Chapter 31
When she awoke, the throbbing ache in her head had eased from a full-on nuclear explosion to a cluster bomb blast. Gingerly, she pushed to a sitting position and leaned her back against the cold cement wall. A new water bottle and a granola bar lay on the floor beside her. She shuddered. He’d been in the room again while she slept.
She rubbed at a small ache on her neck where a scab had formed over a tiny puncture wound in her skin, and a low moan escaped her cracked lips. The familiar effects of examine washed over her—confusion, disorientation, exhaustion. She wrapped her arms across her chest and focused on the elusive fragments of memory of how she’d ended up in this cell-like room, chained to the wall, held captive by a monster.
She’d been at home, sitting on the couch marking term papers, waiting for Aiden. The television was on, but she’d muted the sound, wanting to concentrate on the essay before her…
Rain spattered the living room window, sounding like the sharp claws of a beast scratching to get in. By the date on the calendar, it was officially spring, but this was the Rockies, and a chill was in the air. She’d turned on the gas fireplace, cranking the setting to high. The room was cozy with the warmth from the flickering flames.
The doorbell pealed, and she startled, dropping the papers on the couch. Her marking pen slipped from her fingers and rolled under the coffee table. She checked her watch. Six o’clock. A trill of excitement fluttered in her stomach. Aiden had returned earlier than she’d expected.
With his tall, muscular build, broad shoulders, dark, wavy hair and hazel eyes, he was one handsome man. But her attraction to him was about more than his good looks. For the first time since Charlene had vanished, she felt a true connection with another person, a bond that struck deep into her soul.
He’d told her about the tragic events in Seattle, and in turn, she’d revealed the truth about what happened the night Charlene was abducted. Their shared burdens of guilt drew them together, and she’d opened her heart to him, feeling as if she’d known him forever, rather than a few weeks.
The doorbell pealed again.
What was she doing standing around fantasizing when her dream man was at her door? With a skip in her step, she headed to the front door, but halted, her fingers poised on the top lock. Aiden had warned her to be careful. He’d made her promise she wouldn’t open the door to anyone but him.
She peered through the door’s security peephole. Her breath gusted out, and she stumbled back a step. A young woman stood on her front porch. She recognized the student from her Social Anthropology 101 class. What was her name? Mary. Mary Jorgenson. Why would Mary be at her front door?
She peeked again.
Mary looked agitated as she paced across the small stoop, wringing her hands. Her face was pale, her eyes wild, her auburn cloud of curls in riotous disarray.
A sense of unease settled over Candace.
Mary gave up on the doorbell and pounded on the door. “Dr. Cooper, are you there? Please, let me in. I need to talk to you. It’s important.” Her voice was edged with panic.
Candace’s first instinct was to undo the locks and fling open the door to the troubled young woman, but she hesitated. The situation didn’t feel right. Maybe she was overreacting because of Aiden’s warning, but she couldn’t shake the certainty that something was off.
Mary pounded the door again and pressed her finger to the doorbell and held it there. “Please, Dr. Cooper. You said we could come to you for help.”
Candace chewed on her bottom lip. Mary was right. Candace always told her students she was there for them, and they shouldn’t hesitate to come to her if they needed help, either academic or personal. But she couldn’t shake her disquiet. “How did you know where I lived?” she called through the closed door. At the start of term, she provided her students with her office hours and her cell phone number, but she never gave out her home address.
There was a moment’s silence. “I looked you up in the faculty directory. Your address was in there. Please, Dr. Cooper. This is important.”
Of course. Her home address was in the faculty directory, but that booklet was only available to faculty members, not the students. But there was the Internet, and all information was accessible to anyone with a computer and the World Wide Web. Anyone with the barest of computer skills could track down her home address, her mother’s maiden name, or the name of the primary school she’d attended. It was that easy.
Silencing the voice in her head warning her she was making a mistake, she undid the locks and opened the door.
The second she saw the fear in Mary’s blue eyes, she knew she’d made a fatal error. A trickle of ice ran up her spine. “Mary, what’s going on?”
Mary’s face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Cooper. He-he made me do it.”
