30 Wendy
Wendy
Westport, Connecticut
It was the last snow of winter when I escaped.
For weeks I drift. Avoid human contact. Afraid that someone will recognize me and what I have done.
So I eat whatever I can find or steal. I am so grateful and overwhelmed to finally be free that I can’t be still or focus on anything but wandering .
. . and looking at the clouds, the sun and moon and the stars.
Breathing the air and smelling the scents of life.
Oh and the sounds, they make me so happy.
Thankfully my keeper hadn’t drugged me in years, and for the past six I have stayed in very fit condition. So I’m clean and physically healthy. And I am so incredibly thankful to have my life back.
Except that is a lie, and it’s the last one I will ever tell myself.
My life—Wendy Neely—is gone. And no one really even noticed.
Beyond furious, I spend days at the library searching the net to learn what happened after the day I was left with my keeper.
I discover that no one was ever told what happened to me.
I was scarcely mentioned at all. Everything was about Julia Anderson, the daughter of pharmaceutical magnate, Carlisle Anderson.
Julia insisted she didn’t even know Wendy Neely and certainly never saw her the day of her own abduction.
I am stunned at the details she related about her supposed abduction. I am certain none of that happened.
This new reality is not a pleasant one. Not only did Casey Duval leave me and never come back, but my best friend never told anyone she even knew me, much less that I was with her damned boyfriend the day I disappeared.
I was betrayed by the person closest to me. All because I tried to save her.
The renewed need for revenge roars to life inside me.
For years I told myself if I ever escaped that I would find Casey Duval and make him pay.
He deserved it. The bastard. But there is something more important I need to do first. I need to find Julia and make her see what he did to me—with her help, apparently—and what together they stole from me!
She needs to know who and what Casey Duval really is.
If my story doesn’t convince her, nothing will.
It takes time for me to decide how to approach Julia.
Eventually I hitch from Manhattan to Westport.
Once there I find a summer house and break in.
There are canned goods and, lucky for me, one of the owners is about my size.
I make myself at home and begin surveillance of the Anderson lake house.
I always liked that place. Julia and I had some great times there.
Before.
I really hope I find she has a good excuse for not trying to help me.
The owners of the house I’m using have a convertible in the garage that works perfectly for my surveillance.
I park on a side road near Julia’s driveway and then make my way through the woods to watch her.
I discovered all the right gear at my borrowed house.
Binoculars, perfect boots for a hike in the woods and a stun gun.
The stun gun was in the teenage son’s room.
I just wonder what he’s been up to with that.
I take it with me in case I run into trouble.
The first time I plan to actually knock on Julia’s door, I recognize trouble.
Casey Duval is there.
For a while I can only sink to my knees on the edge of the woods and watch.
It’s true, nearly ten years later she is still seeing him.
I can’t believe she would be such a fool.
Unable to look away, I watch. Desperate to hear their words, I dare to move through the tree line until I am very near to where they lounge on the beach.
Until well after dark I listen. The things they say . . . the way they laugh about how they disappeared me. Julia giggles drunkenly and admits that she still dreams about the things Casey suggested would be done to me. He laughs, recounting the way everyone believed her story about being kidnapped.
I huddle in a squat, my arms hugged around my legs, and for the first time in too long to remember, I cry.
Eventually he prepares to leave. She follows him to his car, and right there on the driveway in front of her house, they hug and kiss like an old married couple. She waves as he drives away. My heart is pounding, and I’m certain it’s about to crack.
She knew what happened to me all along. And she did nothing. Hatred twists inside me. I will not allow them to get away with what they have done.
According to her social media page she’s about to graduate with her PhD. Her latest post says she is leaving right after graduation and spending the summer in Europe.
She betrayed me and then just went on with her life—with him.
Before going back into the house, she pauses and glances toward the woods. Right in my direction.
My heart nearly stops . . . it’s as if she is looking right at me. She can’t possibly see me, but can she feel me? Does she somehow sense my presence? Finally, she goes inside.
I leave. I cannot be here anymore right now.
It takes a couple of weeks for me to rise above this revelation and make a plan. I haven’t been able to locate Casey since he left Julia’s house. He’s no longer living in that rental in Norwalk. None of her social media posts include him, so evidently she is still hiding him from her parents.
I go to all the places she has posted about around town and in Norwalk but don’t spot him. I decide to focus on Julia and take care of Casey later. I have decided exactly what her punishment will be.
The same one she sentenced me to.
The planning takes some time, and just as I am prepared to make my move, her parents are killed in a terrible car crash.
Since I have a heart, I will wait until after the funeral to do the deed.
