Authors: Marilyn Campbell
* * *
Teri glanced from the just completed portrait to Selena and back. It was hardly one of her better efforts. Given the circumstances, however, it was a masterpiece. The dampness in the basement kept the paint from drying in the manner she was accustomed to and the lighting was atrocious.
Because Selena had allowed her to keep her watch, Teri was able to keep track of days and nights, and she made up a calendar so she would remain aware of how much time was passing. The watch and that calendar became her anchor to the real world.
Selena had proven to be a considerate keeper as long as Teri behaved like a grateful pet. Once she got over the initial shock of the circumstances she had been trapped in, and recovered from the monstrous revelations about Selena's past, Teri found that she possessed a fair amount of acting ability herself. She pretended to adjust a little more each day, even thanking Selena for her thoughtfulness from time to time. She forced herself to stand still and paint because that was when Selena was most rational.
Without overdoing it, Teri made subtle complaints about her environment, always in relation to her painting rather than her captivity. In spite of her desperation to be free, she cautiously spaced hints that she needed natural light to do her best work.
But as the third day dragged on, Teri was losing her patience. Selena had ignored every complaint and hint. She was happy, therefore Teri was happy. Suddenly Teri realized what her mistake had been. She was
too
obedient. Selena had no reason to alter their routine. Perhaps it was time to change tactics.
As she studied the canvas, Teri became aware of something she had unconsciously accomplished. She had finally managed to duplicate the haunted expression she had glimpsed in Selena's eyes. The smile that Teri had always thought of as innocent or serene appeared slightly different in this portrait also. Teri stepped back to judge the whole painting, as opposed to a part, and she saw what had been barely concealed in the past—
madness.
The smile of a lunatic, the eyes of the damned. Selena was on the wrong side of the cage bars, Teri thought, and came up with phase one of her rebellion.
Quickly, she mixed a shade of silver gray to match the color of the bars, then painted three vertical stripes down the canvas over Selena's face. The result was a true depiction of what Teri saw when she looked at Selena sitting on her chair outside of the cage, but it looked as though Selena was in a jail cell.
"Can I see it yet?" Selena asked.
"Just another minute. I'm adding one final detail." In very small numbers, she painted the date, 7/9, below her signature, blending it in with the background as much as possible. Holding the painting by its wooden stretcher frame, Teri turned it around for Selena to see.
"You ruined it!" Selena shouted, bolting off the chair. "Give it to me right now!" She tried to reach through the bars, but the space was too narrow for her arm.
"I can only paint what I see!" Teri shouted back. She propped the portrait on the bed and stepped aside so that Selena would have to come all the way inside the cage if she wanted to get her hands on it. "How can you expect me to be creative in this pit? It's damp and dark and all I'm looking at is bars and endless, barren white. I can't stand this lack of color around me! I need color! Light!
Air!"
Selena's fury tinted her cheeks hot pink. "Give me that painting.
Now!"
"No! If you want it, you'll have to open this door and get it yourself." Teri watched Selena fighting to control her anger. Her chest heaved and her wide-eyed glare darted around the room as if seeking a weapon. For a moment Teri feared that she had pushed too far too fast, but then Selena whirled around and charged up the stairs, her backless sandals clacking away like machine-gun fire. A few seconds later Teri was pitched into darkness.
* * *
"It doesn't look good, sir."
Benjamin Hart had been anticipating the interruption by his desk sergeant. The young man didn't know the meaning of the word "later". In the last eight hours, with his superior's authorization, of course, he had walked the paperwork through for the search warrant for the Gambini house, had enlisted a detective friend of his, John Morris, to enter the premises with him, and had the place dusted for fingerprints. His enthusiasm had Hart on the edge of his executive chair, waiting for each report. "All right. Let's have it."
