Blindsighted (28 page)

Jeffrey suppressed the groan that wanted to come. An hour was a lifetime. Instead, he said, "I'll be here."

Chapter Twenty-seven

LENA heard a door open somewhere. She lay there on the floor, waiting for him, because that's all she could do. When Jeffrey had told her Sibyl was dead, Lena's main focus had been on finding out who had killed Sibyl, on bringing him to justice. She had wanted nothing more than to find the bastard and send him to the chair. Those thoughts had so obsessed her from day one that she had not had time to stop and grieve. Not one day had been spent mourning the loss of her sister. Not one hour had gone by where she had stopped and taken the time to reflect on her loss.

Now, trapped in this house, nailed to the floor, Lena had no choice but to think about it. All of her time was devoted to memories of Sibyl. Even when she was drugged, a sponge held over her mouth, bitter-tasting water hitting the back of her throat until she was forced to swallow, Lena mourned Sibyl. There were days at school that were so real Lena could feel the grain of the pencil she held in her hand. Sitting with Sibyl in the back of classrooms, she could smell the ink from the ditto machine. There were car rides and vacations, senior pictures and field trips. She was reliving them all, Sibyl by her side, every one of them as if she was actually there in the moment.

The light came again as he entered the room. Her eyes were so dilated she could not see anything but shadows, but he still used the light to block her vision. The pain was so intense she was forced to close her eyes. Why he did this, she couldn't guess. Lena knew who her captor was. Even if she had not recognized his voice, the things he said could only come from the town's pharmacist.

Jeb sat at her feet, resting the light on the floor. The room was completely dark except for this small ray of light. Lena found it somewhat comforting to be able to see something after being in darkness for so long.

Jeb asked, "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Lena answered, not remembering if she had felt worse before. He was injecting her with something ever)' four hours or so. She guessed from the way her muscles relaxed shortly after that it was some kind of pain medication. The drug was potent enough to keep her from hurting, but not enough to knock her out. He only knocked her out at night, then with whatever he was putting in the water. He held a wet sponge over her mouth, forcing her to swallow the bitter-tasting water. She prayed to God it was not belladonna she was ingesting. Lena had seen Julia Matthews with her own eyes. She knew how lethal the drug was. What's more, Lena doubted Sara Linton would be around to save her. Not that Lena was sure she wanted to be saved. In the back of her mind, Lena was coming to the conclusion that the best thing that could happen to her was for her to die here.

"I've tried to stop that dripping," Jeb said, as if to apologize. "I don't know what the problem is."

Lena licked her lips, holding her tongue.

"Sara came by," he said. "You know, she really has no idea who I am."

Again, Lena was silent. There was a lonely quality to his voice that she did not want to respond to. It was as if he wanted comfort.

"Do you want to know what I did to your sister?" he asked.

"Yes," Lena answered before she could stop herself.

"She had a sore throat," he began, taking off his shirt. Out of the corner of her eye, Lena watched him as he continued to undress himself. His tone was casual, the same one he used when recommending an over-the-counter cough medicine or a particular brand of vitamin.

He said, "She didn't like to take any medication, even aspirin. She asked me if I knew of a good herbal cough remedy." He was completely naked now, and he moved closer to Lena. She tried to jerk away as he lay down beside her, but it was useless. Her hands and feet were securely nailed to the floor. The secondary restraints all but paralyzed her.

Jeb continued, "Sara told me she would be going to the diner at two. I knew Sibyl would be there. I used to watch her walk by every Monday on her way to eat lunch. She was very pretty, Lena. But not like you. She didn't have your spirit."

Lena jerked as his hand came out to stroke her stomach. His fingers played lightly on her skin, sending a tremor of fear through her body.

He rested his head on her shoulder, watching his hand as he spoke. "I knew Sara was going to be there, that Sara could save her, but of course that's not how it worked out, was it? Sara was late. She was late, and she let your sister die."

