Blackout (17 page)

“How do you open those things?” I asked.

“You have to open it from this side. First,
you have to unlock it, and then you push it up. Don’t you have one
at your house?”

“No,” I said, “we have a regular door to the
basement. But we keep it locked. Unless we’re using it. Does it
have a key?”

“No, it has metal bars that go across it. You
turn a handle and the bars unlock. But it’s all spider webs in
there.”

“Yes, you said. I’d rather deal with spider
webs than be stuck here forever.”

“Me, too.” She didn’t move.

“At least you know what it’s shaped like,” I
hinted. I really hated spiders. They have way too many legs.

We both tried, both of us struggling to turn
the handle that would unlock those bars. First Cree took a turn,
and then I did.

I don’t know how long we worked at it, but
nothing happened. Not even when we both tried together. It was too
corroded.

Finally a sound from upstairs sent us
scurrying back to our firewood room.

It was feet. Walking right past the upstairs
door. I was glad we hadn’t pushed out that key. It would have been
lying there on the floor in plain sight.

On the other hand, if those feet weren’t
Evan’s, maybe his mother or someone, she just might be curious as
to how the key got out of its lock. She
might
even open the
door and investigate. I didn’t really think Evan’s parents would be
in on keeping us prisoners.

It sounded like a woman’s lighter tread, not
Evan’s heavy one. He walked with a swagger. But it wasn’t too
light. It could have been him in bedroom slippers. We kept quiet.
If we heard that key turn, we were ready to lie down and pretend to
sleep.

Firewood can be full of bugs. I hadn’t
thought of that before. Why did I worry about bugs?

We waited a long time. The feet didn’t go
back the way they had come. Someone was up and they stayed up.

Chapter
Fourteen

The Southbridge police department had only
two jail cells. There wasn’t a lot of crime in Southbridge. Evan
Steffers had spent the night in one. His parents hadn’t felt like
posting bail.

“He’s eighteen now,” his father said. “He’s
old enough to vote, old enough to join the army, old enough to
behave himself.”

“I think it takes a few more years,” said his
mother, who wasn’t really his mother, although they had adopted
him. She was more of a step-grandmother. His father was actually
his grandfather, and held the boy to high standards. Higher than
Evan was willing to meet.

Rick Falco reported early for his shift,
bringing a breakfast burrito for the prisoner.

“Still here, huh?” he said as he handed it
through the bars.

Evan didn’t answer, didn’t thank him. He only
glowered.

“If you weren’t still here, I’d have eaten it
myself,” Rick said. “But I kind of thought you would be.”

Evan continued to glower. But he was hungry,
so he ate the burrito.

Rick came back when he had finished it. “Now
then. Who’s this Dominican guy you sold the girl to?”

He watched carefully. He saw the merest
instant of surprise. So he knew Evan hadn’t sold anyone.

Then where was she? Had he killed her?

“You don’t remember?” he asked. He knew
Maddie hadn’t returned home all night. He had checked. He’d called
her cell phone, got only voicemail, and called her home phone. He
didn’t think they’d be sleeping if she hadn’t come home, and he was
right.

Evan sat back on his cot and closed his
eyes.

“So where is she?” Rick asked.

“Don’t know,” said Evan, with his eyes still
closed. “Isn’t she home?”

“No, she’s not. That’s why I’m asking. Quite
frankly, I don’t believe in your Dominican, unless you give me a
name.”

“Pedro,” said Evan. “Pedro Juan. No, wait a
minute. It’s Juan Pedro.”

“Last name.”

“I never knew his last name.”

“How’d you meet him?”

Evan shrugged. “I got connections.”

“You’re going to have to be a little more
specific.”

Evan’s eyes opened wide. “I don’t have to
tell you anything. I want my lawyer.”

“I doubt your lawyer’s up yet. Don’t you know
what time it is? No, I guess you don’t.” They had taken Evan’s
watch when they put him in the cell.

It was getting time for Rick to set off on
his rounds. He said goodbye to Evan and left.

He hated to leave. Evan did know where Maddie
was, but Rick didn’t want him to know he cared.

