The Watcher in the Wall, page 23
He climbed out and started toward the canopy that spanned all of Fourth Street. Pictured DarlingMadison somewhere in the mix, knew she’d be waiting for him. Knew she’d be grateful for what he had planned.
Almost there, darling. I’ll see you very soon.
< 104 >
Madison sensed the guy before she saw him.
She’d found the entertainment complex a few blocks east of the station. Gaudy neon lights, crowds, a million restaurants. An easy place to disappear. She found a bench by the restrooms, a secluded corner, wishing that Brandon would come faster, and dreading his arrival all the same.
She wondered if she should be worried. Maybe the police caught up to him, or his parents. Maybe they took his phone away and dragged him back to Iowa. Or maybe he’d gone and done something awful. Maybe he’d bailed and hurt himself before she could convince him he didn’t have to.
She pulled out the burner phone and the bus tag with Paul Dayton’s number on it. Typed the number into her phone and debated calling Paul, telling him he was right, that Brandon was a weirdo after all, that she’d come all this way for nothing. Thought about how pleased with himself Paul would be if she called, how cocky and insufferable he’d be about it. She was still trying to decide what to do when her phone buzzed, a text message from Brandon. Madison saved Paul’s number and opened the message.
Car’s still effed up, Brandon said. Sent my friend to pick you up. He shouldn’t be too long. XO.
Madison felt her body relax a little. He was coming. He hadn’t abandoned her. The car trouble thing was a bit worrisome, but at least he was close, right? This crazy scheme might work after all.
Then the guy appeared. Madison couldn’t have explained why she noticed him; people had been walking in and out of the restrooms since she’d sat down. But this guy—it was like when the sun moves behind a cloud and all of a sudden there’s a shadow, a chill. This guy was the sudden chill. She looked up and saw him and shivered.
He was a middle-aged guy, in his thirties, probably. A bad haircut, huge glasses, a tragic attempt at a mustache. Creepy eyes, and they were pointed her way. He’d caught her staring. Now he was coming over.
Madison studied her shoes, pretended like she hadn’t noticed the dude. That her instincts weren’t on high alert, that whole fight-or-flight thing, like she wasn’t preparing to choose the “flight” option. She could feel him coming like they were the only two people in the whole place. He stopped a couple feet away. “Madison?”
Oh, shit.
She didn’t know this guy. Figured he was a creeper, some kind of weirdo, another lonely old man who was going to try to hit on her. But he knew her name, and that meant, what?
“Madison Mackenzie, right? You’re here to meet Brandon.”
It meant this strange old guy was Brandon’s friend, apparently. But why would Brandon be friends with this dude?
Madison wasn’t dumb enough that this whole scenario wasn’t setting off alarm bells in her head. But she was tired, too, and she’d come a long way. Hell, she’d talked to Brandon on the phone, and this guy sure didn’t sound like him. She’d seen Brandon’s profile on Facebook, all his friends. This was crazy, sure, but what about the entire situation wasn’t?
“Where is he?” she asked.
The man smiled, and it was creepier than when he wasn’t smiling. “He’s nearby. He sent me to come get you. Didn’t he tell you? He’s . . .” Gruber paused. “Well, he’s not in great shape, with what’s going on in his life lately. He just really needs to see you, you know?”
Well, shit. “But he’s here, right?” Madison said. “He’s in Louisville?”
“Of course,” Gruber said. “He’s not far. I’ll take you, but we have to hurry. I didn’t feel great about leaving him alone, the way he was talking.”
This was exactly the kind of situation people were always warning you about. Strange men. Internet friends. Shady scenarios. Madison knew she was gambling if she went with this man. Knew it wasn’t the smartest play in the book. But what else was she going to do? She had no money, no way to get home. And anyway, if Brandon needed her and she walked away, well, hell, he might actually kill himself, and that was on her. She couldn’t take that chance, she decided. She just couldn’t.