Lena's body shook uncontrollably. He had kept her drugged during the past assaults, making them somewhat bearable. If he raped her now, like this, she wouldn't survive it. Lena remembered Julia Matthews's last words. She had said that Jeb made love to her; that was what had killed Julia. Lena knew if he made it gentle, if he was soft with her rather than savage, if he kissed her and caressed her as a lover, she would never be able to go back from this point. No matter what he did to her, if she lived beyond tomorrow, if she survived this ordeal, part of her would already be dead.

Jeb leaned over, tracing his tongue along her lower abdomen, into her navel. He gave a pleased laugh. "You're so sweet, Lena," he whispered, tracing his tongue up to her nipple. He sucked her breast gently, using his palm to attend to her other breast. His body was pressed into hers, and she could feel the hardness of him against her leg.

Lena's mouth trembled as she asked, "Tell me about Sibyl."

He used his fingers to gently squeeze her nipple. In another setting, under different circumstances, it would be almost playful. There was a hushed lover's tone to his voice that sent a wave of repulsion screaming down her spine.

Jeb said, "I walked around the back of the buildings and hid in the toilet. I knew the tea would make her have to use the bathroom, so…" He ran his fingers down her stomach, stopping just above her pubic area. "I locked myself in the other stall. It happened very fast. I should have guessed she was a virgin." He gave the kind of satisfied sigh a dog would give after a large meal. "She was so warm and wet when I was inside of her."

Lena shuddered as his finger probed between her legs. He massaged her, his eyes locked onto hers to see her reaction. The direct stimulation caused her body to react in ways contrary to the terror she was feeling. He leaned over, kissing the side of her breasts. "God, you've got a beautiful body," he moaned, holding his finger up to her lips, pressing her mouth open. She tasted herself as he slid his finger deeper; in and out, in and out.

He said, "Julia was pretty, too, but not like you." He put his hand back between her legs, pressing his finger deep inside her. She felt herself being stretched as he slipped in another finger.

"I could give you something," he said. "Something to dilate you. I could get my whole fist inside of you."

A sob filled the room: Lena's. She had never heard such grief in her life. The sound itself was more frightening than what Jeb was doing to her. Her entire body moved up and down as he fucked her, the chains from her restraints raking against the floor, the back of her head rubbing against the hard wood.

He slipped his fingers out and lay beside her, his body pressed into her side. She could feel every part of him, tell how excited this was making him. There was a sexual odor in the room that made it difficult for her to breathe. He was doing something, she could not tell what.

He put his lips close to her ear, whispering, " 'Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing shall by any means hurt you.' "

Lena's teeth started to chatter. She felt a pinch at her thigh and knew he had given her another injection.

" 'For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies I shall gather thee.'"

"Please," Lena cried, "please don't do this."

"Julia, Sara could save. Not your sister," Jeb said. He sat up, crossing his legs again. He stroked himself as he spoke, his tone almost conversational. "I don't know if she'll be able to save you, Lena. Do you?"

Lena could not look away from him. Even as he picked his pants off the floor and pulled something from the back pocket, her eyes stayed on his. He held up a pair of pliers in her line of vision. They were large, about ten inches long, and the stainless steel gleamed in the light.

"I've got a late lunch," he said, "then I've got to run into town and take care of some paperwork. The bleeding should be stopped by then. I've mixed a blood-clotting compound with the Percodan. I also added a little something for the nausea. It's going to hurt a little. I won't lie to you."

Lena rolled her head side to side, not understanding. She felt the drugs kicking in. Her body felt like it was melting to the floor.

"Blood is a great lubricant. Did you know that?"

Lena held her breath, not knowing what was coming, but sensing the danger.

His penis brushed against her chest as he straddled her body. He steadied her head with a strong hand, forcing her mouth open by pressing his fingers into her jaw. Her vision blurred, then doubled as he reached the pliers into her mouth.

Chapter Twenty-eight

SARA pulled back on the throttle as she neared the dock. Jeb was already there, taking off his orange life vest, looking just as goofy as he had before. Like Sara, he was wearing a heavy sweater and a pair of jeans. Last night's storm had dropped the temperature considerably, and she could not guess why anyone would get out on the lake today unless they absolutely had to.

