Chevy Stevens - Still Missing

When I tried one of the burners on what appeared to be a gas or propane stove, all I heard was a clicking sound. He must have disconnected the gas. I wondered if I could get any pieces of the stove apart, but I couldn’t lift up the burners, and when I looked inside the oven I discovered the racks had been taken out. The drawer underneath the oven was padlocked.

There was no way I could protect myself, and no way out. I needed to prepare for the worst, but I didn’t even know what the worst might be.

I realized I was shaking again. I took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on the facts. He wasn’t there and I was still alive. Somebody had to find me soon. I walked to the sink and put my head under the tap for some water. Before I’d even taken a mouthful I heard a key in the lock—or at least what I thought was the lock. My heart lurched as the door slowly opened.

His baseball cap was off, revealing wavy blond hair and a face devoid of all expression. I studied his features. How had he made me like him? His bottom lip was fuller than the top, giving him a slight pout, but other than that all I saw was vacant blue eyes and a nice-looking face but not the kind of face you’d notice at first glance, let alone remember.

He stood there as his eyes landed on me and his whole face broke into a smile. Now I was looking at a completely different man. And I got it. He was the kind of guy who could choose whether he was noticed or not.

“Good, you’re up! I was beginning to think I’d given you too much.”

With a bounce in his step, he walked toward me. I ran back to the farthest corner of the cabin, by the bed, and, crouching, pressed myself into it. He stopped abruptly.

“Why are you hiding in the corner?”

“Where the hell am I?”

“I realize you probably aren’t feeling a hundred percent, but there’s no swearing here.” He walked to the sink.

“I was looking forward to our first meal together, but you slept past dinnertime, I’m afraid.” He took a huge key chain out of his pocket, unlocked one of the cupboards, and picked up a glass. “Hope you’re not too hungry.” He ran the water for a while, then filled the glass. He shut the tap off and turned to face me, his back against the counter.

“I can’t break the dinnertime rule, but I’m willing to bend things a little today.” He held the glass out. “Your mouth must be so dry.”

Sandpaper was smoother than my throat right now, but I wasn’t taking anything from him. He jiggled the glass. “Can’t beat cold mountain water.”

He waited a couple of seconds, an eyebrow raised in question, then shrugged and turned slightly to dump the water in the sink. He rinsed the glass out, then held it up and rapped his knuckle on it. “Isn’t it amazing how real this plastic looks? Things aren’t always as they seem, are they?”

He carefully dried it and put it back in the cupboard, which he locked. Then, with a sigh, he sat down on one of the barstools at the island and stretched his hands over his head.

“Wow, does it ever feel good to finally relax.” Relax? I’d hate to see what he did for excitement. “How’s your leg? Sore from the needle?”

“Why am I here?”

“Ah. She speaks.” He rested his elbows on the island and steepled his fingers under his chin. “That’s a great question, Annie. To put it simply, you’re a very lucky girl.”

“I don’t consider being abducted and drugged lucky.”

“You don’t think it’s possible that people can sometimes come to realize what they thought was a bad event in their life was actually an extremely good event, if they knew the alternative?”

“Anything would be a better alternative than this.”

“Anything, Annie? Even if the alternative to spending some time with a nice guy like me was getting into an accident when you drove away from the open house—say, with a young mother coming home from the grocery store—and killing a whole family? Or maybe just one of the children, her favorite?” My mind flashed to Mom sobbing Daisy’s name at the funeral. Was this creep from Clayton Falls?

“No answer?”

“That’s not a fair comparison. You don’t know what might have happened to me.”

“See, there’s where you’re wrong. I do. I know exactly what happens to women like you.”

This was good, I should keep him talking. If I could figure out what made him tick, I could figure out how to get away from him.

“Women like me? Did you know someone like me before?”

“Have you had a chance to look around yet?” He glanced around the cabin with a smile. “I think it turned out rather well.”

“If some other girl hurt you, then I’m truly sorry—I am—but it’s not fair to punish me, I’ve never done anything to you.”

“You think this is punishment?” His eyes widened in surprise.

“You can’t abduct someone and take them to…wherever. You just can’t do that.”

He smiled. “I hate to point out the obvious, but I just did. Look, how about I solve some of the mystery for you. We’re on a mountain, in a cabin I handpicked for us. I’ve taken care of every detail so you’ll be safe here.” The guy fucking abducted me and he’s telling me I’m safe ?

“It took a little longer than I wanted—but while I was preparing, I got to know you better. Time well spent, I think.”

“Got to—I’ve never even met you. Is David your real name?”

“Don’t you think David is a nice name?” It was my father’s name, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

I tried to speak in a calm, pleasant voice. “David’s a great name, but I think you’ve got me confused with some other girl, so how about you just let me go, okay?”

He slowly shook his head. “I’m not the one who’s confused, Annie. In fact, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He pulled the key chain out of his pocket again, unlocked a cupboard in the kitchen, grabbed a big box labeled “Annie” on the side, and brought it over to the bed. He pulled flyers out of the box, all from houses I’d sold. He even had some of my newspaper ads. He held one up. It was the ad for the open house.

“This one’s my favorite. The address matches up perfectly with the date of the first time I saw you.”

And then he handed me a stack of photos.

There I was, walking Emma in the morning, going into my office, getting a coffee at the corner store. In one photo my hair was longer—I didn’t even have the shirt I was wearing in it anymore. Had he swiped the photo from my house? No way he could have gotten past Emma, he must have stolen it from my office. He took the photos out of my hands, stretched out on the bed propped on one elbow, and spread them out.

“You’re very photogenic.”

“How long have you been stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t call it stalking. Observing, maybe. I certainly haven’t deluded myself into thinking you’re in love with me, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“I’m sure you’re a really nice guy, but I already have a boyfriend. I’m sorry if I unintentionally did something that confused you, but I don’t feel the same way you do. Maybe we can be friends—”

He smiled kindly at me. “You’re making me repeat myself here. I’m not confused. I know women like you don’t get romantic feelings for men like me—women like you don’t even see me.”

“I see you, I just think you deserve someone who—”

“Someone who what? Is willing to settle? Maybe a tubby librarian? That’s the best I can expect, right?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m sure you have lots to offer—”

“I’m not the problem. Women like to say they want someone who’s always there for them—a lover, a friend, an equal. But once they have it, they’ll throw it all away for the first man who treats them like a piece of garbage, and no matter what he does to them, they’ll just keep coming back for more.”