She would go with the guy. Cautiously, though, like if he looked at her funny, or tried to put a hand on her, she’d run. Kick him in the balls first, so he knew who he was messing with. She would be smart. This creepy old man wouldn’t get her.
He held out his hand. Stared down at her with hungry eyes, the kind of look Madison had been warding off since she’d hit puberty. She shivered, chased the scary thoughts away. Ignored Gruber’s hand and pushed herself to her feet.
“Let’s do this,” she told him. “Take me to Brandon.”
< 105 >
Gruber led Madison to where he’d parked the Lincoln down the street. The girl hesitated just a fraction of a second, when she saw the car, and Gruber knew she was worried. Knew this was the crucial moment, the girl’s mind wavering between acceptance and fear. She could join him, or she could run, and he wouldn’t know which until it was happening.
“I know how strange this must seem,” Gruber said, pasting on his friendliest smile. “Brandon said you traveled a long way to get here. You must have been expecting to see him, not some weird friend of his.”
Madison relaxed a little. “Yeah,” she said. “I was. My bus ride was twenty-two hours long. I just want to see him, you know?”
“He wants to see you,” Gruber said. “He really needs it. He’d be here, if it wasn’t for the breakdown. His parents’ car made it this far, but . . .”
He shrugged, mimed helplessness.
“He’s fixing it now,” he told her. “He’ll have it running again soon, he said. Then you guys can be on your merry way. In the meantime”—he gestured to the Lincoln—“I’m afraid my old beater is the best I can offer.”
He stood back and waited, let Madison take in the car and the street and the city around her. It was dark, getting cold. The car would be warm at least.
“I already said I would go,” Madison said, reaching for the passenger door. “I just really want to see him.”
“You will,” Gruber told her. “Soon.”
<<<
Madison climbed into the passenger seat of the big old white car. Buckled her seat belt as the old guy—Gruber—circled around to the driver’s side. He got in behind the steering wheel, gave her another of those appraising looks, and then he turned the key in the ignition and shifted into gear, driving slowly away from the mall.
They drove in silence for a while, a classic rock radio station playing through intermittent static, the city passing by around them. Night was falling, and the city was all empty buildings and lonely shadows. They drove over a long freeway bridge across the river, got off on the other side, ducked under the freeway and followed the river. It was cold in the car, and Madison shivered, hoping Brandon’s car had a better heater. Assuming there was a Brandon’s car.
Assuming there was a Brandon.
The city sprawl gave way pretty quickly to houses and dirty little storefronts and deserted, vacant lots. There weren’t very many people outside, not much light. The Lincoln passed a few cars headed in the other direction, but otherwise they were pretty much alone.
Gruber was eyeing her again from the driver’s seat. “Brandon said you guys met on the Internet.”
It wasn’t a question, so Madison didn’t reply. She stared straight ahead and listened to the music, the DJ, the static coming more frequently, the reception fading. The scenery outside was less civilization, more darkness. Farm fields and wasteland and dense, black forest.
This was a mistake, she realized. She should not have done this.
“A suicide website, wasn’t it?” Gruber asked her. “People trying to kill themselves?”
Madison met his eyes, gave him a brief smile. Turned back to the window and still didn’t answer.
“Suicide,” Gruber said. “My stepsister did that. Hanged herself with a coil of cheap rope.” He looked at her again. “You actually look a lot like Sarah, you know?”
He lisped when he talked. She’d missed it at first, but there it was. It was Brandon’s lisp, only it wasn’t Brandon talking. This was definitely a mistake. This was a very bad decision.
“I think I left something back at the mall,” Madison said, keeping her voice calm, that friendly smile on her face. Innocent, nonthreatening. “My suitcase, actually. Can we go back and get it?”
Gruber didn’t seem to hear her. He kept driving, kept talking. “She was sixteen when she did it. I was, well, I was fifteen.”
“That’s really sad,” Madison said. “That’s really tragic. I’m so sorry. Can we go back and get my suitcase, though?”
