Текст книги "Wrenched"
Автор книги: Emma James
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 11 страниц)
This British man before me is telling me I’m now safe. A man is telling me he won’t let anybody hurt me again. He’s different. I can feel it in my gut.
A calmness is radiating off Boxer, and when Miss Catherine opened her door last night to me, I felt a strong sense of goodness flowing from her. I had felt such relief that a man hadn’t answered the door, and in his stead was this little, old, wrinkled, dark-skinned lady with sympathetic eyes and a kind voice.
The one thing Master William and Mistress taught me without any lessons, other than life lessons, was how to read a person’s body language and sense a person’s emotions.
When I woke up, my mind sent me mixed signals because I wanted to flee when I noticed a man sleeping in Miss Catherine’s chair, it brought back bad memories of Master William. It was a natural reaction. My body was moving before I could tell it to calm down and, in my clumsiness, I shattered the vase.
He calls me ‘love’. I don’t understand why he uses that word, but I won’t question him.
I know what being drugged feels like, and I’m not okay with what happened. I don’t care for their reasons. I am angry at myself for letting that happen. This man in front of me tells me it will never happen again. It better not. I won’t be treated that way ever again. I’ve lost one lifetime to a man who didn’t care about my humanity, and I don’t think I would survive going through it again.
I couldn’t be that unlucky, could I?
I know the front door is so close I could open it and run, but this man, Boxer, would catch me before I even made it down the porch steps.
He’s strong.
I have been cataloguing the first man I had ever met, other than Master William, while he talks to me, trying to pacify my urge to bolt. He wears a short-sleeved t-shirt pulled tight across his chest. I can see the shape of his muscles outlined by the fabric. He’s an attractive older man with kind dark brown eyes. He looks a little younger than my master was, and he has short brown hair. I can see he has tattoos on the skin exposed to me.
He interrupts my thoughts. He’s a clever man. “Don’t think of running, Whisper. You need an identity and money to do that. There’s a whole big world out there you have no experience living in. The police won’t be getting involved until I have assessed William’s home. Give me and Miss Catherine today for starters, and maybe tomorrow. I know there are recordings of your life and, no doubt, William’s death, so I can see for myself what happened. Those recordings will be your saving grace, the proof of the past you’ve led. You need to rest and let your body recover for a couple days. I meant what I said; you’re free to do what you want now, but the sensible thing would be to let me do my thing, and then we can talk about your future and help you move on, if that’s what you decide.”
I can’t help shuffling nervously from side to side because I have a choice to either stay or leave, and I want so badly to have friends who care and can be trusted to help me.
But is it possible?
My mind is at war with myself because it wants me to run, but it doesn’t know how we will survive. I’ve never had choices before.
“What is it you want to say?” He’s watching me with those kind eyes and uses a calming voice.
I want to speak up, beat my chest, and tell him I’m now in control of my life, but I know that’s not true.
I have to let Boxer take charge for now.
One day, I will be in control, and nobody will change that.
I want to reassure her. I soften my voice and hope she believes what I’m telling her. “You have my word you are not a prisoner anymore, but you need friends, people you can rely on. You sound like you’ve lived a pretty shitty existence without friends, or a reason to trust in another human being. This is all going to be new for you.”
She has no reason to trust me, especially since I’m a man. I have to keep reminding myself I’m the only other man she has met in her entire life and I’m asking her to believe my words when she has no good reason to.
Trust is earned with respect, and she hasn’t known me long enough to respect me.
“We are now your friends. Friends don’t hurt each other, not deliberately anyway. I know we will need to earn your trust, but if you can stay here today, rest, and let Miss Catherine look after you that would be great. You need to recuperate anyway. I know this will all be foreign to you, but I need some time. I will deal with William and the house. Can you do that for us?”
I need her to stay here for a couple days, and then we can hopefully convince her we are worth her respect. It’s not a lot of time to win her over.
