Stay (29 page)

We drove through downtown and ended up in a neighborhood full of townhouses, reminding me of the subdivision my grandparents lived in. Zane pulled into a driveway, put the car in park, and jumped out. He grabbed my hand and walked slowly to the door. If anyone saw us, they would assume we were a regular couple. I craned my neck, looking for someone to call out to, but there was no one around.

The front door flew open before Zane knocked. A tall man with silver hair stood in the threshold. He was wearing a white cardigan over a pale blue button up shirt that was tucked into mud-colored dress pants. He let his eyes run up and down my body before settling on my face.

“My, my,” he said. His voice was high pitched and raspy. “This one has nice skin. Hasn’t seen a lick of sunlight.” He reached out to touch me. Zane yanked me back.

“Pay up,” he ordered.

The silver haired man licked his lips. “Yes,” he said, drawing out the word. He turned around and quickly paced into the house. He came back with his wallet. “Cash only, right?” He asked and Zane nodded. I watched him slowly count out the money. My fear increased every time he added another fifty to the stack. He was paying for a long time.

“No refunds,” Zane said with a smirk and shoved me forward like he always did. I was ready for it and didn’t so much as lose my balance. I hoped it pissed him off. The door slammed behind me. I gulped in air, feeling like I was suffocating.

“Come in, come in,” the silver haired man said, like I had a choice. I was standing on a small section of white linoleum that gave way to the carpeted living room. A flower-printed couch complete with pink lace doilies covering the arms. A teddy bear with a large pale pink bow sat in the center of the couch. A hand painted picture of a white rabbit with a butterfly on its nose hung over the couch.
 

“I’m Jeremy,” the silver haired man said.

I looked at him. Clients never introduced themselves. The few times I had been told names was when they wanted me to call it out during sex. Jeremy held out his hand. I stared at it for a few seconds before reaching out and taking it. He led me through the living room and down a hall. Every bedroom and bathroom door was open. Except for one.

His fingers tightened with excitement, hurting my hand. He pulled a key from his sweater pocket, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. My eyes widened in horror as my breath escaped my lungs. I locked my knees, not wanting to go into the room.

Jeremy let me go and clasped his hands together, smiling broadly. “Come on in, my dear. It’s time for tea!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

MY HEAD SHOOK, and I put my hands on my elbows, pressing my arms into my stomach. A hundred glass eyes glared at me. My lip quivered as I looked over the shelves of porcelain dolls. A small table was set up in the middle of the room covered with a white lace tablecloth. A blue and white china tea set was on the center of the table.

Jeremy pranced into the room and put a needle down on a record player. Scratchy crackles gave way to a slow violin. Jeremy picked up a blue satin dress, holding it as if it was sacred.

“Put this on and then we’ll do your hair and makeup!” he cooed. I still didn’t move. “Come on, be a dear!” he said and waved me in.
 

I slowly shook my head.
 

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed, and his lips curled over his teeth.
 
“They said you’d play along!” he growled, his Mr. Rogers demeanor gone. I stepped into the room. Jeremy moved with more speed than someone his age should posses and shut the door.
 

I wanted to scream when I saw him lock it and pocket the key. I was locked in the room with a maniac.
Holy shit.
I was terrified. I fucking hated porcelain dolls. They creeped me out.
 
He thrust the blue dress at me again. I closed my eyes, causing tears to stream down my cheeks. I just wanted it to be over with.
 

I took the dress and turned around. I removed my clothes, glaring at Jeremy. My hands trembled with fear, and I struggled with the zipper.

“There you go, my dear,” Jeremy said and moved over. He lifted my hair off my back and pressed it to his nose, loudly inhaling before he slowly pulled up the zipper. “Oh, my! Look at this, Miss Molly!”
 

I wrapped my arms around myself and looked behind me.
 

“You match!” he cried with delight and hugged a doll. She too was wearing a blue satin dress with white lace trim. Terror caused my arms and legs to lock up as I watched the psychopath cuddle the doll.
 

“Come sit and get your hair done,” he said to me and waved at a white vanity table next to a window. He set the doll down, fussing with the bow in her hair, and opened the top drawer of the vanity. My lungs expanded and I sucked in air, yet I felt like I couldn’t breath. What exactly did this creep plan on doing with me?

