Paranormal Anthology With a TWIST (19 page)

“I think I was in a warehouse. It was so dark, so cold.” She
shivered and shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I’ve thought about the noises. I
heard noises the whole time.” She suddenly got excited and almost shrieked.
“There was water! I swear I heard water and maybe even fishermen.” She seemed
suddenly very animated to Dom. He knew she was excited, but for him, the clues
didn’t help that much. He sat and thought on it for a few minutes.

Rose watched him closely, gauging his reaction. She was about to
tell him more when he suddenly stood up and stomped across the room, standing
next to the entertainment unit, a pensive look on his face. She knew now was
not the time for her to roll the dice in the intricate game she was playing.
Dom held them now. She waited patiently, yet grew more frustrated at the same
time. Her frustration intensified as she looked at the clock. Time was slipping
away from her, faster than she dared admit. She was thinking of going over to
him, when he turned and walked back to her. He reached down for her hands. She
took his and let him lift her into his strong embrace, almost too strong.

He had thought about it and knew that tonight had to be the night.
He couldn’t wait any more. Tonight he would make Rose his… forever. Holding her
tightly, he knew that she completed him and would for eternity—his soul
told him so. Never before had his soul spoken so strongly to him. No time to
dwell on that now though, he had things to do. The first was to get his Rose
ready.

“Sweet Rose, my love. Are you ready to get out of this apartment?”
he asked her, nudging her under the chin to look at him. “I’d like to take you
out—away from this prison you’ve made for yourself—and remind you
that the world can be a good place.” He thought she would refuse at first,
knowing full well she had every reason to be moody.

“I think I would like to get out of the apartment, but not so sure
I’m presentable enough for any place nice. Maybe we can just go for a walk.”
She smiled shyly. Slowly backing away, she said, “I need to freshen up first.
There’s a bottle of wine I was about to nurse on. Help yourself to a glass
while you wait.”

“Take your time, baby,” he said with a slight chuckle. He knew
she’d take a while. He headed over to the kitchen counter and poured himself a
glass of the red wine. It wasn’t his favorite beverage, but he didn’t want to
hurt her feelings. She was his fragile little flower and he would do anything
to keep her smiling. Drinking wine, instead of a good, cold beer, was a small
inconvenience he could handle.

Rose waited on the other side of the bedroom door and listened. It
wasn’t long before she heard the distinct thud of a body hitting the floor. She
shifted into high gear. There was a lot to do and not much time to do it in.
She had places to go. Rushing out of the bedroom, she promptly rolled the tarp
out over the bailing twine lines she had laid down first. Hastily, she rolled
Dominic onto the tarp, wrapping it around him tightly, and tied the twine in
the secure knots she had learned from a Navy man. Heading to the utility
closet, she reached to the very back and popped open the secret door. She had
installed it when Janice wasn’t home one weekend after they’d moved in. From
within the space, she retrieved the hospital laundry bin she had stolen during
a very brief stint as a gift-shop volunteer. She hefted the body into the bin,
popped the sides up, and then threw a batch of old towels she had collected on
top of the tarp. She had brought a vehicle to the apartment the night before
and tucked it away in the garage, near the elevator. She grabbed her purse and
keys and left the apartment with her laundry… as far as anyone knew. Other
tenants already deemed her a bit quirky.

She took the old back elevator, once used for freight when the
building had served another purpose. She didn’t like the spooky, creaky, old
beast of a machine for fear it would stop and she would be trapped one day, but
sacrifices were a required part of the lifestyle. The elevator groaned to a
stop and the doors opened slowly to reveal the dim parking garage. There were
times she feared she would happen across the maintenance man who had a way of
showing up in strange places at inopportune times. She crept to the wall and
peered around the corner to check both ways before pulling her “laundry” to her
vehicle. The vehicle was an Astro van that she kept for the dirtier duties she
had to deal with. She slid the side door open and quickly transferred her load
into the back end. She collapsed the laundry bin and stored that in the back
with the bundle. Securing the side door, she looked around before getting into
the driver’s seat. Starting the van, she headed on her way. She hated driving
the van, but the tinted windows and missing seats in the rear compartment
provided her ample space and anonymity to do what she did.

Traffic was tricky in some spots, but soon she was at her
location—the first place she had called home in Atlanta. The old
warehouse just off Martin Luther King Jr. Drive had been the perfect place for
her workspace because it was neatly hidden away from prying eyes. She purchased
it the same day she looked at it, surprising the real estate agent with her
cash payment. She loved the element of surprise.

She clicked the automatic garage door opener, tapping impatiently
on the steering wheel as the door rose. She pulled in and, as soon as the rear
bumper cleared the threshold, she hit the button to close the door. She had
spared no expenses to make sure she had the best of everything. Her mind was
singularly focused. One thing and one thing only held her attention—the
man in the back of the van. She never noticed the semi-truck that now sat
parked across from her true home.

The tinted windows glistened from the last of the sunlight and the
neighborhood trembled as the engine thrummed to life. The sound built to a roar
that became persistent and haunting.

She truly enjoyed the process of elimination when it came to
problems. Her mother had taught her a few tricks, but her style was purely her
own. Sadly, she would have to come back to finish this one. Time was becoming
her nemesis. She was determined to meet Kevin on time. She did have a little
time for some fun—time to see his face, to see his eyes looking into hers
one more time. She knew her pharmaceuticals well and had learned the precise
doses necessary to place someone into a deep sleep, or even a coma. She had
found that occasionally time was not always on her side and she needed more to
accomplish all that she desired. Dom was a big guy. She knew his weight and
measurements. Men could be so vain and would gladly give that information when
promised a gift. The crumpling sound of the tarp caught her attention and she
knew the game was about to really start.

The space was once an old warehouse filled with a decade's worth
of detritus from the industrial era. Six months of cleaning out the trash and
securing the building from the homeless rabble gave her a blank palette to
transform. The original palace of pain was crude, but usable. It had rusty,
machine-shop tables picked up at foreclosure sales, basic saws that she found
at the local hardware store, a scavenged collection of surgical tools, garnered
from hospitals, clinics, and even the dental college, construction drop cloths,
barrels of varying size discreetly borrowed, and lots of bleach. Her first
victims brought back both distasteful memories and vivid pictures of pleasure
to her thoughts.

The years allowed her to evolve her talents—hone her skills
and transform the crude into beautiful. Her palace of pain was a remarkable display
in depravity. Stainless steel gleamed from every corner. Locked cabinets, when
open, showed tools of the trade and were neatly organized for quick retrieval
and use. An elaborate drainage system allowed for quick clean up. Industrial
refrigerators and freezers stood starkly, waiting for the bi-products of
torture to be stored for future use. Surgeons would envy her implement
collection and butchers would covet her extensive knife and saw display.
Automatic lighting that turned on whenever she entered the building, and went
off when she left, was a sweet perk of the trade. The elaborate automated
system that allowed her to control anything with a tiny remote control was one
of her true design favorites. Grabbing her remote from her oak desk, she clicked
into action. Industrial fans whirred, the ventilation system kicked in, video
cameras started rolling, and the music of AC/DC flowed from the speaker system.