The Lighthouse (Closed Thread)

[dr_mabeuse]

The lighthouse had stood on Cape Remorse for as long as anyone could remember, marking the spot where a spit of American headland jutted out into the North Atlantic and sank in a series of of stepping-stone islands that continued on iunderwater and had played hell with sailing ships. The islands were connected to the mainland by an old causeway that ran between them like the path of a skipped stone, and the Lighthouse stood on the very last island out, solitary and remote.

It was usually too cold for swimming on this part of the coast, but vacationers still came. They avoided Cape Remorse because of the currents and the high surf, so it was very quiet, very serene, and, when the fog rolled in, romantic in a spooky kind of way.

The light had been removed back in the fifties and the lighthouse had stood empty for thirty years before an artist bought it and converted it into his home and studio. He had sold it to a stock broker who had it refurbished as a summer home, grew tired of it, and now leased it out through a specialty realtor who dealt in old barns, light houses and other vacation oddities.

That's where she had seen it, in an ad in The Times.

She was looking for a place to go that was remote and isolated, because she had just embezzled a quarter of a million dollars from the brokerage firm she worked for, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the SEC came sniffing around her desk at Berne & Berne, and better to be gone than to be audited. By the time they found her, she hoped, she would have sent the cash to Aruba and have followed it out of the country herself.

She paid the three months rent in cash using a false name, and no one asked any questions, and when she'd first seen the place she was struck by its rugged beauty. It seemed ideal. She brought all the supplies she thought she'd need for a three month stay, picked up whatever items she'd forgotten to bring at the store in Crabport, and settled in. She had her firewood, her TV, her sketchpad and paints, her stack of books, and, in case anything happened, a .32 revolver, loaded in her bedside table.

It was an ideal place. Isolated and alone. It was perfect.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Rita looks out over the churning water and says out loud, “This is perfect.” Just right. Her mind searches for flaws in her plan and can find none. She has no family except an Aunt she hasn’t seen in years, and no friends she felt really close to. None she would have trusted in her scheme anyway.

It’s a dog eat dog world. And she was doing the eating now. After years of loyal service at Bern and Bern, Edward Bern had cornered her. Using his position and her naïveté he seduced her. Shitting on all her hard work, he promoted her to his mistress. Then as these things usually go, had tired of her when fresher, younger fish had entered the pool. She’d seen it happen and had been sure it wouldn’t be the same for her. Right. Had she stayed, how long before she found the pink slip in her paycheck?

So she had taken the money and ran. Between the quarter million from Bern and Bern and the $300,000.00 her parents had left her at their death, she has enough to see her through a goodly number of years with careful management. And one thing she knew was how to manage money.

Breathing deeply, drinking in the salty air. She turns to go back inside. She’ll need a fire tonight. Smiling, she thinks she remembered marshmallows.

Later that night –

Curled up before the fire, fresh from a steaming shower, she finds herself musing once again over Edward. He had hurt her badly.

She remembers his words when he called her into his office to tell her it was over.

“Just get over it Rita. It’s no big thing. We had plenty of fun and laughs.” Pausing, he continued, “You couldn’t have taken me seriously? If and When I marry, it won’t be a bimbo like you.”

That phrase has plagued her all her life. Too big tits, too big ass, short and blond. Her looks have always made her work triple hard to overcome the endless stereotyping. Well, she’d go where she would be appreciated. ALL of her.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He calls her first at 7:30 PM, just to make sure her cell phone is on and working. It is. And her surprise at being called when no one's supposed to know where she is is evident in the studied calmness in her voice. "Hello?"

He doesn't answer her, doesn't say anything, and he hears her hang up.

He calls again at about 8:25 or so. He'd been busy in the interim. Now he's close enough so that he can see her as she gets up and goes to the phone.

"Hello?" she asks again. "Hello?" He hears the irritation in her voice, then she hangs up.

Again about 15 minutes later.

"Hello? Hello, who is this?" she asks. "Listen, whoever this is, you've got the wrong number."

"Oh no I don't." he says

There's a pause on her end. "Who is this?"

He hangs up.

That should start her thinking.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Roused from her dozing on the sofa with a meeeep, meeeep, a pause, meeeep, meeeep. Her cell phone. HER CELL PHONE? She flies up from the sofa, undecided, finally pulling it from her purse.

“Hello?” …No answer. She hangs up.

“Christ, get a grip Rita.” Flinging the phone on the sofa she flops down with relief.

Rita had left her old cell phone in Grand Central Station sure to be picked up and used by some illegal alien calling his or her overseas buddies. This phone was bought with 5000 prepaid minutes. No way to trace her, the purchaser. Who would have this number? She hasn’t even had time to memorize it yet. Ergo, a wrong number.

It would look like she was goaded into quitting her job. When she left she allowed a few snippets of hurt to heard by co-workers. Rita was convinced that her financial gleanings would not be apparent to Bern & Bern until the end of the next quarter. The SEC would probably start an investigation soon after that. With luck, the clues she planted would lead straight to Edward. Let that idiot deal with the SEC. She would be tropical by then…

Her apartment has the appearance of being robbed. She is just a missing person now. Her identity and license, credit cards and such, were scattered throughout the poorer sections of the city. They most certainly would be used and she thinks it’s a perfect way to camouflage her flight away from there.

Confidence in her plan allows her to grab a book and sink back into the sofa. Losing herself in the fiction until the insistent MEEEEP, MEEEEP of her phone startles her back to reality.

“Hello?” fear turning to annoyance as she realizes it must be the same caller repeating his wrong number, “Hello?” she hangs up.

