A familiar scream reached her ears. “Help. Help me!”
“Annie, where are you?” Josie felt hairs stand on her neck. She made her way back across the kitchen. “Annie, it’s me, Josie.” She felt the doorframe to turn into the hall.
Annie met her there.
“Help,” Annie called from deep in the dark.
Behind Annie’s cry came her laughter.
“Stupid.” That was Colin’s voice.
He started laughing. Annie yelled again and then broke into giggles.
A hand held out a tape recorder. Its click silenced the recording.
Quiet filled the hall, except for harsh breathing.
A jolt ran through Josie as she realized what was happening. Her eyes tried to adjust with her mind, attempting to make out the figure before her.
“How do you like my daughter, the upcoming movie starlet?”
“Mr. Allen.”
Chapter 22
Josie’s thoughts couldn’t focus. “What?” she asked, her mind answering before he did.
Her boss’s brilliant white teeth formed a smile and she heard his breathing.
Steady. Think
, she told herself, her gaze sweeping beyond him to find total darkness.
This couldn’t be happening.
She opened her mouth to utter words, but a slight shift came from the wall she was touching. Outside, the wind howled. Something ripped.
“Roof shingles,” Randall Allen said, drawing back Annie’s tape recorder. He released heavy breaths. “Are you frightened?”
Her knees started to buckle. Horrifying things were happening outside. And right here.
Her gaze brought him into focus.
Allen’s face shone, maybe with perspiration. The hint of a man’s heightened libido gripped his expression.
“I have waited such a long time, Josie.” His utterance seemed to be drawing him closer, but she watched his body. It didn’t move toward her.
“And now…now you are finally here, alone with me.”
His words competed with pressure inside Josie’s head. She tried to get calm, counting backwards like the hypnotist had taught. Then maybe she could think.
A crackling sounded. The numbers faded from her mind.
“How do you feel, Josie?” He waited. “Are you afraid? Terrified?”
Her vocal cords felt paralyzed.
“Does the fear creep down your spine? Reaching your thighs….” He was inching forward.
She smelled woody aftershave. Her legs tensed, preparing to explode backward.
A shadowed light from outside the kitchen flickered, giving her hope.
The light blinked and disappeared.
“There go the power lines.” His tone hinted that he was smiling. “There’s only the two of us now. Only us, Josie. And that horrible weather.” His words were moving toward her.
Her mind scrambled. “Your wife,” she blurted.
He stood in place.
Forcing her voice louder, she willed it not to crack again. “And little Annie.” She focused, trying to see past him. There was a chance either or both of the females were here. The dark might bring them in from the pool apron. Maybe even Otis Babineaux was out there.
Allen’s face pressed forward. “I worried about their safety.” His grin had reformed. “I made them leave. And I’ll join them, once I lock down everything here.”
His stretched neck brought his head so close Josie saw the circular whites of his eyes. “Your fears helped me convince LauraLee to go to a shelter. I told her you and Colin would be going there, too.”
Josie’s mind tried to determine what was happening. What this suggested seemed impossible.
Her neighbor stepped nearer. He was fingering an item that hung from his neck.
“I have been smelling your fear.” His voice sounded raspy as he raised the end of the object. Sylvie’s scarf.
Josie’s body felt numb yet her arms trembled.
He held out a frayed edge of silk. “Did you get the parts I sent you? The pieces promised we’d be united.” He stroked the fabric.
She forced out words, attempting to make them sound sensible. “It’s gotten worse out there.” She pointed toward the kitchen but his eyes didn’t follow. “You’d better go and see about your wife and child, Mr. Allen.”
“It’s time you called me Randall.” His head drew back, straight above his shoulders. “And don’t worry, my dear. I will go.”
Hope surged in Josie. He would leave.
“As soon as I calm all your fears. Just like I did for the others.”
The face of the young woman from the supermarket filled Josie’s mind. Mrs. Antonelli’s relative, who had shared Josie’s fright near the fruit stacks when thunder boomed. She’d died. Strangled.
Like the others.
Randall Allen held out the scarf. He was twisting, making it form a rope. “I’ve been watching you.” His voice seemed no longer his own but the low growl of some animal. “You didn’t know about the sedan, the company car I keep in town.”