I can stay here today, and maybe tomorrow, and see what happens. Boxer knows the area. I do not. I’m a prisoner to my inexperience. I’m twenty-one and feel like a child. I’m very lost to a world I know nothing about living in by myself. I really have no choice but to stay here. I can’t support myself, so I must do as I am told. I will not look at this as anything other than a means to an end for a new independent life for myself. A life filled with my own decisions.
I do feel safe around this man. Boxer doesn’t make me feel like Master William did. I’m not frightened of him, and he trusts that I told Miss Catherine the truth.
It’s hard to think; there’s too much going on in my head. I need these people for the moment. I want support. I can’t do this by myself. That much I know. There’s a dead body to answer for. I do not want to be judged for my master’s death.
I don’t want to be discovered.
I don’t want strange people looking at the recordings.
“There’s video footage I left back at the house that I don’t want people to see. Master William said nobody knew about me.” I can feel the panic starting to rise inside me, the sheer horror of anybody seeing those tapes of my existence and judging me, questioning me. “I don’t want to be discovered. I want to stay a secret.” My voice is stronger, trying to convey how important this is to me. I want to be heard by him.
“You have my word if I discover everything you have told Miss Catherine to be true, then I’m willing to think about keeping you a secret from the world and we can talk about the next step. “Fair deal?”
He’s giving me the right to answer for myself, but I really have no other choice. It’s the only thing I can do.
I’ve never left William’s home in my entire life, until now. I have no actual life experience except what I’ve seen in the movies or on the computer. I have no money, no way of supporting myself, no relatives that I know of, no friends—unless I lower my guard and let these two people in. I have no means of transportation other than my legs, and I’m so sore and mentally abused. I really don’t want to accept help, but I have to. It’s a frightening thing, spelling out to myself how alone I am, unable to feed or clothe myself or put a roof over my head without people asking questions I have no answers to. I had everything given to me at Master William’s home, but it came at a great price.
Essentially, I’m an alien on my own planet. I’ve landed at Miss Catherine’s house, and I can only rely on these people until I can do it myself.
They seem genuine and like they really want to help me, so I have to resign myself to the facts. If I run and Boxer doesn’t help me, then I will be known to the world because the police will find the recordings and proof of my existence. Where would I hide? Somebody has to answer for what happened, and I don’t want to be sat in front of people. I left all the footage for anybody to watch except the hard drive I took from the library, put inside my pillowcase, and brought with me. I will be hunted down because they will know I lived with him. I left a crime scene; the crime being committed against me. Master William drummed enough into my head to scare me out of ever running.
I need to let Boxer go, and hope he decides to keep me a secret. I have to give him time.
I nod my head.
He looks relieved. “I’m going to leave the room so you can get dressed.” He slowly stands up, keeps his distance from me, and walks up the stairs to find Miss Catherine.
Boxer has shown me nothing but kindness and respect. Something I’m trying to understand. He doesn’t know me. I could have killed my master.
I stop thinking and start getting dressed as best as I can. My jeans are the only difficulty, but I manage and grit my teeth through the pain. I don’t want to be caught naked by Boxer.
My hair is no longer braided and, for the first time, I notice how long it is. Somebody took it out of the wet braid and it is now a shaggy mess. I’m used to being touched, but this seems caring rather than sinister. I suddenly have this determined feeling to cut it. The last time I had it cut I was still a little girl. I also don’t want these clothes on because Master William bought them for me.
I’m dressed when Miss Catherine and Boxer come back downstairs, and I have the urge to do something. I do not know how to be around people, so I busy myself trying to pick up the pieces of the smashed vase, but find my hands are pretty useless.
Boxer comes over, crouches down beside me, and starts picking up the pieces. I stand up and face Miss Catherine. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to break the vase. I...” I actually don’t know what to say. I broke something that wasn’t mine. I eye the door. It seems the only way I can escape what has happened. I don’t know how to fix the vase, and I don’t know how angry Miss Catherine will be with me.
A wave of doubt assaults my mind. I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know these people. I...
Boxer stands up next to me, holding the bigger pieces of the vase. “Whisper, don’t overthink it. We’re not like the man who held you prisoner. That may or may not have been Miss Catherine’s favourite vase, but it was an accident. You will not be punished for it. That’s not how it happens in her home, nor mine. She may be upset that the vase is broken, but she will move on.”