* * * *

The sun was up. We could see the back of the
garage but not the front. I kept wishing they had some sort of
lavatory down in the basement, or at least a sink. Obviously, it
was not a basement where anyone spent a lot of time.

“Did you ever pick a lock?” Cree asked.

I tried to remember. “If I knew how, we could
be out of here already.”

“I don’t know either,” she said. For good
measure, she added, “Damn!”

“Let’s concentrate on what we can do.” I
tried to think what that might be, and came up with nothing.

“This is stupid,” I finally decided. “We’re
walking around freely, we’re not tied up or anything, at least not
anymore, but we can’t get out of here. Why can’t we? Because we’re
stupid.”

“We’re not stupid. We just haven’t thought of
the right thing yet. That’s not stupidity, it’s chance.”

Okay, she was right about that. But how do
you get un-stupid when you need to?

I went over and studied the windows. They
were much too small and high up. And I couldn’t see that they
opened.

“Think,” I said.

“I’m thinking.”

“Think harder.”

She didn’t bother answering me that time.

* * * *

Rhoda Canfield made up her mind. She would
cancel all her appointments that day. At least the morning ones to
start with. If it turned out Maddie had spent the night with a
friend and forgot to tell her, she would be furious, but she’d deal
with that later. It wasn’t like Maddie not to tell them. And
obviously it wasn’t Rick she spent the night with. Did she have a
new boyfriend?

Rhoda hoped so. For Maddie’s sake. But it
wasn’t like her not to tell her parents.

At nine o’clock, she called her secretary.
“You’d better cancel all of them. The whole day,” she told the
woman. “Then at least some people have a little bit of notice. I
hate to do this.”

“But your daughter,” said the woman. “I hope
she’s all right.”

“So do I,” Rhoda said.

It wasn’t like her not to call. Or something.
She wasn’t the flighty type to get carried away by a new boyfriend.
That is, she never had been.

Now then, what was Rhoda going to do about
it? Maddie said to check with Evan Steffers. But how to find Evan
Steffers? All Rhoda knew was, his father wasn’t his real father, he
had a different last name, and Rhoda had no idea what that name
could be. She couldn’t even find where they lived unless she knew
the name. The school wouldn’t give it to her. They thought Evan was
God.

“Oh, why does life have to be so
complicated?” she asked the walls. Henry had already left for
work.

“Think,” Rhoda told herself. “Think.”

Maddie’s car was out there. How could she get
to school without her car? She couldn’t be so infatuated she would
drop out of school.

It must have been Evan. Could he possibly
have sold her, as he said? How would he do that? How
could
he do that?

* * * *

Cree had found a very small screwdriver. She
was poking at the lock with it. I thought you needed special tools
to pick a lock.

She didn’t know what she was doing. It was an
exercise in futility.

It didn’t occur to me we might never get out.
Alive, that is. We just would. The only question was when. Evan
would come bringing food, as he said he would.

The next moment I was sure he wouldn’t come.
And he didn’t. We would have to get ourselves out. It got lighter
and lighter and after a while the house sounds went away. Evan
would be at school. At Lakeside, where I used to go.

Cree tried different tools that she found on
the bench. None of them worked. Why wasn’t I helping her? I was
thinking.
Or trying to.

And getting really hungry. We hadn’t had
dinner last night, much less anything this morning. Last night I
had been so upset I didn’t think I could ever eat again but now I
wanted to. There are people all over the world who never get enough
to eat. Maybe they get used to it but probably not, because I’m
sure they eat when they can.

This was not what I was supposed to be
thinking about. I told Cree, “I don’t even know what a lock-picking
tool looks like. I don’t know how it’s supposed to work.”

“Something’s got to work,” she said. We were
getting bolder now, talking in normal tones instead of whispering,
and not caring how much noise we made at the door. I was sure
everybody’d left for work. And school. And there we were, still
locked in that stupid basement. Just one tiny lock between the
outside world and us.

* * * *

The guy at the desk said he’d never heard of
that before, a lawyer putting up bail for his client.

