NS (16 page)

He grabbed her arm and yanked. She cried out in pain.

“Bend over and look at my shoe strap, for God’s sake! It’s caught. Please stop yanking my arm or you’ll break it, not to mention my foot.” Still trying hard to remain calm, she saw the end of her endurance coming into view, and fought back tears. “And if you plan to kill me, here is as good a place as any. In fact, go ahead and do it now.”

“Get out, smart ass bitch. Your mouth is what got you here in the first place.”

“No. It’s obvious you’re going to kill me, so why not now? My arm was aching from

when you twisted it, and now pain is shooting down my leg and my arm. I don’t suffer very well, whoever you are, so if you plan to kill me, go ahead. Do it now!”

“And I tole you to git outta the damn car. I don’t wanna kill ya, but I will if you make me.

Just git on outta there.”

There was no one around on either side of the street. She freed her foot and crawled across the passenger seat. His arm went around her waist. His nails dug into her side, pulling her close to his massive body. He slammed her car door and started walking before her feet were firmly on the pavement. Fearing street noise and rows of closed doors would prevent anyone from hearing her screams, she prayed instead of screaming.

“You walk next to me and you’d better act like you like it or I will kill you. I don’t wanna kill you. I don’t wanna, but I will. Don’t matter much to me.”

He opened the gate. Even with the strength of just one arm, he managed to lift her feet from the ground and carry her through the gate. She kicked wildly, reaching for the gate as he closed it and praying someone saw or heard and would call the police. He hefted her on his side with her feet dangling. Instead of going up the front steps, he continued around a cobble path that followed a chain link fence down the side of the house. She looked around without moving her head. The row of windows on the drycleaners building on her left was too high for anyone to see out or for her to see in.

She focused on the length of the house and he practically dragged her along the side yard.

It was a vast structure. The shotgun style, built to utilize narrow lots, was a double but had a back addition that was divided into two apartments on each side. An atrium, with an array of brightly colored perennials that seemed to pop up through the bricks and rocks, separated the addition from the original structure. Her captor had been careful to keep her on the walkway, which meant holding her body against his to keep from trampling the flowers.

He pushed her in front of him and up the concrete steps to a heavy wooden door. Inside, another door to the left led to the downstairs apartment. A narrow, dimly lit staircase spiraled sharply from right to left.

“Upstairs.” His hand was heavy in the center of her back. “Keep moving.”

The stairway emptied into a small hallway. She tried to take in everything around her, especially the location of all doors. There was one leading to another part of the building, but it was at the far end of the hallway on the other side of the stairs.

He turned left at the top of the stairs, unlocked the door and pushed her inside. Engulfed in heat and stench so strong she could hardly breathe, she held her nose.

“Go on over there.” He gave her a slight push.

She walked across a matted rug that covered most of the oak floor. Her heart pumped when he nudged her with the pistol barrel. The only place left to go was a bed littered with clothing, discarded food wrappers and even a small birdcage.

“Sit down and don’t say a damn thing! I know what you tried to do out there. Pretended like your shoe got caught so you could wait ‘till somebody came by. You think I’m stupid just like she did.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and lifted her left foot. “Look at this. You were already out of the car and couldn’t see that my shoe strap was caught.”

He grunted and sat next to her, taking a remote control from under a pile of folded underwear and aiming at a small television that was perched on a stack of corded newspapers.

Her eyes fell on a white-bound Bible on top of an overturned crate. Try and reach him.

She spoke softly. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I don’t know you, so I couldn’t possibly have an opinion about your intelligence. I think we too often place labels on people without knowing them. I see you read the Bible so you must be very spiritual.”

“I read a lot of things. I ain’t stupid like folks think. She thought I was stupid, too. She had no right to treat me that way.”

She? “Sometimes we forget how hurtful we are to others. I’m sorry someone treated you poorly. I’m sure this person, whoever she is, didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“She didn’t care. She didn’t want nothin to do with me. Said she wasn’t that hard up for money, and looked at me like I was nothing.”

“That’s a shame. Who did this to you?”

“Shut up! Don’t say nothing else ‘less I ask you to!”

