Pretty Girls Dancing(66)

Kelsey had written that she’d been down here for a year. Whitney thought it might have been two weeks or so since she’d been taken. The thought of being here twelve months—or longer—made her want to weep.

“You haven’t responded, Whitney.” The censure in his voice jolted her from her reverie.

“I’m sorry. I was thinking about what you said earlier.” What had he been saying? Her mind scrambled frantically to recall his words. “About kids contributing to the family. I don’t know how I’m contributing anything.”

“At this point your contribution is your effort. Your cooperation in following the rules I’ve outlined. And your acceptance of your new life. Your gratitude for the privileges I allow you.”

“I am grateful.” For allowing her to watch a kiddie show? For chaining her up like an animal? Not for the first time, she wondered if the monster was insane. Somehow that didn’t make her feel better.

“We’ll see. If you do well tomorrow, you’ll earn back thirty minutes of TV privileges. For this evening, I suggest you spend the hours before bedtime in quiet contemplation of how you can prove your gratitude and acceptance.”

He turned off the projector but left the computer on. She listened carefully. Could hear his sure steps as he retreated. A slight scraping sound, then a door being opened. Closed. The scraping sound was repeated. The sound of a key in a lock? That would mean even if she got loose from the chain around her wrist, she’d have to get through a locked door to get out of here. Her shoulders slumped dejectedly.

She knew better than to go to the mattress. That wasn’t allowed until 9:00 p.m. An alert would beep on the computer, warning her it was time to get ready for bed. Fifteen minutes later, it would switch off. The only hours he couldn’t observe her were at night. In the dark. A thread of desolation snaked through her. There was no way out. No escape.

Blinking back the tears that threatened, she remained motionless as if locked in the contemplation he’d demanded. He’d be checking on her while the computer was on, even though the screen was blank, emitting only a white glow. He’d know whether she’d follow his instructions.

Or whether she gave the appearance of doing so.

A thread of defiance returned. What had she learned from his appearance here today? Nothing that would aid in a description of him. But she knew he carried a key with him to let himself in and out of the area below the stage. What else? She thought hard. His steps toward the door hadn’t been hesitant, although he’d been walking into shadows. Which meant he had the way memorized, or he didn’t have to worry about running into any obstacles, because there weren’t any.

She squinted into the darkness but as usual could see nothing. But wait, that wasn’t true. The projector would have to be elevated in order to beam the film at the stage wall behind her. So it had to be set on a table or stool of some kind. The space directly ahead of it and around it was empty. The glow of the screen showed nothing in its vicinity.

Whitney wasn’t sure how any of that helped. But she tucked away the observations in any case. Because if nothing else, she liked knowing that when he checked on her, he’d see a girl with her head bowed submissively.

He wouldn’t suspect that she was filing away details that just might aid in her escape.



She’d fallen asleep. Whitney bolted upright on the mattress, rubbing at her eyes. How had that happened? She rolled off the edge, wincing a little as the action pulled at the skin surrounding the fresh wound on her back. What time was it? Impossible to tell, but the light hemming the sides of the curtain told her it was no longer night. Early morning, perhaps.

Damn. She hurried to the shower to retrieve the screw. Retraced her steps to pry up the board again. Took out the papers and carried them over to the window. Unrolled them and tried to find her place from the night before. Reading about Kelsey’s experiences might provide ideas for escape.

I try to learn as much about him as I can. His mother was a ballerina. His sister danced, too. And he has a wife somewhere. Is she in this place, as well? Does she know that I’m down here? Because if she does, she has to be as much a monster as he is.

I still haven’t figured out why I was taken. What made him pick me? Did he just happen to see me on the road that day? I wasn’t paying attention. I was too upset to notice the van until it was too late. Or had he already selected me and had been watching me for a while? That creeps me out even more.

Why am I here? He’s hurt me . . . badly. Time and time again. But he’s never gotten close enough that I can see his face. The movies would say that’s a good thing. That maybe it means he’ll let me go eventually. But I know that’s not true. He isn’t going to release me. He has plans for me. But it’s hard to figure out what they are. All he talks about is character and being grateful. Earning my place. As if I want to stay and be a part of whatever sick thing he’s running here!

Whitney had to stop reading. It was too familiar. She’d had a similar conversation with the freak last night. Knowing that he was playing out the same scenario with her as he had with the girl he’d taken before didn’t make her feel better. It made her feel like a puppet. A thing. Like a piece of clay to be molded into a shape of his choosing.

Kelsey hadn’t allowed herself to be molded. She’d just pretended. That was probably smart. But Whitney didn’t know if she could be that good an actress for any length of time.