Page 70 of The Escape Artist

“Are you kidding? This place is deserted and falling apart. I know a house that hasn't been lived in.” Ari stepped off the porch and moved around to the truck. “Come here,” he said, motioning her to him.

Claire followed him to the truck, keeping a wary eye on the house, waiting for that man to burst out the front door with a gun. She'd feel a lot safer if Ari's gun wasn't in the holster.

“The bastard left the keys in the ignition,” Ari said.

Claire watched as he tried to start the truck up. Nothing. It didn't even click over.

“Battery's dead. This truck hasn't moved from this spot in years. Do you believe me now that nobody's living here?”

Claire nodded slowly, but she still wasn't sure. It was true that there were no other cars here and this wasn't a place you could easily live without transportation.

Ari went out to the mailbox and opened it to reveal a stack of unopened mail including very old warnings of impending electricity shut off.

“See? Place is abandoned,” he said, pulling out the mail. He rifled through it, then put a few pieces in his back pocket. Claire glimpsed an envelope that said Edward Fuller on the front. It felt so strange after so long to have her captor's name.

She followed Ari back onto the porch.

“Stay outside,” he ordered.

If she stayed outside, she could run. He had to know that. Could he know he'd broken her will to leave him so completely that he could trust her out here in the open air unfettered while he searched the house?

“I-I can't. I want to be with you.” That sentence was about so much more than just this moment. And they both knew it.

“Then stay close behind me. And don't touch anything.”

For the moment Ari didn't seem worried about the rules between them. His single-minded focus appeared to be on finding something that would help him track down the man who'd hurt her. She wanted to tell him that killing a man wasn't as easy as it seemed. She'd been so sure she could do it only to learn the hard way that she couldn't.

The front door of the farmhouse wasn't even locked. The power was out. The air was stale. Whatever had been in the fridge when the power had been shut off was putting out such a stench of decay, she almost vomited from it.

Ari searched the entire upper level, Claire close behind him. They found no clues of where her captor might have gone. It looked like he'd just... left. It didn't even look like he'd packed a bunch of things or even bothered to clean up his dishes. Claire gripped the edge of the counter and doubled over as a full-on technicolor flashback hit her. It knocked the wind out of her as the vivid memories assaulted her senses.

It was those ugly yellow plates in the sink that brought everything back, so real it was as though it were happening in that moment. Those ugly yellow plates. The food he barely fed her down in that dirty awful basement. She could hear the snap and crack of his belt moments before he beat her with it. She flinched and cringed away as if she could stop the blow that was coming.

“Claire?” Ari rushed to her side and pried her fingers off the counter, causing the present to come back in a rush. She clung to him, burying her head in his shoulder as she cried.

“Let's go,” he said. “You don't need to be in this place. The mail is all I'm going to get. I think it's enough to find the son of a bitch.”

Claire glanced up and saw the basement door. It stood open, taunting her. She moved toward it as if under some spell.

“Claire, no,” Ari said.

“I have to. I have to see it.” She didn't know why she needed to see it. She'd seen it plenty. It had haunted her dreams for years. But she felt pulled there as though somehow she knew closure could never be possible unless she took just one last look at that basement. Maybe if she saw it empty in the daylight she could wake up from the nightmare for good.

Ari sighed. “Okay.”

He followed her down the stairs while she gripped his gloved hand for dear life. When she was halfway down the stairs, she let out a gasp.

A chill traveled over her skin, chased by goosebumps. “He's been dead this whole time. I killed him.”

What remained of Edward Fuller lay stretched out along the floor, arm extended out as if grabbing for someone... grabbing for her. The knife lay a few feet away. A large dark red stain had formed on the ground underneath him. There was a broken window at the top of the basement wall—the obvious entry point for the wild animals that had picked the bones clean.

20

Claire stood numbly in the backyard of the farmhouse, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as Ari buried the very little that was left of the man who'd kept her in the basement. Edward Fuller. It was still impossible to think he had a name. That whole time he'd had a name and bills and a job out in the real world somewhere. He'd bought groceries and gone to the doctor and watched TV like a normal person.

She thought back to the day she'd escaped... that hand around her ankle, the feel of which seemed as if it had been burned permanently into her skin... kicking him in the face, running and not stopping until she reached a road with cars she could flag down.

The whole time she'd thought he'd been coming after her, that he would catch her. But he'd been busy down in that basement, dying. She'd killed a man. But she didn't feel broken because of it... not like she had with what she'd done to Ari. She felt relieved. Maybe some unconscious part of her had known Ari wasn't the guy.