“Did you make it?”
“Yeah. Barely. Thanks to you.”
“Did you find anything?”
“I don’t know yet. But I think I did.”
He was closer to his apartment and pulled down the off-ramp.
“I want to see you next time.”
“What about tomorrow? I can show you what I found. If I found anything.”
“I can’t.” She paused. “Oh wait, I can. I thought I had something, but I don’t.”
“What?”
“We normally have movie night then. But Sheryl is changing her second bridge night this week. So the common room is full.”
“Second bridge night?”
“They play twice a week now.”
“So you’re free?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you then.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
He got to his building and sped into a parking space. He pulled on the tight neck of his t-shirt and opened the windows as he idled. No one else was in the lot-it was just him and empty cars. He unbuckled himself, then he released the duck and set it on his lap. He turned it over to the bottom. He read the neat loops of cursive, ones that he recognized from the letters he’d found.
“From Patrick to Charlotte, 1974.”
He traced over the writing with his hand. Her husband had been able to carve inside of things, he remembered Charlotte telling him. The only problem was figuring out how to open it. He looked around the base of the duck. There weren’t any obvious holes or doors. Just the writing. But at the bottom of the neck he noticed a thin black line.
He grabbed the bill on the duck’s head and started to jiggle it. When he pulled up and down it didn’t give. Then he pushed it right. It twitched. Then left. The neck began to turn all the way around, and the duck’s head revolved around its body. He kept turning, and like a screw it unwound from the base.
Papers fell out as he pulled the head away. They were rolled up tight and bound by a thin rubber band. Whatever Charlotte had, he’d found it. He peeled off the rubber band and the sound twanged inside the car. He unrolled the pages and placed them on his lap.
The first one was predictable. A bridge schedule for the past three months. He knew that Charlotte would try to tie it back to bridge. Now that he’d found it, it all seemed a little sadder. He looked. It was a schedule for the week-the days Sheryl had slighted her. Monday and Thursday she played in the common room. Charlotte had marked both of them with an X. Jake didn’t want to look at it long. He wanted to get to what she’d found-not what she’d imagined. There was a real conspiracy behind the one she was obsessed with. It was called the Saving Tomorrow Initiative.
He found them on the next page. It was a call log. She’d written down a phone number and a series of times and dates next to it. She’d been calling, trying to find out their agenda. Each time, the log read “no answer,” except for the last call.
Reached Initiative. I talked to a man. He said to stop calling. I asked him why. He said he knew who I was. I said I knew who he was too. He hung up on me. Will research more…
She made the call the day before she died. Seeing the three dots in a line chilled him. They were like goose bumps on the page. Why wasn’t there more? He turned the paper over.
She’d recorded everything she’d tried to find out about the Initiative. The problem was that she hadn’t found much. Apparently, the group was less than a year old. She couldn’t get any financial information. The articles of incorporation listed a P.O. Box outside Sarasota as the address. A dead end. They weren’t in any charitable directories or listings. All she’d found was that phone number and whoever was on the other end of the line. And then they’d found her.
Jake took out his phone and impulsively turned it on. He saw his thumb shake as he pressed each number. Area code. Then three more. He looked at the paper-Charlotte had last called the day before she died. Four more digits. It started to ring. Again. Then a click. Was that it?
A recording played.
“You have reached the Saving Tomorrow Initiative.” It was the voice of the woman from the commercial. “Please vote against the Development Proposition. Humans must learn their place. If they don’t, we will show them. This war is just beginning.”
A beep. He clamped the phone shut. He wasn’t ready to leave a message when it was a matter of life and death. There was only one other page left. He unrolled it and flattened it on his lap. It was just a series of questions. Some had checkmarks next to them. Some didn’t.
Why did Sheryl keep me out of bridge?
She didn’t know. But he did. Abram.
How can I get back in?
Checked. He sighed. More bridge.
What is the Saving Tomorrow Initiative?
Checked.
What do they do?
Checked.
How are they funded?
Checked.
How do they connect to Sheryl?
There were wrinkles in the page, but it was checked. She knew a lot more than he did, and she’d even figured out the connection, if there was one. If only she’d written it down. Jake was sweating as he read the last three questions. It was a cold sweat.
Why am I being threatened?
Checked.
What will they do to stop me?
Checked.
He rolled the page up after the last question.
Can I stop them?
It was blank. But he knew the answer.
