Strangers: A Novel(11)
If it weren’t so sad, I would have laughed. My cell was of my own choosing. I had imprisoned myself in the very place where I couldn’t draw attention to myself. I really am a very cooperative victim.
“But I’m staying here,” he adds. “I’m going to lie down here right by the door; I won’t leave you by yourself. If you need anything…”
I don’t answer him. It was obvious, after all, that he would block any escape route available to me.
I take a few clean tea towels from the pile I keep here on the shelves, arrange them under my head and close my eyes. The door is locked from the inside, so Erik can’t get in here. I could even risk falling asleep, but I can’t get my thoughts to settle. I run through the events of this awful evening in my mind again and again, moment by moment. I can’t push them away …
And then, after at least two hours must have passed, everything falls into place all at once, forming a picture as clear as glass and logical down to the very last detail.
What Erik wants, above everything, is for me to believe him. For me to think that something is wrong with me. That’s why he had a friend of his turn up here, acting like Erik’s presence in the house was entirely natural. I could probably bet on a few more encounters like these taking place over the next few days.
And then the doctor’s visit. The next act, surely, in which I find out from an experienced professional that I have a screw loose. I’d bet anything on it.
At least there’s one thing I don’t need to waste any more time tearing my hair out over: the motive of my caring fiancé there on the other side of the door. Once someone knows my name, it doesn’t take a genius to find out who I am. And, most important, who my father is. Then it’s highly possible that someone could come up with the creative idea of wanting to convince me I’m engaged to them. Maybe one day I’d even believe it, and boom—they would have just married into the third-richest family in Australia.
Well. Unfortunately Erik has picked the wrong victim.
I curl up into a ball, try to find a tolerable sleeping position, and close my eyes. At least I don’t have to worry about him cutting my throat in my sleep. After all, a billionaire’s daughter isn’t much use to a con artist once she’s dead.
* * *
“Jo?” A knock on the door. “It’s almost eight, we’ve got an appointment with Dr. Dussmann in an hour. I just called him, he’s fitting us in as an emergency.”
Shelves, cans, cleaning products. For the duration of a few heartbeats I’m unable to remember where I am, but then the events of the previous day come flooding back with full force.
“Are you awake, Jo?”
“Yes.” My whole body is in pain from lying on the hard floor, I can hardly get up.
“I brought you some clothes. If you unlock the door, I’ll pass them in to you.”
“I’d like to take a shower.” It’s not a pretense, but the absolute truth. After the night I’ve just had, I really need some soap and hot water.
Erik doesn’t respond. I unlock the door into his silence.
He is standing directly opposite me, with my black jeans, a green shirt, and clean underwear in his hands. He looks tired, there’s no question about that, but his eyes are alert. As soon as I make any quick movement, he’ll grab me just as quickly as he did yesterday.
“I won’t run away,” I say. “I’ll go with you to see this doctor … What was his name again?”
“Dussmann.” Erik doesn’t trust the sudden peace, I can see that from his expression.
“Dussmann, exactly. But I want to go to the toilet and take a shower. And I want to do both alone; hopefully you can understand that. I promise I won’t make a run for it or call for help.”
It’s not difficult to read the thoughts that are going through Erik’s mind. He is weighing whether he can take the risk. I had the whole night to figure out a plan, and my peaceable behavior could very well be part of that.
So I force a smile. “I think it’s a good idea for me to see the doctor. I feel kind of … strange somehow. And besides—” I act like I’m not quite sure if I should really trust him with the words I’m about to say. “And besides, during the night I had a kind of memory of you. It was very brief and fuzzy. But if it wasn’t just my imagination,” I say, furrowing my brow thoughtfully, “then maybe there is something wrong with me. And if that’s the case, I want to know about it.”
Bingo. All of a sudden Erik no longer looks tired in the least.
“Really, Jo? You remembered me? That’s wonderful.” He takes a step toward me, and I have to fight my instinct to back away. “Listen, here’s what we’ll do. You go take a shower, but I’ll disable the lock and wait outside. Please don’t try to trick me, because then I’d have to come in. For your own sake. You understand that, right?”
I nod, smile, say yes to everything. He gives me twenty minutes, and we both keep to what we promised. Only once we’re at the front door and he’s turning the key in the lock with his right hand does he reach out with his left to grip my arm.
“That’s not necessary.” My voice sounds almost tender. “It really isn’t, Erik. But I’d like to take my phone with me. If there’s really something wrong, I want to be able to call my family.”