She thumbs the call log, not really surprised when the number calling shows blocked. Figures.

When her phone rings again, she has had enough, "Hello? Hello, who is this? Listen, whoever this is, you've got the wrong number."

Not expecting a reply she almost drops her phone when a male voice responds, “Oh no I don't."

Now gripping her phone in hands gone cold she asks, “Who is this?” and he hangs up.

It’s got to be some crank. Should have never said anything. But a worm of dread worry has started her thinking. And she begins to brood over her scheme again.

Her night is restless, her sleep broken by unsettling dreams. When the light in her bedroom wakes her fully, she almost talks herself into believing its nothing but a crank caller with a problem.

After a shower and breakfast, she’s convinced of it. Humming and light-stepped, she dresses and heads for the rocks, her sketchbook in hand.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Once she is asleep he approaches the lighthouse to have a good look, or as good a look as he can get in the moonless darkness. The sound of his footsteps on the gravelly rock is totalaly covered up by the sound of the surf on the rocks, and the one thing he feared most--that she might have a dog--was untrue. He was free to walk about as he pleased, as long as she didn't awaken.

He checked the locks on the doors. The house had a front and a back door and the locks on both were a joke. She might have a deadbolt on the inside, but he doubted it; this place was too remote to worry about break-ins. There was an attached garage, a fairly recent addition, so he assumed that there was a door that led from the house to the garage as well.

The lighthouse itself had its own door, and this was more substantial. The house was attached to the lighthouse so the keeper could tend to his light without having to brave the winter storms, so there must be a connecting door between them.

That was a lot of doors for one little house. A lot of windows too. He would have no trouble with that.

He saw where the electricity ran into the house from a buried conduit, and he found where the conduit ran to the shore along the bottom of tha causeway, He could have her power off easily. One snip and that would be it.

He found her bedroom. It faced the ocean, so the shades were up and he could see her through the blinds as she slept. It was very exciting to him to see her like this, the bulge of her breasts, her face calm and serene. He watched her for a while. She was a good looking woman, he'd always known that. Maybe he could get her to co-operate. He'd think about it.

That was enough for tonight, he figured. He tried to call her once more, but she'd turned her phone off, so that was that.

He walked easily back over the causeway and along the road to where his van was hidden in the thick sea-pine that grew ion the lee of the rocks. He opened the door, kicked off his shoes and took off his ski-mask and got some sleep.

----------------------------------

The Next Morning

He saw her on the beach with his binoculars. She's wandered a good mile away from the lighthouse, so now was perfect. he drove to the house. She couldn't see thecauseway from where she was, and he parked right nearby. The fron dodor was open, so that made it easy for him.

He stepped inside and looked around. He didn't want to do anything too blatant. Not yet. Just plant some doubts, some fears.

She had a stack of old yellowed newspapers by the fireplace, just as he'd expected. They'd obviously been here when she got here. He took a sheet of stationary with the Bern & Bern letterhead, and placed it in the stack where she'd see it.

She was a meticulous housekeeper. Very neat. That made it easy.

He found her cell phone and turned it back on. He tipped over a little porcelain lighthouse that stood on a shelf of knicknacks, lying it on its side. A symbol. He found the a magazine she'd been reading and tore out a page.

He went into her bedroom and took out a pair of her panmties and a bra and stuffed them under her pillow. Then he laid down on her bed and wiggled around just enough to subtly dent the spread.

Before he left, he went into the bathroom. He unscrewed the lock on the window and put it in his pocket, No one ever checked a bathroom window. She'd never notice that it had no lock, and he could use it later. Then, as an afterthought, he raised the toilet seat and left it up. He liked that touch.

He drove away and parked up near the road but out of sight, got his binoculars and watched her. The sky was clouding over and the wind picking up and it looked like rain.

It looked like it might start this afternoon. Certainly by nightfall. It would be the proverbial dark and stormy night. Perfect.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Rita is so engrossed in sketching the rocks, wild shoreline with churning waves and the cloudy skyline, she doesn’t connect the drop of rainwater that plops on her picture to the scene in front of her. She then realizes that the sky has darkened appreciatively and she had better head back before getting caught in it.

Nimbly skirting jagged rocks, she jogs back toward the causeway leading to the lighthouse. When it appears against the darkening sky, she feels a sense of foreboding. Her feet slow until she stops awed at the sight. The sky is angry looking and clouds seems to touch the top of the lighthouse, throwing it in shadow punctuated with lighter shafts of gray. Eerie. The early afternoon sun is up there somewhere, but in the thickening cover of clouds, it’s quite obscured.

Shaking her head, throwing off the apprehension Rita sprints to the door as the rain starts making itself known with big cold drops of water. Breathless and shaking her fair head, she tosses the sketchbook on a chair. Without pausing or stopping to think she crosses the cozy little living room towards the kitchen and rights the lighthouse lying on its side on the bookshelf automatically moving it to its rightful position with the other bibelots on the shelf.

Grabbing a Pepsi, she moves into the bathroom to grab a towel to dry her hair. A little put out that she can’t spend the rest of her afternoon starting to move her money around, cleaning it so to speak, but the satellite uplink is notoriously aggravating in bad weather.

Well, first things first, and she pads back into the kitchen to fix dinner. Her mind is occupied with the thought of a hearty beef soup. Good for a day like today. Snapping on the bright kitchen light, she begins her preparations. Grabbing a couple of containers of beef stock, a tomato, and frozen vegetables, she dumps it all in a stockpot and adds spices. An onion, some garlic and browned stew beef and barley soon follow. It now just needs to cook.