I sat on a velvet-lined stool and eyed Miss Molly. One of her fake eyelids was stuck halfway closed. Her hair wasn’t perfectly neat like the other dolls. Her brown curls were shiny, but not as shiny as the plastic hair most dolls had. And then I noticed the split ends.

Oh God.
Her hair was real. My pulse pounded, and I felt instantly cold. I blinked. That didn’t mean anything, right? Maybe she came that way. Maybe Jeremy
didn’t
dress up another living girl, kill her, and cut off her hair.
 

Or maybe he had. I needed to get out of there before I became the next victim. Fear tingled along my spine.

“I’ll start with your hair,” Jeremy said and plugged in a curling iron.
 

I shivered with disgust when he picked my hair up off my back. He combed it with his fingers before running a Victorian style silver brush through it.
 

“The color is a bit lighter than Miss Molly’s, but it will do,” he said.

Jeremy parted my hair down the middle. Then he pulled it up into pigtails. He stepped back and misted my head with hairspray before he began curling it. He worked slowly and meticulously making sure each curl was perfect and even, humming along to the old-timey music.

“Beautiful,” he breathed and set the hot iron down. “Now,” he said and turned back to the vanity, opening another drawer. “Your complexion needs some work.” He reached inside the drawer and extracted several bottles of foundation, holding each one up to my skin to find the best match.

The liquid makeup was cold and sticky on my skin. I sat as still as my trembling body allowed. Jeremy had turned me away from the mirror. His face was close to mine as he leaned in to blend the makeup. I refused to look at him. My eyes scanned the shelves of dolls. Most were wearing frilly dresses in pastel colors, and almost all had large bows and shiny ringlets of curls. I started counting. There were forty-two crammed onto the top shelf across from me. Fancy teacups and antique silver jewelry boxes were randomly squeezed in between the dolls. I was sure if I looked hard enough I would find hidden jars of formaldehyde with floating body parts as well.
 

I flinched when he came at me with a mascara wand, causing little black lines to smear on my skin. Jeremy licked his finger and wiped away the makeup. I forced my eyes wide and didn’t blink until he was done. He curled my lashes, going back and forth with the metal device until they were perfectly even. Next came bright red lipstick and enough powder to cause me to cough.

“Perfect!” he squealed and put his hands up to his face. He picked up Miss Molly. “What do you think, my dear?” He looked at the doll. “You are right. She
could
use some more powder.”

I swallowed hard, anticipating that his next move would be covering my mouth and nose with a chloroform soaked rag. Instead, he spun me around so I could inspect my reflection in the mirror. My face was a shade lighter than its natural color. All the powder caused my skin to look cakey and fake. My eyes appeared surprisingly large on my face, and the cherry red lipstick looked ridiculous.
 

“What do you think?” he asked me.

“Beautiful,” I said right away, not missing a beat. I wadded up the hem of the dress to steady my hands.

“I know!” He twirled around with Miss Molly. “And to think, they said mortuary school was a waste of time.” He laughed and glided over to the table. “Now, come on, it’s time for tea!”

With timorous movements, I pushed myself off the stool and went over to the table. Jeremy pulled out the chair for me before seating himself. He uncovered a tray of tiny cakes and cookies. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, they looked good. Good, but sure to house some sort of hidden poison that would render me unconscious and paralyzed on the floor.

“I just made these this morning,” he said and picked up an oatmeal cookie. He broke it in half, giving part to Miss Molly. He put the other half on his plate. “Go on, be a dear and eat!”
 

If he was eating the cookies, they probably
weren’t
poisoned, right? I apprehensively reached out and took an oatmeal cookie as well.
 

Jeremy poured three cups of tea and nibbled on his cookie. He never took his eyes off me and seemed to get enjoyment watching me sip the hot beverage. My eyes flitted to the window; the sun was low in the sky, leaving me to believe that I had been here for at least two hours.
 

The moment I set my teacup down, Jeremy refilled it. He gave me a slice of strawberry cake. I picked up a small silver fork and cut off a tiny piece. Jeremy bit his lip and leaned in, watching as I put the cake in my mouth.

