Part 20 (1/2)
”Fast forward, Mike,” Cynthia urged.
Nothing changed as the images quickly pa.s.sed on the screen. Suddenly, a figure appeared. Cynthia yelled, ”Stop...rewind.”
The camera showed just another tenant throwing her garbage away. Cynthia sighed. ”Okay, fast forward again.”
When the tape caught up to present, they had watched four tenants discard their rubbish, and one stray cat rummage for food. Mike switched the monitor to the front door camera. ”Don't get discouraged, maybe this one caught something. It's the one I've been watching the most. I haven't seen anything out of the norm though.” He paused for a moment. ”Although you do have a real pervert that lives in your building.”
”Pervert? What are you talking about?”
”You'll see,” Mike said as he started the video.
People that Cynthia recognized entered and left. The mailman and a few legitimate delivery people appeared, but nothing that waved a red flag. Mike stopped the tape at one particular point. Here,” he said. ”Watch this guy.”
Thomas Carpenter, Alex's favorite resident masher, leaned against the front of the building and ogled all the pa.s.sing women.
”Do you know him?” Mike turned and asked.
”Not personally. I only met him in the hallway once or twice, but Cynthia has complained about him a few times. He's harmless. Just a would-be Romeo who can't find a willing Juliet.”
Cynthia couldn't believe how often the obnoxious man appeared in such a short time. Surely he didn't spend all his days hanging around outside, leering. Finally the tape ended and recording resumed. Mike stood. ”That's it, Alex. I didn't see anything suspicious, did you?”
Cynthia shook her head. ”No, not a dang thing.” She walked to the window and peered down at the busy street below. Taxi's darted in and out of traffic, while buses caused jams. She looked back at Mike. ”We have to do something. What do you think happened?”
”Either your girlfriend left the building before the cameras started, or she didn't leave at all.”
”Hmm.” She thought for a moment. ”So, if she didn't leave, she has to still be in the building. But where?”
”I didn't say she was in the building. I said since we've been filming, she didn't come out...unless she can turn invisible.”
She wanted to launch into hysterical laughter. Up until recently, she hadn't believed in body transferences. Why would she doubt invisibility?
She started for the door. ”Thanks, Mike. Keep watching. I'll be back to relieve you when your s.h.i.+ft is over. In the meantime, I'm going to do a little sleuthing on my own.”
”Do you want me to call in a report for you?”
”Not quite yet. Let's wait and make sure she really is a missing person.”
In her heart, Cynthia knew Alex was in trouble. Maybe she needed to tell Mike the whole truth.
Chapter Twenty-Three.
Alex fought to focus in the darkened room. He had no idea where he was. As the drug-induced fog cleared, he realized his hands were secured, as were his feet. The crude electrical wire cut deep into the delicate skin of Cynthia's wrists. Debris beneath him chafed her thigh.
Alex struggled against his restraints, wanting desperately to free his hands so he could remove the duct tape covering his mouth. The thick adhesive bent just beneath his nostrils and interfered with his breathing. Claustrophobia pulled him into panic mode, but he fought to remain calm and take deep, even breaths.
The only illumination came from underneath the door, apparently a weak light outside wherever he was imprisoned. He appeared to be wedged between the wall and a circuit board, and there wasn't much room to maneuver.
Anger set his blood boiling when his mind flashed back to the spiteful face of his captor. The cold, evil look on the man's leering face had instilled fear Alex had never before experienced, but then he'd never been a small, defenseless woman.
The ancient hinges squealed when the door opened. Fingers of light crept across the filthy floor. Alex peered up into the face of his abductor and silently cursed the man.
The fiend loomed over Alex and cackled. ”Well, I see you're still nice and comfy. It won't be long now until you join the others. I just have to go upstairs and get your little bundle of joy.”
Alex's string of curses came out in a mumble against the duct tape. He squirmed to loosen his bindings.
His captor kicked the bottom of Alex's foot. ”It won't do any good to fight. You can't get loose. I've had lots of practice with knots.”
The man's chuckle sent a chill up Alex's spine.
”Speaking of knots, little lady...I'll bet you have one in the pit of your stomach right now. But don't worry. I'll make sure to work quickly. It'll only hurt for a moment.” He started for the door, then turned. ”You wait right here, my darling, I'll hurry back. You might want to say a prayer or two while you still have time.”
The ancient window curtain in his apartment blocked out most of the sun, but the small lamp in the corner provided all the light he needed. He sat for a moment, his thoughts dwelling on the woman who awaited him in the bas.e.m.e.nt. He supposed he should feel bad, but he didn't. She was just like the rest, deserving of what he had in store for her.
He stood, walked across the room and opened the storage closet door. Bending, he removed two loose floorboards and pulled out a doll. The naked, make-believe baby had a contented look etched on its face.
The villain knelt and reached further back into the hole, searching for his stack of signature blue cloths. He unfolded one and wrapped the doll inside, then leaning back on his heels, focused on what needed to be done.
The words, ”I don't want to be with you anymore, and I certainly don't want to bear your children,” rang painfully in his head. Anger flooded through him, and his fingers bit into the doll's plastic body. His ire turned his breaths to panting; he craved fresh air and a smoke. Besides, he had no need to hurry. The b.i.t.c.h wasn't going anywhere; he'd tied her nice and tight. This time would be different. He wasn't going to just ease his hatred for women by killing her, he planned to have a little s.e.xual fun before taking pleasure in killing her. The feel of his hands around her throat, as with all the others, would bring him peace. At least, for a while. A cigarette and then s.e.x...he'd done things backwards before. He made his own rules.
Dodging traffic to cross the street back to The Cairns, Cynthia struggled with her rising panic. Something was terribly wrong, she felt in her heart. Alex would never do anything to worry her, especially under the circ.u.mstances.
The stairs creaked as she made her way up, and no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that he'd just stepped out and would soon return, the facts convinced her otherwise. Alex wouldn't leave without letting her know. Even if he did, he would have secured the door and taken her purse. Dread settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach.
She unlocked the door and perused the room. Was there something she'd overlooked? The kitchen was undisturbed, and the bedroom looked fine. The bed was unmade, but that was usual for Alex. The small, cramped bathroom was a mess. Her cosmetics littered the counter and her hairbrush rested on the sink, but she saw nothing in the way of a clue.
Back in the living room, her attache case on the table showed he'd come home from work. It made sense; he had to have been in the building before the cameras started recording. Her senses told her he was still somewhere in The Cairns, and she needed to find him before it was too late. Faces of previous victims flashed in her mind and sent a s.h.i.+ver down her spine.
She sat at the table and rested her head in her hands. She tried to think about things from Alex's perspective. What would he do? She knew what Cynthia would do. She'd cry. The tears welled and although she fought against it, they spilled down Alex's cheeks. She swiped them away, her hands brus.h.i.+ng the stubbly growth of his five-o'clock shadow.
”Get a grip, Cynthia,” she commanded. ”You can't just curl up in a ball and cry. You need to find Alex and your body.”
Pulling herself together, she stood and rubbed her eyes with both hands to make sure all traces of wetness were gone. John Cratski, or whoever he claimed to be, was about to receive a visit. She squared her shoulders and stormed out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Four.
Cynthia made her way down the stairs wondering what she would say when Cratski opened the door...if he opened the door. Her thoughts flashed to the burned out bulb upstairs. The perfect lead-in, a needed replacement.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the super's door. Hearing movement inside, she waited. She really wanted to run away, but her feet stayed firmly planted and she steeled herself for what she might find.