Culture Shock (26 page)

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 shift 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 basement. 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 bitch 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 sexual 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 sex…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 circumstances.

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 attaché 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 shiver 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 brushing 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.

The door inched open enough for beady eyes to peer through the slit. "Yeah, what is it?"

His form blocked the opening and she couldn't see anything. Filled with bravado, she leaned against the door, hoping it might open a little further. But Cratski, or whoever he was, held it fast.

"Sorry to bother you, but I thought you should know that one of the bulbs in the hallway upstairs needs a replacement. It's rather dark up there."

"I'll get to it as soon as I can," he grumbled, then shut the door in her face.

"Damn!" Cussing was appropriate under the circumstances and she didn't care who heard her. Before she lost her nerve, she knocked a second time.

"What?" Cratski asked angrily, peeking out. "I told you I'd get to it."

"I just wanted…well, I just wonder if you've seen Ms. Freitas today?"

He opened the door a little wider and rested against the jamb. "No, why? Should I have?"

"I'm concerned about her. I found her door open and she wasn't inside. I thought perhaps you might have seen or heard something in your capacity as building superintendent." Cynthia didn't care if he knew someone was nosing around. Maybe it would make him nervous.

The smell of stale cigarette smoke emanated from his clothing and his hair was in need of combing. He straightened and suddenly seemed interested in what Cynthia had to say. "Do you know the last time anyone saw her?"

"No, but her purse is in the apartment so she was there. She generally gets home around five." Cynthia flinched. Wasn't she the one who was supposed to be asking questions? "So, you've not seen her?" She took control again.

"No, but maybe you should report her missing."

"I will. Thanks for your time."

Cynthia walked away, pondering his reaction. Why would he suggest filing a report if he was in some way involved? Cratski seemed way too interested, but concerned at the same time. Plus, nothing tied him to Alex's disappearance.

Conducting police business wasn't for the untrained, especially when someone's life might be on the line. She walked the upstairs hallways looking for something...anything to lead her to Alex but found nothing but the same tired carpeting and dreary paint. She descended the stairs, this time with a keen eye for clues. Still nothing. Disappointment tightened her chest.

With no desire to go back upstairs only to sit and worry, she stepped out onto the sidewalk and straight into the path of Thomas Carpenter. The shapely rear-end of a female passerby held his gaze, and he walked right into Cynthia.

He looked up with wide eyes. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I should be watching where I walk."

Cynthia glanced at the woman he'd been watching, then back to Carpenter's pockmarked face. "Maybe you should. You might hurt yourself if you're not careful."

Carpenter's Adam's apple wobbled with a hard swallow. "How's Miz Freitas been?" His smile looked forced.

Cynthia didn't care to engage in chit chat. She gazed down at the creepy little man. "Do you spend all your free time out here watching women come and go?"

"Not all of it! Though I do admit I have an eye for the ladies. I don't believe there's a law against it, is there?"

"No, there's no law for just looking." She eyed him as he watched another woman pass. "But there should be one for slobbering while you do it."

Carpenter's mouth gaped, and for once, he stood speechless.

Trying to stifle a smile at having put the letch in his place, Cynthia gazed across the street, knowing Mike watched. Maybe she'd sit with him until his shift ended. She had no idea what else to do. At least having someone to talk to would keep her mind occupied, and maybe they could put their heads together and find a way to locate Alex.

Carpenter opened the lobby door. "I guess I'll go in. Not many people out this time of the evening."

"Good night, Mr. Carpenter," she said as she walked away, feeling she'd struck a blow for womankind. Of course, it didn't hurt that she delivered the insult as a burly, well-developed man.

After checking both ways and waiting for a break in traffic, Cynthia crossed, went inside and waited for the elevator.

Mike didn't seem surprised to see her when he opened the door. "I figured it was you. I saw you talking to that ogling idiot."

Cynthia nodded in agreement with Mike's description. She stepped inside. "I hope you don't mind the company. I'm going nuts trying to think of what to do. I guess I'll call in a missing person's report. At least, if there's an all points bulletin issued, there will be more people looking for her."

"You can call it in, but normally a person has to be missing for twenty-four hours before anything can be done."

Cynthia hadn't known that rule but was adamant. "I'm still calling it in. Surely Alex…I have some pull with the department." She picked up the phone and dialed.

Afterwards she called her place of employment and told them Cynthia Freitas needed to request an emergency leave. She wished she could have told them how long she would be gone, but she left it open-ended. They weren't happy. Worry over losing her job niggled at her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. In the present scope of things, she feared losing something much more important
, herself.

***

Mike had gone home and left Cynthia to watch the monitors. She balled her hands into fists and wiped at her tired eyes. For hours she had stared at the front and back of The Cairns, and saw absolutely nothing but the same red bricks, glass entry or littered alley. No one had come or gone. Earlier, several people had passed, but that was normal. Now that the hour grew late, most people had gone to bed for the night. She wished she could, even though she doubted she could sleep.

This had been a horrendous day. She never was good at being positive, and despite the fact that she tried her hardest to focus on having faith, she feared the worst. Alex had to have been taken against his will. He would have called her by now. Panic welled and anxiety seized her chest in a tightening grip.