Chelsea hung her head and tried to see what lay beyond the door in back of the room.

From the smell, she knew there was a bathroom back there, but saw no sign of a kitchen. The Baroque motifs, hardwood floors, and hallway lighting indicated the home was once very elegant. Chelsea knew the area well. Her aunt lived a short distance away, but there was a vast difference in property values.

Her head ached. Her mouth was dry. Breathing was difficult because of the stench. The large man had not touched her, except to propel her down the alley. For that she was thankful.

She heard noises from the drycleaners and a stereo blasting down the hall. “May I please say something?”

“What?”

“What is your name? What should I call you?”

“You don’t got to call me nothing ‘cause I done tole you to shut up.”

“I don’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to be polite, not like that other person you spoke of. It’s not nice to call people out of their names. I can’t say hey you, so please tell me what to call you.”

He walked over to the television and picked up a program guide. “Call me Ray. That’s my name. You can even call me RayRay.”

Seeing his face soften, she continued. “Thank you, RayRay. You’re very nice. Do you sell newspapers?”

“I don’t . . .I didn’t say you could talk! Shut up!” He stood and raised a massive arm and spread his fingers as if he intended to slap her. “Shut up!”

How could this happen? He had invaded her privacy, trespassed on her property

in the dark of night. Had he come to her loft to kidnap her then? Was he holding her for someone else? She had to be very careful and not rile him. She had to keep him calm until she determined why she was there, and find a way to escape.

She watched him flip channels, pausing only to watch comedies, even those on the

Spanish language stations. He finally settled for a Fresh Prince rerun and turned the volume up loud. When he moved behind her, she feared the worse.

“I wouldn’t do this, but you just the kind to try something. I don’t trust you.”

She realized he was binding her wrists to the bedpost. Pain shot down her shoulder when he pulled her arms back. “Ouch! You’re hurting me, RayRay.”

“And that ain’t all I’ll do if you try to outsmart me again. You can’t get away. You can’t leave here until after tomorrow. You thought you could outsmart me.”

She had and still did, but knew it wouldn’t be easy. “I was not trying to outsmart you. I showed you the broken strap on my shoes. It ties around my leg. You didn’t give me a chance to buckle it and it caught on the gear stick. I don’t think you’re stupid, so there no need pretending I won’t try to get away. If someone was holding you hostage, wouldn’t you try and escape?”

Noticing a clutter of prescription bottles on the table, she squinted to read the labels but could not. She could plainly see that RayRay was slow at best.

“RayRay, my arm is really hurting. Do you have something I can take for pain?”

“I ain’t . . .sh-h-h-h.”

Over the blast of the TV, she could hear someone coming up the stairs.

“Ray!” Raymond!” The knock was heavy. The voice was female. “Open this door, boy! I ain’t got all night to stand out here.”

Chelsea started to scream, but he grabbed her throat with his free hand. She swallowed hard and gagged.

“I got company, Mama! I’ll call you later.”

“What kinda’ company you got, and why didn’t you take your butt to work this evening?

I had to practically beg Mr. Allen to give you that job and now—”

“I was feeling bad this evening, but I’m better now,” he interrupted, visibly shaking all over. “I need to rest, Mama. I’ll be over there tomorrow.”

“What are you doing in there, boy? If you feel bad, how come you got company? I still got my key here somewhere. You either open this door or I’ll have to use it.”

“I’m resting, Mama.” He looked more terrified than at any other time. “My…my

girlfriend is here. She’s taking care of me.”

“Girlfriend? What you talkin’ bout, boy?”

He placed the pistol to Chelsea’s head. “Say hi to her. Tell her your name is Nadine.”

She could feel him trembling when he pushed the gun barrel into her side.

“Do it!”

“Hi, RayRay’s mom!” She yelled. “My name is Nadine!”

“I don’t know no Nadine. Nadine who?”

“You don’t know her, Mama. She just moved here. Now please let me get some rest. I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll leave you alone, but you and Nadine had better not be doin no drugs or nothing like that. And you better go to work tomorrow. I can’t pay your rent and help you if you don’t try and help yourself. You hear me, Ray?”