Moving back into the living room, turning on more lights against the gray murky light, Rita thinks a fire would stave off the chill. As she sweeps out yesterday’s ashes, her eye catches a sheet of Bern & Bern stationary lying on the heap of newspapers used for fire starting. Strange place for that… she didn’t even think she had any company stationary with her. She rather had dumped everything she could find with Edward’s name on it. Well, may as well burn it. Touching a match to the paper, she thinks ‘Good Riddance’.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Later…

When the storm starts to gather strength, Rita decides to watch it roll in from the top of the lighthouse.

Stepping into her bedroom, she crosses to the little bathroom and squats down to do her business. “Aaaaaaiiiieeee,” her howl of surprise surpasses the gathering storm for a moment as her butt continues down a scant inch lower than normal and connects to the cold porcelain, nearly sliding into the bowl. Her feet scramble for purchase and she stands, turning to slam the seat down.

“Jesus,” she mumbles, then giggles helplessly as the image of herself sitting in the shitter dances through her mind. Her giggles stop abruptly when she thinks of how she has no recollection of raising the seat. She cleaned in here a couple of days ago. “Get a grip Rita,” she tells herself, “who else could have done it?” Washing her hands, a little worried frown crossing her delicate features, she finally shrugs and moves to change into warmer clothes before climbing to the top of the lighthouse.

Pausing only to grab a stout flashlight and a couple of Corona’s from the fridge and a bottle opener, she moves to the connecting door to the lighthouse. Switching on the stair lights that wrap around the interior of the round stone structure, she begins her climb. It isn’t the highest of its kind, but the stairs are steep and just not at the right height for an easy climb. Pausing at every other spiral at the windows placed there to see the sea, she tries to gage the intensity of the storm.

“Going to be a heck of a storm,” she thinks. When she reaches the light room she pauses, and decides against a light up here. Sinking into a wooden chair by the big window, she pops open a beer and waits for the storm.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He watched the house for as long as he could from his vantage point above, but when the rain started he had to move into the van. He couldn't see as well from here, but from what he could tell he had been too subtle. It didn't look like she'd spooked at all.

He'd seen the light in the lighthouse go on, but he couldn't tell what that meant. Maybe she'd been scared by his little clues and turned on the light to look around, or maybe she hand't even seen them and was up there enjoying the view.

Maybe he'd musjudged her. Maybe she was tougher than he thought. Maybe it wouldn't be so easy to make her cut and run for her money. Maybe he'd have to take a more direct approach.

The rain was coming down hoard now, with thunder and lightning over the ocean. Just the kind of night the lighthouse had been built for.

He put on his rainsuit in the back of the van, packed a bunch of stuff into his canvas bag and walked out into the rain and across the causeway, watching the house for movement and seeing none. Then in a fortuitous burst of lightning, her saw her, silhouetted clearly against the glass in the lighthouse, staring out to sea.

That decided it' He went through the unlocked front door and directly to the garage, unconcerned about the water he dripped all over the carpet. She'd might as well know she had company. It didn't matter now.

He went to the garage, popped the hood, and pulled the wire out of the coil so that the car would turn over but never start. Knowing Rita, he went into the bedroom and looked under the pillows, then in the night stand. There it was: a pistol. He cracked the cylinder and dropped the bullets into his hand and ejected the shell from the chamber, then replaced the gun. Then he left.

He took shelter beneath an old oak in the front yard and waited for her to come down. He had a flask against the chill and he took a pull or two, but she seemed determine to take her time, damn it!

There was a bright halogen light that shined on the front of the house and light, illuminating the yard. He didn't want to use a guyn, although he had one. He had brought an air pistol for just such a contingency: accurate and quiet.

With the wind the way iot was it took his six shots before he bitthe light. But when he did, the entire area went dark: the yard, the front of the structures, even the lights over tha causeway which must have been in series with the halogen.

The whole are was swallowed into the darkness, all except the light and the house.

There. She had to notice that.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

She nearly fumbles her beer when a particularly close strike hits the waves. The storm is huge and doesn’t show any sign of abating. Furious lightening, thunder interweaving without a break between crashes, it’s impossible to separate light from noise. The storm is right on top of the lighthouse it seems.

Rita figures it’s time to go downstairs then. She knows the lighthouse is protected by lightening rods but… This is too scary anyway, even for a storm lover. Taking her empties and flash, she gingerly makes her way down the stairs and snaps out the stair lights. With a storm like this, she thinks herself lucky not to have lost power yet.

Coming into the kitchen and dropping her bottles and flashlight on the table, she gets another beer to sip while she sits in front of the fire. Moving to the woodpile, she grabs a couple of pieces to toss on the smoldering ashes. As she reaches for the poker to stir them to life, out of the corner of her eye she notices a darker patch on the carpet by the front door. Straightening, the beer drops unnoticed from her hands and clug-glugs on the carpet, spraying foam.

Her heart drops to the pit of her stomach as the realization dawns that someone has been here. BEEN IN HER HOUSE. Panic makes her clumsy as she sprints to the front door to lock it and pull down the shade her foot sends the bottle flying. With her mind in turmoil and her breath gasping out in little puffs, she leans back against the door. Hands shaking, heart thumping, she moves jerkily to the light in the living room and flicks it off.

Bee-lining to the bedroom, she scrambles in the lightening illuminated darkness for the gun in her bedside table. Scared and trembling like a creature caught in a trap she thumbs off the safety and makes her way back down the hall to the kitchen. Turning off lights, locking the door to the lighthouse and then to the garage and back door. Moving through the small house, she pulls shades, lowers blinds. When she makes it back to the living room she pauses by the big bay window to look outside. Damn, the lights are gone. All the way around the lighthouse and beyond. It never occurred to her that someone could still be in the house with her.

