Alter Ego

11

Aimee Bowe was in the box.

There was dead silence on the set. Serena watched from the rear wall of the warehouse, where it was dark and cold. They were nowhere near the rural lands where Art Leipold had his hunting cabin. Instead, they were inside a giant empty building steps from the frozen water of the Duluth-Superior harbor. Shipping had closed for the winter, and a film company renting warehouse space was a welcome source of off-season cash.

The movie version of the cage where Art kept his victims was built with one side open for filming, but otherwise the interior details were shockingly real. Jonny had shown her crime scene pictures, which were enough to make her shiver at the thought of being trapped there. The straw floor. The filth. The steel mesh. The tiny claustrophobic space that made you feel as if the walls were closing in on you.

Aimee didn’t look like Aimee today. There was nothing sexy or glamorous about her appearance. Her skin was made up to look pale and drawn, to emphasize the bones in her face. Her fingers were covered in fake blood, as if she’d tried to claw free of the box, the way all the victims had. Her clothes were dirty and frayed, and she huddled in one corner, shivering. She yanked at her hair.

The cameras rolled.

The look that took over Aimee’s eyes alarmed Serena. She knew the woman was acting, but she felt terror emanating from her anyway. Aimee mumbled in hushed, disjointed words, too low for Serena to hear. Then Aimee screamed out a wail of frustration and fear and threw herself against the wall. She beat on it with her fists and tore at it with all the futility of a moth beating against glass. She fell back and kicked the wall with her bare feet. More fake blood — Serena hoped it was fake — seeped between her toes.

Aimee collapsed. Tears leaked down her face.

She murmured again, louder now. “Save me.”

She shouted it. “Save me, Evan Grave.”

Evan Grave was the character name of the detective in the movie. It sounded strange to Serena’s ears to hear it that way. The movie was fiction, but she still expected to hear Aimee say it the way all the other women had.

Save me, Jonathan Stride.

Aimee emerged from the box, and the crew swarmed around the set like insects. They touched up her makeup. They fixed her hair and clothes. Someone handed her water, but she shook her head.

“Those women didn’t have water,” Aimee said.

Serena waved from the back of the set, and Aimee came over to her. The two of them stood in the shadows at the back of the warehouse, and frozen air from outside blew in from a crack under the metal door. Serena wore a coat, but Aimee wore only a dirty white T-shirt with a knot tied at the base and frayed red jeans. She could see the actress was bitterly cold, but Aimee didn’t seek any help.

“That was amazing,” Serena told her.

Aimee shrugged. “That was crap.”

“What? I thought you were great.”

“No, I was completely outside the character. I was me, not her. That’s the problem. As a human being, you just naturally block out that kind of torment. I don’t know how to let it all in. I can’t find my voice.”

Serena didn’t understand the actor’s craft or what Aimee was looking for in her performance. However, she could see the frustration in Aimee’s face, and she hesitated to intrude on her mind-set. “Look, I wanted to ask you a few more questions, but I can see it’s a bad time.”

“It won’t make any difference. I just don’t have it right now. What do you want to know?”

“I’m trying to find out more about a party at Dean Casperson’s house on Saturday night. Were you there?”

Aimee shook her head. “No, I wasn’t feeling well. I popped a couple vitamin C pills and spent the evening in a hot bath.”

“Did you hear any stories about the party?”

“What kind of stories?”

“Anything that people might not want to see in a newspaper.”

“Sorry, Serena. I wasn’t there.”

Serena noticed that Aimee had dodged her question. “I’m curious. How well do you know Dean Casperson?”

“Dean? We’re not in the same circles. Dean Casperson is an A-lister. He’s a household name. I don’t exactly jet off to Dean and Mo’s house for brunch.”

“You’ve worked with him before, though, right? I looked up your profile on IMDb. Your first role six years ago was in a Dean Casperson film.”

“Yes. That was a huge break for me. Dean picked me himself.”

“Did he help you get this part, too?” Serena asked.

“In fact, he did. Why are you asking about this?”

“Because you were right that Haley Adams was a spy,” Serena said. “She was spying on Dean. I was wondering if you had any idea what she might have been looking for.”

