To Love a Twin

Chapter 19: What Fresh Insanity?

Nathan blinked in surprise as he entered the sewing store, Kira's list in his hand, and saw her mother. He had heard that she'd been released from jail, but not that she had bought the local sewing store. For the past week, the store had been closed, with only a sign reading, 'Closed for Remodeling' in the window.

Madelaine looked up from her embroidery at the counter and smiled at her first customer. She saw that it was that librarian and wished she could remember his name. "Good morning," she said. "Welcome to my store. Can I help you find anything?"

Nathan looked back at the door, wishing he had been able to slip back out before she'd noticed him, but knew he could not do anything that might draw suspicion. Nathan looked down at Kira's list. "Um...I need some yarn, sev...seven skeins of worsted weight in blue and two in yellow or gold. And embroidery thread...um...red, eight skeins of six strand floss," he stammered.

Madelaine noticed the man's face turning red. "I think it's marvelous to meet a man who knits and embroiders, Mr...I'm sorry. I know you're the librarian, but I can't recall your name," she said, mistaking the cause of his discomfort.

"Oh, Lockslip, Nathan Lockslip," he said. He had come in to buy Kira things when the old lady had run the shop, but she was always in such a dither she could barely find anything in the place herself, much less bother to wonder why a man was buying knitting supplies.

"You're in luck. I'm running a grand opening sale on yarn, buy one skein, get one half price. Are you sure you don't want to buy another to make an even number and take advantage of the sale?"

"Um...all right, I guess," said Nathan haltingly.

Madelaine quickly located the items he needed and returned to the counter so she could ring his purchases up. He used his charge card to pay. She had just handed Nathan his receipt to sign when the bell tinkled to announce the arrival of another person. They turned to see George come into the shop. Nathan's face went from red to chalk white.

"George, it's so good to see you!" exclaimed Madelaine, coming around the counter to greet the person who had sheltered and loved her daughter when she had failed her.

Nathan stepped to a bin of discounted fabric and began going through it, pretending to be interested in the stock, but listening to the conversation.

"Madelaine," said George, "I wanted to stop in to let you know that I still believe Kira is alive, and I will never give up looking for her. I know I've been acting like a..."

"George," she said, "not another word. You've been acting like any man would act under these circumstances."

"I miss her so much. We were so happy together. We used to sit and laugh, over absolutely nothing, just sit together and laugh. It's what I miss most, I think, her laughter."

"Oh. George, I know. Not that she ever had cause to laugh in our house. I failed her in so many ways. I pray every day that I will get a second chance."

"I failed her too," said George. "I should have never left her alone. There's no excuse for it. I knew some psycho killer was out there."

"George, it doesn't pay to keep kicking yourself over that. Women go shopping every day and don't get kidnapped. The only person responsible is the sick criminal who took her."

They both turned in surprise as, behind them, the bell tinkled and the door to the shop slammed as Nathan Lockslip walked out in anger, not realizing that he had dropped the shopping list Kira had written in the shop.

Madelaine noticed the piece of crumpled up paper on the floor. She walked over to it and stooped to pick it up. Then, she walked back to the counter, tossed it in the trash bin under the register and resumed her conversation with her son-in-law.

Nathan stormed up the street toward the library as quickly as he could. How dare they speak of him like that? Sick? Psycho? Criminal? He thought of what her...husband said about Kira laughing. He stopped dead. He realized that he had never heard her laugh. Not once. He picked up his speed and hurried back to the library. He passed by the circulation desk oblivious to the greetings called out by his staff. Not wanting to waste time trying to navigate the stairs with his crutches, he went straight to the lift. When the doors opened, he entered the carriage and used his key to allow the lift to go down to the basement level, where only staff was permitted. He hurried down to the door of the shelter.

Kira heard the dull rumbling of the bookshelf as it moved away from the steel bomb shelter door. Nathan came in, right up to the door to her cell and shoved his face between the bars. "Laugh," he demanded.

Kira was at a loss. What fresh insanity was this? "Excuse me?" she asked.

