Pernicious (53 page)

         
No!
“I can’t give up!”

         
She closed her eyes, pursed her lips and pushed. “Uhhhhhnnnnnnnnn!” Slow-ly, her head inched up toward the light switch…up…up…up…And then she stopped and locked her knees.

         
She opened her eyes, and a wave of vertigo engulfed her. The ceiling shifted, moving right to left, settled back into place and then repeated the illusion. She feared she would throw up.

         
She wondered what the hell did Perry put in the coke.
Muscle relaxer? Heroin?
Whatever it was, it definitely had her tore up from the floor up.

         
The doorknob was inches away, mere inches. Yet in her condition, inches were the equivalent of miles. She closed her eyes again and scooted her right foot sideways…and then the left. Her fingers sought the doorknob…right arm rubbed against the door trim, and she scooted some more. Then she felt it. The cheap aluminum doorknob, coated with bronze-colored paint. To her it felt like gold.

         
Her heartbeat sped up. She tried to twist it with one hand but couldn’t get a good grip. She scooted some more…until her buttocks and both hands were over the doorknob. She turned it…and nothing. The door didn’t open, she realized, because her body was blocking it.

         
Craps! No other way…
She grasped the doorknob as hard as she could, turned it and leaned forward. The door opened an inch, stopping at her heels. A moment she remained there, precariously balanced, bent over at the waist, staring at the carpet. This is going to hurt, she thought, and let go.

         
Saving face, she fell flat on the right side of her head, her ear absorbing most of the impact. Despite the pain, the loud ringing in both ears, she immediately looked behind her…The door was wide open…She could see into the hallway, the green loveseat in the living room, one of the bar stools. She tried once more to free herself from the restraint…No go: the belt tightly secured.

         
The duct tape, slick now, came off easily when she rubbed her mouth against the carpet.

         
Tasha sensed that whatever Perry had given her was starting to ebb, not enough for her to walk but enough to quicken her crawl. Neck stretched, chin rubbed, shoulders lifted, pelvis rocked, knees and thighs rolled, feet pushed, she caterpillared through the doorway.

         
In the hallway, she saw the couch in the living room. She couldn’t see it, yet knew that the phone was on a glass stand right of the couch. Why hadn’t she put the phone left of the couch, near the door?

         
Everyone knows that you put the phone near the door just in case a psycho spiked your drink and hog-tied you in your own apartment and you had to crawl on your belly.

         
She was a few feet before the coffee table, an unopened pack of Newports and a Big Gulp cup on top of it. Call Bob, she thought as she wormed her way toward the couch, tell him to go get Derrick.
Right now!
Perry would be coming back soon. She had to hurry! She wriggled her way between the coffee table, a trail of blood behind her.
What if Derrick wasn’t able to
…She didn’t want to think about that now.

         
Then she realized she needed a weapon.
Craps!
No way could she have opened the trunk and got a gun. She would get a knife in the kitchen, somehow, and she would be ready. She could see the phone cord, just a few feet more…

         
And then the front door opened.

                                     
Chapter 27

         
Perry followed Neal inside the apartment.

         
“What the hell?” Neal said, kneeling to Tasha. Perry locked the door. “Tasha, you’re bleeding!” Perry took a pair of latex gloves out of the bag and put them on. “Who tied you up?” Perry pulled out the Glock. “What’s going on here?” Perry leveled it at the back of Neal’s head. “You into something kinky? Tasha, why don’t you say something?”

         
“Neal, sweetie pie,” Perry whispered.

         
Neal turned and his face stretched, eyes bulging, mouth opening wide enough to swallow a grapefruit.

         
“You want out, huh, Neal? Do you?” She shook her head and raised her voice: “Is that what you want? After all I’ve done for you, all I’ve given you! I rescued your sorry ass from a flea-infested garage, put you in a half-million-dollar home, and you don’t have the fucking decency to say thanks!”

         
Neal stood up, raised his hands and said, “Arrrk goook ehhhhh!” Meaning: “Please don’t shoot! I’m sorry! Thanks! Please don’t shoot!”