What the hell to do?
“This is no place to be if I have company,” telling herself, “Time to leave Rita.” Grabbing her big bag, she sprints again to the bedroom and bath; tossing in a toothbrush, a change of undies, then back to the living room for her phone, and shrugs into a heavy rain slicker. Grabbing her laptop and car keys, she crosses the kitchen to the garage.

Tossing her bag and computer on the seat beside her, she jams the key in the ignition and thumbs the garage door release in the same movement.

RRR…RRR…RRR….RRR….RRR…RRR…”Please start,” she begs.
RRR…RRR…RRR…RRR…RRR… “You piece of shit!” Frantically pumping the gas and trying again. RRR…RRR…RRR…
RRR……….RRR……….RRR……… “Shit, shit shit.” Doing nothing but draining the battery.

Her eye catches the lightening in the rear view mirror through the open garage door and she pushes the button on the visor, relief washing over her as the door shudders down. “Think, Rita, THINK…”

Moving back through the garage with her bag and laptop, she enters the kitchen. Dropping the laptop on the table, she goes into the living room with her bag, gun in her hand.

Pulling the rocker against the wall facing the front door, she waits still dressed in the bulky rain slicker.

The stationary, the tipped lighthouse, the toilet seat, the bloody wrong numbers, they all coalesce in her mind. Tears of sick panic course down her cheeks, her stomach in knots. Someone knows...

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He was going back to the van to change when he saw the lights in the stairwar of the lighthouse flick off.

He turned and watched, shielding hus eyes from the driving rain. Even from where he stood it was easy to see that she was panicked now. He could see her as she ran about the house, locking doors and pulling shades, and then he saw the garage door go up, heard her try and start the car and give up.

He bend over, tuned his back to the wind and dialed her number.
When he heard her voice he just smiled. She was scared, real scared. It did his heart goof to hear that icy bitch frightened like that.

"Rita?" he asked, cupping the phone against the wind. The lightning was playing havoc with the signal,but he knew she could hear him. "You don't know who this is, do you? But I know what you did, Rita."

He paused as static filled the line.

"It's wet out here, Rita. I'm coming in. I just want to talk to you, Rita. Don't do anything stupid. I don't want to have to hurt you."

Another blast of lightning, close this time, lighting up the whole scene in dead, flat white.

He switched on his flashlight so she could see him approach. Then he walked up the causeway to the house.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Rita is rocking hard in the chair, one hand gripping the arm of it, the other the gun. She’s stopped crying and is trying to think. Think…
The meeep meeep of her phone is muffled, but she hears it. She is hypersensitive to all sounds and motion. Eyes darting in the flickering strobes of lightning, she pulls out her cell phone and breathes a “Yes?”

“Rita? You don’t know who this is do you? But I know what you did, Rita.” The line crackles and pops with the storm. Rita stops rocking and listens, dread tightening her chest.

“It’s wet out here Rita, I’m coming in. I just want to talk to you, Rita. Don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

She’s up and out of the chair, gun raised, phone and bag on the floor. She watches through the bay window as his flashlight bobs and weaves through the storm, the menacing outline of him silhouetted with every flash of lightning.

She pulls back and moves to the front door, unlocking it, backing away, back to the rocker. Her hand grips the pistol as she puts it in her pocket, pointing at the door. Rita waits, adrenalin surging through her body, its metallic taste in her mouth. She wonders how willing she would be to use the gun. Wonders how much this is worth to her.

Her eyes are shiny and huge when the door opens, her finger tight on the trigger.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He walks in cautiously, keeping an eye on her where she sits in the rocker. Her face is blank but her eyes have a haunted, fearful look. From the way she sits he is certain she has the gun in her pocket. The empty gun.

She closes the door behind him and drops his bag on the hooked rug. Then he pulls off the rain hat.

She looks at him intently but does not recognize him. Something familiar but she cannot place him.

"I told you you didn't know me." he says, pushing back his dark hair, now wet from the storm. "Leff. Neal Leff. Accounting at Bern and Bern."

She didn't stir. She still couldn't place his face.

He seemed to be waiting for her to invite him in. When she said nothing he invited himself. He hung his hat and took off his slicker, hanging it by the door, then he went to the fire.

"I know what you did." he said. "All your trades used to come through me. I watched you do it. I know where all the bodies are buried."

Yes, he did look familiar now, only without the three-day growth of beard, and without that look in his eye. She could picture him in accounting. One of the gnomes. She'd never paid any attention.

"I don't know what you're talking about." she said slowly. "But if you don't get out of here I'm calling the police. And I should warn you. I have a gun, and it's aimed right at you. I'm not afraid to use it."

He unzipped the rainpants and pulled them off, hung them by his coat. She didn't care for his cockiness.

A blast if lightning hit very nearby. The thunder was terrifying.

"You don't want to call the police." he said, bending down to open the bag and taking out a coil of rope.

"And the gun you have in your pocket is empty. Unlike this one." he said as he showed her a small automatic. "Now would you please come sit over here? I'm pretty good with this. I could make you hurt very badly for a very long time."

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Her eyes follow the stranger as he walks in, unhurriedly, swaggering. When he pulls off his hat, she tries unsuccessfully to place him. As he begins to talk she does finally remember him vaguely.

Her hand again tenses on the gun, she decides to brave it, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you don't get out of here I'm calling the police. And I should warn you. I have a gun, and it's aimed right at you. I'm not afraid to use it."

Almost leisurely, ignoring her, he removes his rain pants.