Quiet! Josie ordered her heartbeats. She couldn’t think. Didn’t want to think.
Say something.
Run!
But he could reach out and grab her. And then—
“I wore this for you,” he said, slipping nearer. His hairless chest was exposed. He wore an open jacket, the beach jacket she had made him.
“And now,” he said, slinking forward, “I will remove my shirt. And you can take off yours.” He raised the scarf tip to his nostrils and made a grotesque smile.
Annie’s recorder fell. It thudded near Josie’s feet.
“Five, four, three, two,” she whispered.
His jacket slid off, revealing muscular arms and shoulders. Allen tossed the jacket against her.
Josie yelped and jumped back.
“Now,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “And now you.” He grabbed her wrists.
She twisted her arm before his grip tightened. Josie slipped loose and ran. Escaping from the hall, she came to more absolute blackness. Was the kitchen to the right? No, the left.
“You’re mine, Josie.” His eerie voice was closing in.
Josie scrambled. She darted into a hard item that crashed over and shattered. The pedestal holding a figure. She was in the breakfast room near the pool.
Her leg bumped into hard furniture. She felt the bulldog footstool. Josie could make out a solid piece of furniture. A sofa.
“And you want me.” Allen’s words expanded, filling the room. “I’ve known it for a long time.”
She dove behind the sofa. Drawing up her knees, she crunched into a ball and held her breath.
Where was he?
The wind whistled. Pounding in her scalp competed with that noise. Every heartbeat was too loud. How could she hear him?
His voice had come from the left. Josie unfolded herself and rose to her hands and knees. Behind the sofa, she crawled to the right.
Beneath her face, a shoe appeared.
She gazed at the body bending toward her and yelped.
Allen beamed. His hands did something. But they didn’t come down toward her.
She felt like a trapped animal, her gaze holding on his.
His hands rose into her view. They were pulling on gloves. “All of them wanted to attract me. Just like you.” His gloved hand yanked the scarf from his neck.
“No.” Josie knew her word sounded too small. “I didn’t.”
Aiming a depraved smile at her, he rolled the scarf.
She reached out. Grabbed his leg and pulled.
He tumbled back, cursing.
She darted from her place as he thudded to the floor.
“So you want to play and play rough,” he said, chuckling in a hoarse tone as she scrambled. “What fun.”
Josie knew where the kitchen door had to be. He had fallen between it and her. She was moving. To the rear of the room, she could get outside.
But there she would reach the pool. The wooden fence surrounding it was too tall to climb over before he would overtake her.
A wan light from whatever was occurring outside allowed her to discern furniture between herself and the hall. His shadow was not in that area. Josie hurled herself toward it.
As quickly as the pale glow shone at the windows, a void of color descended. The world seemed enclosed in blackness.
She tried to envision the house’s layout. Where had LauraLee taken her back here? Where was she now?
With fingers tracing the walls, Josie quieted her breaths. Was he coming behind? She whipped her head back but could make out only blackness. She skittered her hands over the wall and her fingers found a doorframe, an open door, another doorframe. She tuned in her mind to listen.
A low whistle extended from under a shut window. Gusts of wind rattled items.
Sounds of him breathing came from a few feet away.
She felt an open doorway. Swooping into the room, she slammed the door and twisted the lock.
Her gaze swept across, trying to make out the furnishings. What room had she entered?
His laugh, a macabre scornful sound she’d never heard before, echoed to her. “Perfect,” he said. “You’re in my bedroom.”
Josie’s breath caught. She pressed her body against the door, frantically trying to think.
A pale light fell in through sheer curtains. Against one wall stood tall mirrors over their dresser. Nearby was a shape she recognized. LauraLee’s open sewing machine. Fabric or clothing lay atop it. Sitting apart from each other were twin beds.
“And you like the game rough.” His voice sounded like it was inside the room.
She rushed from the door as though it were on fire.
“My favorite method,” he said, jiggling the doorknob.
She bustled away, eyes searching. The windows, LauraLee Allen had told her, were insulated. She’d hated that they were almost impossible to open.
