Sara's Game Part 17

"It's the only thing I have left."

"Good point."

"Your sister?"

"I know what you're doing."

"I'm curious."

"And a terrible liar."

"Was she abused?"

"You could say that."

"What would you say?"

"I wouldn't say anything. The past is the past." He climbed to his knees, lit the lantern, and sat back down.

The new light in the room revealed the extent of Teddy's bruising, the snot draining from his nostrils. The wet patch between his legs had expanded to cover his crotch and the inside of his thighs.

Sara gawked at Teddy.

Michael said, "He can take a punch."

"Do you like hurting people?"

"Enough with the therapy session, Sara."

"I'm trying to understand."

"You wouldn't. You wouldn't. The things I had to watch them do to her..."

"Who, Michael? Who did those things?"

"You really want to know what happened? You really want to know why you're in a cage?"

"I can-"

"You can't anything, Sara. There's no helping her. Believe me, I've tried."

"What happened?"

Michael stood up, walked into the main room. She heard him rummaging around in the cooler, heard the sounds of ice clattering about. He came back with a beer, twisted off the cap, and drained the bottle. Pivoted, and hurled it out the door. The gla.s.s shattered. He said, "She-she has issues."

"Who doesn't?"

"Not like this. Not most people. Our dad-he left when we were kids. We never knew why. No reason. One day he stood up from the dinner table and walked out the door. Never saw him again. I didn't mind so much. He was strict. Mean. Drunk all the time, but my sister loved him like nothing else in the world. So when he left, it ruined her. Abandonment issues. Doesn't like people leaving her. That's why she does what she does when they try to leave. Melodrama, right? Like some bad TV show, like you said. But then Mom...she took a bunch of pills about a week later. We wound up in this foster home-G.o.d, I shouldn't be telling you this. She wouldn't like it."

"If you need to talk, talk. She'll never know."

Michael paced back and forth. "They made us call them Mother and Father. She hated them, hated, hated, hated, and they knew it, too. Our dad was a cupcake compared to them. And you want to know what made it worse? They adored me. I don't know why, maybe because I listened. Obeyed. They gave me anything I asked for, and Mother-Mother put her in a cage whenever she misbehaved. An actual cage, Sara.

"Locked her in a cage in a windowless bedroom, and she'd make her play these s.a.d.i.s.tic games to get out. I know it damaged her at first, but after a while-when she got older-I think she enjoyed it, and I swear she'd get thrown in there on purpose. I wish that I'd been able to do something sooner. Father didn't do a d.a.m.n thing, and I couldn't do a d.a.m.n thing to help her because I was too scared. I was eight years old-what could I do? But you-your husband-he tried to leave, and now she's taking it out on you. You see? You wanted to know, you wanted to know. See how it all fits together now? Do you? Huh? Do you? The game, the cage, torturing a mother? It was bad before, but this, it's too much. I'm done. No more."

Too far, Sara. Bring him back.

"Let's talk about something else, something better. Do you really have a little boy?"

"You got what you wanted to hear."

"I'm serious. I want to know, really. You've got a son?"

"Had."

"Had? What happened?"

"He's gone."

"Did your sister-"

"G.o.d, no," he interrupted. "He's with his mother."

"Do you see him much?"

"Never."

"Why?"

"She gave me a choice. No sister or no wife. When I told her I had no choice, she left. Haven't seen her or William since."

"Where are they?"

"No clue."

"Haven't you ever tried to find them?"

"That wouldn't be a good idea. She wouldn't like it."

"Your wife or your sister?"

"Sister."

"She has that much control over you?"

"I owe it to her."

"No you don't. You said so yourself, you're done. Take your life back."

"It's not that easy."

"It can be. You have my permission."

"I don't need your permission, Sara. What I need is for that little black cloud to be gone."

"She owns you."

"Owns? I guess that's the right word." He went quiet. The whispering lantern drowned out everything else in the room until he spoke again. "I think of her as another organ. Something inside me that a doctor's never seen before, like this thing that only lets my heart beat when she's ready to allow it."

"What if she's your appendix?"