"Let me help you," he offered, reaching out toward her boat. He grabbed one of the lines and walked along the deck, pulling the boat toward the winch.

"Just tie it here," Sara said, stepping out of the boat. "I've got to go back over to my parents' house later."

"Nothing wrong, I hope?"

"No," Sara answered, tying the other line. She glanced at Jeb's rope, noting the girlie knot he had used looping it around the bollard. The boat would probably be loose inside of ten minutes, but Sara did not have the heart to give him a rope-tying lesson.

She reached into the boat, taking out two plastic grocery bags. "I had to borrow my sisters car to go to the store," she explained. "My car's still impounded."

"From the-" He stopped, looking somewhere over Sara's shoulder.

"Yeah," she answered, walking along the dock. "Did you get your gutter fixed?"

He was shaking his head as he caught up with her, taking the bags. "I don't know what the problem is."

"Have you thought about putting a sponge or something in the bottom of the spout?" she suggested. "Maybe that'll help dampen the noise."

"That's a great idea," he said. They had reached the house, and she opened the back door for him.

He gave her a concerned look as he placed the bags on the counter alongside his boat keys. "You really should lock your door, Sara."

"I was just gone for a few minutes."

"I know," Jeb said, setting the bags on the kitchen counter. "But, you never know. Especially with what's been going on lately. You know, with those girls."

Sara sighed. He had a point. She just could not reconcile what was happening in town with her own home. It was as if Sara was somehow protected by the old "lightning never strikes twice" rule. Of course, Jeb was right. She would need to be more careful.

She asked, "How's the boat doing?" as she walked toward the answering machine. The message light was not blinking, but a scroll through the caller ID showed that Jeffrey had called three times in the last hour. Whatever he wanted to say, Sara wasn't listening. She was actually thinking about quitting at the coroner's office. There had to be a better way to get Jeffrey out of her life. She needed to focus on the present instead of wishing for the past. Truth be told, the past was not as great as she had made it out to be.

"Sara?" Jeb asked, holding out a glass of wine.

"Oh." Sara took the glass, thinking it was a little early for her to be drinking alcohol.

Jeb held up his glass. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Sara returned, tilting the glass. She gagged at the taste. "Oh, God," she said, putting her hand to her mouth. The sharp taste sat on her tongue like a wet rag.

"What's wrong?"

"Ugh," Sara groaned, holding her head under the kitchen faucet. She washed her mouth out several times before turning back to Jeb. "It turned. The wine turned."

He waved the glass under his nose, frowning. "It smells like vinegar."

"Yes," she said, taking another swig of water.

"Gosh, I'm sorry. I guess I kept it a little too long."

The phone rang as she turned off the faucet. Sara gave an apologetic smile to Jeb as she crossed the room, checking the caller ID. It was Jeffrey again. She did not pick up the phone.

"This is Sara," her voice said from the answering machine. She was trying to remember which button to press when the beep came, then Jeffrey.

"Sara," Jeffrey said, "I'm getting patient records to go over from Grady so we-"

Sara pulled the power cord out of the back of the machine, cutting Jeffrey off in midsentence. She turned back to Jeb with what she hoped was an apologetic smile. "Sorry," she said.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. "Didn't you use to work at Grady?"

"In another lifetime," she answered, taking the phone off the hook. She listened for the dial tone, then rested the receiver on the table.

"Oh," Jeb said.

She smiled at the quizzical look he gave her, fighting the urge to spit out the taste in her mouth. She walked over to the counter and started unpacking the bags. "I got deli meats at the grocery store instead," she offered. "Roast beef, chicken, turkey, potato salad." She stopped at the look he was giving her. "What?"

He shook his head. "You're so pretty."

Sara felt herself blush at the compliment. "Thanks," she managed, taking out a loaf of bread. "Do you want mayonnaise?"