“It’s because I’m such a swell guy,” Evan
explained as he took possession of all that had been removed from
his person the day before. His wallet, his wristwatch, his
keys.

Now what? His car was still at the school, or
should be. Unless the police used it to go joyriding last night.
Why wouldn’t they? They’d had the keys. He supposed he could call a
taxi.

Which is what he did.

And found his car right where he left it.

* * * *

It opened! Cree’s efforts paid off and the
door actually opened.

I don’t know how long it took. I was too
excited to think of looking at my watch. It must have been
hours.

She opened it very slowly at first, and
carefully looked around to see if there were any humans nearby.

“Did we leave anything?” she asked.

“Only the ropes,” I said. “We’ll leave them
right where they are.”

Cautiously we crept out of the basement. I
had never been in that house before, if it was actually Evan’s. I
couldn’t be sure of that either. I only knew I wanted to get out of
it.

The kitchen was closest of any room. We were
very careful to be sure nobody was there. It did have an outside
door. We hustled over to it, fumbled with the lock, and got it
open.

“Freedom,” she breathed, and stepped out into
the sunshine.

Then I thought to look at my watch. It was
twenty after three. I said, “We missed a whole day at school.”

“That’s fine with me. Now where do we go from
here?”

“I don’t even know where we are.”

Her gold-flecked eyes turned to look at me.
“Is this his house? Weren’t you ever here?”

“No,” I admitted. “He always came to my
place.”

“Weird,” she said. “Okay, we’re in back of
the house. First we go around to the front.”

We started to.

And ran smack into Evan.

He caught me. I couldn’t believe it.

Yes, I could. This was my destiny.

No, it wasn’t. I would not be dominated by
Evan Steffers.

He had his hand on my mouth, so tightly I
couldn’t bite it. I couldn’t see where Cree went.

“How’d you get out?” he asked.

I went limp. He had to hold me up and it was
too hard, so he let me fall onto the grass.

He bent down, looked me straight in the eye,
and asked again, “How’d you get out?”

“The usual way,” I said. “We climbed the
stairs and opened the door.”

“Get up,” he said.

“What if I don’t?”

“Listen. I’ve been in jail almost twenty-four
hours and I am short-tempered.”

“You always were.” I raised my voice. “Cree,
if you’re anywhere, make a run for it. Call the police.”

She didn’t answer. She must already have made
a run for it.

Evan grabbed my arm and pulled me up. I had
to scramble to get my feet under me. He almost pulled my arm out of
its socket.

With his face in mine, he said, “I told you
to get up. Didn’t you hear me?”

I didn’t answer. He was going to hurt me
anyway and I didn’t feel like letting him know I was afraid.

Trying to keep my voice steady, I asked,
“What were you in jail for?”

He didn’t answer. He, too, wanted to show his
strength and he had more of it than I did. Physical strength, that
is. Did I have more mental strength? How could I get out of
this?

He marched me back toward the kitchen door.
We should have locked it. But then he changed course and marched me
around to the front where his car was.

There he stopped. “We need something to tie
you up with,” he said.

No.
I had just been tied up. I
couldn’t go through that again.

“I’ll behave,” I told him, without meaning to
say it.

He said angrily, “You didn’t behave the last
time you were tied up.” He walked me around to the back again and
tried to open the kitchen door.

It wouldn’t open. He twisted the knob back
and forth and hit the door with his knee. “How’d you get out?” he
demanded.

I didn’t answer. I thought it probably locked
itself but I didn’t really know.

He whirled me around to face him but still
kept hold of my arm. On his face I saw hate. Real, genuine hate.
And he used to say he loved me.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“You’re sorry. About what?”

“Everything.” I couldn’t say more. I thought
I was going to cry. Could love and hate really be that close? Or
was it a different kind of love?

“You used to love me,” I said.

That time he gave me only a passing glance.
Full of hate.

Okay, Madelyn,
think.
There was no
sense in trying for physical strength. If I could get away from
him, I could run. But he could run faster. He was, after all, a
football player and his legs were longer.