Six

Stephanie woke with a start. Sunshine was leaking through the small, high-placed windows that were her only source of light. Her watch said ten thirty. It was still morning.

She pulled herself out of bed and, a little steadier on her feet, made her way to a closed door she hadn’t seen earlier. She opened it and flipped on the light. A single bare bulb emitted just enough light so she could see spider webs in the corners. Careful not to touch them, she used the toilet. There was no soap, hot water, or towel. She rinsed her hands, splashed some cold water on her face, and wiped her hands on her nightgown. The water and cold cement floor made her shiver so much her teeth began to chatter.

She pulled the blanket from the bed and, using it for a wrap, headed for the stairs leading up to the closed door. The staircase was rickety, and quite a few steps were so weak that they buckled slightly when she put her weight on them. She went up slowly, one step at a time, gripping the handrail. At the top, she saw that an uneven, square slot had been cut in the door. It was covered by what looked like a crudely made flap on the other side. Beneath the opening, a piece of wood, held up by brackets, formed a slightly crooked shelf.

She tried the door. Finding it locked, she started beating on it, screaming, “Help!” and “Let me out of here.” There was no response. She stopped pounding when she noticed a light switch on the wall next to the door. She flipped it, but nothing happened. Looking around, she spotted a single light bulb, dusty and burned out, suspended from the ceiling on a long cord. She turned her attention to the flap that covered the opening in the door, pushing on it. Nothing happened. It seemed to be locked from the other side.

She resumed pounding on the door. “Hey!” she yelled. “I’m cold and hungry.” She banged and shouted until her voice was hoarse, but the place was silent. At one point, the floorboards overhead creaked, raising her hopes. When the sound stopped, she decided it was probably just the house settling as the day warmed up. Exhausted by her efforts and sick with fear, she started back downstairs. She was halfway down when a noise behind her made her look up. The slot in the door opened, and something slid onto the shelf from the other side.

She hurried back up to find a tray holding a mug, a bowl with a spoon in it, and a folded sheet of paper. The tray was brown plastic and looked as if it had been stolen from a cafeteria. She started to pick it up, then reconsidered. With the tray in her hands, she wouldn’t be able to see where to put her feet as she descended the stairs. A fall onto the cement could be the end of her. Instead, she tucked the note under her arm, picked up the cup, and climbed down.

She sat on the bottom step and took a sip from the cup. It was coffee, floating with loose grounds. Someone had made it camp-style, boiling coffee grounds in a saucepan. Although it was bitter, it was nice and hot. She sipped it greedily, holding the cup with both hands to warm them. She drank it all before setting the mug down. Only then did she pull out the note to read it. She had to hold it up to catch the light. The message was written in block letters on lined paper that appeared to have been torn from a notebook. It said, “You can stop yelling. Nobody can hear you. Just stay put and don’t try to escape. All we want is the money. Don’t make us hurt you.”

The mention of money puzzled her only for a moment. She didn’t have more than a couple of hundred dollars in her account, but Nicole did. A lot of it. These people had kidnapped her to get at Nicole’s bequest. At first, the idea was hard to process. She’d read about three recent kidnappings. One victim had been released, but the other two had not. Were the same people who’d taken her responsible for the other kidnappings? She had no doubt Nicole would part with the money to buy her freedom. At the same time, she wondered if her captors would let her go once the money was paid.

Her nose was running from the cold, and her immediate discomfort took over her thoughts. She was freezing, and she wanted more coffee, a hot meal, some blankets, and a coat or jacket to wear over her thin nightgown. She had to figure out a way to communicate with her captors, who seemed determined not to interact with her. If she had a pen, she could write her requests on the back of this note and slip it under the door. But no such luck.

Now, in the dim light that reached her, she saw that the basement didn’t have four solid walls. On one side was a crude partition of wood slats. She went over to peer between them. What she saw was the dark crawl space under the house. This was the source of the moldy smell. Some distance away, an open vent of some kind admitted a small amount of light. It occurred to her that she could crawl over to the vent and see if it was big enough to squeeze through. But the smell told her it was damp under there. She couldn’t imagine herself worming her way through damp soil that might be riddled with spider webs and rats’ nests.

Instead, she braved the stairs again and resumed banging on the door. “It’s freezing down here. I need more blankets, hot food, something warm to wear, and another mug of coffee,” she yelled. Then, even louder, “Please!”

There was no answer. As she was standing there, she heard a door slam and the sound of a car start up and drive away. Were they leaving her alone here? She beat on the door again, screaming, “Don’t leave me like this!” But the house was silent.

With a sense of defeat, she took the bowl from the shelf and carried it back downstairs. The bowl contained some kind of cold, sugar-coated cereal—frosted flakes, as it turned out—soggily floating in milk. Despite the cereal’s lack of appeal, she ate every bit of it. When she finished, she felt a little better. She sat awhile, trying to calm herself so she could figure out what to do. If she were Nicole, she thought, she’d already have picked the lock and escaped.

All at once, she felt irresistibly sleepy and all thought of escape evaporated. She lay down on the bed, wrapped herself in the blanket, and—still cold—went back to sleep.