         
Perry pointed the gun at Tasha leaning on an elbow, her chin a bloody mess, clothes drenched in sweat and blood. “I thought I told you to stay in your room.”

         
Neal found his voice: “Perry, I’ve reconsidered. I’m not leaving you!”

         
“Neal, take her in the bedroom.”

         
“Perry, if it’s all right with you I need to use the bathroom. I gotta doo-doo bad.”

         
Perry pointed the gun at him. “You just went at the house.”

         
“You aimed a gun at me--I gotta go again. Please!”

         
“Shut your damn mouth! You want to live? Huh?” Neal nodded. “Then shut your mouth and do what I tell you! Pick her up or drag her into the bedroom, and hurry the hell up!” Neal knelt down and lifted Tasha into his arms. “Take all day! Just take all fucking day!”

         
In the bedroom, at Perry’s instruction, Neal laid Tasha on the bed.

         
“Neal, where does she keep her gun?”

         
“In the trunk.”

         
“You won’t get away with this, Perry!” Tasha said, voice slurred, though intelligible. “I called the police, they’re on their way.”

         
“What you waiting on, Neal? Open the trunk.”

         
“The key is on top of the dresser.”

         
“Duh! Get it! And hurry up!” To Tasha: “You’re so full of shit! You called the police, did you? Used the phone, De-tect-ive, without leaving a speck of blood on it. You weren’t so full of shit you wouldn’t be in the position you’re in now.” Neal opened the trunk. “Step back!”

         
Perry looked down into it…Several photo albums, a glass piggy bank, a police utility belt, and a metal safe deposit box with a combination dial on top.

         
Perry stepped back. “Neal, is the gun inside that box?” Neal nodded. “Take it out and open it.”

         
“No, Neal,” Tasha said. “Don’t do it!”

         
Neal hesitated.

         
“Open the box, Neal, I’m outta here. Nobody gets hurt. Don’t open it, I’ll blow your damn brains out!”

         
Neal snatched up the box and nervously worked the dial. “I-I forgot the combination!”

         
Perry racked the slide on the Glock. CLICK-CLACK! “Does that help?”

         
Neal’s memory suddenly refreshed, he dialed the combination and opened the box.

         
“Don’t get any wild ideas,” Perry said. “Put it on the floor and slide it to me.”

         
He did. Perry took out the Glock inside the box, slipped it into her waistband, and kicked the empty box toward Neal.
“Put it back in the trunk. Don’t close it. Hurry up!” Neal picked up the box and tossed it into the trunk. “Now untie her and put the belt inside the trunk and shut it. Throw me the towel.”

         
Neal rolled Tasha onto her stomach and untied the belt, then tossed it inside the trunk and closed it. Tasha tried to get up…and fell back down.

         
“Going somewhere, Bumpy Face? The towel, Neal.” He tossed it to her. “Neal, one last thing and I’m outta here. Hit her!”

         
“What?”

         
“You heard me. Hit her in the face!”

         
Neal looked at Tasha. “No,” shaking his head. “I’m not hitting her. You can shoot me if you want, I’m not hitting her.” His eyes welled up. “I’ve hurt her enough already.”

         
Perry laughed. “You’ve got to be the biggest wimp ever peed standing up!” Squinting at Neal: “You really do love her, don’t you? Love her, fuck me! That’s the way it works, Neal? Huh?” Neal didn’t respond. “Okay, not a problem. I just want out of here. Neal, put your hands on your head and turn around.”

         
“Don’t shoot me, Perry! Please!”

         
“I’m not going to shoot you. I promise. I don’t want you chasing me when I leave.”

         
“Perry, I can double guarantee you I won’t be chasing you!”

         
“Don’t do it, Perry!” Tasha said, and pulled herself up on the edge of the bed. She struggled to get to her feet. “You hurt him, I’ll--”

         
“You’ll do what?” Perry said, and stepped up and backhanded Tasha across the face with the Glock.

         
Tasha fell back on the bed holding her eye, groaning.

         
“Now we’re even!” Perry said, crossing to the doorway. “Turn around, Neal. I wouldn’t shoot a man in the back. Promise.”

         
Neal turned and faced the wall. “I really need to use the bathroom. I can’t hold it much longer.”