He bound the pages together and carefully slipped the rubber band around them. He’d gotten a phone number. And now he knew that the Saving Tomorrow Initiative had threatened her. But he had the same questions that Charlotte did. He twisted the neck back onto the base of the duck. How did Sheryl connect? How was the group funded? And what were they trying to do?
He also had a few questions of his own. Who had attacked him? Why had they done it? He wondered if he could escape when Charlotte hadn’t.
It was enough for one morning. He wasn’t tired, but he didn’t want to think about any of it for a while. He decided to go inside the apartment and rest. Maybe he’d even research Thompson’s celebrity article. There was nothing wrong with having a diversion. Melinda Ginelli wasn’t bad to look at, and he still had a job. If this was all Charlotte had found, he was starting to doubt that he’d have a real story. He screwed the neck of the duck back on and shut the windows.
The exhaustion didn’t fully set in until he reached the stairs to his apartment. They seemed to multiply now that he was tired. He took each wide step one at a time, the wallet, keys, and phone in his back pocket bulging like a pulled muscle. He felt hot again. He couldn’t wait to go inside and finally take his shower.
He put the key in the lock and turned it. Then he opened the door.
The first thing he felt was something pulling at his shoulder. His t-shirt ripped. Then he tripped on the divider between the door and the living room. Something shoved down his head and pressed a cold boot down on his neck. He dropped the duck and his keys fell from his pocket. He heard the sound of duct tape being pulled out from a roll and ripped. His wrists were pulled tight together and bound and the gray tape covered his mouth. He tasted and smelled fresh glue.
He tried to twist his body up, but the foot on his neck had dragged down to his back. Then he felt the tape start to rip his hair. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t open them again. They were taped shut. He tried to scream but he couldn’t open his mouth. Then he couldn’t even do that. Someone taped his ankles together and he felt another hit to the back of his head.
The last thing he felt was a sense of déjà vu. Once again, everything was black.
CHAPTER 39
It was the second time that day that Jake was stuck inside a closet, assuming he was inside a closet. He couldn’t really know. But when he tried to kick his legs out, he felt something hard stop them. It could have been a car trunk. Or a box. Anything. It didn’t really matter since he couldn’t get out. Because of the duct tape, he could only breathe through his nose. He was glad he didn’t have a cold.
He had time to think about what had happened. He hadn’t seen anything, only a blur of shadows and colors. All he could remember was wincing. It was different than on the beach. The hits were lighter and faster. And whoever it was had tried to attack him anywhere they could. It was different in other ways, too-this time he hadn’t been rescued. He pushed his legs hard against the wall. Nothing gave. He was too tired to try to kick it open.
Then he heard a voice.
“He’s out cold.”
He’d recognize it anywhere. Kaylie.
“Do you think I’d even call you if he was conscious? I’m alone now, yeah. But he’s locked in the closet. And he won’t wake up any time soon.”
She was on the phone. Someone else must have knocked him out and left her to finish the job-she was strong, but not that strong. Or that big. She sounded more serious than normal, and definitely more afraid.
“I told you, it’s just me. We tied him up.”
He tried to sit up and did. He wasn’t as sore as when he’d been attacked on the beach. Maybe he hadn’t been hit as hard. Or maybe he was used to it. He didn’t want to be used to getting attacked. Kaylie spoke again and sounded closer to the closet.
“No. Nothing. We looked through his wallet. Just money and credit cards. The last outgoing call on his phone was to you. Did you get it?”
He nodded. His last outgoing call had been to the Saving Tomorrow Initiative’s line. They must have had Caller ID and known not to answer his number.
“Yeah. I’m going to leave the note on the bed.”
She was going to leave. Would she let him go?
“I’ll call his editor in twenty minutes. Yeah, I’ll do it from the payphone. He’ll send somebody over.”
Jake almost laughed. It might be worth it to make Thompson help him. Then he’d get to write his story, too. When Kaylie spoke again she sounded angrier.
“No. He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
A pause.
“No, he doesn’t. He liked me.”
He could hear her pacing across his carpet.
“Whatever. I’m calling the editor. They should know anyway…Yes, I know you’re my boss…Yes, I know. But he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
Jake tried to lean closer to the door without letting her know he was awake. He pressed his ear against something. He hoped it was in the right direction.
“I know,” she said. “I just would like to tell him.”