Aimee hesitated. “Honestly, these questions are making me uncomfortable.”

“Why is that?”

The actress looked over her shoulder to make sure that none of the crew was within earshot. She lowered her voice. “You have no idea how much power someone like Dean Casperson has. If he thought I was gossiping about him, he could ruin me.”

“This isn’t gossip. Haley Adams is missing.”

“I know, and I feel bad about that, but I’m sorry, Serena. I’m not saying anything about Dean.”

“Okay. What about Jungle Jack? I heard there was something going on between him and one of the interns.”

“Interns. Extras. Crew. Jack keeps plenty busy.”

“Did he get busy with Haley Adams?” Serena asked.

“He tried.”

“Did Haley tell you that?”

“She did. She also asked me how tight Jack was with Dean. I figured Jack was giving her a line. He was probably hinting that he could get her a role in the movie if she slept with him.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her to stay away from Jungle Jack,” Aimee said.

Before Serena could ask anything more, she heard a loud voice on the set. “Ms. Bowe, we’re ready for you.”

“I have to go,” Aimee told her. “Time for take two.”

Serena watched the actress walk away, and she noticed Aimee get in character as she neared the box. Her shoulders slumped. Her legs wobbled as if they would cave under her. Aimee crawled inside, and when she turned around to face the cameras, she was already a different person.

As the crew finalized the cameras and sound for the scene, Serena saw a triangle of light stream across the floor near her, and a blast of outside air roared through the rear of the warehouse. Someone slipped inside. A woman. Serena struggled to see through the shadows, but then she realized that the new visitor on the set was Lori Fulkerson. They’d never met, but Serena had seen her photo in the papers and seen her interviewed on television. Lori lingered near the door ten feet away as if leaving herself the option for a quick exit. They were nearly the same height, but Lori was heavier. Her curly hair crept from under a wool cap.

Before Serena could go over and introduce herself, take two began.

Serena watched Aimee in the box, but she also studied Lori Fulkerson out of the corner of her eye to see how the woman reacted. Lori’s expression never changed or showed any emotion. The woman’s eyes were lifeless. She kept her hands buried in her pockets. To Serena, Aimee’s performance was as gut-wrenching as it had been before, but it seemed to have no impact at all on Lori Fulkerson.

They did another take and then another before Aimee broke free again. She walked toward Serena, but as she did, she saw Lori Fulkerson hovering by the door. Aimee walked past Serena and up to Lori and hugged her. It was a mistake. Lori reacted stiffly, obviously uncomfortable. Serena also noticed the physical differences between them. Aimee was the small, slim, Hollywood version of the victim, whereas Lori was the reality.

“I’m very glad you came,” Aimee said.

“Well, my mother wouldn’t get off my back about it,” Lori replied.

“I really could use your help,” Aimee told her. “Did you see the last couple of takes? I’m not getting it.”

“No, you’re not,” Lori replied without any subtlety.

“What am I doing wrong? What am I missing?”

“Everything.”

Aimee didn’t react defensively, but she looked at a loss for words. She beckoned Serena over as if searching for another way to make a connection with Lori. “This is Serena Stride. She’s Lieutenant Stride’s wife.”

Lori’s eyes expressed no warmth or curiosity. “I suppose Stride told you about finding me last night?”

Serena nodded.

“He keeps rescuing me,” Lori said, but she didn’t make it sound like a good thing.

The silence that followed was awkward, and Serena thought that Lori looked ready to bolt. Aimee saw members of the crew eyeing them with sideways stares. The warehouse felt crowded. The actress took Lori’s hand and pulled her toward the exit door, and Serena followed behind them. They went out into the subzero cold beside the gray warehouse wall. They were no more than fifty yards from the water. The sky was crisp and blue, but the sun gave no warmth. No one else was outside. Aimee did a jittery frozen dance, and Serena slipped off her heavy coat and put it over her shoulders. Lori unwrapped a stick of gum and chewed it as she stared across the ice of the harbor.

“I know this is hard for you,” Aimee said, “and I appreciate your being here at all. Is there anything you can tell me?”

Lori shrugged. “Like what?”

