Chapter 25
Camille
I was a fool. How he got me? It was easy. I fell right into the trap.
“Camille?”
“Yes? Who’s this?”
“It’s Joshua Kade, Camille. I’m Ted’s friend, boyfriend, if you will.”
I sat down on the couch. I’d been busy prepping for dinner, chopping the carrots, celery, and onions that would go into my slow cooker for chicken soup.
Why is this asshole calling me? “With all due respect, Mr. Kade, you are not a friend, and especially not a boyfriend of Ted’s.
Last I heard—and this is from the horse’s mouth—he wants nothing to do with you. ”
There was a long pause on the line. Trying to figure out what to say? What lie might convince me to come over to your side? Good luck with that.
At last, he spoke. “Yes, yes. It might surprise you to know I’m quite aware of what you’re saying. We’ve definitely hit a rough patch—”
I cut him off before he could go any further, before he could spew any more falsehoods.
Honestly, I was ready to hang up. I wanted no part of this.
“Save your breath, please. I don’t want to be in the middle of this.
I don’t really want to talk to you, Mr. Kade.
Whatever you want to say, you can say it to Ted.
He’s the one you need to talk to. I am and will not act as some kind of go-between for you.
This is, as they say, not my circus, not my monkeys. I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait! Then you haven’t heard?”
Okay, you have my attention. I rolled my eyes. “Haven’t heard what?”
“It’s been on the news.”
“What? What’s been on the news?” My heart began a ratta-tat-tat rhythm, even my Apple watch told me my heart rate was in a dangerous place.
“Oh, my dear.” Josh was quiet for several moments while I paced my kitchen.
If his objective was to worry me, he was succeeding.
“Ted and a friend of his were involved in an accident a few hours ago. A head-on collision at the big curve where Lake Shore Drive turns into Sheridan Road. Some kid, probably high or drunk, took the curve too fast at the light and plowed right into them.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. I know now my reason flew out the window, augmented by a big dose of terror, mixing with adrenaline, and flooding my bloodstream.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you’d know. But I just wanted to call to say that Ted mentioned you all the time, with such great fondness.
That you were like a sister to him. And I get that, having a sister I love very much.
I know you’ve probably heard some unkind things about me from him.
But I assure you, it’s only because we’re in a rough patch right now.
There are certain things that truly can be chalked up to misunderstanding. ”
Now, I can look back and see how blind I was. Panic and fear for someone you love can throw a whole blanket of wool over one’s eyes. “Is he okay?”
“He’s alive.” He stayed quiet, allowing the implication, I believe, to sink in.
“But, but…” I couldn’t bring myself to ask the follow-up question. I was so panicked I can’t even say for sure I knew what the question would be. I know, I know. I should have questioned it; should have asked for some proof, although I don’t know what that proof would be.
“Collapsed lung, broken ribs, a concussion. He’s going to be okay, Camille.
That’s the important thing. He’s at Saint Joseph’s.
On Lake Shore? He’ll probably be there overnight, but then I think they’ll send him home.
I was calling because I thought you might want to take him in for a bit while he recuperates.
I’d do it, but as you know, we’re at odds with each other right now. ”
“I need to go to him,” I said, already gathering my soup ingredients and throwing them into storage tubs so I could pick up where I left off later.
“Do you know what room? Never mind, I’ll ask when I get there.
” I hurried into the living room. I sat down to pull on my Hokas and then stood to grab my pea coat off a hook by the door.
“His friend didn’t fare so well.”
I paused. “Friend?”
“Yes, uh, Bailey Anderson. You might have heard of him? True crime podcaster?”
“Sure, sure.” I pulled out the drawer of the desk by the front door, searching for my keys.
“He didn’t make it.”
I said nothing. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“I knew him pretty well.”
I didn’t think to ask how, and there was something in the back of my head that explained that particular connection, but panic and fear ripped away the chance I might have had to put two and two together.
“That’s really a shame. Listen, I need to get to Ted. I’m worried.” I blew out a breath of impatience and relief as I located my keys on the floor under the desk. I stooped to grab them and stood.
“Of course you are.”
“Thank you for calling.” I hung before he could say anything more.
Outside, the cold gripped me and I pulled the jacket closed at my chest, wishing I’d at least thought to grab a scarf or hat.
I hurried to my car, parked about halfway up the block, toward Sheridan.
And, even before I could come within a couple hundred feet, I saw that both front tires were flat. The car sat a helpless, and useless, angle.
I should have been suspicious when, not ten minutes later, Joshua Kade pulled up. He was a threat, right?
But he’d been so kind on the phone. And I was a little panicked. And maybe, what he said was true. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding. His face looked so full of concern and compassion as he idled next to me, the window down, worry creasing his features.
“Oh, no,” he said. “If it was just one tire, I’d change it for you.”
“Damn it.” I was already pulling out my phone and looking for the Uber app.
