Dance of the Crystal (25 page)

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. Please believe me, it’s for your own good.” He reached up and unhooked her right hand from the ring in the ceiling, but the manacle still ringed her wrist. She breathed a sigh of relief when her arm swung down—until the pins and needles started stabbing her nerve endings awake.

Before her sluggish brain had a chance to shift into escape mode, he had detached her other wrist and locked both rings together so her hands were bound in front of her.

“Let me help you,” he said, as solicitous as a candy striper in a nursing home. He cupped both her elbows, holding his arm carefully behind her back so as not to touch the abraded flesh.

“There’s Epsom salts in the water,” he explained as he guided her to the tub. “It will comfort your skin while it cleanses. In you go.”

Crystal hesitated, noticing that her jacket, sweatshirt and tights where still where she’d dropped them.

She wondered how long her battery would last if the phone was still connected to Soren’s number. She eyed her clothes longingly. But with her hands cuffed together, she wouldn’t be able to cover her nakedness even if she could manage to escape. Better to follow his instructions and wait for an opportune moment.

Grasping the grab bar on the near side of the tub with her manacled hands, Crystal gingerly stepped into the tub. Relief washed over her as she found the temperature to be warm as a womb. She lowered herself into the water. The salts did indeed seem a balm to her reddened skin and she let her head fall back to rest on the rim of the tub, where he’d thoughtfully provided an air pillow held in place by suction cups. For just a moment she allowed her mind to go blank, to enjoy the silence and the peace.

The sound of metal clinking on metal woke her. How could she have fallen asleep in her predicament?

Then she realized it had to be the middle of the night. Her body had simply had too much trauma.

Shivering, she jerked her arms then realized what the clinking sound was that had awakened her. The handcuffs were now linked to the grab bar. And the water had been emptied from the tub. Goose bumps blossomed on her wet skin from the chilly air.

“One more cleansing ritual tonight, Patty.”

Crystal slewed her head to the sound of Jack’s voice at her ear. She saw he was kneeling at the side of the tub, holding an old-fashioned hot-water bottle with a long hose and a nozzle. With his free hand he scooped up her leg and draped it over the side of the tub.

“We must rid the impurity from the inside as well.”

* * * * *

“Hell. You’re too wound up to sleep. You might as well listen.” He walked to the phone to check the messages. Only one. Good. He pushed the “Play” button and heard the tinny voice announce, “Thursday, eleven-forty-seven p.m.”

“…why you made a special suite of rooms for me in the basement of Time Treasures. None of the rooms have windows…”

Soren’s brain came fully alert. That was Crystal’s voice! What the hell—

“I will explain it all when the time is right.”

He wasn’t positive, but the voice sounded like the man he helped Crystal take the cherry dresser to.

Yeah, right. Jack something. The antique storeowner. He focused all his attention on the recording.

“…in a separate room? Are you planning to keep me a prisoner here in the cellar of Time Treasures?”

Holy shit! Had Jack Healy kidnapped Crystal?Without considering that he still wore only his running shorts, Soren dashed out of the apartment and down the steps, pushed open the employee’s entrance door. “Mags! Wait!”

Thank God, Mags had still been sitting behind the wheel in the parking lot, no doubt calling Kat to say he was on his way home.

“Mags! Come back! I need your help!”

When Magnus got out of his truck and walked up, Soren blurted out, “Hurry up. You gotta hear this.”

He dragged him back upstairs and through the open doorway.

“Listen.” He pushed the “replay” button. The message started in the middle of a sentence.

“…why you made a special suite of rooms for me in the basement of Time Treasures. None of the rooms have windows. You know how much I love the sunshine.”

“I will explain it all when the time is right.”

Magnus made a move as if to ask whose voice it was, but Soren shushed him and pointed to the answering machine and mouthed,
Listen
.

“Can you at least tell me who Patty is?”

The brothers exchanged glances then shrugged. Neither knew a Patty.

Crystal’s voice again. “Is Grandma here too? In the basement of your shop? Are you holding Rowena hostage in a separate room?” A pause. “Are you planning to keep me a prisoner here in the cellar of Time Treasures?”