Ross Parkins came forward like an Olympic runner hearing the starting gun. "I know something happened at that house, I just don't know what yet. No sign of forced entry. The house was neat as a pin, except for the master bedroom. Someone had been searching for something there. Drawers were left open or dumped on the floor; clothes were strewn all over the place. But it did
not
appear that a struggle had taken place.
"Now this is purely guesswork on my part, but I noticed one medium-sized suitcase in the closet—the kind that's usually part of a matched set—but it was the only one there. Then I looked through the drawers and noticed a few of them had been completely emptied, while others, like her underwear drawers were still full. Maybe Teri Gambini went somewhere in a big hurry and only had time to pack part of her wardrobe... or maybe someone else packed for her."
Hart frowned. "Suppositions don't hold up in court."
"No, but fingerprints do. And there were four sets picked up in that bedroom. Teri and Rico Gambini, Drew Marshall, and someone else whose prints weren't on record anywhere but in our forensics lab." He waited for the captain to digest that, then said, "They're a match to one picked up off the knife they took out of Marshall's chest. On top of that, we found two very long white, or platinum
blonde
, hairs on the carpet by the bed."
Captain Hart opened his mouth, but not even a surprised obscenity came out before Parkins continued.
"I already checked out the cab companies and bus drivers for that area. No one picked up any woman with luggage anytime recently, Teri Gambini's car was in the driveway. If she went somewhere, it looks like someone else drove her."
"The blonde?"
"As you said, Captain, that would be a supposition. But we're at least past the coincidence stage, and it's looking more and more like Detective Kidder was right about this having nothing to do with the Irish mob."
Hart recalled similar conversations he and Bill Kidder used to have. "Tell me something, Parkins. What does your nose tell you? Is Teri Gambini mixed up in all this as a victim or a perpetrator?"
Parkins shook his head. "I don't know yet, sir, but I can't wait to find out."
* * *
Teri dreamed she was running in wet, sucking sand. She had to hurry, but the faster she tried to go, the harder it was to free her feet from the sand.
Her legs grew heavier with each step until she was barely moving at all.
Her struggle took on a reality that pulled her into wakefulness. The sheet was tangled around her legs, constricting her movements, but it took her several seconds to figure that out in the dark. She was drenched in perspiration and her heart pounded erratically against her ribs. All the fear she had tried to hold back had surfaced in her dream.
Before she fell asleep, she had waited for what seemed like hours for Selena to return or at least turn the light back on, but neither had happened.
After the first night, Selena had brought down a small lamp with a dim bulb and plugged it in outside the cage. Teri assumed that she wasn't being allowed access to an electrical cord because of how Selena's mother had killed herself. She supposed that made sense, but it prevented her from having any control over the light, which was apparently the second reason it was placed out of reach.
This was the second time Teri had been left in total darkness, but it was no less frightening than the first. From the way her stomach and head felt, she guessed lunch and dinner had passed without food. The meals in Selena's hotel were unexceptional, but they were always served punctually, at the same times every day.
What if Selena never came back?
Teri had asked herself that question a thousand times since the light had gone out, yet she still had no answer. Nor did she have any idea how long it had been. She might have been asleep for ten minutes or ten hours. Without light, her anchor had been ripped away.
Gradually her body returned to its normal state and she was able to think past her panic again. Instead of convincing Selena to let her out of the cage, she had probably lost what trust she had gained in the last couple days. She couldn't help but wonder, if Selena did return, how much longer would it take to recover that trust once more.
With that in mind, she figured it was time to try picking the lock again. She had made an attempt the second night she was there, after Selena had gone to bed.
Since she could barely reach the lock at the top of the cage, she had used the small table to stand on, then had had to scrunch down because it raised her too high. She had had no trouble slipping her thin hand between the bars beyond her wrist, but no matter how she had stretched or twisted, she could not get the pin into the keyhole. Perhaps she had not been desperate enough.