Tell him what?
“It’s fine. He’ll figure it out when I’m gone. I already packed everything. I just wish he knew…”
He tasted the glue on the duct tape and tried twisting his hands free, but they were bound too tight. He barely had circulation. He realized his legs were taped at the knees as well.
“I told you, that was all he had. He was carrying an old wooden duck too. But he didn’t have any information about you, or anything like that.”
If he could breathe he would have sighed. She hadn’t figured out how to open the duck. He still had that. At least he could write his story when all of this was over. And he was going to make sure to include her in it.
“OK. I’ll leave now…don’t worry. I won’t.”
Silence. He heard her moving around the room and wondered if she wore her bikini for this type of job. Or shoes. Then he heard the closet door open. He slouched back as quickly as possible. Something warm was near his face. A hand. He stayed still so she wouldn’t know he was awake. Then her mouth was down at his ear.
“I’m sorry, Jake. I didn’t want to, but they made me.”
Soft. Her lips against his temple, just for a second. Then she closed the door. He jerked back up to plant his ear against it and heard a knocking sound.
There was another knock. Then another. It started getting faster and faster.
“Damn it,” Kaylie said. The knocking continued and he heard a deep voice that sounded garbled.
“Mr. Russo, this is the police! Open up!”
More knocks, then everything happened quickly. He heard the outer door open. Another sound. And then Kaylie screamed as the outer door slammed shut.
“Stop!” she screamed. “Stop, stop.”
“Where is my friend Jacob?”
He couldn’t believe it, but Gary Novak was in the apartment. Kaylie screamed again.
“He’s here. Please, just stop.”
“I’ll stop, but you show me where he is.”
“How am I supposed to show you where he is when I can’t see?”
“Where is he?”
“Over there, over there.”
Jake heard the closet door open. Then he screamed through the tape. All the hair on his wrists had just been ripped off. Gary grabbed his hands.
“Jacob, I took the tape on your wrists off very quickly. Like you do with a band-aid. Otherwise you’d never get it off.”
Before he could stop him, Gary grabbed at his cheek. The tape ripped away from his mouth and he screamed. He wouldn’t have to worry about shaving. Maybe ever again.
“How did you get here? What’s happening?”
“Just wait. We have to get to your eyes.”
“No.”
“We have no choice.”
Jake lifted his hands to his eyes and blocked Gary, barely in time.
“The tape on my eyes will come off slow. I like having eyebrows.”
“Fine.” He sounded disappointed.
“Where’s Kaylie? Don’t let her leave.”
“You know this girl?”
“Yes.” He ripped the tape off his ankles. “At least I thought I did.”
“Well, we’re going to learn a lot more.”
“How’s that?”
“She isn’t going anywhere.”
“How do you know?”
“Trust me.”
“Can you get me a wash cloth and wet it. I need to get this tape off my eyes before she escapes.”
“I can just rip it off. I’m strong enough”
“No.” He pushed his hands in the direction of Gary’s voice.
Gary got him the washcloth and he wet his face. Water leaked in and the tape started to loosen.
“Scissors?”
Gary handed them over. Jake pulled the tape out and cut by his nose. Then he slowly peeled it away. He rubbed his eyes and felt the glue still stuck to his skin in a thin layer.
“All right. Do you see the tape she used?”
Kaylie finally said something.
“I’ll just go. I’m sorry.”
He looked over. Her eyes were shut and her face was covered in something brown. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, just like the first day he saw her.
“Oh no,” he said. “You aren’t getting off that easy.”
He found her purse and grabbed it. A half roll of tape was inside. She tried to kick when he bound her ankles. She was barefoot, of course. And she was strong, but not strong enough. He leaned over her and grabbed her arms while he pressed down her legs. He taped them tight, but not as tightly as they’d bound him. She couldn’t leave now.
“Did you get her, Jacob?”
“I got her.”
“Good. I brought another washcloth for your eyes.”
He rubbed it against his face. Removing the sticky substance was like cleaning up spilled soda. He rubbed his red hands and ankles. He was still wearing the dirty sweat stained t-shirt. It was ripped now, too. He limped to his desk and got his notebook. Predictably, she’d gone through it. He picked up a pen and started writing. After a few lines, he looked up at Kaylie.
“You’re in trouble.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Well, I’m going to,” he said. “Gary, sit down. We’re going to find out what happened.”