I could try, Josie told herself, racing toward one.
Clicking came from the knob. He was using something to unlock the door.
She had no time to struggle with stuck windows.
Josie spied a hole blacker than the rest of the room. She dashed there, slammed the door shut, and locked it. The same woody scent she’d smelled in the hall oozed through the small area. This was their bathroom.
“You thought I was afraid,” her boss said. “But I wasn’t. I’m not scared of women.”
Hope rose in Josie’s heart. She listened for another person he must be talking to.
“You don’t scare me, Mamma,” he said.
Josie knew his parents had died but didn’t have time to discern where his mind might be. Her gaze scooped across dark shadows. No other door and no windows. But maybe something to use as a weapon.
Mottled glass formed an outer wall above a whirlpool tub. A shower stall stood in a corner. A recessed area held a toilet. Josie swept her hand above the wide counter, and small items clanked to the floor.
She felt towels. Oval lavatories. Fragrant soaps in dishes.
Her fingers ran up. Where was a medicine cabinet?
With a thickened mass rising in her throat, she fought to swallow it back. No moisture would form in her mouth.
She felt the flat edge of something mounted to the wall.
“Sweet little Josie.” Allen’s words came from right outside the door. He had gotten into the bedroom.
Josie’s own breathing sounded urgent. She yanked on the mirror and the medicine cabinet door opened. Her fingers slid across shelves, touching medicine bottles, toothbrushes.
He was knocking. “Let me in please,” his voice teased with a pleasant inflection.
“No, stop it!” She pressed her palms to her ears.
He shoved the door open.
Randall Allen stood in the doorway. Over his head he held something pointed.
An ice pick.
Heavy breaths made his bare chest rise and fall.
“Don’t.” Josie heard herself sound like someone else. “Think of Annie.”
His breaths seemed to slacken.
She tried holding her own in tow. Was he thinking of his family? She thought of hers. Couldn’t even one of them help her now? If only Andrew could be near.
“Josie, Josie.” Allen stood in the doorway, shaking his head. “Frightened little Josie…. Don’t worry. I’ll calm all your fears.”
Instead of coming inside, he withdrew.
Was he letting her go?
Her gaze skimmed the bathroom but nothing for a weapon was apparent. With cautious, measured footsteps, she moved to the doorway. Before reaching the entry, she again heard his breaths. He was out there, not far from the door.
She crept out, hearing his breaths quicken.
He stood perfectly still right beyond the bathroom doorway. “Come in,” he whispered. “Yes, Josie, that’s right, come into my bedroom.”
She froze at his suggestion.
“Here is the bed,” he said. “My beloved wife, LauraLee’s bed.”
His shoulders heaved as he spoke. “LauraLee had a slight fear of me when we met. An intelligent spark inside let her believe there might be something in me to be scared of. But you know my wife.” His tone changed to one of camaraderie. “That only seemed to give her a challenge.” He emitted a sneering laugh.
“But,” Josie said in a pitch much higher than normal, “you hired me as a seamstress.” What a ludicrous argument. But it was something. Say more. “Mr. Allen, I work for you. Colin is home right now waiting for me. Our mother is working, and if I don’t get him hooked up for dialysis today, he’ll die.”
Allen sniggered. “In the bed,” he ordered.
She shrank back.
Her neighbor seemed lost in thought. “At first in our bed, she knew fright,” he whispered. “What I did…forcing her…gave her assurance of it.”
His countenance changed. He shook his head, a twisted sneer on his face. “She started taking those damned courses. Crime prevention.”
He stopped, pondered, again spoke. “Once we moved here, LauraLee learned to handle a pistol.” His thinking went into him and for an instant Josie considered making a move.
He shot her a gaze that made her hold back.
“And then,” he said, “she lost all her fear. My wife became a new woman. ‘Fearless,’ she started calling herself after she learned all those ways to handle herself.” Menacing steps came toward Josie. “She made me do it.”
Josie forced words out. “Who?”
Stopping, Allen looked at her as though she must already know this. “Mamma.”
His clouding eyes made Josie want to keep him talking. “Do what, Mr. Allen?”
He appeared to be searching for answers inside his head. “Go seeking others.”