Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tamara
“I need your help,” Joshua says over lunch one day. Six days have passed since he promised that donation to the shelter. I’ve started keeping track of time again, counting each day of my life that I’m trapped here.
I need to do that so I can stay angry at Joshua, because the new Joshua is addictive and I’m starting to crave his company too much. When he has to miss lunch because of work, I actually miss him. And I can’t stop thinking about what it felt like when he hugged me. I have to toughen up or I’ll lose myself to him. The idea of falling in love with him frightens me even more than the idea of being his mindless slave.
“We all have needs. For instance, I need a sharp knife so I can slit your throat,” I say, and I take a bite of quiche.
He ignores me. “Elizabeth fainted an hour ago, and she’s still losing weight. But she’s eating more than ever. I watch her eat, now, and she finishes everything on her plate. She should be gaining weight. There’s the possibility she has some kind of illness, but given how withdrawn and distressed she is, I think that it’s somehow psychological.”
“And?” I look up from my Portobello mushroom burger. “You know my feelings about Elizabeth, or frankly anyone who would choose to keep me prisoner. And before you start bringing up all the weepy girly crap about how much she suffered as a child, that’s all the more reason for her not to help keep another woman prisoner. My ultimate goal is to kill both of you. Squash you like cockroaches.”
His eyes snap with anger. “If you don’t help me, I’ll find a way to close down the shelter.”
Shock lashes through me at the thought of all those women being forced out onto the street, but I’ve been practicing hiding my emotions, and I just shrug. “Whatever.”
“My, my.” Joshua leans back in his chair and looks at me appraisingly, like a piece of art he might bid on. “What happened to kind, sweet, caring Tamara? Where did this nasty bitch come from?”
“Spending time with you was bound to rub off on me.” I shove my plate away. “Also, close the shelter down, and I will never voluntarily have sex with you again. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise.”
Frustration ripples over that perfect face of his, and it makes me happy. “Elizabeth could die.”
I put on the blank mask that I practice in the mirror every day. “Cool. One down, one to go.”
Joshua shakes his head, and contempt pinches those perfect features. He pushes his chair back and stands up. “Evil isn’t a good look on you, Tamara.”
“Would you let me go if I helped you? If it was the only way to save her life?” I call after him.
He shakes his head.
“Worth a try,” I say with a bitter laugh. “And good to know exactly how much of a selfish prick you are. You’d really let her die rather than set me free?”
“Absolutely.”
I feel a well of rage swelling up in me. How can he be so heartless? And this is the man Elizabeth would die for. Poor her.
He starts to walk away.
Something stirs inside me, sinking sharp little claws into my conscience. “Wait.”
He pauses and looks back at me expectantly
Why am I helping him? Why am I helping her?
Because that’s who I am. Because if he kills that part of me, then he’s won.
“Do you have a camera in her room? In her bathroom?”
He looks confused. “No. I don’t need to. Why?”
“She’s making herself throw up.”
“She’s what?” If the situation were different, the look of confusion on his face would be hilarious. It’s a sitcom twist of bewilderment. “Why would she do that?”
“Joshua. Is it really that difficult for you to see things through a normal human being’s eyes?”
“Yes. So help me.” He looks genuinely worried. He actually cares about her, as much as he’s capable of caring about anyone. “Please.”
“She can’t fight you directly, so this is her passive way of getting back at you. She’s hurting herself, and disobeying you, to spite you. You’re causing her an enormous amount of pain by having me here. She could live with you banging anonymous prostitutes, but this is different. You’re forcing her to watch you court me. You’re finally developing something resembling feelings for a woman—and it’s not her, and she’s lived her whole life for you. It’s got to be agony for her, every minute of every day.” As I say this, I finally start to feel a little bit sorry for Elizabeth.
I’m still very, very angry with her, but she’s such a pathetic, wretched soul, I have to pity her too.
“Damn it.” Comprehension dawns on his face. “She’s been using tons of breath freshener to cover the smell. I thought it was just because you made her feel like she smells bad, but she didn’t want me to know that she’d been puking. All right. You’re good at all that compassion crap. How do I fix this?”
