The Secret Friend

71

Hannah shoved the notebook underneath the sheets. She waited for the door to open. It didn't. The card reader didn't beep and the lock didn't click back.

Walter knocked again. Then she realized he was waiting for her to speak.

Don't speak unless he allows you to talk to Mom and Dad.

Two more knocks and when Hannah didn't answer, he opened the door.

Walter was dressed in a crisp white shirt and grey pinstriped dress pants. He was holding two items – a gift-wrapped box and, folded on top, a white terrycloth robe. He placed both items on the table.

'I thought you might want a clean robe,' he said. 'You can wear it on your way to the bathroom. You can take a shower or, if you prefer, a bath.'

Hannah didn't answer.

'I read your letter,' Walter said. 'I've prayed long and hard, and I've decided to let you call your parents.'

'Thank you.'

Walter smiled. His face changed, became more relaxed.

'It's good to hear your voice,' he said.

'I'm sorry I haven't been too talkative, but I thought…'

'You thought I was going to hurt you again.'

Hannah had anticipated the question. She knew what to say.

'I know what happened in the car was an accident. I forgive you.'

Walter placed the gift-wrapped present on the bed.

'You didn't have -'

'I wanted to,' he said. 'Go ahead and open it.'

Hannah tore off the paper. Inside the box, wrapped in tissue paper, was the black Calvin Klein cocktail dress she had admired in the Macy's store window the night of the snowstorm.

'Do you like it?' Walter asked.

'It's beautiful.' Hannah shivered beneath her pyjamas. She forced a smile. 'Thank you.'

'I was hoping you'd wear it tonight, at dinner. I'm making veal cutlets. The first course is braised scallops served in a white wine sauce.'

'It sounds wonderful.' Hannah took a deep breath and plunged. 'I'd like to talk to my parents now. I don't mean to be pushy; it's just that I'm worried about my father. He's very sick. He has cancer.'

That was a lie. Hannah had watched a Forensic Files show about a man who raped and killed prostitutes. The killer had snatched one woman and handcuffed her inside the back of his van. She kept talking about her father, how he had cancer and if she died nobody would take care of him. Her abductor raped her and let her go. After he was caught, he told police he didn't kill the woman because his mother also had died of cancer.

'Why don't you shower first?' Walter said. 'Change into the robe, and I'll escort you to the bathroom. Knock on the door when you're ready.'

Hannah wondered if Walter was watching through the peephole. She stepped behind the curtain that hid her toilet and changed quickly. She pulled the robe tightly around her, knotted the belt around her waist and knocked on the door.

Walter stepped into the room. He was holding a pair of handcuffs.

'To make sure you don't run away or, you know…'

Go along or try to fight him? If she fought him now, on this issue, he might not let her make the phone call.

'They'll be off in a moment,' Walter said.

Hannah needed to push past her fear. She needed to be brave. She turned around and Walter slipped on the handcuffs. Hannah wondered if he did this because of Emma. Had she tried to run away during her first visit to the bathroom?

Walter stepped up next to the card reader. It beeped and the lock clicked back. The card reader was set up next to his waist, she noticed. The card must be in his pocket. That way he can keep his hands free.

Hannah stepped into the hallway of a half-finished cellar. To her left was a linen closet. He turned her around and she saw, at the end of the hallway and to the right of the stairs, a bathroom of white tile. The door had two padlocks on it.

Hannah walked slowly, wanting time to process everything she was seeing. The concrete floor was cold beneath her bare feet.

'May I take a bath?'

'Of course,' Walter said.

'How long do I have?'

'Take as long as you want.'

Good. Not only did she want some time to soak in the hot water – she hadn't bathed since her arrival – she wanted to poke around and see if she could find anything. If she did, through some miracle of God, find something useful, would Walter know it was missing? She'd have to give it some thought.

Heading past the cellar steps, Hannah glanced to her left and saw a washer and dryer. The clothes she had worn to the deli that day were folded neatly on top.

'I don't know what kind of shampoo or soap you like, but if you tell me, I'll be more than happy to get them for you,' Walter said. 'Whatever you need, whatever you want, just ask and I'll gladly -'

The doorbell rang.