Chapter 39

Packed closets will give the appearance of limited storage space.

Hours later, or what seemed like hours, I was hoarse from yelling for help, thirsty, and desperate to use a bathroom. The air conditioner was running in the house, but not enough to reach the confined area of the closet. I was dripping with perspiration.

Each time I heard a car drive by, I shouted for help, but to no avail. My hands ached from pounding on the door. Then I thought of my little Inky and hoped Aunt Kit was home and would feed him.

I couldn’t believe I was locked in a closet. What would possess someone to do that? Did that person plan to come back later to let me out, or worse? I took in several deep breaths and let them out slowly, trying to stave off a panic attack. I tried to center myself as I had learned to do taking Yoga.

At the last house I’d visited, I thought it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to go alone to houses unless there was a woman there. Now I’d have to take someone with me to empty houses. Was there any place safe for women these days?

A car door slammed. I pounded on the door and shouted, “Help! Help me!” Then it occurred to me that it could be the person who imprisoned me who had come back, and I started to shiver all over. Still, I shouted.

I heard a faint voice calling my name. I kept shouting for help, but being inside a closet, it would be difficult for someone to hear me. Fortunately, the house was a rambler, and the bedroom was on the ground floor and faced the street.

“Laura? Are you in there?” It was Tyrone. Thank God.

“Yes, yes. I’m in here.” I shouted as loud as I could and pounded on the door. “I’m locked in a closet.”

Tyrone’s voice got louder. “Hold on, I’ll try the front door.”

“Forget the front door. Break the window.” Mrs. Webster was there with him. I sent up a double thank you.

“Okay, Laura, stand back. I’m going to throw a rock through the window,” Tyrone called.

Since I wasn’t anywhere near a window, that made me laugh. It felt good to laugh considering how desperate my situation had been.

I heard a crash and then the sound of glass falling—followed by another crash. Mrs. Webster must have thrown a rock too.

“I’ve got it, hold on,” Tyrone called out. “It’s a crank out window.”

Seconds later, the door opened and Tyrone stood in the opening. Fresh air filled the closet and helped revive me. “Hold on Tyrone. I’ll hug you once I’ve gone down the hall.”

I finished in the bathroom and when I came out, Tyrone and Mrs. Webster were waiting for me. I hugged each of them. “I don’t know what brought you here, but thank you.”

“It was Nita,” Tyrone said. “When you didn’t call her back or answer your cell phone, she got concerned. She called to ask me if I had heard from you.”

“Girl, you had us good and worried, especially when we pulled up and saw your car parked in front and everything locked up.” As strong as Mrs. Webster usually appeared, she looked shaken. “We decided to circle the house and heard your cry. If the bedroom had been on the second floor, we probably wouldn’t have heard you.”

“But how did you decide to look here?”

“Nita said you had an appointment at two at this address. I had just picked Gran up from one of her church group meetings and was heading home. I told Nita we would drive by here on our way. We thought maybe your meeting had taken longer than expected, and with your history of not having a cell phone that always gets reception, we figured you might not have thought to or been able to call Nita to check in as you’d said you would.”

“That was my old phone. My new one gets good reception, but I dropped my bag with my phone in it when someone grabbed me.”

“Who was the rascal that locked you in there? Are you hurt?” Mrs. Webster picked up my bag from the floor and handed it to me. I was thankful it was still there.

“I never saw anyone. I found the house unlocked and went in thinking the agent had left it open for me to view and would be back. I thought perhaps the agent had gone for coffee or something. If I had been smart, when I saw that no one was here, I would have called the agent listed on the For Sale sign. Life learned the hard way.”

Tyrone’s face was creased in anger. “I can’t believe someone locked you in that closet. How’d that happen without you seeing who it was?”

“After I walked into the master bedroom, I no sooner entered when someone pulled a blanket over my head and grabbed me. Before I could react, he shoved me into the closet. It all happened so fast.” I rubbed my shoulder.

“Let me see that.” Mrs. Webster gently extended my arm and rotated it. “Does that pain you?”

“It’s sore from where my shoulder hit the wall, but I can move my arm okay.”

Sirens sounded in the distance and kept getting closer. When they stopped in front of the house, I turned to Mrs. Webster and Tyrone. “Are the police coming here?”