I shake my head. “Not every problem has a solution, Joshua. Honestly, and I’m not just saying this to get my way, but the only thing you could do that would come close to helping her would be letting me go or killing me, which you won’t do because you’re a pig-fucking-selfish, useless asshole.” My voice rises with anger as I speak. These bursts of rage come out of nowhere these days.
Wearily, he waves away my insults with his hand. “Can we not waste time stating the obvious? I need to find a way to make her stop feeling whatever it is she’s feeling.”
Jesus. How can a genius be so stupid? “Don’t you get it? You can’t. Even if you killed me, it wouldn’t solve the underlying problem, which is that she’s a mentally damaged woman who’s obsessed with a man who can never love her. You can’t make her feelings go away. Feelings don’t work like that.”
He frowns, shaking his head, dismissing the notion that there’s something the mighty Joshua Smith can’t do. “I’ll go talk to her.” He pushes back his chair and walks away.
“Good luck with that,” I call after him, and there’s pure spite in my voice. The hell with him and her both. I reel my pity back in. They’re a sick, terrible pair; they deserve each other.
He reaches the door, then turns around and comes back. He quickly gathers up all the plastic silverware.
“Good call,” I say, looking at him with pure, unadulterated hate. I could have made that spoon into a shiv. And I would have.
He stands there, the plasticware clenched in his hand.
“Thank you for helping her,” he says to me. He sounds sincere. He’s got that look in his eyes, that tenderness that might even be real.
“I’m regretting it already.”
“No you’re not. I’ll be back in a few minutes. You can tell me what you’d like for dinner.”
I can’t hide the surprise on my face.
“You’d actually let me pick the menu from now on?”
“I didn’t say that. We can take turns.” He smiles at me. “Unless you pick really crappy food. Then it’ll be all me.” I smile back, then I catch myself.
No. Joshua’s not my boyfriend, and we’re not having a fun afternoon of light banter. I am sitting here chained to a fucking chair.
I make myself scowl and look away. He said he’d be right back, but he leaves me sitting there for a very long time, and my bladder starts sending me sharp signals of urgency. I’m pretty sure that I’ve been there at least an hour. What is he doing? There’s no way he’s spent that much time with Elizabeth. I start yelling, with increasing annoyance.
“Damn it, Joshua! I’ll pee on this chair if I have to!”
He comes storming in and unchains me, then hurries me down the hall to the bathroom. His demeanor has completely changed. Something big has happened. “Settle down,” he says impatiently. “I’m dealing with an emergency.”
After I pee, he rushes me toward the playroom. “I’m going to have to restrain you for a few hours,” he says as he hustles me through the door.
I’m curious what could have the normally unflappable Joshua Smith so rattled. His muscles are as taut as bowstrings, and his eyes have gone distant and stormy. “What’s the emergency?”
Tension radiates from his body and wrinkles his normally smooth forehead. Whatever it is, it’s got to be big.
“Someone embezzled a hundred million dollars from me, sent it to a Swiss bank account that I can’t access. It’s impossible, and yet they did it.” He bites out each word as if he’s spitting poison.
My jaw actually drops. Someone did that to Joshua? He’s a genius, he’s paranoid, he’s alert to threats all the time. How in the hell?
“Was it the same person who set off your alarms that day?” I ask him, hazarding a guess.
“I don’t know yet. What made you think that?” He looks at me narrow-eyed, as if suspecting I might somehow be behind it. I wish.
“Because those were both times when someone managed to get past your defenses. It just seems logical. I hope you don’t figure it out, you know. I hope they ruin you.” I smile serenely. Someone’s hurt him. I wish I could find that person and give them a hug.
His eyes spark with malice. “You’re a very smart girl, Toy. And I enjoy your company, but I’ve let it distract me when there were threats that needed to be addressed. I’ve been off my game. I’m back on it now, believe me. I will find out who did this to me, and I will make their punishment last for weeks.” Then his expression turns thoughtful. “I don’t think it’s Mark. I wish it were—that would make it so much easier.”
My blood turns to ice. “What did you say?”