"I was in the sewing store. The old hag sold it, and guess who bought it? Your mother. While I was in there your...your...husband walked in. He told your mother about how the two of you used to sit and laugh together. Now, laugh for me."

"My mother's out of jail? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Who gives a crap? She is nothing to you. She never kept you safe, not like I have. Now, laugh! I told you to laugh, damn you!" he screamed, spitting in his rage and poking one of his crutches through the bars. He did it so quickly, and she was so heavily pregnant and slow that it caught her on her hip before she could jump back from the door. She cried out in pain and collapsed to her knees, holding her hip. She looked up at him and saw that he was enraged.

"How can I laugh when you just hurt me? You say you hated my father for hurting me but you're just like him! I thought you loved me!"

The rage cleared from Nathan's eyes as he looked down at her. "They called me names," he whimpered. "They said I was psycho and crazy. I could kill them, you know. I almost killed your mother, that day. She was asleep in her bed and I was standing over her with the knife. But, I spared her because I realized that you would come home if she went to jail. You'd stay longer than you would have if you'd come just to bury them. If they were dead, that boy's family would be around you, and I'd never get you alone. So, I spared her. But I will not stand for anyone calling me names, mocking me and my love for you. I want them dead. Both of them."

Kira remembered that he had that gun. "Nate," she said, trying to calm him, "you have to understand. They have no concept of the love you hold for me. They're so sad, really. They're pitiful, in fact."

"You're right," he said, calming. "And that boy can have his memories of the brief time he had you. I own you now, and I always will. Come to the door. I want to touch you again."

* * * * *

Madelaine stood at the window to her shop, watching the onset of evening. She saw the lights go out in the library up the street. After several minutes, she watched as several people, probably staff members, came out, pulled their winter wraps more closely against them to guard against the cold wind and dispersed.

She locked the front door and shut off the brand new neon sign she had purchased for the front window. She emptied her register, counting the receipts and placing the money and checks from her first day's sales in a zippered pouch with a deposit slip. Then she straightened up, restocking the shelves from the back room.

A knock came at the door. She saw Jack through the glass. She hurried over to let him in, shivering at the blast of cold air that came inside. The temperature had surely dropped quickly throughout the day.

"So, how would you like a police escort to the bank? The city doesn't want Ottery St. Catchpole's newest business woman to think the police force is slacking off on the job."

"Is this service included with my taxes?" she asked.

"No, you also have to come out to dinner with the town's chief detective," he said.

"Actually, I have other plans for dinner. I have a date at home with a chicken and some potatoes. But there's more than enough for two, if you'd like to join me."

As they left the store, they heard a clicking sound up the street. They both turned to see the librarian descending the steps of the library on his crutches. He turned left and moved swiftly up the street.

"Looks like Mr. Lockslip was working late tonight," said Madelaine. "He was my first customer today, you know."

"Really? In a sewing store? What did he buy?"

"Yarn, worsted weight. He must be knitting a sweater or something."

"And here I thought the only thing librarians did was read," said Jack. "He sure moves well on those crutches, though. Odd, when I went into the library to question the staff about whether they'd seen Kira that day, he was struggling with them."

"Maybe he was having a bad day," said Madelaine.

"Maybe," said Jack. "That reminds me, I have to give the high school yearbook I got Kira's picture from back to him."

* * * * *

Kira stood in the roughly fashioned shower that Nate had converted from a lavatory sink, letting the hot water soak over her, crying. She scrubbed her body clean, trying to erase the memory of his hands on her, tearing at her clothes, touching her.

Then, he'd gotten angry when she had said she was ill and had to rush to the toilet to vomit. He'd punished her by cutting off the electricity and heat for the rest of the day. It had gotten so cold. With the electricity cut, she didn't even have her refrigerator or microwave lights. But then, he'd come back when the library had closed and turned it back on, saying he was sorry, that he had read the pregnancy book and learned that morning sickness often returns in the last month. He knew it hadn't been her fault, that he'd be more careful with her until the babies were born.