Not hearing any footsteps overhead, she hoped Selena was either asleep or out of the house. Feeling her way, she found the safety pin she had hidden in her clothes and again moved the table to the cage door. With light, balancing on top of the narrow table had been awkward. In the dark, she felt like she was performing a dangerous circus act. This time she used her left hand to find the keyhole and, with the straightened pin in her right hand, she blindly searched until she pricked her finger. It took all of her strength to hold herself in her contorted position while she worked the pin into the hole.
She poked, prodded, and wiggled her makeshift pick, but nothing seemed to be happening. It looked so easy in the movies.
Suddenly she was bathed in light, her body jerked in surprise, and the pin fell out of her hand. Sheer terror gripped her as she pictured Selena finding her in the midst of an attempted breakout.
"Wait!" Teri cried out. "Please don't come down yet. I... I'm not decent." As she spoke she got off the table and put it back in place, but everything was not back to normal. The safety pin, bent out of its normal shape, was lying on the white floor, outside the cage. Selena would know immediately what Teri had been up to. "I'll just be a minute."
"All right," Selena answered testily. "But hurry up. I have your breakfast."
Teri didn't take the time to ponder what significance that pronouncement had. She was totally absorbed in trying to get the pin back. Lying on the floor, she squeezed her arm as far as it would go through the bars, but the pin was still a few inches further away. Desperately, she looked around her, until her gaze landed on a paintbrush.
"Teri! Your eggs are getting cold."
Teri grabbed the brush and laid back down on the floor. "Give me another minute." Trying to hurry without making the situation worse, she extended the brush through the bars until the bristles covered the pin. It took three strokes to bring her precious tool within reach, and by the time she had the pin securely hidden again, she was vibrating with panic. "Okay," she called out, aware that her breathless voice probably betrayed her. The look on Selena's face when she came downstairs confirmed what Teri feared. The girl suspected something.
"What were you doing?" Selena asked as her gaze scanned the basement and Teri's clothes and settled on her flushed face.
Teri instantly realized Selena knew she hadn't changed clothes and without water, she couldn't have been washing. "I was... I had to go."
Selena glanced beneath the bed where the potty chair was stowed.
"I mean, I felt like I did," Teri quickly amended. "I couldn't, though. It's probably my nerves. I don't like being left in the dark." With each sentence she could see Selena accepting her excuses, and she quit while she was ahead.
Selena placed the tray by the pass-through and, as she unlocked the door, she told Teri in a flat tone, "When you misbehave, you will be punished. Remember that." After she had pushed the tray through and relocked the door, she stood up and smiled, her whole demeanor abruptly turning cheerful.
"Juliette and I made a decision last night. I hadn't thought about how your being creative would make you somewhat... eccentric. I want you to be happy, and I know you have to be able to paint to feel your best. I'm afraid I hadn't thought about the lighting down here. I'll have to do something about that eventually. But in the meantime, if you promise not to cause trouble, I will take you outside one morning a week, starting today."
Teri felt her heart jump with anticipation. She was going outdoors. Out of the cage. Freedom could be only moments away... if she was fast enough... and sly enough. "Thank you, Selena," she said, bowing her head contritely. "I know after what I did yesterday, I don't deserve your thoughtfulness." Her act brought the desired response from Selena. The lunatic was pleased.
Between her excitement and not having eaten for some time, Teri finished her breakfast within minutes of Selena leaving her alone, then hurried through her morning routine. She didn't want to question why Selena had such a drastic change of mind. It was enough that she did.
Teri imagined all sorts of escape scenarios ahead as well as how Selena could prevent them. The worst thing she could think of was that since Selena treated her like a pet, she might put her on a leash. The best she came up with—and it couldn't quite be called a plan—was that once they were outside, Selena would be distracted by something long enough for Teri to get a running head start. Since she had never been very athletic, she realized if she went straight for the road, Selena would probably catch up to her with no problem. But if she took off for the trees, she might have a chance of getting away or at least hiding until dark. Spending time cowering in the woods sounded like paradise after the cage.