Steve felt very satisfied when he went to bed that evening. The Shawtex deal hadn’t come down quite as he’d been expecting, but the end result was all that they could have hoped for. There were plenty of loose ends to tie up, but he was pretty sure that Phil would take care of them without any problems. He’d gotten his vengeance in spades. There might be a few things he’d need some help with, but most of them were minor.

It felt good to be back in the big old house. He remembered Uncle Homer saying how good it had felt, coming back to it after he’d been away doing business. Oh, there were still plenty of mysteries here, especially with Ann, but he was comfortable here now.

Sleep was slow in coming. Steve usually had no trouble getting to sleep, even with the way his days and nights kept getting switched around, but tonight it was difficult to drop off. He was lying awake, staring at the darkened room, lit only by the light of a half-moon coming through the window as thoughts kept going through his mind, mostly considering how the remnants of the Shawtex affair could be used to more advantage. He wasn’t going to be making a ton of money out of Thompson-Wright right away, but it would provide a steady income for the next few years, and there ought to be some way it could be used to further advantage.

His mind was enough on those angles that he didn’t notice the door opening, but presently he was aware of a figure in a long white gown standing a few feet away from the bed in a dark area away from the moonlight. It was barely visible in the low light of the room. For an instant he wondered if the house was haunted after all, and if Molly Carrillo’s ghost had come to him, but reality overcame those thoughts almost immediately. “Ann?” he said, wondering what was going on.

“Mr. Taylor,” she said in a whisper barely loud enough for him to hear. “I hope I didn’t wake you, sir.”

“No, that’s all right,” he replied gently. This was strange; Ann had come to his room only rarely in the time he’d been living there, and never while he was sleeping – at least that he knew about. “Can I help you with something?”

“I . . . I need to talk with you, sir,” she replied tentatively. “This . . . Mr. Taylor . . . I’m . . . I’m not sure how I should say it.”

This sounded strange indeed. Ann was never hesitant, never at a loss for words. Though she was often silent, when she said something she came right out and said it. “What, Ann?” he asked softly.

She took a step closer to him, bringing herself into the moonlight streaming in the window. Now Steve could see that the gown she wore was extremely thin and gauzy, the sort of thing a new bride in days gone by might wear to present herself to her husband on their wedding night. It didn’t conceal much of anything, and Steve could clearly see that she was nude under it. “I . . . I want to be with you, sir,” she said in a near whisper. “I . . . I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?” he replied, still softly. By now he knew her well enough to tell she was extremely nervous about what she was doing, but he wasn’t sure he understood what she was saying.

She took another step closer, and Steve could see she made it reluctantly, although with a determination that he couldn’t understand. “It’s time to . . . Mr. Taylor . . . time to be with you, sir . . . I mean . . .”

“Ann, are you telling me you want to go to bed with me?” he replied, not quite believing that was what she was driving at. This was totally unexpected from her.

She was silent for a moment; Steve could see that she was summoning her courage to make a reply. “I think so, sir.”

“Ann,” he said softly. “I appreciate the offer, but you don’t have to do it, you know.”

“But sir, I think I do.”

This was still extremely strange. This wasn’t the Ann he had come to know and respect, not in the slightest. “Why do you think so, Ann?” he asked in what he hoped was a soothing tone.

“Sir . . . I . . .” she said tentatively, then fell back to, “because it’s time.”

“Ann, you seem very nervous. It doesn’t seem like you.”

“I’m not just nervous, sir. I’m terrified.”

“Then why are you asking me this?”

“Because I feel it needs to be done, sir.”

This was getting absolutely nowhere, Steve thought, and it was going to take a while to get anywhere with it. “Ann, come here,” he said. “Sit on the bed next to me.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. She took a couple of steps closer and then sat on the bed as he had asked. In the dim light of the room, her bare body was visible through the gauze of her gown. Even just sitting next to him, not actually in contact with his body, he could feel her shaking. He put out his hand and took hers, to discover that it was cold and sweaty.

She wasn’t kidding, he thought, she was terrified. That led to the obvious question: “Did Uncle Homer suggest you do this, Ann?”

“Yes, sir. Well, no sir.”