Kira had to laugh at the irony, after spending all this time trying not to throw up when he touched her, it had finally given her the perfect excuse to keep him from touching her. She foraged in the refrigerator for some food, preparing a mixture of things in a bowl and then putting it in the bathroom. In case she needed to get sick on cue, she could provide physical evidence. But, there was no time to waste. She turned on the lamp, sat at the little table, and began to knit the Whack-Job's sweater. She worked feverishly, but carefully, knowing that one wrong stitch would cost her time, and time, now, was more valuable than anything.

When Nathan came into the shelter early the next morning, he found her sound asleep at the kitchen table, the beginning of the jumper she was making him having fallen to the floor. He never felt so happy. She had obviously stayed up trying to get a start on it. He could not wait to wear it. As he went through his day, he could rejoice in the knowledge that her hands had touched every single stitch.

"Kira," he said. When she did not respond, he called louder, "Kira!"

Kira awoke with a start, seeing his face at the bars, without warning and time to mentally prepare, actually did make her stomach turn a somersault. She ran to the toilet and didn't even have to pretend to heave. She was so weak she crawled back into the main room of the cell and sat with her back to the tiny refrigerator.

"I brought you your breakfast, but if you're too sick to eat it, you'd better put it in your refrigerator for later. It's orange juice, two hard-boiled eggs, and a grapefruit. I even sectioned the grapefruit for you."

"Thank you, Nate," she said weakly. She took the bag of food and put it in the refrigerator, then crawled into the bed and pulled the covers over herself. She really did feel ill. She realized that she had a fever. Sitting for hours in the freezing cell the day before must have brought on a cold. She was sweating and shivering at the same time and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

* * * * *

Madelaine walked the mile and a half from her apartment to the shop, enjoying the brisk air. Overnight, the first snow had fallen, just dusting people's lawns. The tiny, powder-like flakes scurried across the walk in front of her, dodging into the sidewalk cracks and then, caught by the wind, lifting back up into the air. For a moment, she exulted in the sense of freedom that surged through her. Last night, Jack had kissed her as he left to go up to his own place. It had felt so strange. She hadn't been kissed so tenderly in her entire life.

Buford had always been a brute. She'd only married him to avoid certain homelessness and poverty. Madelaine's father had died when she was a young child, leaving Madelaine and her mother nearly penniless. Her mother had gotten a job in the high school cafeteria and they had managed to keep their little apartment and food on the table.

But then, when Madelaine was fifteen, her mother had discovered a lump. When the cancer treatments had made her too weak to work, Madelaine dropped out of high school to take care of her and to accept a job working for the Benning Butcher Shop. Her mother succumbed to the cancer before Madelaine turned eighteen and Madelaine could not pay the rent on the apartment with her part time job. She was about to be evicted when Buford had asked her to marry him.

He was twelve years older than her, already the owner of a successful business. She did not love him, but figured it was better than being a homeless high school dropout. They married the day after her eighteenth birthday, but it quickly turned bad. It began with nasty remarks, a few incidents of him pulling her hair and twisting her arm to get her to do what he wanted. Soon, it had escalated into slaps.

Then she had become pregnant. He had refrained from hitting her while she was pregnant. Madelaine had fooled herself into believing that fatherhood was changing him. But instead, a child had only given him a new weapon to use against her. Obey or see your baby hurt.

During her marriage, Buford never let her out of his sight for long. He followed her, even if she went to the market. Then he would accuse her of being overly friendly with the boy stocking the shelves or looking at a man on the street. Once Kira had gotten old enough to do the marketing, he had sent her, refusing to let Madelaine out of the house. Kira. The thought of her brought it all crashing down on her. She felt guilty for having enjoyed her freedom when heaven only knew what Kira was going through, under what conditions she was being held.

Madelaine's second day of business was busier than her first. She barely had time to keep the shelves stocked. If this kept up, she was going to need to hire a part time girl. Although the store officially closed at five, she still had customers in line until five-thirty. Jack worked the night watch on Tuesdays, so she knew that he would not be popping his head in.