She jumps as the lightning strikes somewhere. The thunder roars through her as her mind gropes through her options. When he continues… telling her she doesn’t want to call the police, she mentally agrees. No, she doesn’t want to call the police. When he brings out the rope, her gut tightens, and her mouth goes dry. The beer she’d drunk earlier is churning in her belly. The gun in her pocketed hand follows his movements.

Her heart sinks as she hears his next sentence.

Stupid. She should have checked her gun. She draws out the pistol and pulls the trigger almost indifferently. No expression on her face as it clicks harmlessly on an empty chamber. She lets it drop to the floor.

Her eyes close momentarily. Impotent rage striking her warring with dread-ugly panic, it makes her shiver, makes her legs weak as she gropes for the arms of the chair to force herself upright.

Frustrated tears cloud her vision, as she takes a step toward him, then another. She’ll have to wait and bide her time. She’ll get a chance, she has to.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He isn't prepared for his reaction when she does as he says and gets up from her chair. All the time he's been planning things out, thinking about her possible moves and his counter moves, he never once considered how he would feel when she ceded control of herself to him, and now it strikes him with am erotic charge as fierce and violent as the lightning outside.

He's watched her since she had started at Bern and Bern. Everyone had watched her, because she was young and gorgeous and smart and knew how to use what God had given her to get as much as she could. If being a woman had its disadvatages, it had its advantages as well, if you weren't afraid to use them, and she wasn't. It had been obvious that she was on her way to great things. The clients loved her, the bosses loved her, and schmucks like him had watched helplessly as she had walked by, as out of their league as a butterfly in a room full of caterpillars.

So he was overjoyed when he found that she was helping herself to the company's money, and he'd had the brains not to go crying to the bosses. He had stashed the information away for his own use until he had the hard proof he needed to force her to cut him in on what she'd taken.

And then he'd been laid off. A total shock at the time, but now he knew it had been a blessing in disguise. It had given him all the time he needed to follow her, to watch her put her own plan together. All this time he'd just been thinking about the money and about what he could do with it, but now he was thinking about something else.

He remembered the way she used to come in to work, the sharp suits tailored just a bit to tight and a bit too short. The sway of her hips as her heels clicked down the marble corridors, the way her blouses strained to contain her breasts. He remembered the way her lips would part expectently and the excited gleam in her eye as she watched a stock she had picked climb. He remembered bringing some figures up to the Old Man's office and seeing her come out, fixing her lipstick, and he knew where her mouth had been.

And she still looked the same, even though she was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt with her hair back, she looked every bit as good as she had back at Bern and Bern. Better, maybe, with that look of fear in her eyes, her chest rising with her shallow and frightened breathing. It made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time: he felt in control.

He took her by the shoulder and turned her around. She didn't resist. He knew she was trying to think her way out of this, and that was fine. Let her think all she wanted. Meanwhile he threw a couple coils of rope over her wrists and tied them together behind her back. He sat her down in the chair so that her arms were over the back, and tied her wrists to the rail between the legs, then tied her ankles to the legs of the chair. By the time he was done he had an erection. It made him smile to himself. He'd never suspected that he might find this kind of thing exciting.

He went into her bedroom and looked for a scarf or something to tie over her eyes just as another bolt of lightning hit, disturbingly close. This one made him jump like a scraed cat, and as he caught his breath he realized that his hands were shaking.

He tied a bandana over her eyes and stood back, trying to calm himself. Now that she was secure, there was no immediate hurry. He took off his sopping outer clothes and hung them in front of the fire. He didn't drink normally, but he wanted one now.

He found it in the kitchen and poured himself a good drink and tossed it back. It burned. Felt good. He didn't know why he was so nervous. He'd thought about conmfronting her for so long, and in such detail; was sure he had everything all mapped out, even down to what he would feel in any contingency. So why was he so nervous?

He finished the drink and chased it with some water from the sink. Another flash of lightning illuminated her sitting in the chair in profile, blindfolded, her breasts thrust out by the position of her arms, her legs spread, ankles tied to the chair.

Maybe it wasn't nervousness, he thought. Maybe it was something else.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

She’d seen his eyes. Seen him linger at her breasts. She’d felt his hands tremble when he grasped her shoulders to turn her around. She’s smarter than him. Why else would he have been such a flunky in the accounting pool? Just one more boring accountant. Staring at computer figures.

Well, maybe not that stupid. He’d managed to glean what she was doing. After seeing his eyes look at her so long and hard, she figures he’s been watching her a while. He must have been really prying into her files and analyzing her trades to figure it out.

So, not so stupid. And ambitious. Took a certain amount of balls to do this. The mind that has brought her this far, is working now, really working. Testing this angle and that. She can get the upper hand; use his own greed or even lust? against him.

When she feels the rope against her wrists, she wonders if she should have fought him. This is a bad position to be in. No, no, if she's patient she’ll get her chance. Her ankles are now bound to the chair. How badly she’d wanted to kick him.

When he’d returned from her bedroom to blindfold her with her own bandanna for Christ sakes, she roughed out a plan. Planning, scheming, working through the possible scenarios. She heard him get a drink. She’d get him talking. Try that first.

“Hey, there ah… Neal, I could use a drink too.”

 

[dr_mabeuse]

“Hey, there ah… Neal, I could use a drink too.” she said, hearing him moving around the room.

He didn't say anything for a while, just lookied at her. He was thinking, thinking of all the time he had spent in that grunt work in accounting, passed over for promotion time and again as his bosses took credit for his work; seeing her as she was then when she used to walk through his department, her nose in the air, heading for her desk upstairs.

