Chapter Fourteen
TESS
Istep out of the mall, after another painful shift, helping people who don’t know what they want and squeezing themselves into outfits two sizes too small.
My schedule gave me a day off yesterday and a half-day today.
Lucky me, right? This is every minimum wage-worker’s dream. Only, it isn’t, and I’m not lucky. The thought of going back home, alone, isn’t pleasant. From the uncomfortable messages I’ve been getting, and Novak’s lack of concern, the thought of being at the house is deeply unsettling.
What if today’s the day the creep decides to make a move?
The parking lot is empty, but that’s unsurprising for half-past-twelve on a Tuesday. I can see a familiar vehicle in the distance, and a familiar face standing outside it.
I walk towards it.
“Pastor Dyer? How are you today?”
“Well, I am all the better for seeing you, Tess,” he says and smiles warmly. I was going to pick up some new socks but it seems I just missed my favorite server at Birchwell’s.” He smiles again.
“At least let me give you a ride home.” His voice cracks as he says this and I find it a bit odd.
“Thank you so much for offering Pastor, but I better not,” I answer. Novak has drummed it into me that it’s not a good idea to be with ANY other man today, even the local minister. Novak wouldn’t approve, so I’d rather take the bus to avoid any further complications with him.
“It wasn’t really a question,” Pastor Dyer says.
“What?” I think I must have heard him wrong.
Pastor Dyer tucks his hand into his pocket, and when he pulls it out he’s holding a Stanley knife in his fist. The replaceable blade is still hidden beneath the thick plastic covering.
“What are you doing?” I feel as if a much-loved toy just turned into Chucky. My heart starts hammering in my chest. What the hell is going on? This isn’t the kind man I know, who’d do anything to help his flock.
“Get in the car,” he says. “Get in. Get in now. I ain’t playing with you, angel. I don’t want to hurt you, Tess.” He waves the plastic handle in my direction but doesn’t unsheathe the blade.
Scared for my life, I do as I’m told.
Pastor Dyer gets into the passenger seat, before frantically looking around the parking lot as though he thinks he is being chased.
“Why did you make me do this?” he asks. His voice is suddenly whiny and pleading.
He knows what he’s doing is wrong, but he’s not stopping himself from doing it.
He starts the engine. Tires spin and a plume of dark grey smoke tails it.
We skid off at a ridiculous speed, and the movement whips me back and forth in my seat.
“Why don’t you see me, Tess? Why instead do you choose to damn your soul to eternal fire with that step-brother of yours? ”
He shouts the last question.
Not even if you were the last man on Earth. It’s the answer I want to give, but I don’t want to meet the sharp end of his knife.
“I, I never thought of you like that,” I say instead.
“Don’t you understand that I adore you, angel? I wrote that entire sermon so you would see what a sinner you were and come back to the fold. Back to me.” His bottom lip is quivering.
I stare at the side of his head and I can see tears pooling in his eyes. What have I gotten myself into? I’m in a car with a mentally unstable man, who has concocted this entire fantasy in which I seem to be the star.
The reality of my situation strikes all at once when the thought of Novak pierces my mind. He’s sitting in a warm, cushy office while I’m being chauffeured to God-knows-where against my will. My parents are in Florida, enjoying the second day of their holiday.
There’s no one around to help me. I’m trapped in a car, with a madman at the wheel, and no hope of escape.
So what do I say to him? I can’t be honest. He’s gone completely mad and telling him that will make this situation worse.
“You’re too good for me,” I say eventually. “You’re a wonderful minister and you’re still young enough to marry again, to have a family even, someday. You’re going to love them, care for them, and give them a great life. But that can’t be with me.”
“Why not?” he roars. He smashes a fist into the steering wheel, and it makes the horn blare out into the quiet street. “It’s Novak, isn’t it? That’s what it is. I know it. The Devil has ensnared you and you can’t break free from his licentious hold!”
“It’s not.”
“Don’t lie to me. Don’t you dare lie to me.” The pastor’s face burns a deeper shade of red with every new word he says. “I saw you both. The way he takes you. Holds you. Makes love to you.”
Fuck.
“You don’t want me, because you want him. Because he’s got the devil’s charm and morals.”
Pastor Dyer jerks the steering wheel into oncoming traffic to overtake a car. We narrowly miss a semi-truck, and when he glides back on the right side of the road, the front tire goes over the curb. Terror grips me to the core and I scream.
“Stop that.” he yells. He repeats it a few more times. I sit back and hold my tongue. He’s in a terrible state of mind, and I want him to focus on the road. No matter our destination, I’d rather get there safely and figure out a solution to my problem later.
For most of our drive, I feel lost. I don’t recognize the residential backstreets Pastor Dyer has taken me on, until we pass a gas station I’ve visited before. It’s a quarter-mile out from the church, but through back roads my family has never taken.