She finally locked her door and began to put the shop back in order. She recalled that the trash can under the register was overflowing and pulled it out to empty it. As she lifted the plastic bag from the can, it broke, sending scraps of paper, material and ribbon all over the floor. She knelt and began gathering it all back into the can, planning on just taking it out back and dumping it into the large can out back. She made a mental note to buy better quality plastic trash bags.

She noticed a crumpled up piece of paper under the register and reached for it. Idly, she smoothed it out and read it, her heart stopping as she recognized the writing, and the items. It looked just like Kira's handwriting, with its graceful, left-handed backward slant. It was even done in purple ink. Kira always kept a purple pen in her purse. She stood up and rifled through all the charge slips of the past two days, finding his. She looked at the signature. It was a scrawl; all you could make out was the N of his first name, with the rest cramped in nearly on top of each other.

She reached for the phone to call Jack, but then stopped herself. After all, she knew nothing about him. Maybe he had a wife, or lived with his mother and she had written the list. What if she was wrong and she put a poor handicapped man through hell for nothing?

Instead, she called information to get the number of the library. A woman answered who told her that the library was open until seven on Tuesdays. It was just a bit after six now. Madelaine grabbed her coat and headed up to the library to have a talk with Mr. Nathan Lockslip. She wanted to be eye-to-eye with him, casually mentioning Buford's murder and Kira's abduction, just to see if he was unable to meet her eye or acted suspiciously. If he did, she would tell the police her suspicions.

The street was dark and deserted. Most of the shops had closed for the night. Only the library across the street on the next block issued a welcoming glow. Madelaine ran up the front steps and into the large marble lobby. She saw that the reference desk in the center was empty, so she began looking around for him. She overheard one of the ladies at the circulation desk ask about Mr. Lockslip's whereabouts. The other replied that he must be in his office in the basement. Frustrated, she walked back to the lobby and saw the heavy oak door. A sign on it said, 'Basement: Staff Only.

She looked around furtively and turned the knob. It opened easily. She sneaked down the gloomy stairwell quietly. At the bottom, she saw rows of utilitarian metal shelf units lining the walls. They were a sharp contrast to the ornately carved wooden ones upstairs. The floor was covered in ugly green and white tiles. Lights in the ceiling cast small pools of light every twenty feet or so. She kept to the shadows, hugging the line of shelves that lined the wall. She noticed, just ahead, that one of the shelf units was moved out from the wall and she looked behind it, seeing an old metal door that had a chipped plaque that said 'Bomb Shelter."

She opened the door and saw that the lights had been left on. On the far side, she saw that a section of the room had been walled off and an old-fashioned jail-house door kept the small area inaccessible. She noticed a small refrigerator with a microwave oven on top. She hurriedly crossed the room to the door and looked in. To the left was a bed, with someone in it, covered with blankets. "Hello?" she called. "Hello?"

Kira heard the voice through a distance. Just a short time ago, Whack-Job had come into the shelter and, when she did not respond, he'd opened the cell door and checked on her. He'd seen how sick she was and told her that he was running up the street to the chemist, to get some medicine for her fever. She moaned as she heard someone calling again.

Then, she heard the person yell out, "Wake up!" It wasn't the Whack-Job, she realized. It took every ounce of strength she had to sit up, her hand swiping her hair from her face. She turned and looked at the door. Kira stared at her mother, not sure if she were in the midst of some fever-induced delusion.

"Kira, oh my God, Kira. You're alive," Madelaine screamed. "Kira, where is the key to this door?"

Kira began crying and crawled to her mother, who knelt and held her daughter through the bars, realizing at once that she was ill. "Kira, do you know where the key is?"

"Mommy, he has it," she said, her voice little more than a raspy whisper. "You have to get out of here. He's only gone to get me some medicine. You have to go get help before he comes back. He has the key. He has a gun, he..." At that moment, she heard the clicking sound of his crutches as they neared the bomb shelter. Madelaine turned around and saw Nathan Lockslip at the door, pointing a handgun straight at her.