He slammed the bottle down on the table right next to her, making her jump.

"I'm going to say this once," he said in a low voice. "so you might want to listen. You took half a million dollars from your accounts at Bern and Bern. You know it, and I know it, and I think I've got the evidence that'll prove it. I might be wrong, but I think the SEC will be awfully interested in what I've collected. It's all wrapped up and sitting at a friend's house right now, and he's going to send it to the SEC first thing monday morning unless he hears from me by then.

"I think that evidence will put you away for a long while, but I might be wrong. Your boyfriend Eddy has a lot of pull. He might be able to swing something for you if he wants to stick his neck out. But anyhow, the only way my friend is going to hear from me is if I have my hands on that money and am comfortably on the way out of the country.

"I'm not greedy. You get a hundred grand for your trouble. As well as your freedom. Now it's friday night. I'd suggest that we don't waste any more time. So why don't you just tell me where it is?"

He watched her for a while but she didn't move.

He walked over to her and stood in front of her. He knew she could sense him there. He squatted down and reached out to her, She flinched when his hands touched her as he unbuttoned the top two buttons on her straining shirt. He liked the way the buttons popped open, showing a generous portion of cleavage.

He ran the back of his fingers over her breasts.

"I'm not a bad guy." he said. "If I don't have to be. I can be a very nice guy."

He smiled at her but of course she couldn't see.

"Now," he said, "You still want that drink?"

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Rita started when he slammed the bottle next to her. Jesus. She hated not seeing where he was or what he was doing. The damnable storm was sometimes loud enough to prohibit her being able to place him in the room. Well, he’s covered his bases, if she could believe him about having his ‘friend’ hold the evidence but would he really do that? Bring another person into it? She doubts it, but maybe his ‘friends’ were different from hers.

And what did it matter anyway? She’d almost laughed out loud when he mentioned Edward’s name. Oh yeah, he’d be the first one in line to feed her to the vultures. Hmm, it seems Neal wasn’t privy to the office gossip – the fact that Eddy tossed her aside. That may be usable too. The pains she took to place the blame on Edward, he probably didn’t have access to Edward’s files. But she can’t underestimate him.

Rita felt him before her. When he unbuttoned her shirt, she couldn’t help be cringe back with revulsion. When he ran his hands across her breasts, it was all she could do to keep from screaming. Instead she decided to push him a little.

“Yes, I still want the drink.”

When he held it to her mouth she drank deeply, the scotch burning her throat.

“Thank you.” Evidently subtle sarcasm was lost on him.

She hears him moving around her again.

“Well, Neal,” she said, “Now you listen to me. In the first place, it wasn’t a half a million it was a quarter million, $258,586.00 to be more exact, although I have probably earned a little interest.

“In the second place, no one can touch the money right now. Not you, not me, not the SEC. You have to realize that you just can’t show up with that kind of cash. Not if you’re smart. And I am smart. Why the hell do you think I am sitting on a pile of rocks here in New England? So, I suggest you call off your friend.”

She pauses, seemingly in deep thought.

“I would imagine you are entitled to some compensation, it seems you picked up on me when no one else would have had a clue. But you are not going to take the lion’s share Neal. I am entitled to that money. I earned it. I’ll consider a split, but I’m not walking away with a paltry $100 K. You need me.”

Bravely spoken words, sitting as she was tied and blindfolded, trying like hell to control the waver that wanted to show in her voice and the sweat that has started to run down her armpits.

“I need to use the bathroom, and it’s really warm with this rain slicker on.”

 

[dr_mabeuse]

"And next you're going to tell me you can't launder the money right now because you've run out of soap, right? Rita. I know what you did. I know how you did it. You underbought with your clients money and siphoned off the rest to a dummy account you had access to. 'Liquid Limited Partners', wasn't it? And you probably thought you'd buy hot stock with that money and pay them back before anyone knew, but when you found that they didn't poke around that much, you just left it where it was. The crash hid a lot of things, didn't it? Including writing off the money you'd taken."

"And now you're going to tell me that you can't touch that money? I guess the money you've already transferred just flew out of the country by itself, huh? I suppose you're just ip here for the weather, that you're not using this time to tranfer the rest of it, bit by bit. And I guess you don't have access to what's already offshore?"

"I guess you're right. This is just a waste of time on my part. I'm just a lowly number cruncher. All this high finance is beyond me. Let's just forget this whole thing ever happened, huh?"

He stood up and poured another drink, took it into the bathroom and looked around, looking for a possible weapon. A plunger. No razor blades. The tob of the flush tank, but that would be too heavy for her. Her car wouldn't start, he doubted she'd be able to outrun him, besides, where could she go. He had her cell phone in his pocket. It looked safe enough.

On the other hand, she didn't look like she had to go that badly. Not enough for him to untie her. He'd know when she got to that point. And for all he cared, she could pee in her pants. He wasn't exactly out to make this comfotable for her.

There was no way he could really compel her to do what he wanted. All he had was the threat of exposure or of violence, and if neither of these worked, there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do.

Unbidden, his mind kept on returning to sex. He wanted her. The sight of her tied up and helpless had hit him with unexpected force, and he knew wthat if he were just to take her, there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't go to the cops of course, and she had no way of stopping him. But it wasn't that he wanted to screw her as much as he just wanted her, wanted to make her want him.

He walked back into the livingroom and sat down.

"So how did Eddie find out where you were staying?" he asked her casually. "You tell him? Or was it the tail he had on you? He call you yet?"

