“Not necessary,” I say. “I’ve made my decision.”
Chapter 27
I look at Karen. Though she’s been through a lot, I doubt she’s ever looked so beautiful.
“Karen,” I say, “I’m sorry. For everything.”
Her face falls. She starts crying. Loudly at first, but then she nods her head, resigning herself to her fate. She cries softly another minute and then realizes she’s still naked. She steps awkwardly into her panties, keeping her left hand on the wall to steady herself. She nearly trips trying to get her jeans on and then gives up, sits on the floor, and removes her sandals.
When she’s finally dressed, the voice says, “Karen, you’ve been a good sport. If it’s any consolation, we would have chosen you.”
Karen shrugs and says, “You still can, you know.”
The voice says, “Is there anything you wish to say to Sam before we start the vacuum pump?”
She looks at me and sighs. “I guess this proves you never would have left your wife for me. If you care, I think you made the wrong decision.”
“I’m sorry, Karen,” I say. “So, so sorry. I wish to God there was something I could do.”
The voice says, “Sam, we’ve got to know. What made you choose Rachel?”
I look at my wife. For the first time since the decision was announced, she looks in my direction. I think she was so convinced I’d choose Karen, the idea that she’s safe hasn’t sunk in yet.
“We’ve had our share of problems,” I say, “but we’ve got history. Maybe she hasn’t been perfect, but I haven’t either. I want a second chance, and I’m hoping she gives me one.” “Well, you’ll soon have a chance to find out. Karen?” “Yes, sir?” “Sit tight awhile. We’re going to take this in a different direction for a minute.” All three of us look at each other, wondering what fresh hell the voice has in store for us.
The voice says, “Sam, you’ve already made your choice, so there’s no turning back. However, it might interest you to know that Rachel has a secret of her own.”
Rachel’s face drains itself of all color.
The voice continues, “Rachel, would you like to tell Sam what you’ve been up to? Or shall we?”
Somewhere in my brain, a puzzle piece is trying to fall into place. I can’t quite make it fit, but as I watch Rachel standing in her cell, pale-faced and visibly squirming, I know the missing piece is a person:
Donovan Creed.
He’s the one who said he’d save me. I asked if he would save Rachel and he said, “Sam, when it all goes down, if that’s what you want, I’ll save Rachel too.”
Later he’d said, “I’ll help you get her back, if that’s what you want,” which means Creed knew about Rachel. Whatever I’m going to hear about her, Creed already knows. He promised to save me and said he’d save Rachel too—if that’s what I wanted.
Despite the death-level of stress I’ve been subjected to—add to that what I’m about to learn about Rachel—I suddenly see the slightest glimmer of hope. Creed’s promise to get me out of here, with Rachel, if that’s what I want, suddenly feels possible. I glance across the parking lot at the black, tarp-covered cage that holds Creed and wonder if he’s still alive. If so, I wonder if he’s still moving his hands over the Lucite surfaces, searching for a weakness in the structure.
Then, just as quickly, I lose all hope, because I just caught that other little thought that was running around in my brain—the one where I’m about to pull into my driveway and Creed tells me to hurry up because there’s not much time to get to the secret room. During which time, Creed once again tells me he’ll save me, but he says, “If what?”
And I had answered, “If I don’t let them steal your money.”
And, of course, I had let them steal his money. I’d given them the codes, all of them, including Creed’s. But wait—wasn’t there a sub-clause, a caveat that might yet make my life worth saving?
Yes! Donovan Creed had told me to make sure I gave them his code last.
Had I?
The voice says, “Very well, Rachel, I’ll do it for you. I’ll tell Sam and Karen what you’ve been up to. But first, we’ll need a moment to set the stage.”
Again, the sound and lights go out.
When they come back on, the garage door opens and another truck comes in, with another tarp-covered cage. Karen’s and Rachel’s cages are moved to make room for this new cage. The lights go out so the drivers can exit without being seen, but the green tarp on the new cage remains in place. I guess our captors’ flair for drama continues.
The voice says, “Hmm … so many ways to tell the story, where shall I begin?”
Karen is a creature of curiosity. Though her execution has been stayed momentarily, she approaches the area of her cubicle that affords the best view of Rachel’s face. She, too, seems interested in what’s behind the green tarp. Rachel isn’t looking at the new cage. She seems to know what’s inside.
The voice says, “Sam, your wife wasn’t entirely honest with you earlier when begging for her life.”
Rachel pretends to be unconcerned. She retrieves a sandwich from the cooler and starts opening it. She waves her hand in the general direction of the new cage and says, “Fuck it. Doesn’t matter now. Tell them whatever you want.”
Chapter 28
The voice says, “Sam, you may have noticed Rachel has been a bit distant the past six months. I can shed some light on that: she’s been having an affair of her own.”
I study my wife’s face. Could it be true?
She looks at me while taking a bite of her sandwich. A small, wry smile starts tugging at the corner of her mouth, a smile that says two can play this game.
How could she have sounded so sincere moments ago when pleading for her life?
“I probably haven’t been the most attentive wife in the world, but you know I’ve always been faithful to you …”
When had she learned to lie so convincingly?
Karen Vogel flashes me a look of sadness that says, Can you believe this? She says, “I’m sorry, Sam.” The voice interrupts its story about Rachel long enough to say, “Karen, you are truly one of a kind.” Rachel says, “Oh, go fuck yourself.” The voice continues, “Speaking of fucking …”
He proceeds to tell us that a businessman named Kevin Vaughn is in the cage under the green tarp. Kevin hired Rachel’s company to produce a marketing campaign for a new product. Rachel was on the ad committee. They met, fell in love, blah, blah, blah. The voice doesn’t say, “Blah, blah, blah,” but it may as well. My gut is churning. I am dying inside. I’d just chosen Rachel, and by doing so, I’d sentenced Karen to die.
And Karen feels bad for me!
Rachel says, “This is such bullshit. There’s no way Kevin is in that cage. That’s why you’re keeping it covered.”
The voice says, “Sam, be advised that Rachel and Kevin’s affair is not what you’d term casual. We’ve purposely made it impossible to tell time while in the cell, but I can tell you now that it’s nighttime, and your whole drama began two nights ago. You thought it began yesterday morning when you met Karen at the hotel. But think about how Rachel was acting the night before. How would you describe her state of mind, Sam?”
I don’t want to have this or any other conversation with my captor. But I can’t help myself. I remember having these same thoughts yesterday when I spoke to her on the phone. She’ d been pacing the floor from the time I’d gotten home to the time she went to bed. When I walked in the kitchen last night, she’ d been on her cell phone, agitated. I saw her try to make a call over and over, though she never left a message. At one point, she’ d been in her closet with the door closed. When I entered, I saw her sitting on the floor, eyes filled with tears, cell phone in her lap. I’d asked what was going on. She’ d told me to leave her alone. “Sam?” The voice is relentless. “She was highly agitated,” I say. “Would you like to know why?” “How about you humor me until I beg you to stop?” The voice says, “That’s the night she paid the hit man to kill her sister, Mary.”