Chapter 7
The following morning, Caryn awoke at six thirty, and after a long, hot shower, she noticed both Joyce and Steve were still fast asleep. She decided this might be a good time to look through the house for all the copies of the pictures he had taken of those records. There were also those records he claimed to have sent to various friends, who would mail them out if anything happened to him. But it was just possible he had a notebook or something listing the names and addresses of those friends. If she were able to get her hands on such a record and make a copy of the names and addresses, and quietly find some way to take those photos away from these people, then, after destroying all the copies he had here, in the house, she'd be able to free herself of him.
The funny thing was, Caryn liked being with him now that she knew him. She liked being dominated by him-to an extent. But she wanted the domination to be a friendly type of thing rather than the kind of relationship they presently shared, where he had total control over her and she wasn't able to resist.
Silently she went into the living room and began looking through the drawers in the lamp tables. Nothing! She went into the dining room and checked through the large breakfront, carefully going through the drawers and then putting everything neatly back. Still nothing.
In the kitchen she found his personal phone book, and opening it, she found the names and addresses of more than a hundred people. Half of them lived out of the state, and if he'd sent the photos to any of those people, she would find it virtually impossible to retrieve them. Still, she had to try something. She wasn't even sure if any of these people were the ones to whom he had sent the photos.
Common sense told her the smart place to look for the photos would be in his bedroom. It would be the one place in the house he would probably feel to be safe.
Or perhaps it was possible he had things hidden in the attic. There was a small door in the ceiling in the hallway, a pull-down door with stairs attached, and perhaps he'd hidden things up there. It would certainly pay for her to look there.
She was dressed solely in undies and a fluffy blue robe at the moment, and she felt it was too cold to go foraging in the attic right now. Still, she would probably never have a better time.
Returning to her bedroom, she quickly dressed herself in dark blue pants and a blue flannel shirt she owned. Then she put heavy socks on her feet and slipped them into hush puppies. Going into the hallway, she tugged on the string, and the trapdoor in the ceiling came silently swinging down. She was glad he oiled everything so well. Even the heavy springs attached to the door were silent.
Silently climbing into the attic, she found it more comfortable than she had expected. He had vents in the roof which should have made the attic cold, but then she remembered her physics. Hot air rose, and the heat in the house was escaping through the attic even though she noticed the floor of the attic was covered with lots of heavy insulation. He had also glued insulation to the inside of the roof.
She padded around as silently as possible, checking everything in the small attic. It was between the layers of insulation that she found one envelope, and exultant in her victory, she quickly opened it and held the contents up to the light coming in through one of the roof vents. All she saw was one piece of paper, and on it was typing.
You're a foolish little snoop who should realize I wouldn't hide anything of value anywhere in this house. The punishment for looking will be waiting for you when you get downstairs.
Caryn felt herself shaken. He had expected her to look, and he had prepared for it. But perhaps he was still asleep and she might be able to get away with it.
Quickly, she put the paper back in the envelope and slid it between the layers of insulation, then she quietly climbed down from the attic. It was when she swung the trapdoor back up that she saw him standing there wearing pajama pants and nothing else. His hair was tousled, and he looked as if he had just awakened.
"Attic floorboards creak," he told her. "I can always hear anyone in the attic from my bedroom. Any noise above me will wake me up almost immediately."
"Y-you're going to hurt me!" she gasped, backing away from him.
"Pleasantly," he assured her, "and presently. Right now I'm still waking up and it wouldn't do to punish you until we'd awakened Joyce, too. After all, she has to be made aware she'll suffer a similar punishment if I catch her trying to look for a way out of this. Face it, Caryn, you're stuck, whether you like it or not. You're stuck with me, and you'll be stuck on me, not to mention being stuck by me. Go into the kitchen and make coffee."
Terrified, she went to the kitchen and filled the coffee pot with water and fresh coffee. Then she put it on the stove, and some minutes later, it was perking. She poured coffee into three cups as a yawning Joyce came into the kitchen in front of Steve. Joyce was obviously aggravated at having been awakened so early.