He gave her a nod, still smiling. His expression was almost worshipful. It was making her uncomfortable.

To interrupt the moment, she suggested, "Why don't you put on some music?"

Following her directions he turned toward the stereo. Sara finished making the sandwiches as he trailed his finger down her CD collection.

Jeb said, "We've got the same taste in music."

Sara suppressed a "Great" as she took plates out of the cabinet. She was halving the sandwiches when the music came on. It was an old Robert Palmer CD she had not heard in ages.

"Great sound system," Jeb said. "Is that surround sound?"

"Yeah," Sara answered. The speaker system was something Jeffrey had installed so that music could be heard throughout the house. There was even a speaker in the bathroom. They had taken baths at night sometimes, candles around the tub, something soft playing on the stereo.

"Sara?"

"Sorry," she said, realizing she had zoned out.

Sara put down the plates on the kitchen table, setting them across from each other. She waited for Jeb to come back, then sat down, her leg tucked underneath her. "I haven't heard this in a long time."

"It's pretty old," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "My sister used to listen to this all the time." He smiled. "
Sneakin' Sally Through the Alley
. That was her name, Sally."

Sara licked some mayonnaise off her finger, hoping the taste would mask the wine. "I didn't know you had a sister."

He sat up in his chair, taking his wallet out of his back pocket. "She died a while ago," he said, thumbing through the pictures in the front. He slid a photo from one of the plastic sleeves, holding it out to Sara. "Just one of those things."

Sara thought that was an odd thing to say about the death of his sister. Still, she took the picture, which showed a young girl in a cheerleading outfit. She held her pom-poms out from her sides. A smile was on her face. The girl looked just like Jeb. "She was very pretty," Sara said, handing him back the photograph. "How old was she?"

"She had just turned thirteen," he answered, looking at the picture for a few beats. He slipped it into its plastic sleeve, then tucked the wallet in his back pocket. "She was a surprise baby for my parents. I was fifteen when she was born. My father had just gotten his first church."

"He was a minister?" Sara asked, wondering how she could have dated Jeb before and not known this. She could have sworn he had once told her that his father was an electrician.

"He was a Baptist preacher," Jeb clarified. "He was a firm believer in the power of the Lord to heal what ails you. I'm glad he had his faith to get him through, but…" Jeb shrugged. "Some things you just can't let go of. Some things you can't forget."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Sara answered, knowing what he meant about not being able to let go. She looked down at her sandwich, thinking it was probably not appropriate to take a bite at this moment. Her stomach growled to spur her on, but she ignored it.

"It was a long time ago," Jeb finally answered. "I was just thinking about her today, with all that's been going on."

Sara did not know what to say. She was tired of death. She did not want to comfort him. This date had been made to take her mind off what had been happening lately, not remind her of it.

She stood from the table, offering, "Did you want something else to drink?" Sara walked over to the refrigerator as she talked. "I've got Cokes, some Kool-Aid, orange juice." She opened the door and the sucking sound reminded her of something. She just could not put her finger on it. Suddenly it hit her. Rubber stripping on the doors to the ER at Grady had made the exact same sucking noise when they opened. She had never made the connection before, but there it was.

Jeb said, "Coke's fine."

Sara reached into the fridge, shuffling around for the sodas. She stopped, her hand resting on the trademark red can. She felt a light-headedness, as if she had too much air in her lungs. She closed her eyes, trying to keep her sense of balance. Sara was back in the ER. The doors opened with that sucking sound. A young girl was wheeled in on a gurney. Stats were called out by the EMT, IVs were started, the girl was intubated. She was in shock, her pupils blown, her body warm to the touch. Her temperature was called out, one hundred three. Her blood pressure was through the roof. She was bleeding profusely from between her legs.

Sara ran the case, trying to stop the bleeding. The girl started to convulse, jerking out the IVs, kicking over the supply tray at her feet. Sara leaned over her, trying to stop the girl from doing any further damage. The seizing stopped abruptly, and Sara thought she might have died. Her pulse was strong. Her reflexes were weak but registering.

