Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Noreen’s shift was five minutes from ending when her cell phone rang. Seeing it was Lynne Matthews, she frowned. All she wanted to do was go home, sleep a few hours, and hopefully see Blake later today. He worked last night too and would be off in another hour. She ignored the call, swiped her badge as she left her floor and headed toward her car.

The phone rang again. And again. Cursing the woman for her persistence, Noreen settled into her driver’s seat, opened her car windows, and stabbed the ‘accept’ button. She willed her voice to sound friendly.

“Good morning, Lynne. I’m just clocking out of the hospital and heading home to sleep for a few hours. May I call you back later?”

“Argia is ill.” She relayed the information as calmly as if she were telling someone the time of day. Usually, she’d be frantic.

Noreen’s pulse bumped. “What do you mean she’s ill? What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know what the problem is. I’m not a doctor. Or a nurse. Will you come to check her?”

She felt her eyebrows come together in confusion. Lynne typically offered a medical diagnosis for her daughter’s condition and demanded tests. This conversation was odd.

“What are her symptoms? Have you called her doctor? Where are you? At the hospital?” She resisted referring to it as her home away from home. If Argia suffered a hangnail, Lynne interpreted it as a medical emergency that required transport. Noreen had already figured that out.

“No, we’re at home. She’s too sick for me to move her.”

Noreen caught her breath. “What do you mean too sick to move. What are her symptoms?”

“I’m asking you to come and help my daughter. You’re a nurse so it shouldn’t be that difficult. I’ll text you the address. Please hurry.”

She hung up, leaving Noreen with a slack jaw and her phone pressed against her ear. She didn’t need Lynne’s text message to start driving toward the Matthews’ house. The address remained in her car’s navigation system from the time she drove by trying to complete that welfare check that opened a door to a hell of a lot more than she ever imagined. It led her to Blake. Was he there? Why hadn’t Lynne followed her usual pattern of calling an ambulance and shipping Argia off to the hospital?

A co-worker interrupted her speculation with a phone call and questions about one of the children on the floor. By the time she hung up, she’d parked in Lynne’s driveway and turned off the motor. Did Lynne know that her car failed to start after their lunch meeting and would she inquire about it? That would be a dead giveaway.

The door swung open and Lynne emerged on the porch. “Don’t just sit there. Argia needs you.”

Leaving her purse on the passenger seat and her cell phone in the cup holder between the seats, Noreen locked the doors and walked into the house. This home was different than Blake’s rental house, newer, more modern, and colder. The front door opened into a small entryway with a three-foot tall, blue porcelain vase that held artificial grasses stretching almost to the ceiling. It was frightening at first glance. To her right was a room with a baby grand piano and on the left, an oval oak dining room and eight chairs that she could count. A matching hutch, dry bar and auxiliary butler crowded the space. Down the hall in front of where she stood, Noreen saw the kitchen.

All the furnishings and accouterments looked expensive and professionally decorated. None of it reflected Blake’s warm, down-to-earth character. Blake told her that once he moved out, Lynne hired an interior decorator to refurbish the entire house, forwarding all the bills to him after the fact.

She nodded toward the piano. “Who plays?”

“Argia will someday. Unless you let her die.”

Icy fingers of foreboding crawled down her back. What an awful thing to say.

Now she raised her gaze to the stairs leading to the second floor. “Where is she, Lynne? Upstairs? If she’s that ill, perhaps we should call an ambulance immediately.” Anything to get someone else in this house. “Have you called her father?”

“I called you.” Lynne opened a slim door in the rear left corner. “Down here. She knows she’s not allowed to play in the basement but she never listens.”

Shock forced her to focus on Lynne. “Argia is down in the basement? Is her father with her?”

Lynne smirked. “Of course not. Why would he be here?”

Her feet drove her toward the door. “You left Argia down in the basement by herself when she’s not feeling well? What the hell is the matter with you?” She’d reached the top step when Lynne shoved her hard from behind and she plummeted head first to the concrete floor.

Excruciating pain paralyzed her leg and she screamed. Lynne hurried down the steps.

