clock was running. At some point, he’d get bored
with the novelty of another person taking up space like the white
cat. He had to believe I could be trusted or... I didn’t want to
think about the or right now.
“I’m tired,” he said. “I’m going up to bed. I’m having a
party tomorrow night, and I’ll need you to stay in your room until
it’s over.”
“O-okay.” The next day was Sunday. Was he killing someone
tomorrow? Or was he really having a party? Aside from his supposed
urban exploring friends, Shannon didn’t strike me as a super social
guy. What kind of a party could he be having?
“Shannon?”
He stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “Yeah?”
I was afraid I might make him mad, but I pressed on with my question
anyway. “We disguised my appearance. The media has forgotten about
me. Why can’t I go to the party?”
He offered me a kind smile, which I swear he must have stood in front
of the mirror for hours practicing because it didn’t look right on
his face. “It’s not your kind of party. Trust me. I’ll take you
out next weekend if you want. I’m sorry I haven’t been a better
host. Oh, and I’ve got to be out of town a few days next week.
Business.”
Then he drifted up the stairs. Moments later, I heard his door click
shut.
I’d tried to sneak into his office early on, but he kept the door
locked at all times when he wasn’t in there. And I wasn’t foolish
enough to think it would be any different tonight. There were a few
other doors in the house he kept locked all the time as well. But he
pretended as if those doors didn’t exist, and I wasn’t dumb
enough to let him know I was aware that they did.
I sat on the sofa and looked around, at a loss for what to do. It was
only nine o’clock and felt way too early for sleep. The cat sat on
a chair opposite from me, glaring, plotting.
I went back up to my room and took the envelope from under the
mattress. There was no way I would be able to sleep with my life
lying a few inches underneath me. I came back downstairs with it and
dumped the contents out on the coffee table.
The DVD was in a clear plastic freezer bag and just said “Cache”
on it. I set it aside for the moment and turned to the information
Shannon had somehow acquired about me.
“Elodie Rosen. Age: 28. Graduate student of Botany at University
of Washington.”
Washington state was on the other side of the country. Did Trevor
live and work there? Had he taken me all the way across the country,
or had I gone to where he was? Maybe spring break or something.
But why had nobody called? The story must have made national news if
Shannon heard about it, unless he’d been traveling in the area. For
business. Maybe I’d been wrapped up in my studies and had no close
friends. But no family either? Didn’t my professors give a shit
about me? Or did they think someone else would come forward?
I looked back to the list. It didn’t appear that I’d had a job.
I’d mostly kept to myself. But according to Shannon’s search, I
didn’t have student loans, either. Had I inherited a lot of money?
Surely I had to have money. And nobody was speaking up for me?
People really didn’t like to get involved in things. It was
just like what Shannon said. I could have screamed my head off, and
that kid at the motel might have pretended he couldn’t hear
me—anything to not get involved. What was wrong with people?
I scanned further down the paper. “Fluent in French. Spent several
semesters in Paris as an undergrad.” Maybe someone in France gave a
shit about me.
I glanced back at the DVD and slid it out of the plastic. I put it in
the player and settled back on the sofa. It was a French film. It
must have been a version of the film made specifically for a French
audience because there were no subtitles or dubbing.
But I understood all the dialogue.
I wasn’t sure if Shannon had chosen a creepy foreboding movie on
purpose or if it was just difficult to find a
with the novelty of another person taking up space like the white
cat. He had to believe I could be trusted or... I didn’t want to
think about the or right now.
“I’m tired,” he said. “I’m going up to bed. I’m having a
party tomorrow night, and I’ll need you to stay in your room until
it’s over.”
“O-okay.” The next day was Sunday. Was he killing someone
tomorrow? Or was he really having a party? Aside from his supposed
urban exploring friends, Shannon didn’t strike me as a super social
guy. What kind of a party could he be having?
“Shannon?”
He stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “Yeah?”
I was afraid I might make him mad, but I pressed on with my question
anyway. “We disguised my appearance. The media has forgotten about
me. Why can’t I go to the party?”
He offered me a kind smile, which I swear he must have stood in front
of the mirror for hours practicing because it didn’t look right on
his face. “It’s not your kind of party. Trust me. I’ll take you
out next weekend if you want. I’m sorry I haven’t been a better
host. Oh, and I’ve got to be out of town a few days next week.
Business.”
Then he drifted up the stairs. Moments later, I heard his door click
shut.
I’d tried to sneak into his office early on, but he kept the door
locked at all times when he wasn’t in there. And I wasn’t foolish
enough to think it would be any different tonight. There were a few
other doors in the house he kept locked all the time as well. But he
pretended as if those doors didn’t exist, and I wasn’t dumb
enough to let him know I was aware that they did.
I sat on the sofa and looked around, at a loss for what to do. It was
only nine o’clock and felt way too early for sleep. The cat sat on
a chair opposite from me, glaring, plotting.
I went back up to my room and took the envelope from under the
mattress. There was no way I would be able to sleep with my life
lying a few inches underneath me. I came back downstairs with it and
dumped the contents out on the coffee table.
The DVD was in a clear plastic freezer bag and just said “Cache”
on it. I set it aside for the moment and turned to the information
Shannon had somehow acquired about me.
“Elodie Rosen. Age: 28. Graduate student of Botany at University
of Washington.”
Washington state was on the other side of the country. Did Trevor
live and work there? Had he taken me all the way across the country,
or had I gone to where he was? Maybe spring break or something.
But why had nobody called? The story must have made national news if
Shannon heard about it, unless he’d been traveling in the area. For
business. Maybe I’d been wrapped up in my studies and had no close
friends. But no family either? Didn’t my professors give a shit
about me? Or did they think someone else would come forward?
I looked back to the list. It didn’t appear that I’d had a job.
I’d mostly kept to myself. But according to Shannon’s search, I
didn’t have student loans, either. Had I inherited a lot of money?
Surely I had to have money. And nobody was speaking up for me?
People really didn’t like to get involved in things. It was
just like what Shannon said. I could have screamed my head off, and
that kid at the motel might have pretended he couldn’t hear
me—anything to not get involved. What was wrong with people?
I scanned further down the paper. “Fluent in French. Spent several
semesters in Paris as an undergrad.” Maybe someone in France gave a
shit about me.
I glanced back at the DVD and slid it out of the plastic. I put it in
the player and settled back on the sofa. It was a French film. It
must have been a version of the film made specifically for a French
audience because there were no subtitles or dubbing.
But I understood all the dialogue.
I wasn’t sure if Shannon had chosen a creepy foreboding movie on
purpose or if it was just difficult to find a
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