Consequences(21)

Feeling the unstoppable sensation of his stare, Claire only nodded. When his soft and full lips touched hers, she momentarily felt the rest of the world disappear. It ended too soon as he pulled away and smiled; Claire’s cheeks flushed. Once they were alone in the car, he asked, “Are you ready to go back to the Red Wing, or should I take you to your home?” As Claire contemplated her options, he offered her a third alternative, “Or would you like to join me in my suite, perhaps for some more wine, or we could call room service for dessert?”

Smiling, she responded, “I like dessert.”

The hotel’s foyer was exquisite—marble floors, large glowing chandeliers, and huge floral arrangements. Claire tried to not look around. She’d never entered such an exclusive establishment. His suite at the Ritz Carlton was as large as an apartment. Once inside, he remained suave and sensual with deep dark brown eyes. His glance transfixed her, giving her the sensation of chocolate, dark and melted. Although she didn’t know him that well, she agreed to romance and sexual pleasures. Something about him made her break all her own rules. He was prepared, romantic, and attentive.

After midnight Claire lifted her head to meet Anthony’s soft gaze. “I really need to go home.” Claire enjoyed the soft 700-count sheets a little too much. “I don’t want to disturb you, so I can get a taxi downstairs.” When she started to shift away, he gently reached for her arm.

“If I promise you a ride in the morning, would you consider some more dessert?” Anthony’s expression, as well as another of his features, informed Claire he wanted her to choose the dessert.

She knew she wasn’t scheduled to be at work the next day. “I don’t want to disrupt your schedule. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“I promise this is not a disruption. And maybe after more dessert, we could have another glass of wine. There is still some in the bottle from room service.” The last time she looked at a clock, it was 1:15 AM.

Even at that moment, Claire didn’t realize the consequence of their napkin agreement.


As Claire lay on the sofa recalling the events that led her to this place and this situation, she couldn’t recall traveling. She remembered a car but couldn’t recall any other part of this house. She couldn’t remember any other memories of Atlanta. That time—1:15 AM—was her last conscious memory of her life.

From the other windows near the bed, she saw only trees. Because she couldn’t see more of the house, Claire decided she must be at the end of the dwelling. Even if her windows opened, they were high off the ground. If she tried to jump, from this height she’d break something. Each morning the skies lightened to shades of gray and in the evening they darkened too soon. Keeping track of days became difficult.

Staring out at the unfamiliar landscape, Claire questioned her location. She told herself when Catherine returned she’d ask where they were. Catherine didn’t come—the young non-English speaking man came and went. Day after day, no one came to talk to her. The food came and the room was cleaned. Clothes were miraculously washed and returned to her closet or drawers, but no person was ever seen. She was alone. The isolation was hell. It may not leave physical markings, but there was no question, in Claire’s mind, it was a neater form of Anthony’s abuse.

Although Claire wasn’t a TV watcher and the TV in her suite didn’t receive many stations, she did check the news each day to learn the date. On April 2, she finally heard a repeated knock at the door.

During her thirteen days of isolation Claire learned a few key things. First, after two or three days she realized the weather channel would do local weather. The first time she sat to watch, she stared stunned. The midnight announcer, Shelby, graduated from Valparaiso the year before her. Claire watched in disbelief. Why was Shelby on the Weather Channel while she was being held prisoner in a house in Iowa? The local weather came from Iowa City, Iowa.