"Oh, God… What'd I do? I was helpin' him, why is he doin' this? Why… why?" Tashay was becoming even more emotional, choking back huge, sobbing breaths.
"Stop it!" Karen commanded loudly. "He's going to kill us. You've gotta stop crying." And then finally Tashay brought her gaze up from the floor and looked at Karen. One of her eyes was completely swollen shut. The blood that had been flowing out of the cut in her head had stained her silk blouse. She was in short-shorts and had dried blood on her legs and thighs.
"I need to know what's going on," Karen said. She struggled to keep her voice calm. She could see Tashay was in panic, on the edge of hysteria. Karen surprised herself that she had such a firm grasp on her situation after having been knocked unconscious twice. "Why is Bob Shiff doing this?" Karen asked in a calm voice.
"I don't know… I don't know." Her voice was slurred through swollen lips. "I swear. He's been actin' strange since you asked us about that guy… the big, ugly one…"
"Leonard Land?"
"Yeah. You were right, he came to all our concerts, but never to the house. Now, he's been here twice this morning. He's creepy. He calls Bob 'Robbie.' "
"Robbie?" Karen said… and then she knew who Bob Shiff was. He was the missing foster brother, Robbie Land. She and Lockwood had wrongly assumed he was killed in Mississippi in the early eighties. If Bob Shiff was Robbie Land, it answered a lot of questions. Her mind was reeling with this information, fitting it into the puzzle. She knew that serial killers are not born but made, usually by parental abuse. Of course, the right psychological pre-dispositions and stressors have to exist, but, if Shirley had raised Robbie the way she had raised Leonard, it was not at all inconceivable that they could come out with similar pathologies. It also explained the Death Metal lyrics and the worship of other serial killers like Gacy and Dahmer. She wondered if it was possible that Leonard and Bob worked as a team-like Kenneth Bianchi and his cousin Angelo Buono.
"Tashay, is Bob helping Leonard commit these murders?" "What murders? Oh, God, why would he hurt me like he did?"
"Can you move your hands? Can you get loose at all?"
Tashay looked at Karen for a long moment, as if the idea hadn't even occurred to her.
"I hurt… I hurt so bad," she said.
"Tashay, see how close to me you can get."
Tashay Roberts moved slowly across the garage toward Karen. The block-and-tackle chain allowed her to get almost three feet nearer.
"Lemme see if I can get up," Karen said, and again she struggled to stand. She worked her legs under her and then started to rise up. This time, with careful effort, she controlled the dizziness. Her arms were lashed behind the post but she could slide them up slowly. The wood was rough and gouged her with splinters as she worked her way to a standing position. Then she rotated around until she could face Tashay.
"We ain't never gonna get loose… We ain't never," Tashay moaned, and again she began to cry.
"Tashay, stop it. Stop it right now!" Karen knew that her only chance of getting away was to include Tashay. She had to get her focused on the idea of escape and away from feeling sorry for herself.
From this new position on her feet, Karen could see the rest of the garage. She looked up and saw that some gardening tools had been thrown up on the rafter beams overhead. The beams were only a few feet above where Tashay's hands were tied to the block-and-tackle.
"Okay, Tashay, you see above your head… the gardening tools up there?"
Tashay looked up but didn't answer.
"See if you can jump up and knock them down. See that hedge clipper? See if you can knock it off the rafters and over toward me."
Tashay looked at her again. "Bob and me was in the grip, y'know? We was rollin' deep. He says to me, `Tash, we gonna get outta this bonk town, go to Europe.' He's alla time talkin' to me about the Riviera and goin' to see Satan Wolf in prn. So why's he goin' and shootin' on me like this? Why's he wanna go ruin it? Why?"
"Tashay, try and knock the gardening tools down. Will you do it!" she commanded, her voice taking on an edge as her frustration grew. "Don't yell at me…" Tashay started to cry again.
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I yelled. Can you do it?"
"Why's he go an' do this to me? I don't understand. Why?" "Jump up and knock that rake handle. See if it'll drop the hedge clipper down. Do it… jump… jump up and hit it, can you**?
Tashay looked up at the tools above her head, then back at Karen. "I can't. My wrists hurt."
"You can. Just try…"
"Maybe if I do everything they want… maybe if we promise to be good… maybe then they'll-"
"Tash! Listen to me," she interrupted. "Leonard Land is a psychopathic serial killer. He's murdered three women I know about for sure. Bob Shiff is his foster brother. They aren't going to let you go. They're gonna kill you. They used you to get to me. They're going to kill us both. Our only chance, Tash, is to work together. You've got to help me. Can you do it? Will you try?"
After a long moment she looked up at the rake handle above her head, then back at Karen.
"You can do it. Try. Come on, honey, just once… try."
Tashay looked up, and then she made her first tentative jump in the air. Her wrists had been rubbed raw and she squealed in pain as she jumped up, pulling the short length of chain with her. She almost made it on the first try. "I can't do it," she whined.
"Almost," Karen said. "You almost had it. Just a little higher." Tashay jumped again. This time she hit the tools. The hedge clipper, which was balanced diagonally across the rake, fell between the tools and clattered down onto the concrete floor between them. The noise seemed deafening. Karen prayed nobody heard the racket. She had to move fast; something told her they were almost out of time.
"Okay. Okay… good, Tash. Now you gotta get closer to it and kick it over to me."
Tashay moved as close as she could, then hooked her bare foot under the long handle of the hedge clipper and flipped it over toward Karen. It landed right at the base of the post where Karen was tied. She lowered herself down the splintered wood and rotated around so that her hands were near the handle of the tool. She got a grip on it and started to carefully work her fingers down the handle, bringing the sharp edge of the shears toward her. Her fingers were numb from the ropes, but she finally got her hands on the cutting edge and positioned it so that she could start sawing the ropes that bound her. Then she heard a screen door slam outside and two men talking in low tones. She worked to cut the ropes off. She held on to the blade tightly, sawing frantically. And then she felt one give. She pulled hard and she was free. She stood and moved to Tashay, reached up, and untied her.
"Maybe if we tell Bob we didn't run when we could've, he'll let us go." Tashay was talking animatedly, her voice was too loud.
"Shhhh," Karen said, looking around. "Where's that door go?" she asked, pointing to a door at the rear of the garage.
"Nowhere, just out to the backyard. There's a big hill with trees, goes up to the park. But the door's padlocked. The key's over there," she said, pointing at a tool bench.
"Get it open. I'm gonna try to lock the front from the inside." Tashay retrieved the key and scuttled to the back door. Karen moved to the front of the garage and found some barbed wire. She grabbed it and started to wire the big garage door closed, wrapping it around several times. In her haste, the sharp barbs ripped open her palms and fingers.
Then the wire accidentally banged against the light metal door, making a loud scratching sound.
"The fuck you doin'…?" Bob's voice called from outside. Then she felt the garage door start to open. The wire popped free.