“’Chile, it was an antique, but a human is more important than material items.” She comes over and pats my arm. “Boxer telIs me you’ve agreed to be stayin’ on a couple days. It would be my pleasure to have your company. Now, because you be trustin’ that I be doin’ right by you, I want to be extendin’ the same to you.”
She puts her hand into the pocket of her neat floral frock and pulls out a brass key.
“This be the only key I possess to the front door. If you like, it is now yours to hold onto until you decide to be leavin’. That way, you know you are free to be goin’ on your way whenever you be wantin’ to.” She looks very pleased to be showing me this sign of good faith.
“Boxer, if you don’t mind takin’ dem pieces to the trash, and I’ll be fixin’ us all somethin’ to eat.” She puts a careful arm around my shoulders. “Come, honeychile, you can repay me by learnin’ how to make a hearty Cajun breakfast bake.” She looks me up and down. “I got me some work ahead, gettin’ some meat on dem bones of yours.”
I look at Boxer, who winks at me, then I do the only thing I know how to do, and that’s take orders. My feet are moving before my brain tells me I should be saying no. But I must repay Miss Catherine.
Boxer’s words follow me into the kitchen. “Whisper, this is what friends do. They make up for things by helping each other. Your life now comes with a full set of rights. You will be what Miss Catherine needs.” I turn and give Boxer a worried look. I see the recognition in his eyes. “I meant somebody to fuss over. Miss Catherine has no family. She’s kind, and she’s loyal to those who earn her respect. You already have her respect. You are strong, and she is too. You have a lot in common.” I give Boxer a confused look, because how could we have anything in common? While Miss Catherine busies herself getting things out of her icebox and pantry, Boxer leans in close to my ear and quietly says, “Love, she was once a slave too.”
The shock on my face has Boxer laying a gentle hand on my arm to steady me. “I only told you so you know. She knows what it’s like to be beaten as a child and survive to rise above it. She understands what having your rights taken away from you feels like. You may have different stories, but she gets it. You can rise above it too, and take back your life. We will both be here to help you in any way we can. Today is a new day.”
Something inside me swells, and I feel like I want to cry for Miss Catherine. I swallow it down because I simply don’t cry. I look away from Boxer and whisper, “Miss Catherine, I’m not sure what I can do with my hands bandaged up. I don’t want to break anything else.”
“You just stand and watch me, and that will be good enough, child.” Miss Catherine is very gentle with me, and again it makes me want to cry, because I haven’t been spoken to kindly, ever. It’s a new emotion for me to accept and be comfortable with.
Master William always watched me make his meals, I think for fear I would try to poison him. He would eat an evening meal out a lot, and that’s when I would be chained to the pole. I would miss that meal, or if he was feeling particularly generous, he would throw in some fruit.
I think he regretted killing my mistress so early because it meant he had to watch me more himself. He had less freedom because of me. Growing older meant I was not as naive, but fear always kept me under control. Fear is a powerful weapon when you know no different.
“Ladies, while you are doing that, I will just go make a couple calls.”
I look worriedly at Boxer, afraid of what those calls will mean for me.
“Just some business, love, that I need to attend to.” I’m still not sure of what Boxer means, but I decide to put a foot forward and place a little faith in him. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” he states, and I hear the front door shut quietly as he leaves.
My hands hurt, but I didn’t want to remind him of the painkillers. I turn my attention back to Miss Catherine, blocking the pain as best I can. I have cooked a lot of meals, but very simple foods. I listen while she explains what she’s making, and I learn a new dish.
As I watch her breaking eggs and adding ingredients, I wonder what my place is going to be here for the next couple days, what chores I will need to do to repay Miss Catherine because I will gladly pitch in.
***
Miss Catherine brings the breakfast bake straight from her oven over to the table, where Boxer sniffs the air appreciatively and thanks Miss Catherine before he has even tried a mouthful. He pulls a chair out for Miss Catherine then me, and waits for us to be seated. I whisper shyly, “Thank you, Boxer.” My face feels inflamed from being treated this way. Miss Catherine takes it in her stride.