Gruber laughed, a terrifying sound, longer and louder than any sane person’s laugh. “I watched her do it,” he said. “There was this little hole in the wall between our bedrooms—you’ll see it. I used to watch her all the time, and then I watched her die.”
“I’m really, really sorry,” Madison said. “You must miss her terribly. I can’t even imagine—”
“My stepfather,” Gruber said, interrupting her. “Earl, her father. He used to hit me so hard I thought my eyes would roll out of their sockets. He always treated Sarah better than me. I pushed her to it. I hated her. I wanted to watch her die.”
Madison said nothing. What could she say? She was too busy trying to quell the panic that kept rising in her throat, pushing her to do something, anything, to get away from this guy. Grab at the door handle and pull the door open, leap out of the car at sixty miles an hour.
But the door handle was broken off, Madison realized. The door was locked and the handle was gone, and she was trapped inside this car with this creep. And wherever he was taking her, there was no way she was getting out until he got there.
“Please,” she said. “Dude, please. Whatever you’re trying to do, just please don’t, okay? Please?”
“Twenty years.” Gruber’s eyes were distant. His voice the same, like he was seeing those years pass by outside the car, instead of the last rapidly dwindling traces of civilization. “Twenty years since I watched her.”
His breath hitched, and he coughed, came back laughing again. “But I’ll watch you tonight,” he said. “I’ve waited so long for this. I’ll watch you tonight, and it’ll be just like before.”
Madison shook her head. “I’m not your sister, dude. I’m not Sarah, I’m Madison. Do you understand? I’m a real, live human being. And what I need is for you to turn this car around and take me back to the city. Like, right now.”
Gruber didn’t answer. Madison wondered if she could kick out the passenger window and hurl herself through the gap without the creep grabbing on to her. Were there door handles in the backseat? Could she wriggle back there somehow?
“You want to die,” Gruber said. “That’s why you found that website. That’s why you came all the way here. To die.”
“No,” Madison said. “No, really, it’s not. I met Brandon . . . he and I were . . . I mean, at first, yeah, but not now, not anymore.”
She didn’t want to die, and never had she been more conscious of that fact than now, trapped inside a speeding car with this lunatic.
“It doesn’t get better, you know,” Gruber was saying. “My sister could have turned out a fuckup like me. I saved her by helping her die.”
His eyes were jumpy and unfocused, Madison noticed, live wires. “Your mom, your sisters, your new school, none of it will matter anymore. The freaks in your classes, Lena Jane Poole, your runaway dad.” He smiled. “I’ll take you away from this messy life, Madison. Won’t that be nice?”
“No.” Madison spun and searched the backseat. A tire iron, something, anything. “I don’t want to die, I swear to freaking God. Just take me back to the city, please.”
Brandon, she was screaming inside. Paul. Someone, anyone. Help me!
But there was no Brandon. She’d been stupid to ever believe there was. And nobody else was close enough to come save her. She was on her own with the madman. Trapped in his car. And like it or not, she would probably die.
What did you expect? Madison asked herself. You found this guy on a freaking suicide forum, you moron.
It was stupid. Maybe it was ironic. She would have laughed at herself if she wasn’t so scared.
< 106 >
Gruber took the back road into the trailer park. Wasn’t much of a road, mostly gravel and dirt and weeds, mud puddles, the trees hanging overtop like greedy fingers. The Lincoln’s suspension lurched and jostled, bottomed out a few times. It was a slow, torturous drive.
He drove by memory mostly. Remembered hiking this road with Sarah to school sometimes, when they’d slept in and missed the bus. The road wound its way around back of a few farmers’ fields, eventually dumped out in Elizabeth, a stone’s throw from the high school. Not many people drove the back way, back then. Judging from the way the weeds grew, the road was just as neglected now. Nobody would notice the Lincoln.
This was a genius idea, he decided, and he muttered a silent thank-you to the mopes in the Malibu for messing up his plans. Nobody would find them here, Gruber and Madison, not while they played, not while Madison died.
