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Thirty-Nine

The Mine

Chloe backed away as the man stepped inside her cell.

His early morning visit had been degrading and she’d hoped his time with her was over.

When he returned, Olivia had told her it was five after six at night.

She’d watched with morbid curiosity when he led Olivia out of her cell and allowed her to take a long hot shower.

He’d insisted she wash her hair and had given her fresh clothes to wear before moving her into another cell that was set apart from the others.

As far as she knew, he hadn’t touched her—yet.

A shiver went down her spine knowing what this man was capable of.

Knowing that Olivia would not cry out, just like Isabella, frightened her even more.

After seeing the bruises on Isabella’s battered body, she’d come to the conclusion that keeping quiet during the abuse made it worse.

The moment he’d walked into her cell she’d started screaming.

He’d smiled at her and when he left an hour later, he’d told her she was perfect. Perfect for what?

Trembling all over when the door opened slowly, Chloe stood just looking at him.

He said nothing but tossed her a pile of clothes.

She pulled on a skirt and top that resembled something her grandma would wear and slipped on shoes a size too small.

Her skin crawled as he watched her dress, but she pushed it aside and just looked at him.

Her heart pounded when he twirled his fingers to make her turn around.

“Hands behind you.” He attached zip ties to her wrists and pulled them so tight they cut deep into her flesh.

Dizzy with fear as he spun her around to face the door, she stood to attention awaiting his next command. She gasped as the cold metal muzzle of a gun pressed into the back of her neck.

“Be a good girl.” His moist breath washed over her ear, smelling of onions. “It’s your turn to leave. I’m taking you to a friend’s place. You can take a nice hot shower and wait there. Once I’ve left, you can call your parents to come get you.”

Could it possibly be true? Was he letting her go at last?

She stumbled forward into the darkness of the tunnels, the only light coming from the bouncing flashlight he held in his hands.

As they went through the final gate and he locked it behind him, Chloe took in deep breaths of fresh air.

She stared into a sky filled with stars, but the moon was only a small sliver in the dark sky.

The entrance to the mineshaft had changed since the last time she was here.

A large camouflage tarpaulin held up by a frame concealed the white van parked beneath.

She didn’t have a chance to see a license plate as he slid open the side door and pushed her roughly inside.

The door slammed shut behind her. Nothing had changed and it was still as dirty as before.

Dust covered the bubbling tint on the windows and the takeout wrappers still littered the floor.

The van had sped off before she had the chance to sit down, and without the use of her hands each time he turned a corner, she rolled around the floor trying to get her balance.

Finally, as they hit a straightaway along a highway, she managed to crawl on her knees to the back of the van and place her back against the wall.

Chloe made out headlights along the highway but couldn’t recognize any landmarks.

She couldn’t make out any streetlights, and at this time of night Main would be busy.

Aunt Betty’s Café, the restaurants, and pizzeria would be open and brightly lit.

The van turned right, leaving the highway, and headed along a bumpy dirt road or perhaps a driveway.

She peered out of the window at a ranch house with light streaming from the front window.

It lit a large sign of a Realtor’s smiling face, with the name Barb Furlich and proclaiming the house was for sale.

Chloe swallowed hard. Who would she be meeting inside the house?

The man drove around back and climbed out, but he didn’t go to the back door.

He went to a set of sliding glass doors on the back porch.

After a few minutes, he slid open the doors and pushed back the drapes.

Very afraid and shivering although it wasn’t cold, Chloe waited for him to open the van.

She tried to avoid eye contact as she scrambled out.

The gun was there again, this time pressing hard into her ribs.

She staggered up the steps to the porch and went inside the house.

He urged her through the kitchen and to the stairs.

He said nothing as he guided her to the top and into the master bedroom with a bathroom attached.

The room was spotlessly clean, the huge bed had military-style tight corners but the floor was covered with plastic sheeting.

Terrified, she turned to look at him over one shoulder. “What do you want me to do?”

“Undress on the sheet. Fold up your clothes and put them inside my backpack.” He dropped his pack on the floor and pulled a knife. He smiled when she flinched as he sliced through the zip ties and then gave her a push. “Then wait for me in the bathroom.”

Unease slid over her as she reluctantly removed her clothes.

It was too late to run and, from the remote location of the house, no one would hear her if she screamed.

Past being embarrassed, she pushed her clothes into the backpack.

The plastic crackled underfoot as she walked to the bathroom.

It was modern, recently renovated, and spotlessly clean with the faint aroma of cleaning products.

A large mirror hung over the two-sink vanity.

The clawfoot bath was deep and the shower large enough for two.

She folded her arms across her chest and stared at the door.

If he meant what he’d said, she’d take a shower and then he’d leave.

Goosebumps ran over her cooling flesh when he appeared in the doorway naked.

Frightened, she backed away. Why had he allowed her to see his face?

Panic had her by the throat and she couldn’t think straight when he handed her a lipstick. She just stared at it in her hand not knowing what to do.

“I want you to write a message on the mirror.” He waved his gun at her. “Write: This one is mine.”

Hand trembling, she wrote the message and then handed him back the lipstick. What did the message mean? What was going to happen to her? Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as he ushered her into the shower.

“Take a hot shower and wash your hair.” He leaned against the counter watching her. “Shut the shower door.”

She complied with his wishes, closing the shower cubicle behind her.

With the steam billowing all around her she couldn’t see him through the glass.

She washed her hair with the fragrant shampoo and matching conditioner.

The soap was wrapped in paper and she removed it and sniffed at the lily of the valley fragrance.

Everything suddenly seemed surreal, as if living in a nightmare that changed every few seconds.

She finished and slid open the door to a wall of steam and she stepped out, seeking one of the big white fluffy towels piled on a shelf beside the shower, to dry herself.

The man came at her in a naked blur. Something thumped hard into her chest in a painful rush of heat.

Uncomprehending she stared at him. The silver blade of a knife flashed and she grasped her chest, horrified to see blood spurting from between her fingers.

Why was he doing this to her? She tried to cry out as the room spun around her.

Dizzy, she couldn’t catch her breath as the bathroom grew fuzzy at the corners of her vision.

Her knees folded under her and she crumpled to the cold floor.

Blood spread out around her, spoiling the pristine white tile.

Confused, she blinked to bring his smiling blood-spattered face into focus.

“Goodbye, Chloe. The pleasure was all mine.”