Seconds ticked by with no conversation. The sound of…running water?…reached Soren’s ears.

“I’m soaping myself up, Jack. I’ll be done in a minute. Keep your back to the door, okay? I’ll let you know when I’m—”

Soaping herself up? Soren’s hackles raised to think that this Jack character was anywhere near her if she was in the shower, or even at a sink, exposing any part of her anatomy to him. He heard a series of noises, footsteps clacking on tile, metal clanging against metal, then…

“What the—a handcuff? Jack, what are you doing? Turn me loose!”

“Did you think you could wash away all the filth in two minutes?”

Shit! He wanted to jump inside the telephone and pull the son of a bitch away from her, but forced himself to listen. To think. Crystal had deliberately called him to let him know she was being held a prisoner in Time Treasures, so he concentrated on her voice, hoping to pick up whatever clues she was savvy enough to drop for him.

“Let me go!” A yelp of pain.

“You did not listen to me, Patty.”

Soren cursed. If that bastard harmed her, he’d be eating his balls for lunch when Soren finished working him over.

“I will not hurt you, my dear. You have my—”

A harsh beep sounded. The recording had filled its allotted time.

He checked the bedside clock. Four-twelve a.m. “Jesus. She made that call more than four hours ago!”

“Calm down.” Magnus laid a hand on Soren’s shoulder. “It sounds like she’s not in any immediate danger. He said he wouldn’t hurt her. Go put some clothes on while I listen to it again. This time I want to focus on background noises.”

While Soren dressed in jeans, dark turtleneck sweater and steel-toed lumberjack boots, they played the recording twice more.

“Either the grandmother’s out cold or she’s not there,” Magnus decided.

“She could be, though.” Soren explained his earlier trek to Rowena’s home looking for Crystal’s car.

“Maybe he has them in separate rooms. Let’s go. I don’t want to take the chance that he’s blowing smoke when he said he wouldn’t hurt her.”

“We should have a plan first.”

“We’ll come up with one after we reconnoiter.”

“Okay. Lead the way.”

The grating of a key in the metal lock jolted Crystal awake. Fear sluiced through her as she found herself immobile. Fighting panic, she glanced at her surroundings. White on white on white.

She squeezed her eyes shut as memories slammed back into her.
Jack Healy
. A mentally unbalanced Jack Healy, calling her Patty, holding her hostage. Scraping her skin raw. Dear God, shoving a douche up her most private orifices with what he’d assured her was only soapy water. Purifying her, he’d said.

Realizing she was in a reclining chair that held her almost supine with knees slightly bent, Crystal tried to sit up but couldn’t move. Her forearms were tied to the armrests, her feet bound to the footrest. She was wearing a long white terrycloth robe and white fuzzy slippers. Her heart pounded against her ribs. How could she have fallen asleep under such frightening circumstances? How long had she been out? With no windows to see whether it was sunny or dark outside, she had no way of knowing.

“How are you feeling?”

She tried to manufacture a smile as Jack Healy walked into the room. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Without acknowledging her request, Jack turned on some music. From hidden speakers Crystal heard what sounded like Gregorian chants, men’s voices singing Latin in unison without accompaniment.

“Jack, this isn’t funny. Don’t let me embarrass myself. Untie me.“

“In a minute.” He turned back to the door to the hallway and locked it with the key he still wore on a leather thong around his neck. Then he opened a panel in the wall and unrolled a length of chain. One end was apparently moored to the wall. The other connected to a hinged metal circlet whose diameter was approximately the size of a neck.

Crystal swallowed hard, her eyes riveted to the circlet, as Jack loomed over her. “Don’t worry. It’s long enough to reach the bathroom. I’m not trying to punish you, believe me.” The click as the cold metal snapped shut around her neck sounded in her ears like a gunshot.

She barely dared to breathe. The iron burden of her restraint settled on her collarbones. “Why, Jack?

Why are you doing this?”

“You know why, Patty. You have to be pure to reenter the novitiate.”

She bit down hard on the urge to correct him.
I’m not Patty
! Then focused on the last word.
Novitiate
.