“What?” But she knew, oh she knew. Even before the tall, bearded man stepped out from behind the shrubbery, she knew she’d made a mistake. Her heart stuttered, and she stumbled back and slammed the door.
A large, boot-clad foot blocked the door from closing. He shouldered the door open, shoving her back against the entryway wall and surged inside, dragging the terrified Mary with him.
The door slammed closed.
A voice inside her head screamed at her to run, but her knees were locked, her feet planted. She whimpered and gaped at her worst nightmare. This was the man who’d attacked her on campus, the man who’d watched her at the mall, the man from the state forest.
She reached for Mary, pleading silently for help, but the young coed just stood there watching, chewing her fingernails, regret lining her youthful face as sobs wracked her slight body.
“Well, hello, Candy Girl.” He grinned, exposing vividly white teeth. “Remember me?”
A scream built in Candace’s throat, and adrenaline coursed through her, breaking her paralysis. She spun and ran, racing for the back door and escape.
He caught her in the kitchen and grabbed her arm and slammed her against the wall, knocking a picture to the floor.
Elbowing him in his side, she broke free and scrambled behind the counter, tearing open a drawer, searching for a weapon.
He roared and swiped his hand over the countertop. A teapot, cups, and a sugar bowl hit the floor and smashed. Shards of ceramic sprayed across the room.
Grasping a steak knife, she turned, muscles tensed, ready to fight.
He lunged toward her and lifted his hand, revealing a plastic syringe.
She screamed, but he jammed his hand over her mouth, cutting off her cry for help. A familiar sharp pin prick, a burning sting, and an unsettling warmth flooded her as the drug he’d injected flowed through her veins.
No! The scream was silent. No! Her knees wobbled, weakened. With her last ounce of strength, she lifted the knife and stabbed him in the arm. Blackness filled her vision, and the knife clattered to the floor. A heartbeat later, her legs collapsed, and she slid into the abyss.
Candace shook her head and blinked back tears. Her worst nightmare had happened. She’d been abducted by the man she’d seen in the forest all those months ago, and again at the mall. He’d been following her for months, and he admitted to making the frightening phone calls. He’d even confessed to murdering Mary.
She sank onto the cold floor, drew her knees to her chest, and curled into a fetal position. A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed. She was being held in this cell-like room, chained to the wall like an animal.
Had Charlene felt this same fear and helplessness? Her sister left behind a loving family who missed her and spent years searching, prodding the police to action, never giving up. Who would look for Candace? She didn’t have any family, not a boyfriend, or even any close friends.
She’d devoted her life to finding her sister and building her career. There hadn’t been time for love or friendship. Her students would wonder what happened to her when she didn’t show up on Monday for the last classes of the semester, but they’d be more relieved to be set free than concerned about her absence.
Eventually, someone from the college would report her missing, and the police would be called to investigate. Maybe Aiden would be placed in charge of the missing person’s case. He was a dedicated cop. He’d search, but would he find her? Thousands of missing women and girls were never found. She’d become another sad statistic. Misery overwhelmed her, and once again, she gave in to tears.
She lost track of how long she lay on the dank floor, but her hips ached from the cold seeping into her bones, and her body was stiff, her muscles throbbing. She bit down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood. The fresh pain drew her out of her self-pity fest. She wiped her damp face with the back of her hand.
Pushing up on her bottom, she sat up, blinked away her tears, and surveyed her prison. Rescue was unlikely. No one knew where she was. No one would find her. Not until it was too late. Happy endings only happened in the movies. People disappeared all the time and were never found. They were forgotten and given up for dead. Just like Charlene. If she was going to get out of there alive, she had to use her brains. Escape was her only option.
A loud squeal of metal rent the air, and the door swung open.
She scrambled back against the unforgiving cement wall and drew her knees to her chest. Her heart pounded so loud, she feared it would burst free.
The bearded man stepped into the room and studied her for a long, agonizing minute, his fierce dark gaze assessing. He nodded and rubbed his hands together. “So, shall we begin our lessons?” A wide grin split his bearded face, but his eyes were cold and flat.