Lynn like strawberries and anything strawberry flavored. Strawberry wine was her current obsession. The cake wasn’t bad. The frosting was very sweet and it hurt my teeth, making me wish I had gotten the cavity in my back molar filled over spring break like my dad suggested.

I broke off another piece and put it in my mouth, forcing a smile. I inhaled a mouthful of sugarless tea, hoping the sooner I finished teatime, the sooner this creep would be done playing living dolls.
 

I was wrong.

I set down my empty teacup feeling sickly full, fearful, and had to pee. Jeremy popped out of his seat and flew over to the record player. He put a new record on and spun around. He threw his arms out at me.
 

“Time to dance!” he said.

I stiffly nodded and forced myself up. Goosebumps had broken out over my skin. The room was cold. Probably to keep the bodies fresh.

“Have you ever been ballroom dancing?” he asked.

“No,” I said. My voice was small and weak; the sound barely left my throat.
 

“We practice every night, don’t we Miss Molly?” He cast an endearing look at the lifeless doll. “I will teach you.” He pulled me close to him and placed my hands around his neck. “Just follow my lead.”

He ungracefully shuffled his feet around. I struggled to stay out of the way and not get stepped on. I was by no means a professional dancer, or any dancer at all, for that matter, but I had watched enough cheesy dance competition shows with Lynn to know that Jeremy had no idea what he was doing either.

Finally the record stopped. Jeremy pulled me into an embrace. His hand moved from my back to my waist and slowly trailed up to my chest.
 

“Oh my,” he whispered when his finger traced my nipple. “My oh my.” Then he suddenly moved away, picking up the doll. He set her on the floor then had me lie down next to her. He picked up my arm, moving it so it was positioned the same way as the doll’s. He messed with my curls then retrieved an old Polaroid camera.

The doorbell rang just as he took the photo. I closed my eyes and let out a breath.
Thank God.
My eyes flew open, and a desperate giggle escaped my lips when I realized I was happy that Zane was back. Jeremy sighed and stomped his foot in frustration. I stared at him, taken aback by his childlike tantrum, though what else should I have expected from a grown man with a room full of dolls?

“Time to take off the dress,” he whined. I hurried over to the corner where my clothes had been thrown. I pulled the zipper down so fast it caught on the material. I didn’t care. I yanked it over my head, wincing when I heard a seam tear. I froze, waiting for Jeremy to freak out on me.

He was too busy with the door to notice. I slowly exhaled and let the blue dress fall to the floor. I got redressed with such haste that I didn’t notice I had put my clothes on inside out. I didn’t care. I just wanted out.

Jeremy led the way through the townhouse. The doorbell rang again. That might have been the only time I was thankful for Zane’s impatience. When the door opened, I expected Zane to grab me and drag me to the car, then peel out of the quiet little subdivision and speed down the highway.

Zane stood on the stoop all right, but his arms were crossed and he leaned against the side of the house with a smirk on his face. His eyes glinted with wicked amusement as he studied the man next to him.

“Adeline!” Jackson exclaimed. His brown eyes opened in shock, and his face drained of color. For months, I hadn’t left the house. I was the last person he expected to see. And I was the only person in the house he was willing to risk his life for. Zane’s smirk turned into an evil grin, and suddenly I knew the real reason why Jackson was back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

AN ENTIRE WEEK passed before I was able to talk to Jackson. I hadn’t been forced to work in that time. There had to be a reason. It wasn’t like Nate had forgotten about me. I was too grateful to question it. Even thinking about it made me fear that I would jinx it somehow and Nate would order me back to the guest room.

Jackson carried a tray with our food allowance for the day down the stairs and set it on the table. Lily and Rochelle were in front of the large mirror, fussing over each other’s hair. I sat on Phoebe’s cot, snapping a rubber hair tie that I had stretched between my thumb and index finger.
 

Jackson’s eyes swept through the room and immediately found me. It was awful being in the same room with him and not being able to touch him. He pressed his lips together and eyed the girls, then set the tray down on the card table and picked up a very full laundry basket. He looked at Phoebe, then me, his eyes questioning. I shook my head, telling him that she hadn’t gotten any better.