“Oh my goodness, Noreen. What happened? Did little nursey nurse have an accident?”

The room spun in the darkness. Mold and the universal musty smell of a cellar clogged her nose. Dampness seeped up from the cement beneath her. To her left, an unfinished floor-to-ceiling wall. On her right, exposed beams and chalk marks from the home improvement dealer were legible on the plywood panels. The framed wall turned at a ninety-degree angle, effectively containing the space beyond it. The opened door allowed her to see inside to a carpeted, finished room. It held no furniture. Nothing. A small window at the ceiling provided the only light and, off to the side, it appeared a panel had been torn from the wall. A faint sound from that direction attracted her attention. Whimpers.

Lynne propped her hands on her hips. “I thought I was going to have to restrain you but I don’t think that will be necessary. There’s blood on your pants and I’m rather certain that distended bulge in your pant leg is your tibia.” She smirked and tossed her hair. “See? You’re not the only medically educated person around here. My knowledge is superior.”

Noreen fought the urge to vomit and blinked several times to keep her eyes focused.

“Now, Noreen. Here’s your first challenge. You’re Argia’s nurse. She’s on a mattress behind the boiler in that room back there. You came to check on her. I suggest you do it.”

This was a nightmare. She didn’t recognize the woman standing before her with bulging eyes and a twisted grin. “Lynne, what’re you doing? What’s going on with you? I don’t understand.” Each question came out in a huff as her body tried to compensate for the raging agony of her shin bone protruding from her leg. “Lynne, I think you’re right. My leg is broken. I need an ambulance. Please help me.”

She dropped her head back and laughed. “Oh, so now it’s all about you? Don’t you care about Argia any longer? I thought as much. Your overt attention to my child was a scheme to sleep with my husband, wasn’t it?”

This was too much shock for her to handle. The ringing in her ears rivaled church bells. How did Lynne know she’d slept with Blake? And was this solely about revenge?

Somewhere in her foggy brain, Blake’s voice replayed, “Ex. She’s my ex.” Noreen checked her own smirk and a subdued sniffle drew her back to the moment.

“Where’s Argia?”

“I told you. In the room in the back. There’s no light in there. She has sensory issues, you know.”

She stretched her hand toward the woman she was certain had lost her mind. “Lynne, she’s your child. She must be frightened to death. I need you, Lynne. Help me reach Argia. I can’t walk. We’re both dependent on you.”

Her attempt to flatter the woman and psychologically appeal to her fell flat. Lynne released another eerie laugh and dropped her foot on the bottom step. “Crawl to her, bitch.”

With that, she stomped up the stairs and slammed the door.

Noreen dropped her head on the floor and closed her eyes. In the silence, the muffled cries sounded louder. She rolled over, only then realizing that the fall down the steps had done more damage than merely breaking her leg. Her torso ached and she prayed she hadn’t broken a rib. That’s what it felt like.

“Argia? Honey? Are you back there? It’s Noreen, honey. Can you hear me?”

Nothing but quiet sobs. She must reach her. Bracing her arms on the floor she used her good leg to force herself forward onto her elbows. The dragging motion on her broken leg burned as if a welder’s torch seared it. She dropped to her stomach, squeezed her eyes against the pain and waited for the room to steady. At least she hadn’t broken her arms.

She raised herself up on both of them and scooted forward another inch, crying out as her immobile leg resisted movement. Her vision blurred with tears and each breath came in a huff. Midnight blackness surrounded her and she wondered if she was about to pass out or if the basement was simply opaque.

“Argia? Sweetie, I’m trying to get to you honey but I’m hurt. And I can’t see you. Honey, make some noise so I can find you.”

The whimpering ceased and a stream of light spilled from under a closed door, casting a shadow along the floor like an airport runway. Lynne must have left a flashlight with Argia. A benevolent move on her part.

“Good girl, Gia. I’m coming in that direction so turn the beam off until I tell you to shine it again.” Her guiding light disappeared. With every ounce of energy she had, she hauled her contorted limb along the carpet, sputtering when a cobweb crossed her face and coughing at the dust each forward motion disturbed.