 

[Annabelllee2003]

“I can’t touch the money now. Sure, all right, I could conceivably get some. But do you really think the small sum that’s available right now is worth risking everything? Don’t you see I have to clean it all? Do you think it’s enough to stay out of this country for the rest of my life? I don’t think so. No matter how good I am at making money, I’d have to come back here when it ran out.

“Check outside, the storm won’t allow me to do anything until it blows out. That was my plan for this afternoon to start moving some more. Neal, don’t you see that you have to do this in stages? And I can make more with it. If I’m careful.” Christ, just lead him on…

Well, it doesn’t appear that he’s caught on to her new identity. One that cost 40,000 dollars to manufacture. New passport, credit cards, birth certificate. She had shed Rita Wells with the leaving of her ID and credit cards strewn about the city. She wasn’t her new name yet, but when she got ready to leave she would be.

She hears him leave the room. Her bladder getting more uncomfortable with the two beers she consumed in the lighthouse. She shifts on her seat. Her arms are starting to go to sleep too. She tries to flex them, move them, and get some life in them.

Rita decides not to tell him she can get into B & B’s computer either. She was a pretty fair hacker, and it always helps to have a password. She had snagged one of the other trader’s passwords and before she left she put a little sub-routine on the server. It wouldn’t allow her to trade, but would allow her to browse. Berne & Berne had always been arrogant when it came to security. It would only be good for another week or so, but she should be able to get enough information by then to make sure she wasn’t suspected.

As for her inheritance, it was moved. And in her new name. She knew Neal had no way of knowing this. He couldn’t.
Her confidence returning a bit, she hears him come back in and sit.

That confidence turns to stoned incredulity when she hears his next words.

"So how did Eddie find out where you were staying? You tell him? Or was it the tail he had on you? He call you yet?"

Fear makes her mind skip into high gear, her need for the bathroom completely gone. Rita was considered missing. She’d made the papers with her disappearance and the apartment being ‘robbed’. Page 13, second section. She saw it. No one knew about the money. Edward certainly didn’t. Well, Neal did. But if Edward did, she would be behind bars. Ruthless bastard.

He’d dumped her, for chrissakes. Why would he be looking for her? Reconciliation? Doubtful. He’d made it quite plain. But Neal had said that so matter of fact, if it were true, well, she’d have to leave a whole lot quicker.

“What are you talking about? Why would he look for me?”

 

[dr_mabeuse]

“What are you talking about? Why would he look for me?” she asked. Her nervouness was obvious. It wasn't just some pique over the mention of an old lover.

"I was hoping you could tell me." he said. "All I know is I haven't been the only one following you. And who else would be interested?"

He sat there looking at his hands for awhile. He really didn't know if she were telling the truth about not being able to touch the money, but he figured she must be able to put her hands on some of it. After all, she had paid three month's rent on this place easily enough. She must be worth something.

The thing was, how far was he willing to go to get it? He certainly wasn't going to kill her, or even hurt her. He was pretty sure she knew that too. So what did that leave? Yelling at her? Not letting her go to the bathroom?

He came over to the chair and untied her hands. He watched as she untied her ankles. She was really nervous. This Eddie must be a pretty heavy dude.

"Listen," she said, "If you're trying to scare me with this..."

He shrugged. "I'm not trying to do anything. I'm just telling you what I know. And I know that you were being followed. For about the last two weeks. Why, what's the problem? You two are an item, right? I figured the guy wants to know what you're up to, if you're seeing anyone else. Happens all the time."

She didn't know it and he wouldn't tell her, but he'd been a private investigator for a while. It had sounded very glamorous, but what it came down to was skip tracing and following husbands and wives around, or trying to get a photo of some insurance cheat who was supposed to be permanently disabled out on the golf course. It hadn't been much of a job, but he'd gained a few skills, along with a deep appreciation for the inherent crookedness of his fellow man.

"Go on, go use the john. I think we're about done here. I'm just not much of a blackmailer."

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Rita’s mind is reeling. Rubbing her numb wrists, she goes into the little bathroom off the kitchen.

Coming back she asks him, “So you don’t know that it’s Edward. Right?” At his nod, she shakes her head.


She grabs the scotch and sinking on the sofa she takes a long pull of the fiery liquid. Her words come slowly at first, then build steam, “Neal, I don’t know why you don’t know, you seem to know so many other things, but Edward and I ceased to be an item about three weeks before I left. And he’d treated me like crap for two months before that. Why do you think I did this?

“I can’t see him having me followed. It just doesn’t make sense; he dropped me for that new girl, Sandy with the long legs and red hair. It wasn’t an amiable parting; I was just waiting for my pink slip when I decided to consolidate, cut and run. Unless you tipped someone off with your snooping, they couldn’t know yet. Not until the quarterly numbers are in. I’d swear to that.

“And once he’s dumped you, you’re dumped. I’ve seen him do it time and time again. I was a fool believing it would be different for me.”

Looking over at Neal standing by the fire, she is suddenly sure he’s telling the truth. Now what? Sighing deeply, she stands holding the scotch. Stepping over the ropes that bound her to the chair, she walks over to Neal and hands him the bottle.

“Have a drink Neal. I think you have bought into some trouble. So what are we going to do about it?” He was smart enough to figure out her scheme… let’s see what he does with this new mess.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He really wasn't listening to her now. He was standing by the fire place thinking how he'd blown it, wondering if there was anything he could salvage of his whole half-assed plan. She handed him the bottle and he took it without thinking.

“Have a drink Neal. I think you have bought into some trouble. So what are we going to do about it?”

He took the bottle from her and looked at it. Well, at least she didn't hold a grudge, but right now he didn't feel like drinking. He replayed what she'd said in his mind ands wondered why she expected him to get involved. As far as he was concerned, his relationship with Rita Wells was pretty much over.