She gently squeezes the arm I have resting on the table. “Honeychile, that’s the way gentlemen should behave around a lady. You don’t see it happen that much these days, so when a man be doin’ that for you, you be lettin’ him.”
The delicious smell from the breakfast bake fills my nose when Miss Catherine takes her first slice out of the pan and places it on Boxer’s plate. My stomach actually does a little somersault of appreciation. I haven’t had a hot breakfast, ever.
I watch both of them exchange subtle looks across her small round table as they make light conversation, all for my benefit, to keep me at ease. While they eat and talk amongst themselves, I eat in silence, because I don’t know what to talk about. I didn’t talk to Master William while we ate. I only spoke when spoken to, so I’d get lost inside my head with my own thoughts.
I mainly ate fruits and vegetables as part of my daily diet with Master William. It was all from the garden in the backyard. I secretly really enjoyed watching everything grow. It gave me a little peace and satisfaction knowing I could help something meet its full potential. I could care for something and give it life.
Master William always bought meat, and we made do with the garden and fruit trees. We ate mainly chicken or pulled pork, and a little red meat when he was there for dinner or when I baked fresh bread for sandwiches. He wanted me thin and healthy. Doctors were never required. I never even caught a virus because I was so isolated.
The utensils and cutlery were always locked in the kitchen drawers when not in use. Anything sharp, or what could be used as a weapon, was never left unattended or unlocked without his supervision. As I got older, I wondered if it was to save Master William’s own skin, or so I wouldn’t do anything to myself.
I eat as much as I can of the Cajun breakfast bake while my bandaged hands are being a nuisance, but I manage to use a fork to break small pieces off. The food is rich, and my stomach is starting to rebel a little. I’m not used to all the eggs, greasy sausages, onions, or cheese. It’s delicious, but I can’t eat a lot in one sitting.
I had a lot of things drummed into me from an early age about keeping myself presentable. My teeth would be brushed three times a day, my hair always neat and tidy, and my clothes immaculate. Everything was orderly and precise.
Now, I don’t know what I’m going to do after breakfast. I don’t have to be orderly and precise, but at the same time, I have this urge to keep up appearances, but I am fully aware my current state is far from what would be deemed presentable.
My stomach is starting to cramp up and I need the bathroom.
“What is it, child?”
I feel too embarrassed to explain. I know my face is getting hotter. I can feel Boxer watching me. “Whisper, I’m gonna step out and organize a few things you might need. Miss Catherine will look after you. Don’t feel shy about asking her anything. Remember what I told you earlier?”
That has me snapping my head up. Miss Catherine has been through her own troubles. I can do this. Boxer gives me another encouraging wink and excuses himself from the table. He thanks Miss Catherine, and even me, for the delicious breakfast and company, then lets himself out.
“Miss Catherine...” It’s as though she reads my mind.
“Child, up the stairs and to your right will be what you be lookin’ for. I will clean up. Off you go.” My stomach is really cramping, so I thank her and go in search of the bathroom.
I made some calls outside while Miss Catherine attended to Whisper and showed her around her home. The poor girl looked uncomfortable and I had to get out of there. I knew enough to know my presence was not required.
I called in a favor from a doctor friend of mine and organized some clean clothes for Whisper. I wanted her checked out, but that was something I would play by ear. I would let Miss Catherine handle it because Whisper was liable to accept it coming from her more than me. I was the gender that had let her down badly.
Before I could head over to William’s place, I had to make plans and be intelligent about what I was getting myself involved in. This was not a paid job; this was personal. I had made it my business because Miss Catherine needed my help, and I wasn’t about to let either of them down.
Next, I’d need to question Whisper myself. I knew how to interrogate a person.
I spent the morning carefully coaxing more information out of her without the use of a drug. That would have been the easier way for me to get straight answers, but I promised her she wouldn’t be drugged again. It was important to keep that promise.