“It’s going to be all right, honey. Don’t be afraid. Your daddy is going to find us and fix this. Honey, are you hurt?”

Speaking through her clogged throat was difficult but it refocused her fears and some of the pain from this insane skulk across the finished room that yielded only inches with each attempt. “Gia, I know you can talk. This is really hard for me, honey. I’m hurt. My leg is broken. Remember how bad it hurt when you broke your arm? That’s how it is for me right now.”

Another three inches of forward progress. Maybe. She couldn’t see but sensed a barrier in close proximity to her face.

“Talk to me, sweetie. I need to know you’re okay.” The dead weight of her body shifting along the floor and the loud exhale each time she dropped her chest to the ground to regroup rolled around the room and echoed off the cinder block walls.

And then, a surge of relief. “Noween? Is Daddy here?”

Tears of gratitude glided down her cheeks. Despite the bleakness of the situation, she whispered ‘thank you God.’ And she propelled herself another few inches. “No, honey. But I know he’ll come. He’s probably looking for both of us right now.” Please, God, let it be so. “Gia, turn the light on again for me.”

The flood of light showed the door about six inches away. Which way did it open? “Argia. Are you hurt? Please tell me.”

“No. But Mother hurt Mr. Fox.” She started to cry.

“It’s all right, honey. We’ll fix Mr. Fox. Listen to me, Argia. Can you open the door for me? I can’t stand up.”

The silence deafened her. “Argia?” Muffled movements in the room but the barricade remained between them? “Talk to me, Gia.”

“I can’t weach it. Mother made it so I can’t.”

If she survived this ordeal, she’d claw her mother’s eyes out for this. “It’s okay. I’ll do it. Keep the light on.”

The average doorknob is three feet from the floor but in these shadows, this round black orb looked as high as the Empire State building. Undaunted, Noreen nudged closer. And closer. And then she stretched her arm, straining every muscle along her side and thigh to turn the knob, screaming when pain ripped through her leg as she fell face first into the room when the door swung inward. Bile clogged her throat and Argia’s scream matched her own. She lay on dirt, panting, willing herself to ignore the excruciating throbbing, ordering her body to overcome the distress. She spit wads of dust from her mouth.

Sneakered feet dropped into her line of sight and she raised her head to see a bungee cord tied around Argia’s right ankle and anchored to the leg of a rollaway bed. Argia extended the line as far as she could, squatted, and reached for her, her five-year-old fingers playing invisible piano keys in the air. Noreen overextended her left arm, groaned when the muscle tore, and grasped the child’s hand. “It’s okay, honey. I’m here now.”

Argia’s clothes were filthy, no doubt from this room and the grimy mattress on top of the cot. Her face was streaked with old and new tears and she crushed her blankey and cherished stuffed animals underneath her armpit. The fox’s head swung ludicrously from four strands of thick cord.

“Sit back down, Gia. Give me a minute and I think I can free your leg.” What mother in her right mind would tie her daughter to a bed in the basement? Well, perhaps that question answered itself. Lynne was a lunatic.

She dragged herself farther into the room until her feet cleared the door and it slammed shut, scaring them both. She looked at the closed portal in horror. No door latch on this side. Now they were both locked inside.

There was no floor in this room, only compacted dirt settled in uneven waves. One wall was lined with shelves and hundreds of containers of nuts, bolts, and screws all covered in dust. These jars hadn’t been opened in years. A rusty boiler occupied the opposite corner and behind it, an old push broom, its bristles worn down to two inches, a yardstick, and a leaf rake. Pipes rose out of the top of the tank but connected to nothing. It hadn’t operated in years.

It was unimaginable that this room was part of the clean, modern Matthews house upstairs. Why would Blake keep such a chamber like this?

Finally, willing herself not to blackout, she flipped herself over and edged backward on her butt until her shoulders hit the cot. Argia fell beside her and threw her arms around her neck, sobbing. Noreen wrapped the child in an embrace.

“It’s all right, honey. Don’t cry. It’s going to be fine.” The child’s chest heaved and her body wracked with her unchecked fear. Noreen allowed the storm to run its course, fully understanding Argia’s terror. She was scared to death too.