Mrs. Webster held up her cell phone, which I didn’t even know she owned. “As soon as we realized you were locked in that closet, I called 911. We didn’t know how we would find you, and we needed to report this crime.”

Tyrone had opened the door from the inside after he had climbed in through the window and let Mrs. Webster in, so the door was open when the police officer and EMTs arrived.

An officer I didn’t know came in. “Are you hurt, ma’am?”

“No, I’m just banged up a bit.”

“But what about that?” He pointed to drops of blood that had landed on the floor near our feet.

I looked at it puzzled.

“Oh, that’s me.” Tyrone held up his right hand. “I cut it on the glass when I put my hand through the window to unlock it and crank it open. It’s just a scratch. Sorry, I forgot about it.”

Mrs. Webster, always the nurse, grabbed his hand and examined it. “I think you may need a few stitches there.” She reached into her large purse and pulled out a wad of tissues and pressed it against the wound. “Hold this against it until we can get you to the emergency room.”

“Oh, Tyrone. I’m so sorry you were hurt,” I said.

I looked up to see Detective Spangler coming through the doorway. “We meet again, Detective.” I spoke with more bravado than I was feeling. Anger began to build up in me the longer I thought about the person who had locked me up and because Tyrone had been injured as a result of it.

Detective Spangler studied me closely. “Are you okay? When I heard the call go out, I followed, not knowing what we’d find.”

“My shoulder is a bit sore, but other than that, I’m okay.” I told him everything that happened.

“It sounds like someone purposely lured you here. You have nothing to go on except for an email from an M. Cassatt?”

“That’s all. I thought it was strange that we received a reminder for an appointment that none of us remembered making, but at the time I figured one of us forgot to mark it down.” I paused. “Sorry, one second. Mrs. Webster, could you please let Nita know that I’m okay.”

“I already have. She’s madder than a wet hornet.”

I followed Detective Spangler down the hall to the master bedroom and stood aside as he perused the empty room. Empty except for a pole-like device lying on the floor. He took out a white cloth handkerchief and used it to pick it up. “It’s one of those devices you put under a door handle to secure it when you don’t have a door lock or you want additional security in a door with a lock. People frequently use them when staying in hotel rooms.”

“Since the house is empty, someone brought it to lock me in that closet?”

“Afraid so.” His expression was grim. “The question is who did you rile up enough to do that. The fact somebody contacted you to get you out here shows that it wasn’t a random act—someone seeing you enter an empty place and taking advantage of the situation.”

“But there was nobody here, or I didn’t think anyone was here.”

“Obviously someone was waiting for you behind the door. But the question is who and why? I’ll have an officer visit the other houses on this street to see if anyone saw someone going into the house. But since it was midday, no one may have been home.”

“Detective?” We looked up to see a uniform office standing there.

“Yes, what is it?”

“The back door was jimmied open.”

Tyrone jumped from where he had been sitting on the floor. “You mean I went through that window when the back door was open the whole time?”

When the detective walked away with the officer to investigate the back door, Tyrone leaned toward me and whispered. “Do you think I could be charged for breaking that window and entering?”

“I don’t think so. Not in an emergency.” But given Tyrone’s experience with the police when he had been charged with murdering a homeowner, I could well understand his concern.

Detective Spangler came back into the front room. “Looks like whoever attacked you got into the house through the back door. It was definitely a setup. I’ve called the real estate agent who will notify the homeowner. The agent said he’d be right over to secure the place.”

I suddenly felt weary. “Can we go now? We’d like to get Tyrone to the emergency room. Mrs. Webster said his hand might need stitches, and the EMTs who were here confirmed it.”

Mrs. Webster, who had been sitting on the floor as well, stood and came over to where we were standing. “I’ll go with Tyrone to the hospital. You go on ahead home.”

Detective Spangler looked up from the notebook he was making notes in. “Wait a few minutes and I’ll drop you at your place. You may not want to drive after your experience.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that. Aunt Kit and I can come back for my car tomorrow.”

I said goodbye to Mrs. Webster and thanked Tyrone again for his heroic effort in rescuing me. I didn’t know what I’d do without the people in my life who frequently came to my aid.

Now I had to face a ride to my home with Detective Spangler.