"How dare you violate my Shelter?" he screamed. "Nosy, interfering bitch. Now I have to kill you too. You only outlived your husband because I spared you, but you have outlived your usefulness."

"Nate, no," pleaded Kira. "Please. You can't..."

Her voice was cut off by the sound of the gun firing. Kira watched as her mother crumpled to the floor in front of her, a bright red stain spreading across her chest. Kira watched in horror as Nathan paced back and forth. Then, he left the shelter, making sure to close the door and return the shelf unit to its spot. He left her alone with her mother's body. She sat, sobbing, as her mother's blood pooled on the floor around her, soaking her clothes. She cried as she softly smoothed her mother's gray-streaked hair through the bars.

Kira had no idea how much time passed, but soon she heard the sound of the shelf outside moving. Nathan came back into the room, having completed closing the library and locating some duct tape and rolls of heavy gauge plastic sheeting. The library bought it to protect shelves of books should the roof leak in the two hundred year old building. He spread the sheeting on the floor. Then, he left again, returning with a large, yellow bucket and mop. He opened the door, keeping his gun pointed at Kira.

"Get up," he ordered. "Get up and get her wrapped in the plastic."

Kira shook her head. "No, please, I can't."

"You have to, or it is over, for both of us. I will have to kill you and then myself. I can't get her wrapped up properly on these crutches, and I have to get rid of the body. Now, do it or we both die now, together. I cannot let them take you away from me. We either live together or die together. It's your choice." To drive home his point, he lifted the gun to her face, cocking the trigger.

Kira looked down at her mother. For a moment, she wished it were over. She was so tired of fighting, planning and scheming up ways to fool him. But, her mother had died finding her, trying to save her. Kira owed it to her to survive. She owed it to the babies inside her to survive. If her mother could find her, someone else would too.

She crawled out of her cell and rolled her mother onto the plastic sheet. Then, following Nathan's instructions, she used the duct tape to secure the body in the plastic.

He used one of his crutches to push the bucket toward her. "Now mop up this mess," he said.

Nathan left the bomb shelter several times, locking Kira back up in the cell so he could go empty the bucket n the drain inside the janitor's closet, then refilling it with clean water, heavily mixed with bleach. He made Kira mop the floor over and over until he was satisfied that not one drop of blood remained. Then, he shoved her roughly back into the cell, slamming the door and securing the lock. He thrust a plastic garbage bag at her. "Take off your clothes and put them in the bag. Her blood is all over you, they're ruined."

"Nate," she said, "you tore my other top yesterday. This is the only one I have left."

"I didn't kidnap you," he screamed, his face purple. "I saved you. I rescued you. I've killed to keep you safe. You don't have the right to cover yourself from my eyes." He remembered the bag containing the pills he had gotten at the chemist for her. "Here are the pills for your fever," he said, tossing the bag into the cell. He stood and watched as she removed her bloodied clothing and shoved it through the bars at him.

He left one last time, returning with one of the carts they used to bring boxes of books inside from the loading dock. He moved his chair close to Madelaine Benning's body and sat, carefully laying his crutches on the cart. Then, he reached down and heaved her onto the cart. He picked up his crutches, and maneuvered the cart out of the bomb shelter, leaving Kira standing at the door, blazing with hate.

He wheeled the body to the lift and exited on the main floor, pushing the cart through the dark library to the loading dock. Outside, he opened the back doors of the van the library used to deliver books to the local schools and nursing homes. The county, just a few years earlier, had outfitted it with hand controls so Nathan could use it to promote literacy in the community.

Nathan secured the loading dock doors and got in the van. He looked through the windshield at the darkness. The town was so still; not a single vehicle was on the street. He started the van and pulled out of the loading area, passing through the small patron parking lot and turning onto the deserted main street. Then, he drove, out toward where the River Otter passed close to the town. He turned on the radio; an oldies station was on. He began to hum along to the Beatles as they sang about having a hard day's night.