I know I was asking an awful lot of her to tell me, a man, what had happened to her, but it was either me or the police, and they wouldn’t have been as kind as I was. I explained all this to her. I had to hear it all from her lips myself. I could do nothing until she told me as much as she could remember.
I gave her those two choices, and she chose me.
She was naturally guarded at first, her eyes returning to Miss Catherine when the questions become uncomfortable, but she answered everything I asked of her. It had been ingrained into her personality to answer when spoken to, and I used this to my advantage.
I tried to mask my anger, but it still slipped across my face. It was hard to put into words how a few hours of questioning did not even add up to the lifetime of abuse she had been dealt. The emotions and pain she would have gone through over those years would have been immense. I was hearing a very two dimensional version, but a three dimensional movie was playing in her head as she talked to me. That was the hardest part about questioning a victim. I was making her relive a lot of what she didn’t want to remember. She radiated calm in the storm I could see flickering behind her eyes. She knew how to put on an appearance, but I could see what was really happening inside her head. But I had to know, in order to deal with her current situation.
I can always spot a liar, and she’s not one. I wish she was making up a lot of what happened to her, but you can’t fake her behavior. I know the questions to ask to get a person to open up to me. I know what body language to look for, and I can smell a story that stinks. The only thing that stunk was William, who is dead at the bottom of his staircase.
William Dupré’s plantation home was a dressed-up cage of abuse no little girl should have lived in. She was stolen from her parents when she was around two years old. The timing was a little sketchy and something I was going to try to look into for her, if only to bring her some closure. The chances of finding her birth parents are low, but I promised myself I would try to find something that might lead me to them.
Because William was so organized and structured with her days, she had knowledge she didn’t even know she possessed. I got as much of William Dupré’s routine from her as I could. She knew he was due for his three week cleaning service to arrive in four days’ time. I will make my final decision once I get to the house, but if the recordings are there, William’s death has been captured, and everything else I heard from Whisper’s lips is validated, then William would be staying where he was until they came, rotting away. I would have four days to remove all evidence of Whisper from the house.
I’ll head over around nightfall with the men I have organized to help me out, and we will be prepared to pull a cover up job.
There was something more sinister going on here that was eating at me, and I knew I had to tread carefully. I needed to get in with my small team and get out without raising any suspicions.
But for now, I will spend the day in and around town as usual, just going about my business, letting the town see me, in case the shit hits the fan in the future.
I understand the importance of a healthy alibi; you never know when you are going to need one, so always plan ahead. This town is small, only around four hundred people, and they remember things. They remember details. They will notice something out of the ordinary if unknown cars start rolling in, looking all Men in Black badass.
I can’t afford to be brought into this mess as an accessory. I know how to keep my hands clean, but I have to be smart about it.
What was William into? There’s more to his story than keeping this girl as a house slave, a pet.
Where did she come from?
Who is missing her?
Those are questions I have no answers to, and I don’t like the black holes they’ve left behind.
The man in me is feeling protective of her already, and wants to save her from further mental trauma.
Something smells wrong about all this. It stinks badly.
***
It took me one night to make my decision, and two days to have the house cleared from top to bottom of all evidence of Whisper’s existence. What my small team and I had discovered was a lifetime of mental and physical abuse.
I want to personally kill that fucker all over again...but slowly.
My mind was made up. It wasn’t warranted to put her through a media onslaught. She needed a new life as quick as possible, and I could do that for her. There would have been an investigation and too many difficult questions for Whisper to have to endure.
She’d been put through enough.
We entered from the back entrance of the home, where we knew Whisper had made her escape, leaving the door unlocked. This worked well for us. We wore head-to-toe black bodysuits, so we left nothing behind of our interference.
Whisper is now a ghost in this home.
We found the camera footage and watched his stupid death played out before our eyes, while she hung like a piece of meat waiting for him.
The. Sick. Motherfucker.
We watched the courageous, determined girl get herself out of her binds while we sat cheering her on, and we shared the moments where she quietly lost it. Her eyes glazed over as her fear started to take hold, but she still took those steps to leave the house and walk away from it.