Go figure. He put so little effort into planning, he’s taking me back to his church. That’s a good thing, right? It means that there’s a fair chance other people will be around or will turn up. Then I can cry for help, and someone will hear me.
We reach the church and Pastor Dyer slides his car into the space under a willow tree, where it’s practically invisible.
“Get out.”
I do.
He grabs me by the upper arm and pulls me towards the pastor’s house that sits behind the church. Shit! There is not as much chance of someone showing up here!
While we walk, his head is on a swivel, scanning up and down the street. We get inside and he slams the door shut.
He walks me into the living room and pushes me onto the sofa.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“I’m scared of losing you to Satan,” he says as if he was telling me his favorite pizza topping. “And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. So says Corinthians…” his eyes are wild.
“What’s this whole abduction thing going to accomplish?”
Pastor Dyer paces the length of the living room.
He raises two balled fists to his forehead and lets out a blood-curdling scream.
“Now the Spirit expressly says that in later times some will depart from the faith by devoting themselves to deceitful spirits and teachings of demons,” he quotes.
“Timothy, 4:1” he adds helpfully, as if it means something to me.
Then he looks directly at me. “Why did you make me do this?” he asks. “This is your fault. This is all your fault.”
He’s working himself up. Whatever’s going on inside his mind must be fueled by unimaginable horrors.
“This is going to happen, Tess. You and me are going to happen,” he says.
“Pastor, please, listen—”
“Shut your devil mouth.” He grabs my arm again, this time hoisting me to my feet. “This is what you like, isn’t it?”
The short bursts of air I manage to suck in aren’t enough to fully oxygenate me. I feel lightheaded, and the world starts to spin. My mind immediately drifts to the worst places. I thought I’d be able to stall for time until my parents got home, but Pastor Dyer’s lost in the world inside his head.
There’s no getting through to him.
He strikes my cheek with the back of his hand, and the blow makes me see stars.
“This is what you want isn’t it, Tamar?” He thrusts an untrained palm onto my breast and squeezes until it hurts. “If you want me to treat you like the whore of Babylon that you are, then I will.”
Another slap to the cheek makes me stumble. I hit the coffee table and smash through it. I want to run, but there’s nowhere to go. I want to cry, but fear makes my legs numb.
“Get on your knees, you fallen Eve.” Pastor Dyer reaches down and grabs my hair. He hoists me up and pulls my face against his groin.
“Hey, fuck-face,” I hear a familiar voice through the ringing in my ears.
Pastor Dyer releases me and as I crumble to the ground, I see Novak standing there, with a baseball bat held firmly in both hands.
Is this a delusion? Some fabricated world my mind’s created to get me through this nightmarish situation. It can’t be. The side of Novak’s face is purple, and that’s not how I’d picture my knight in shining armor if this were a fantasy.
Pastor Dyer lifts the Stanley knife, but no blade protrudes from the end.
“No, no, asshole.” Novak swings the baseball bat, and it connects with the pastor’s wrist. The impact sends the knife flying into a corner of the room. Pastor Dyer screeches, clutching his hand. The impact must’ve shattered a bone or three.
“You think you’re a big man, huh? Taking advantage of an innocent girl?” Novak swings the bat again. It connects with the pastor’s ribs. He whines as the wind is knocked from his lungs.
Pastor Dyer tries to speak, but no words leave his airless mouth. A third and final blow drops him to the ground.
“You, son of a bitch. I told you not to come anywhere near her,” Novak presses the end of the baseball bat into the man’s chest and pins him to the ground. “Should’ve listened.”
Pastor Dyer lies motionless on the floor, but there’s a constant squeak of wheezy breaths being drawn. He’s not dead, but he’s sure as hell in a lot of pain.
“Did he hurt you?” Novak asks.
I shake my head. A few slaps to the face aren’t going to put me down. The fright of what might have happened was worse than anything Pastor Dyer actually did.
“Good. I’d have killed you otherwise,” Novak’s attention returns to Pastor Dyer.
I get up off the ground and run behind Novak. He shields me with his thick frame, not that I think it’s necessary anymore. The pastor’s pretty much incapacitated on the floor.
“The cops are on their way; you’re safe now,” Novak speaks to me, but his full attention is on the false man of God.
Even in this totally fucked-up situation, I can’t help but smile. Novak does care about me. Beneath the macho man bullshit, he put his life on the line to save me. Hell, he must’ve been orchestrating something he wasn’t willing to share to pull all of this off.
The first sirens blare in the distance, while I nuzzle into Novak’s side. Beneath our feet, Pastor Dyer squirms against the crushing weight of the baseball bat against his chest. His eyes are pinned on me, and he mouths something along the lines of why did you do this to me.
But, the nightmare is over before it really even had a chance to begin, and I now have the time to wonder what this means for the future.