Though I can’t wait long because by Memorial Day, the family who owns the house where I’m staying will likely show up.
I decide they are not very savvy about security—case in point, they don’t have a security system, and their passwords, including the combination to a wall safe, are all stored in a desk drawer in their home office.
I found five thousand bucks in cash in the safe.
I’ll try to pay them back one day. But for now, I can use the cash.
The most difficult part of the next step is people watching at the shops around town. I need a driver’s license. So I watch the comings and goings of shoppers until I spot a woman with brown hair who is about my age. I follow her around until the opportunity to snag her wallet presents itself.
License in hand, I rent a minivan and prepare.
Back at my borrowed house, I find a large duffel bag in the principal bedroom closet.
The soft-sided kind with wheels on one end for ease of transport.
I climb inside it to ensure it will work for what I need.
Perfect. Then I round up a number of the owner’s silk scarves, and I’m set.
That night I make my way to the spot in the woods I have chosen. I watch Julia through the windows. She drinks one glass of wine after the other. There is no sign of Casey. That’s just like him to leave her all alone to do her grieving after the highly publicized and well-attended funeral.
Once I’m at the side door, the one the family always uses, I can hear music.
Doesn’t sound like grieving music to me.
I try the knob and smile when I find it unlocked.
Maybe she’s waiting for him. I should hurry.
Just inside the door, two shiny black suitcases wait.
Her designer handbag sits on top. Inside I find her passport and airline tickets.
The date of departure is tomorrow. Wow. I almost missed her.
I leave the duffel in the kitchen and make my way to the living room where she stands at the wall of windows staring at the lake beyond.
Her jean-clad hips sway to the catchy beat of Justin Bieber’s “Love Yourself.” No question she does that well enough.
I watch for a moment, unable to help myself.
Her hair is darker now, more brown than red.
Maybe a homage to me? Yeah, right. Her crop top shows off her trim waist and her pale skin that always refused to tan.
Mine is almost as bad. We used to commiserate about this . . .
My heart aches at the idea of what she allowed that piece of shit Casey to do to me and then never said a word. We were so close . . . I trusted her completely.
Big mistake.
Now she’s going to pay.
I walk all the way up to her and wait a moment before I act. I want her to know it’s me. Just as she sees my reflection in the window and starts to turn around, I touch the stun gun to her waist and watch the shock claim her face before her shuddering body drops to the floor.
I move quickly then. I retrieve my duffel and maneuver her torso into the bag, then bind her wrists together behind her back.
I manipulate one leg, bent at the knee, and then the other into the duffel, which proves a little tricky.
I have to turn her just so and tug at the sides of the bag. It’s a tight fit.
She starts to struggle, and I zap her again.
Once her body goes lax, I secure her ankles, then tie one end of a scarf to the ankle binding and the other to the wrist one.
Then I stuff the final scarf as a gag into her mouth and zip her up inside the duffel.
With a big sigh of relief, I roll her out to the minivan I left midway along her driveway.
I know just where to take her. I heard my keeper speak of this man many times—the Monster, they called him.
He goes through lots of girls and is always looking for someone new.
Another complaint is how he takes far too many chances rather than sticking with the strict protocol of acquisition. This works well for my plan.
Getting the duffel into the back of the minivan isn’t so easy but I manage. Then I drive to Manhattan to a corner brownstone near Columbus Avenue and leave her the same way her lover did me, except hog-tied in a duffel and at the back door of the keeper’s house.
I watch from the iron side gate, hidden by the shrubbery, to ensure the door is answered.
I rang the bell multiple times. Finally the ogre of a man steps outside, stares at the duffel for a moment before sliding the zipper just far enough to see what’s wiggling inside.
He glances around and then wheels it inside.
“Enjoy your new life, friend,” I murmur as I make my way back to where I parked. I drive away without a backward glance . . . without a glimmer of guilt.
I go back to the borrowed house and clean up any trace of my presence there.
The next morning I return the rented minivan.
But rather than take off out west somewhere as planned, I go to the drugstore and pick up a box of hair color.
I think I’ll spend the summer in Europe.
My old friend’s not going to need that vacation.
Not until three months later, only a few days before the scheduled date to return to the US, I realize what I want to do next.
All summer I’ve posted photos on Julia’s social media, always careful to capture an angle that doesn’t reveal too much of my face, though admittedly we do look quite similar.
I also study her previous posts. The way she dresses now. The makeup. The way she wears her hair.
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror of the Paris apartment where I’ve spent most of the summer.
It’s the perfect plan. I will become Julia.
I get a new life and a direct path to Casey Duval.
I cannot wait to watch him die.