“I’m on my way to the hospital now.” He lifted something from the seat. I peered in. It was a Giordano’s pizza box. “I’m bringing him this. It’s his favorite.”
And it was. And this small detail—along with concern about Ted—caused all reason and all suspicion to flee from my mind.
“Get it. I’ll take you.”
And, stupid as a child getting into a white van because of the promise of candy, I did get in. I got in.
*
Again, I was a fool. Stupid. Gullible. What’s the phrase I’ve read in movie and book reviews? Too stupid to live. Yup, that was me.
And as I lay there on Joshua Kade’s messy, tangled-sheets bed, my wrists and ankles bound with silk neckties to the headboard and footboard, I thought about telling myself I’d gotten just what I deserved, that I was too stupid to live was most likely about to become literal truth.
As soon as I was in his car, the charade was over.
Josh pulled a hunting knife from beneath the driver’s seat and held it to my midsection.
Just the appearance of it, pointed and serrated, designed for ripping flesh, an instrument of torture and of death, made me nauseated.
My stomach churned and my face broke out in a cold sweat.
“Please,” I whimpered. Even I didn’t know the answer to the question, please what?
“Honey, don’t even bother.” He started the car and shifted into gear.
We pulled away from the curb and I watched as Lake Michigan’s reflection faded away in the sideview mirror.
Even though he lowered the knife to his side, he still gripped it.
That was enough to paralyze me. There were people out on Sheridan Road, but I didn’t dare try to signal any of them.
Would you? I could have rolled down the window and screamed.
I could have opened the door and taken my chances by rolling out of my seat on to the road.
But I simply couldn’t move. My voice was trapped somewhere inside.
I’d never experienced fear like this before.
So I simply put my head down and wondered if I’d ever see this lake, these people, this neighborhood again.
It didn’t take us long to get to Josh’s.
I knew the police were looking for him and I questioned how smart it was to come here, but what did it matter?
All of this would be over quickly. I wasn’t about to reveal any information I knew about Ted to this monster.
When Josh didn’t get what he wanted, he’d dispose of me.
I was only a thing, a tool, a means to an end.
And when that tool has no more use, there’s no sentimentality.
You just get rid of it—just get rid of me.
I was weirdly calm.
He led me inside and I was the picture of compliance as he tied me to the bed. I wasn’t sure what would happen next, what instruments of torture he might bring out, but I accepted whatever would come.
I had to. I had no choice.
But once he had me bound and gagged, everything changed in an instant.
The front door opened—hard. I know because it banged into the wall behind it. Plaster rattled down to the floor as it fell.
A woman, with salt and pepper frizz, glasses, and a long tweed coat barged into the room, took a look at me on the bed, and screamed, “Josh! What the fuck? You said you wouldn’t involve anyone else!”
She turned on her heel and slammed the bedroom door shut behind her. They were arguing out there. Their voices rose as things became more heated. But they might as well have been speaking another language, for all I could make out of their words.
Was she here to help him?
To save me?
Who the hell was she, anyway?
And then, when the shrieking had reached a crescendo and the shattering of a glass punctuated the argument, putting a period in place, silence reigned.
I heard only the front door open and then close.
I lay there for hours, wondering if anyone would come for me.
Darkness claimed the room completely and I imagined things waiting for me in the darkest shadows beneath the bed.
I even hallucinated shadow figures moving in the darkness, whispering, staring at my helpless form on the bed.
My limbs hurt and tingled from being unable to move.
I wanted to cry out, but the duct tape over my mouth effectively silenced me.
She came back in an hour or two. I’m guessing. It could have been fifteen minutes. It could have been seven hours.
When she opened the bedroom door and switched on the overhead light, I saw a face filled with compassion and kindness.
“He’s gone,” she said. “No more fear. No more worries.” She bent toward me. “Let’s get you out of those restraints.”
I noticed the knife in her hand was the same kind Josh had held. Who knew? Maybe it was the same one.
She began cutting at my bindings, being careful not to nick me. “This is gonna hurt. I’m sorry,” she said before ripping the duct tape away from my mouth.
I gasped. It did hurt. Nevertheless, I winced and then thanked her.
“Where is he?” I wondered.
“He’s where he’s no longer a threat. To you or anyone else.” She eyed me, searching, I suppose, for a sign of understanding in my features.
Was she saying what I thought she was?
Was she my savior? Would she help bring about an end to this nightmare? Had she already done so?
My questions would have to wait until my shock subsided. At that moment, I was unable to voice anything. It was too hard.
“Come on.” She helped me sit up. “We’re going to go to your friend Ted now. Okay?”
“He’s okay?” I did manage to ask.
“He’s fine. Whatever my brother told you was a lie.”
“So no car accident on Lake Shore Drive?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry he manipulated you like that.”
“And what about Bailey Anderson? He’s not dead?”
She smiled. “He’s as alive as you or me.”
“Then this horror is over?”
She smiled. “Get up. We need to get going.”