Didn’t that have something to do with becoming a nun? Was that why the Gregorian chants?

“Our stepfather will never touch you again. I can assure you of that.” Almost tenderly, he gathered the hair that had gotten trapped inside the heavy collar and pulled it away from her neck. “There. That should be more comfortable.”

“I’ll be more comfortable if you let me go to the bathroom.”

“Of course.” He bent down and unwrapped the bindings at her wrists, her ankles, then pulled the lever to bring the chair upright. “Up you go.”

Once on her feet, Crystal had to stop a moment to stabilize herself against the corner end table. Her legs felt cramped from being in the same position for too long.

From her peripheral vision she saw the hated painting swing away from the wall to reveal the bathroom.

She took careful steps until she was inside then turned back to close the door behind her.

“The door stays open. You know there are no secrets between brother and sister.”

Crystal’s heart pounded against her breastbone. Did he think she was his
sister
? All the years she’d known Jack Healy, he never mentioned any family.

“Go ahead and do your business,” he said. “I won’t look. In fact, I have some things to do. I’ll be back shortly.”

When she spied her clothes exactly where she’d discarded them earlier, her heart missed a beat then pounded back double-time. Would the chain allow her to reach the jacket with its cell phone? Or had Jack found it?

She used the toilet then took advantage of the noise of flushing to cover the sounds of fabric rustling.

Reaching to the limit of her chain, she barely managed grab a handful of jacket and pull it toward her. She thrust her hand inside the jacket pocket. It was still there! With a trembling finger she pushed what she hoped was Soren’s speed-dial button. Only then did she discard the white robe and yank on her sweatshirt and tights.

No sound emanated from the adjacent room. She hadn’t heard the lock snick open or the door close.

Had Jack gone? Defiantly she pulled the jacket on as well, patting the pocket to be sure the phone nestled securely in it, and walked out. “Jack?”

Her gaze bounced around the room as she made as much of a circle as she could at the end of the chain.

No Jack. She pulled the phone to her ear.

“It’s your dime. Talk.”

Oh no, she’d gotten his voice mail again! She spoke in a rapid whisper. “Soren, please, if you’re there, pick up the phone! Jack Healy’s got me locked in the basement of Time Treasures. I’m in a room to the left of the stairs. There’s no window and only the one entrance. He’s crazy, Soren. He thinks I’m his sister Patty who needs to be purified. He probably also has Grandma, although he won’t say one way or another. Please, no matter when you hear this, please come to Time Treasures and—”

Her breath hitched. “Gotta go, I hear him.” She clicked off and thrust the phone back into her pocket.

The chain clinking as she moved, Crystal sank onto the white sofa just before the outside door swung open and Jack walked in.

When he spied her in her own clothes, his smile turned into a frown. “I should have laid out your clothes before I left. Those rags belong in the trash. I want you to put on your habit.”

He walked to the white armoire and opened the long narrow door. “Here.” He removed a white…something…from a padded hanger and laid it over the arm of the sofa. “Get changed. Now.

Those tight, bright things are an obscenity.”

“No! I mean, no,” she said more softly. “I’m thirsty. Can I have some orange juice? Or a soda? A cup of hot tea?”

He came around the sofa and stood before her. “Do as I say! If you continue to wear those secular clothes, I’ll have to scrub you clean again. Do you understand me?”

Crystal gulped. Her skin still burned in places where he’d abraded it with the loofah. But more importantly, would he rip them off her if she didn’t comply?
And find the phone?

She stood up like a humble penitent, since that’s what he apparently wanted to make her. “You’re correct, of course. If you turn your back, I’ll change.”

Reaching for the costume, she took the heavy woolen pieces apart and examined them. The gown, cut in a modest A-line to her ankles, had long, wide sleeves and a placket opening in the front. Apparently it was usually slipped over the head, but the hateful chain precluded that.

With her heart pounding, she slid the jacket off her arms and let it sink to the sofa in a pile. Her breath stopped when the phone slid halfway out of the pocket. She ripped off the sweatshirt and tossed it down, trying at the same time to shove the phone behind the cushion. She shucked off her tights and hurriedly stepped into the gown and fastened the buttons.