take the tape off their mouths for just a few minutes?” she was saying. “Lord, it’s been over two hours….”

“Get off my fucking back,” the man retorted. “Want to join your friend over there on the couch? Now, you need to give their daddy another call, and find out where this safe is…”

George crept to Jody’s bed. He leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Don’t make a sound, okay?” He carefully peeled the tape off his son’s mouth. Jody gasped, then took several deep breaths.

Taking the kitchen knife, George cut at the tape around his wrists and ankles. With his shaky hands, he was so afraid he might nick him, but he didn’t. Once free, Jody threw his arms around him. George could feel that he’d sweated through his shirt.

He whispered in Jody’s ear again. “I want you to jump out the window and run to Brad’s house. He’s waiting for you.”

Jody shook his head. “I’m not leaving you guys….” Heclimbed off the bed. But his legs must have fallen asleep, because they suddenly buckled underneath him. George caught him before he tripped, and then he helped his son to the window. “I’ll be okay, Dad,” Jody whispered. But he still leaned on him. “Don’t ask me to run out on you guys. I want to help….”

George hesitated. “All right, you wait outside here. I’ll lower Steffie down to you in a few minutes. Then take her to Brad’s. I’ll get Jessie out, and we’ll meet you there. Understand?”

Jody nodded. “I love you, Dad.”

Giving him a kiss on the forehead, George helped him out the window, and then down to the patio chair. From there, Jody hopped to the ground. But his legs gave out on him again, and he stumbled, like a paratrooper landing. Jody seemed to roll with it. He quickly pulled himself up and nodded at his father again.

Moving to the bedroom door, George peeked toward the kitchen. The young man stood in front of Jessie, holding both phones again, one to his own ear, one to Jessie’s. “George, this is Jessie,” she was saying into the kitchen extension. “Are you there? Pick up…”

George darted down the hall to Stephanie’s room. He saw that she’d wet herself, and it incensed him. He just wanted to kill that smug bastard for doing this to his children. He took a few breaths, then moved toward Steffie’s bed. She seemed to be sleeping.

As George started to bend over her, Stephanie suddenly gaped up at him and tried to cry out. “Quiet, sweetie,” he whispered in her ear. “Please, hush. I’m going to cut you loose and take you into Jody’s room. But you mustn’t make a sound.”

George paused for a moment. Jessie had stopped talking. He heard footsteps. The young man was coming toward the children’s bedrooms.

Creeping back to Stephanie’s door, George stood with his back to the wall. He had the knife ready.

It sounded like the man had stepped into Jody’s room, but George wasn’t sure. He glanced over at Stephanie and put his finger over his lips.

Wide-eyed, she stared at him and suddenly became very still. Then a shadow swept over her. She knew enough to look away from her father—and at the man standing in her doorway.

George remained perfectly still.

The shadow moved away, and the footsteps retreated. The young man was headed toward the living room now. George heard a click, like a door opening or closing.

He hurried back to Stephanie. He gingerly cut the tape around her little wrists and ankles, and then lifted her off the bed. It seemed cruel, but he kept the tape over her mouth for now. He couldn’t risk her crying out again as he smuggled her into Jody’s room. Carrying her out to the hallway, he stroked her hair.

He didn’t hear anyone talking in the kitchen. Peering around the corner, he saw only Jessie. Tied to the kitchen chair, she struggled with the tape binding her wrists in back of her, but to no avail. George wondered where the hell the man with the sunglasses had gone.

Ducking into Jody’s room, he carried Steffie to the window. He looked outside, and his heart sank. Jody wasn’t there.