He glances at me impatiently as he moves me toward a chain on the floor. “Mark, your homeless friend. Mark is the one who sent those emails to the police and the newspapers, telling them that you went on a date with me right before you disappeared. Mark didn’t cover up his email trail all that well, which is one of the reasons I don’t think he’s the person who stole my money, or even the person who set off my alarms. That person is way more sophisticated, so apparently, I have two enemies, not one.” A contemplative look crosses his face. “Not surprising, considering the kind of life I lead.”
No, no, no… “You’re wrong,” I say frantically. “Mark’s not that sophisticated. He’s just a washed-up drunk—he doesn’t even remember my name from one day to the next.”
Joshua looks at me in annoyance. “You’re a crap liar when you’re stressed out, Toy, which is too bad for you, because that’s the most important time to be good at it. And my private investigator traced the emails back to him. Mark used several different internet cafes. He used a fake name and paid in cash to try to hide his tracks, but my PI hacked into their security cameras and saw him at the terminals sending the emails. I just got the report back this morning. The thing is, Mark’s been in rehab for the past few days, and the money just vanished a few hours ago, so I don’t think there’s any way it could have been him.”
All the strength leaves my body. Mark noticed I’d disappeared and tried to help me. Mark finally went to rehab. “Did you kill him?” My voice quavers with unshed tears.
“Not yet.” His casual words stab me in the gut. “Put your foot in that ankle cuff.”
“Joshua, please!” There’s still hope. “I’ll do anything you want. I’ll…I’ll go back to being Toy. Please. Don’t hurt him.”
He shoves me closer to the ankle cuff. “I hated Toy, remember?”
“What do you want?” I scream, desperate.
He shakes his head. “He declared himself my enemy when he sent those emails. I am not capable of letting him live after that. He’s not prey, Toy. You don’t have to worry that I’d torture him. I’m going to make it quick and painless. I’ll kill him in his sleep, I promise.”
He grabs my leg, and I struggle and kick at him, but he overpowers me, pulling me down to the ground. I’m chained up and helpless, raging.
“Nooooo!” I wail, sorrow overwhelming me. “I will end you, Joshua! God, I wish I’d never met you. I wish I’d never gone to Heaven that night!”
He looks at me, uncomprehending. “You wish you’d never…gone to Heaven? Are you having some kind of breakdown?”
“Heaven! The nightclub where we met!”
He shakes his head. “I have never been to a nightclub called Heaven. The first time I met you was after you started working for me.”
“Do you ever get sick of lying?” I rage. “Why would you even bother lying about this? You think my memory is that bad? You were wearing a pinstriped suit with a lavender tie and drinking two-hundred-dollar shots of Macallan whiskey, and you tried to get me to leave with you.”
His eyes bore into mine. “I don’t own a lavender tie, but more to the point, I never drink hard liquor. Only wine. Have you ever seen me drink hard liquor? And I never pick up women at nightclubs. I already told you—before I met you, I used to hire escorts and bring them back here, blindfolded. Can you seriously imagine me trolling a nightclub for dates?”
And then it hits me. “Oh my God. It wasn’t you. Of course it wasn’t you. He was much too charming. You’re never charming.”
“Excuse me?” He actually sounds offended.
My eyes fly to his face as I examine him with horrified fascination. “He was seductive and charming. He was like Casanova, with all the smooth-talking bullshit. You never do that. You’re a ‘let the woman come to me’ kind of guy. You would consider it beneath you to try to charm a woman into bed with you. To you, it would be like begging. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. That’s why you never acknowledged me when I started working for you. You’d never met me before. But he looked exactly like you, Joshua. I mean, so much like you that physically, I wouldn’t be able to tell you apart. Who could it have been?”
The look on his face makes me gasp. It’s a mixture of shock and alarm.
“Charlemagne.”
His dead twin? The twin who was supposedly buried alive by their father? Is there something Joshua hasn’t told me?
He quickly undoes the key on my ankle cuff. Then he hauls me over to the intercom and slaps the button. “Elizabeth, get out of the house, now!” he bellows.
I hear something strange. “Joshua,” I say. “What’s that hissing noise? What’s that smell?”