Still, he was here, and he wasn't going anywhere in this storm so he sat down on the sofa.

Edward Bern. Oh yeah, Edward Bern. Following her. Why would he be following an ex office-affair? That was the question. Bern hadn't known about her embezzling. Well, that was doubtful. Bern knew what everyone was up to. He watched their trades, he watched their personal calls, he watched everything, Neal knew that much. So he had probably known what she was up to.

"I wouldn't be so sure that he didn't know what you were doing. It's pretty weird that you got away with what you did without any of your clients noticing that they were missing money, don't you think? I mean, just because no one complained to you..."

She was pacing up and back in front of the fire place, lost in thought, and he saw her now in a new light. Now that she wasn't his target, his adversary, she looked more like a pretty woman who had gotten herself into something that was turning out to be a bit more over her head than she'd figured.

He saw something else too. He saw a jilted lover, and one who was still pretty damned angry about it. Could she be doing this in part to get back at Edward? He supposed so. In any case, it didn't hurt that Bern would be the one who got blamed for what she'd done, whether he knew about it now or not. That would just make this whole scheme more appealing to her.

He sat forward. "What are we going to do about it?" he repeated. "What do you mean "we"? This is your problem, Rita. I never signed up for thus. Why should I help you? What's in it for me?"

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Pacing and pausing before the fire, Rita took some time to answer Neal. “All right. Say Edward was tipped off. Why would he just have me followed? Why not just turn me in?

“If is following me, why? He could just turn me in.”

Her nervousness increasing, her steps are more agitated. Rita walks to where Neal is sitting on the couch and away again. Thinking…

"What do you mean "we"? This is your problem, Rita. I never signed up for thus. Why should I help you? What's in it for me?"

Sinking down on the sofa next to Neal, Rita looks at him. Then tells him of her plan from the beginning, the only things she leaves out are her inheritance and new identity. And the pain of betrayal she’d felt at Edward’s dumping her.

With the storm still shrieking and screaming outside she talks and watches his face, seeing comprehension bleed into it, as some of the pieces obviously fell into place with his scheme, the why’s and how’s of it so to speak.

Pausing, she ponders how he can help her. And how much it would cost her. He really isn’t that bad a guy, obviously he doesn’t have any real sociopath tendency. This Neal was unable to hurt her. Scare her, tie her up, yes, but not able to really hurt her.

Shifting to face him on the couch, “Neal, you must have been following me for weeks. You obviously aren’t working there anymore unless you took a hell of a vacation. If he’s following me, even if he doesn’t know about you from that, he’ll figure it out. For all I know your snooping on me clued him in. And if he knows, you are in just as much trouble as I am. It would look suspicious anyway, two former employees leaving with a bunch of money gone missing? I’m a missing person, at least to the police. He would know that too. But what about you?

“Edward is ruthless in business and his personal life. You may not have signed up for it, but you may as well as put your name in lights. You’re in it now. And it seems to me you have a choice. Help me out of this mess or go down with me.”

 

[dr_mabeuse]

"No," he said. "I'm on a permanent leave of absence. They laid me off just after you left. I probably would have left anyhow. I had enough on you to make it worth my while to make you a full time job."

The wind in the chimney was making the fire burn bright and it was more than just warm in the little house. He stood up and took off his heavy sweater.

He'd really done it this time. He'd come here looking for an easy haul, and instead was getting up to his eyes in trouble for free. He knew he should just walk out. Put on his rain gear and drive back to the city and start looking for a job.

He ran his hand through his dark hair.

"I don't know, Rita. Bern's looking for you. I don't think he's looking for me. If I split now, who's going to know? This thing's between you and him."

He poured himself another drink. "My gut feeling is that Bern's going to use you for something. Probably he already knows what you've been up to. I wouldn't be surprised if he's taking the chance to do a little skimming for himself and blame it on you. Then when you split, he's home free."

She looked at him with fear. "But he doesn't know what I've done. I'm sure of it."

"Right." he said. "Everyone's so sure of everything. I was sure I had the goods on you, and look at me now. If you're so sure he doesn't know what you were doing, then you've got nothing to worry about, do you? He'd not going to come here and make trouble for you just because you're an old flame, is he? So what are you do scared about? It sound like you've got this figured out down to the last decimal point."

He tossed the drink off and reached for his sweater.

"What are you doing?" she asked him.

"I'm leaving."

"But what about your cut?"

He snorted derisively. "My cut? As soon as you get out of the country you're not going to give me squat, are you? I've got no leverage with you. Not a bit. You've got all the aces, you play the hand, Rita."

She watched incredulously as he put on his slicks and gathered his stuff into his bad.

"Wait a minute!" she said. "You can't just cut and run like this!"

"And why not?"

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Rita moves to stand by him, “You owe me. Coming in here and scaring me to death. Tying me up and blindfolding me. It’s the least you can do.” She folds her arms across her breasts and eyes him warily.

Zipping his bag with a little more force than called for, he stands and faces her.

“My apology will have to do Rita.”

“Listen Neal,” her words coming faster as she get between him and the door, “Don’t you wonder why they laid you off? I didn’t hear about any lay-offs pending… Quite the contrary. They were expanding, opening a couple of new markets since the crash. Branching out so B & B could absorb loss in one area while reaping the benefit in another.”

Sighing deeply she continues, “Christ. Leave then.” She backs away from him and the door. “You’re right. I’ll work it out on my own.”

Looking back at him she adds, “Don’t worry, I won’t implicate you in any way Neal.”