"My appendix?"

"Something you could live without."

"It doesn't work that way."

"But what if it did?" Sara tried to stretch. Every muscle was cramping and aching again. "What if you could disappear?"

"She found me in Chicago. She found me in Atlanta. She found me in San Diego. I don't know how, but she always does. She finds me, draws me in again, and I have no control over it. She said if I tried to hide from her one more time...game over." He leaned against the wall, slid down to the floor.

The resignation in his voice, the defeated tone of it, gave Sara new hope. He'd tried and failed on his own, but if he had help, if he really wanted out... She said, "It might be game over for you, but not for me. Let me out, let me fight back. I'll fight with you, or even for you. You can be free. If you won't try, at least let me. Give me a chance."

"I can't. She'll never forgive me."

"Please, Michael. I want my kids to have a good life."

He said, "I wanted a good life. She wanted a good life."

"I know you did. We all do, but there's nothing I can do to change that. My kids still have a chance."

He rubbed a shaky hand across his face. Slapped the gun barrel against his palm again. Slap...slap...slap, like a ticking clock. "You'll have to get past Samson first."

"Samson?"

"One of her other slaves. The one who took your son this morning."

"Other slaves? How many more are there?"

"A couple. You had a tail while you were running."

"The girl on the bike, on the bridge."

"Her, yeah. Out of the picture, though. Samson, he's your biggest problem now."

"I'll figure it out. I can do it. You have to let me try."

"You won't win."

"You can't win if you don't play. Give me a chance. Give my kids a chance. Think about your little boy. You'd fight for him, wouldn't you?"

Seconds pa.s.sed. A minute. Sara waited and watched him. Slap...slap...slap. Whatever was going on inside his mind had left his face blank. She didn't dare say anything else, didn't want to ruin her chances by pushing too far.

Another minute pa.s.sed before he shoved himself away from the wall, crawled over to her. He took the key out of his pocket and reached for the lock. Hesitated, then jammed it in and twisted.

The sound of the lock clattering to the floor was the most liberating thing Sara had ever heard. She scrambled out, nearly falling over when she tried to stand on her weak, throbbing legs.

He stood up beside her.

She flinched when he took her hand, but relaxed when he put the set of car keys in her palm, closing her fingers around them. "Take these," he said. "She's in my bas.e.m.e.nt. The kids, too." He recited his address and then made Sara repeat it back to him.

"Got it," she said.

"When you go in, the bas.e.m.e.nt is to the left, just past the living room, but you're going to need somebody with you. She'll know something's up if she only hears one person walking upstairs."

"You're not coming?"

"I have other plans."

She didn't know what he meant by that, and didn't dare to ask. She pointed at Teddy, who'd pa.s.sed out during their conversation. "What about him?"

Michael looked over his shoulder at the crumpled and beaten body. "He was supposed to be the scapegoat."

"I mean, can I take him with me?"

"There's no use for him now. He can go, but you're carrying him." He untied Teddy, slung the soaking gag to the floor. Brought him close, draped his arm over Sara. He shoved his cell phone into her hand. "Her number is in there. Look under 'Sis'. You'll have service about a mile down the road, but don't call, don't you dare call, or you'll never see them again. Send a text. Say, 'Penalty enforced, ready for level three.' She'll think it's me and give you instructions. You really want to know how to beat her? Play your own game. She'll never expect it."

"How?"

"You'll figure it out. Now go, before I change my mind."

"I'll figure it out? Can't you just tell me what-"

"-I said go-"

"-the third level is supposed to be?"

Michael said, "I can't. She wouldn't-"

"I don't care if she likes it or not. Help me...please."

He exhaled, stepped back, and glanced down at his feet. "You'll get one more call from her on your phone. Then at the house, I'm supposed to bring you down to the bas.e.m.e.nt and give you another note. Instructions like all the rest, and she's going to be tied up too, just to throw you off."

"That's it?"

"She mentioned puzzles, one for each of your kids, but she changes things at the last minute. I never know what she'll do until the end. In your case, the only thing that's certain is the outcome."

"What's the outcome?"