Part 22 (1/2)
For a moment, again only silence, as Ca.s.sidy held me and I waited, holding my gun, watching the doors. With no other ideas, I tried the door handles, again pulling up and pus.h.i.+ng. No such luck. They were, of course, still locked. Then, I caught just the faintest hint of an unfamiliar smell, a faint but distinctly chemical odor.
”Whats that?” Ca.s.sidy whispered, her entire body shaking. ”It smells bad in here.”
I took another whiff. I hated to say it, but I had to. ”Some kind of gas I think,” I said. I looked over at her, but my eyes blurred. I couldnt see her clearly, and I didnt have the strength to hold her up when she swooned, her head sinking onto my lap.
This wasnt going so well. I had to admit that maybe I needed a plan B. Quickly. Pounding on the privacy window, I screamed, ”Okay. Okay,” but my fists felt too heavy to lift, and my voice was little more than a mumble. The gas burned my throat, and I would remember nothing more.
”You really should have just given me the gun,” Peterson said, perched on the edge of a tan metal desk. He looked miffed, but his voice didnt give away any sign of irritation. ”It would have made it so much more pleasant for all of us. It wasnt easy carrying you both here. Id only planned on the girl.”
The room was floating, and everything had a yellowish hue. It felt like swimming through chicken broth. I took a look around. A metal door, gray like the walls, bolted from the inside. I could breathe but my lungs ached from the gas. As my vision cleared, I saw Ca.s.sidy across the room, on the floor. A few mops and buckets, dust rags and some spray cleaners on a shelf suggested we were in some kind of maintenance storage locker. When I looked back at Ca.s.sidy, I realized she was handcuffed and chained to a wall. I tried to move my arms and felt, instead of chains, plastic-covered electrical cord cinching my hands behind my back. I looked down and saw a length of cord anch.o.r.ed me to the small steel-framed chair I sat on. Only my legs were free.
Ca.s.sidy rolled over, moaning. She was waking, and Peterson, still wearing his black cowboy hat, couldnt have looked happier if hed just finished scoring the final measure of a new symphony.
”It was nice of you to come with her, Lieutenant,” he said, with a smirk. ”I hadnt hoped for quite this much success. If I had, I would have made sure I had two sets of chains and handcuffs. But I believe Ive adapted to the situation quite well.”
”Justin, you really dont want to do this. Its all a misunderstanding,” I said. ”Let Ca.s.sidy tell you what weve discovered about the two of you. Itll explain why youve felt so drawn to her.”
”The truth is, Lieutenant, Im not interested,” he said.
”Where are we?” I asked, again looking about the room. ”Were downtown, right? Somewhere in the tunnels?”
Its one of those oddities only the locals know about. On any even vaguely inclement day, at street level Houstons main business district appears deserted, while streams of office workers mingle in air-conditioned comfort in a web of underground pa.s.sageways, accessed through the citys soaring skysc.r.a.pers via a maze of stairwells, escalators, and elevators. Monday through Friday, nine to six, the tunnels are flooded with pedestrians frequenting underground shops and restaurants, dropping off dry cleaning or picking up prescriptions, all the while avoiding cold, rain, or Texa.s.s unrelenting summer heat. After working hours, the tunnels and the skysc.r.a.pers above were mostly dark and quiet. Since it had to be ten or later, if that was where Peterson had us, we could scream, but the likelihood was that no one would hear us.
”Ah, you are good, Lieutenant,” Peterson said, with a grin. ”Deductive reasoning, I suppose. Length of trip, etc. Very good.”
”Great, well, how about freeing us and well talk?” I suggested. ”Ca.s.sidy has something she wants to tell you, something thatll clear all this up.”
”If thats what I wanted, I would,” he said with a shrug. ”Too bad for the two of you, its not.”
Boy but I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. If my hands were free I would have done just that.
”But, you dont understand,” Ca.s.sidy pleaded.
All afternoon, I knew she truly believed she just had to explain their connection, to let Justin know they were sister and brother, and shed have her happy ending. The way this guy was acting, it appeared my fears were right. Having a connection with Ca.s.sidy wasnt Petersons only motive. There was more going on, but what?
”Im your sister,” she said. ”Please listen to me. Its true. Im your sister.”
”You are?” he said, with exaggerated surprise. ”How can that be?”
”Sarah can tell you. We figured it out. There are even records.”
”Youre sure about that?” he gasped, followed by an indulgent grin.