A pelvic examination revealed the girl had recently had an abortion, though not one that had been given by a qualified physician. Her uterus was a mess, the walls of her vagina scraped and shredded. Sara repaired what she could, but the damage was done. Whatever healing she would do was left up to the girl.

Sara went to her car to change her shirt before talking to the girl's parents. She found them in the waiting area and told them the prognosis. She used the right phrases, like "guarded optimism" and "critical, but stable." Only the girl did not make it through the next three hours. She had another seizure effectively frying her brain.

At that point in her career, the thirteen-year-old girl was the youngest patient Sara had ever lost. The other patients who had died under Sara's care had been older, or sicker, and it was sad to lose them, but their deaths had not been so unexpected. Sara was shocked by the tragedy as she made her way toward the waiting area. The girl's parents seemed just as shocked. They had no idea their daughter had been pregnant. To their knowledge, she had never had a boyfriend. They couldn't understand how their daughter could be pregnant, let alone dead.

"My baby," the lather whispered. He repeated the phrase over and over, his voice quiet with grief. "She was my baby."

"You must be wrong," the mother said. Rummaging around in her purse, she pulled out a wallet. Before Sara could stop her, a photograph was found-a school picture of the young girl in a cheerleading uniform Sara did not want to look at the picture, but there was no consoling the woman until she did. Sara glanced down quickly, then looked a second, more careful time. The photograph showed a young girl in a cheerleading outfit. She held her pom-poms out from her sides. A smile was on her face. The expression was a sharp contrast to the one on the lifeless girl lying on the gurney, waiting to be moved to the morgue.

The father had reached out, taking Sara's hands. He bent his head down and mumbled a prayer that seemed to last a long time, asking for forgiveness, restating his belief in Cod. Sara was by no means a religious person, but there was something about his prayer that moved her. To be able to find such comfort in the face of such a horrible loss was amazing to her.

After the prayer, Sara had gone to her car to collect her thoughts, to maybe take a drive around the block and work her mind around this tragic, unnecessary death. That was when she had found the damage done to her car. That was when she had gone back into the bathroom. That was when Jack Allen Wright had raped her.

The picture Jeb had just shown her was the same picture she had seen twelve years ago in the waiting room.

"Sara?"

The song changed on the stereo. Sara felt her stomach drop as the words "Hey, hey, Julia" came from the speakers.

"Something wrong?" Jeb asked, then quoted the words from the song. " 'You're acting so peculiar.' "

Sara stood, holding up a can as she closed the refrigerator. "This is the last Coke," she said, edging toward the garage door. "I've got some outside."

"That's okay." He shrugged. "I'm fine with just water." He had put his sandwich down and was staring at her.

Sara popped the top on the Coke. Her hands were shaking slightly, but she didn't think Jeb noticed. She brought the can to her mouth, sipping enough to let some of the Coke spill onto her sweater.

"Oh," she said, trying to act surprised. "Let me go change. I'll be right back."

Sara returned the smile he gave her, her lips trembling as she did so. She forced herself to move, walking down the hall slowly so as not to raise the alarm. Inside her room, she snatched up the phone, glancing out the bank of windows, surprised to see the bright sunlight pouring in. It was so incongruous with the terror she felt. Sara dialed Jeffrey's number, but there were no corresponding beeps when she pressed the buttons. She stared at the phone, willing it to work.

"You took it off the hook," Jeb said. "Remember?"

Sara jumped up from her bed. "I was just calling my dad. He's coming by in a few minutes."

Jeb stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. "I thought you said you were going by their house later."

"That's right," Sara answered, backing toward the other side of the room. This put the bed between them, but Sara was trapped, her back to the window. "He's coming to get me."

"You think so?" Jeb asked. He was smiling the same way he always did, a lopsided half grin that you would find on a child. There was something so casual about him, something so nonthreatening, that Sara wondered for half a second if she had drawn the wrong conclusion. A glance clown at his hand snapped her out of it. He was holding a long boning knife at his side.