“Anything about the emotional experience you went through. Or the physical experience. Something to help me understand. Something I can grab on to.”

Lori said nothing for a long time. The wind lifted a cyclone of snow from the ground and threw it in their faces. Serena shivered, but Lori was like a statue made of white stone.

“I don’t know what to say,” she told her finally. “You can’t fake it.”

“I’m not trying to fake it,” Aimee replied.

“Are you afraid to die?” Lori asked her.

“Yes. Sure.”

“What if I told you that your plane going back to Los Angeles was going to crash? What do you think would go through your head in those last seconds?”

Aimee hesitated. “I don’t know. Terror. Regret. Anger, I guess.”

“You have thirty seconds. The last thirty seconds of your life.”

Aimee groped for a response that wouldn’t sound foolish. “Hope maybe. Up to the last second. Physically, maybe dizziness. Nausea.”

Lori spit out a wad of gum. “This is a waste of time. I don’t know why I bothered. I’m out of here.”

Aimee grabbed the woman’s shoulder and wouldn’t let her leave. “No, please. You’re the only one who knows what it was like. The others died.”

“You need to let go of her, Aimee,” Serena murmured.

The actress ignored her. She held on to Lori Fulkerson and turned her around. “I can’t answer your question. About the plane. I’ve never been in that situation. And I was never in the box. You were. That’s why I need your help.”

Lori ripped away Aimee’s hands and shoved the actress against the wall of the warehouse. Aimee lost her balance in the snow, and Lori physically picked her up and pinned her where she was. Serena moved closer to intervene, but Aimee shook her head and waved her away.

“You want to know what you do in the box?” Lori spit back at her. Her voice was barely louder than the wind. “After seven days in pitch blackness? Cold, no food, no water? You really want to know what happens to you?”

“Yes,” Aimee whispered.

Lori shoved her face to within an inch of Aimee’s. “You’re not human anymore. You’re an animal. A beast. Everything that made you a person falls away like dead leaves.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re thirsty. You’re so dry you can’t swallow. You can’t think about anything except water. Nothing. If you have any piss left, you start peeing into your hands so you can drink it. Does that paint the picture?”

“Oh, my God.”

“God? There is no God. You bargain with the Devil, not God. Jesus isn’t in the box. You say Save me, Jonathan Stride, because that’s what the voice tells you to say, but you don’t believe it. You know no one is going to save you. After a while, you don’t want them to save you. You want to die, because if you get saved, you know you’ll be in the box for the rest of your life. You’ll never get out. It will be there every time you close your eyes. At least if you die, it’s over. It’s almost euphoric when you feel it getting close.”

“What else?”

“You want more? You hallucinate. You hear voices. You see dead people. You can’t breathe. You shiver so hard in the cold that your bones break. You get so weak, you lie on your back and can’t move.”

“What else?”

“What else? What else? Are you kidding me? Here’s what else. The other women had a bird inside the box with them. Did they tell you about that? A chickadee. You can’t see it, but it flies around in the darkness, and it sings to you. It’s like this one beautiful thing that keeps you alive and reminds you of the outside world. But the whole point really is to drive you crazy. To see how long it takes before you decide to catch it and kill it and eat it raw and drink its blood.”

Aimee put her hands over her mouth. She began to cry.

“Is that enough?” Lori asked. “Are we done here?”

Aimee nodded mutely, with tears ruining her makeup. Lori let go of her, but the actress stumbled as if she couldn’t stand on her own. Serena leaped forward and grabbed her. Lori Fulkerson stalked off across the slushy street to the curb where her Toyota was parked. She never looked back.

“Are you okay?” Serena asked Aimee.

The actress watched Lori drive away, her tires spinning on ice. Aimee separated herself and slipped Serena’s coat off her shoulders. She didn’t look cold anymore, and she seemed to have her strength back. Her face was pink and windburned, but Serena was surprised to see a grim smile of determination bend upward on her lips.

“I’m fine,” Aimee said.

“Is that really what you wanted?” Serena asked.

“That’s exactly what I wanted,” Aimee replied as she headed back toward the warehouse door. “I’m in the box now.”