I gauged the delight he took in her pleas, saw how he savored having Ca.s.sidy, having both of us in his control, and I thought, hes toying with her.
”Listen to me, Justin,” she pleaded. ”Im telling you the truth. The reason youre so interested in me, I know you dont understand, but the reason you feel drawn to me is that were family. Were related.”
”Why do I feel drawn to you, Ca.s.sidy?” he asked. ”What is it about you that makes it impossible for me to think of anyone but you?”
”Its because Im your sister, dont you see?” she said, tears coursing from her eyes, frustrated at his seeming inability to understand. ”Youre my brother, Justin. My brother.”
Then, any doubt was gone. His smug expression left no room to be mistaken. ”He knows,” I said. ”Hes known all along.”
Ca.s.sidy shot me a puzzled glance, but Peterson laughed, a hard, rueful cackle that resonated off the blank walls.
”How did you figure it out?” he asked.
”I should have known from the beginning. Your e-mail, about her freckles,” I said. ”I thought maybe it was a good guess, based on her fair skin, but you knew. You remembered.”
”There youre wrong. Actually, it was a guess. Ca.s.sie was too young for freckles when our paths diverged,” he said. ”But my mother had freckles as a little girl. Id seen them in her pictures. I a.s.sumed, since they look so much alike, that my sister would, too.”
”You remember?” Ca.s.sidy asked. ”But Justin . . .”
”Believe me when I tell you that a five-year-old never forgets a detail of the day his mother deserts him. The day she left him at an orphanage,” he said, every ounce of his being focused on his sister.
”But that wasnt me. I didnt do it,” she countered, her voice small, frightened.
”True. But you were the one she picked,” he said. ”I was the one she left behind.”
The kid looked scared but at the same time angry. ”Maybe she tried, Justin. Maybe Mom wanted to be with both of us. Maybe she couldnt take care of both of us. Whatever, I dont know. But we both know she didnt have an easy life. Our mom had a lot of bad stuff, especially from our dad,” the girl said. I was proud of her for standing up for her mother, at least trying to understand. ”Maybe Mom thought she was doing the best she could for us, like she couldnt think of a better option.”
”I dont care about her problems,” he said, spitting out the words. ”As for our relations.h.i.+p, yours and mine, well, some things are more important than sharing the same bloodline.”
”Like what?” she asked. ”Whats more important than family?”
”To me? Revenge,” he said with a surly grin. Looking at him made the acid in my stomach churn. ”Ca.s.sidy, you and I have an old score to settle.”
”Thats not fair. I was just a baby,” Ca.s.sidy said, her eyes hard on her brother. Despite her hopes, the teenager was beginning to understand that this wouldnt be the happy family reunion shed hoped for.
Peterson gazed at the kid with utter contempt.
”How did you find me?” she asked, her voice hoa.r.s.e with sadness and fear.
”That was easy. I just waited until I was old enough, and then pulled some records, looked at old files. You see, I remembered our last name. I always remembered,” he said. ”I went looking for Mom a few years ago, and found out she was dead. Sadly for you, the alcohol took away any opportunity to punish her. With Mom gone, you were next up. You were, I must admit, a little harder to find, but not much. You look just like her, and your face was all over the television and magazine racks.”
I tugged at the cord around my wrists. Tight, too tight. It wasnt budging. And the gun, where was my gun? Maybe behind him, on the desk? Or in a drawer? Or maybe he left it in the car? Where was the d.a.m.n gun? Where were the captain and David? There should have been some way to figure out where hed taken us. Someone must have seen something.
”Instead of making up that stuff about wanting to mentor my music, why didnt you write and tell me that you were my brother?” Ca.s.sidy charged, growing ever angrier. ”If you had, I would have contacted you.”
”You sure?” he asked, his voice level and calm, yet contemptuous. ”Youre sure thats what you would have done?”
”I would have understood,” she said, in a small, quiet voice. ”I would have sent for you.”
Peterson stood up, walked over, and peered down at Ca.s.sie, and I saw a bulge under his s.h.i.+rt, at the small of his back. My gun or his? It didnt matter.
”Really, you would have sent for me?” he scoffed. ”And why would you have done that? Why would you have chosen me to believe? With all the c.r.a.p you get every day, the fan mail, the bizarre claims. Why would you have chosen to believe me? Why wouldnt you have disregarded my letters, exactly the way you did when I wrote you offering help and friends.h.i.+p? Tell me that.”