“Yes, ma’am!” He rolled his large eyes. “I’m goin to work tomor’ow.”

Chelsea listened to the footsteps growing faint on the stairs. She watched RayRay

relax and turn back to the television. Within minutes, he was roaring with laughter, appearing oblivious to her presence. She stared into the bleakness of her surroundings, and tried to think of ways to communicate without irritating him.

“I don’t want to hurt your feeling, RayRay, but I really need to go home. My

family is expecting me to be there. My brother is there by now, wondering where I am. My purse, my phone, everything there will let them know I’m in trouble. And if I don’t show up in court—”

“You ain’t goin’ to cout tomorrow, so just git that outta your mind. You just

wanna stand there and say all them mean things…shut up like I told you to. Can’t you see I’m watchin’ my show?”

She studied his face but could not remember prosecuting him. “RayRay, let me

just say one thing and I won’t talk again until you say it’s okay.” Without waiting, she continued her probe. “I work for the district attorney’s office. You obviously know that. It’s my job to—”

“Did I say you could talk?” he interrupted but did not turn around.

Why is he doing this? I have to know.

He sat on the foot of the bed for over three hours, watching television and

laughing. Chelsea tried to be observant. Though the apartment was cluttered, it appeared to be clean, which made her more curious about the stinch. The furniture was not cheap, but it was old.

The four-poster bed and matching dresser were remnants of grandeur, as was the house itself.

Ray stood and headed for the back room. She sat still but wiggled her hands against the bindings. Her arm ached badly. After hearing the toilet flush, she hung her head and waited for him to return.

She had not seen the small refrigerator in the corner of the room until he moved the clothes that were piled on top.

“Want some water?” he asked, quite politely.

“Yes, please.” She watched him take a milk jug filled with water from the refrigerator and dig under a stack of debris on the table, finally pulling a red plastic cup from a package.

“I ain’t been drinkin’ outta the jug, if that’s what you think. I know my place is messy, but I been workin at night and goin…” He stopped talking and poured. “Here. I’ll let you go the bathroom, but you gotta’ stop trying to get over on me. I ain’t as dumb as I look.” He held the cup to her lips.

She had felt the cold water on her skin when he tilted the cup too high. “Thank you.” She tried to wipe her mouth across the shoulder of her blouse but could not move enough to do so.

“RayRay, can I ask you a question?”

“What?” He had walked back across the room and placed the cup on a clear spot near the edge of the table.

“I know you’re not a bad person. I can tell. So please tell me why you’re doing this. I’ve never done anything to you.”

“You hurt my brother!” His eyes had blazed. “You said . . .shut up now. I ain’t answering no more questions. I done told you not to speak.”

“Who is your brother, RayRay?”

“Shut up!”

Chelsea looked away from his angry face until he turned back to the television. She had been praised many times for her keen sense of observation. The district attorney had said it the best he had ever witnessed. She thought of Ray’s words. She had prosecuted at least five young men during recent hearings, but he was not speaking of the past. She clearly remembered the faces of Curtis Hamilton’s family. He couldn’t be Curtis Hamilton’s brother!

She could see the young man’s face. His athletic ability was only part of his appeal. His skin was naturally tan and a combination of Anglo features, dimples, full lips and a broad chin made him poster-boy handsome. In addition to not resembling the face before her, Hamilton’s build and sunny personality did not match this man’s attitude and flabby body. The first thing she had noticed was Hamilton’s quick, alert eyes, a sign of high intelligence. Ray’s obvious short attention span was that of a young child.

That thought made her wonder if he could have planned and executed her kidnapping.

She wondered if he could have come into her home, not once, but twice. He had help. I’m sure of it.

She thought of likely cohorts and then thought of her family. They were close-knit and loving. Her parents had married when they very young, both still in college. Her mother had been a good student and had planned to return for graduate work, but said she had been happy to take a break after graduation. During that break, she became pregnant with Chelsea’s older brother. Skip came two years later, followed by Chelsea and her younger sister. Her childhood had been happy. The thought of her parents grieving her death brought tears to her eyes.