Nobody would spoil their fun.
>>>
Gruber finally stopped the car on a stretch of dirt, no light for miles. He pulled over to the side, killed the engine. Removed the keys and slipped them in his shirt pocket. Then he turned to study Madison again, his face hidden in shadow.
“I don’t normally do this,” he said. Laughed a little bit, sheepish. “Usually, I’m just the person on the other end of the Internet connection, watching from a distance.”
He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “But you’re different, Madison. You’re special.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Madison told him. “Whatever you’re planning, you don’t have to do it. I don’t want to die, I swear. Just leave me here and keep driving and, I swear to God, I’ll forget I ever saw you.”
Gruber didn’t seem to hear her. “The moment I saw your picture on the forum, I knew you were the one. I knew you were special, Madison. That’s why I brought you here.”
He gestured beyond the car, through the black maze of trees, and Madison could see a gate to somewhere, crooked and pocked with bullet holes. There were shadows beyond, rectangular hulks, an impossible dark against the night sky. In the gloom, a NO TRESPASSING sign, rusty and faded, its message barely visible: SHADY ACRES MOTOR COURT, RESIDENTS ONLY. The place was a trailer park, Madison realized, long abandoned.
“I used to live here,” Gruber told her. “Back before the accident. Mom moved us here when she took up with Earl. We didn’t stay long, on account of Sarah dying.” He laughed. “And neither did Earl, after the story came out. He went to jail, but he’s out now. I was going to see him this afternoon, for old times’ sake, but I ran out of time. So I guess I’ll have to postpone our reunion for a bit.”
There was no light but the moon. Madison couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a pair of headlights, even. The place was deserted. They were alone out here. No one would save her.
Gruber clucked his teeth. “I know you’re scared,” he said, and he actually sounded sympathetic. “Nobody reaches this point without feeling scared. But I know this is right for you. I know this is what you need.”
He reached for the door handle, opened his door, and Madison blinked as the bulb in the ceiling sent a dim beam of light into the car. When she opened her eyes again, Gruber was out of the car, leaning back in, staring at her.
“You look so much like Sarah,” he said. “That’s how I know what I’m doing is right.”
“You’re crazy,” Madison said. “You’re certifiably nuts. You’re not saving anyone, you’re freaking killing them.”
But Gruber wasn’t swayed. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but believe me, you’ll see. If you could thank me when this is over, you would.”
“Fat chance,” Madison said.
Gruber just smiled. Dead-calm, serene, utterly at peace. As she watched him, he reached down between the driver’s seat and the door, pulled out a long kitchen knife. The blade gleamed in the light, the sight of it sending cold spasms of fear through Madison’s body.
“Don’t worry,” Gruber said. “This isn’t for you. Not if you behave yourself.”
He straightened. Slammed the door closed, plunging the car into darkness again. Madison heard Gruber walk to the back of the car, heard him open the trunk. Figured she didn’t have much time left.
She spun in her seat, lifted her legs, and kicked at the passenger window. Kicked hard, her sneakers thudding against the glass, sending shock waves through her body, but doing no damage to the car whatsoever.
“Come on,” she half shouted. “Come freaking on!”
But the window wouldn’t give. She wasn’t getting out until Gruber wanted her out. Madison sat still again. Felt the burner phone in her pocket and reached for it, pulled it out, scrolled to Paul’s saved number. Gruber was slamming the trunk closed, and she could hear his footsteps on the gravel shoulder as he came around her side of the car. In a moment, he’d be on her again.
Madison dialed Paul’s number. Slipped the phone into her pocket, prayed Paul picked up. And then the door was open and the light was on, and Gruber was smiling down at her, holding the knife and a coil of yellow rope in his hands.
“Don’t be scared,” he told her. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”
He reached in and took her shoulder, surprisingly strong. Pulled her from her seat, and she had no choice but to follow. He stood her up beside the car, studied her again in the dim light from inside, his fingers like shackles around her arm.