We removed all her things from her room. She didn’t have much in it. The things she had the most of were clothes. They were real nice outfits, and contained dozens of replicas of the long white dress she was forced to wear.
I doubted she would keep the clothes, but I boxed them up anyway. I didn’t include the long white dresses; we would dispose of them. I added the few personal items of hers she had been granted, but I thought she could sort through it all, and I could dispose of what she didn’t want to keep. If it were me, I would have chucked the lot and burned it, but I wasn’t going to take those decisions away from her.
Whisper had none of the usual things you would find in a female’s room. This fucker had decorated her room with a set of handcuffs attached to one corner of her brass bed to keep her locked down.
Every part of that big house was masculine and well organized. Even her bedroom was masculine, down to the bedding and wallpaper. It was a room for a boy, not a young woman. We stripped the bed and made it up with fresh bedding. It now looked like an unused spare room.
In the library, I removed all evidence of her life. We each watched some of the footage, which was enough to confirm her stories. It was a very sobering time watching what the little girl on through to her teenaged years, had gone through.
I could see from the hard drives and their dates there was one missing. He had done an immaculate job of keeping everything labeled. I knew it was safe because Miss Catherine knows where the other one is. She had found it inside the jacket Whisper had been wearing. She placed everything back inside the jacket as it was found after she had shown me the contents of the pillowcase. I should have taken a copy of the data on it, but I hadn’t wanted to leave the two women alone at the time. I had no clue if there was another force gunning for the girl that night.
We had to let Whisper tell us she had it because this one would have the most damaging footage on it, and is the reason she took it.
There were twelve cameras all fairly well hidden around the house, and I took care of them all. We patched the surfaces to hide what had been taken out. Only if you scrutinized areas and bothered to look hard would you notice. He had placed them in well-hidden parts of his home.
Whisper thought she didn’t have a camera in her room, but that cocksucker had one in the light hanging in the middle of her room. It was concealed well. He would have watched her in bed. I could not find that footage.
Who knows what this sick fuck was up to with Whisper?
We left no stone unturned when we went through his home. My team did their job well; we were all professionals. We removed anything that could lead to the life he was living with her.
We kept only what looked like it may suit a normal library, and everything else was removed. The pole in the closet was left. It could have been there for any number of reasons.
The library housed a lot of porn for his reading pleasure, and pornographic movies. I left them there. He looked like a man living alone with too much time on his hands.
As far as I could see, there was nothing else on any computer or downloaded anywhere that could incriminate Whisper in any way. He did a lot of the hard work for us himself. He was careful. He didn’t want her to be discovered.
There was the possibility that William wasn’t the only one who had access to this footage, but I had no way of knowing. I had to hope this was all there was.
Whisper said there was the woman he had killed. I saw no evidence of her existence, not how Whisper described her, anyway, in all the years she had lived with William. She had been killed eight years ago, and I had lived here for ten. Whisper said she never left the house, and there was no sign of a grave on the property, so William made that easy for us. We didn’t need any of his past rearing its ugly head in the future. He would have been smart and disposed of the body off his property. He would never have let himself be caught for her death.
Nobody had missed this woman, even though she had been dead eight years, and nobody had traced her to William’s home. He would have been careful and chosen her well for the task of raising Whisper.
She was a nobody.
A ghost who served William.
That was not my concern or business.
Whisper was my business.
The smell was getting worse, and the cleaning service was gonna get a rude shock, but this couldn’t be helped. It will be a natural discovery. The cleaning service is from New Orleans. He was smart. He didn’t contract anybody too close to home.
They would come to the door for their routine clean, and the smell will be enough to alert them to enquire more. The police would get involved, and it will look like the stupid accident it was. A man living alone had fallen by his own drunken stupidity to his death.
He must have gone on a bender, and that decision had set Whisper free. I feel bad for her because she had enough nightmares stashed in that young mind of hers. Now, the sight of another dead person has been added to it.
The thing with William is he didn’t expect to die before Whisper, but he still kept his files organized. His security was no match for my hacker. It was all very easy for us to retrieve and delete. He felt powerful in his role as her master, not believing for one minute she would outlive him.