“Now there’s a definitive statement,” he smiled. “Did he tell you to come up here and ask to go to bed with me?”

“No, sir. At least not tonight.”

“Ann, please explain what you mean by that.”

“He said some time ago that I would have to approach you, since you would be unlikely to approach me. I thought . . . well, after today . . .”

“That you might not be as frightened?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a sob. She sniffed a couple times, obviously trying to hold back tears. “I’m sorry, sir,” she continued. “I thought it might . . . I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll go now, sir.”

“Ann, please stay,” he said. “There’s quite a bit happening here that you’re not telling me, and if it’s time for anything, it’s time to know what it is.”

“Sir?”

“Why did you think you needed to approach me at all?”

“Sir . . . even Mrs. Cooper used to say that I’d have to do it sometime, if I was to ever . . .”

That was all she could manage for a long time, a minute or more. Finally Steve had to break the silence: “If you were to ever what, Ann?”

She took a deep breath to force the words out of her, “If I was ever to put what happened to me in the past and move on to the next level.”

“Ann, you’re still talking in circles and not saying anything.”

“I . . . it’s very hard for me to talk about, sir.”

“That’s pretty obvious, but maybe the time has come to tell me about it. Ann, you know I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yes, sir. That’s . . . well, that’s why I thought I might be able to approach you.”

“Something bad happened to you, didn’t it, Ann? Something before Uncle Homer brought you here? I don’t know a thing about it, but from a couple of things you’ve said and some things Uncle Homer has said, it’s pretty obvious that something bad happened.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Does Uncle Homer know what happened?”

“Yes, sir. That’s why he rescued me.”

“Did Mrs. Cooper know about it?”

“Yes, sir. She . . . it was hard to keep a secret from her, sir. I believe Mr. Taylor told her what happened.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s very hard for me, sir. I . . . those are bad memories.”

“Why hasn’t Uncle Homer told me anything about this?”

“I don’t know, sir. Perhaps he thinks it would be better if I told you. But I don’t know if I can.”

“Maybe he’s right,” he said softly. In one sense of the word he wasn’t getting anywhere, but somehow he felt like he was getting close to the reality of the mystery of Ann. “Maybe you need to be the one to tell me so you’ll admit it to yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” she sobbed – it was easy to see the tears were flowing hard now. “Sir,” she managed. “Please don’t hate me.”

“Why should I hate you, Ann?” he asked gently.

“Because I was raped, sir.”

“Ann? Before you came here?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, and then what remained of her reserve broke. She collapsed onto him, burying her face on his chest. He could feel her tears flowing, and her body was wracked with sobs. The only thing he could think of to do was to throw his free arm around her and hold her tight. Maybe this was a mistake to force it out of her, he thought – but maybe it wasn’t, either.

They spent several minutes just lying there close together with only the thin layer of gauze separating their bodies, his arm around her, trying to console her. He could feel that there were years of pent-up emotion pouring out of her, most likely things she’d hidden even from herself.

In time her sobs died down, and she wasn’t shaking nearly as badly. He knew that he’d finally cracked her shell, perhaps there would be no better time to find out what was inside. “Ann,” he whispered in her ear. “Who was it?”

“M-m-m-y s-s-step-f-f-father,” she managed to say.

“And you were, what?” Steve replied, trying to keep his voice level, but feeling a rage building inside, “thirteen maybe, when you came here?”

“Twelve, I think,” she replied softly, the tears somewhat abated. “I don’t know for sure. That was Mr. Taylor and Mrs. Cooper’s best guess. “

“And it happened more than once?”

“Many times,” she replied, a sob rolling through her body once again. “I can’t tell you how many. It all mixes in together. A lot of it is just a blur to me. I can’t tell you how long it went on because I don’t remember clearly. All I can tell you is that he only took me out of the closet to hurt me.”

“Closet?” he frowned.

“After my mother took me to live with him I was never allowed to go to school again, or much of anything else. I was locked in a dark closet most of the time.” she replied, a little more under control now. “I felt safe in there. At least I knew I wouldn’t be hurt while I was in the closet. I was hurt when I was taken out into the light.”

Wow, Steve thought, no wonder she doesn’t like to be out in the light, light sensitive or not! But there had to be more that she hadn’t told him yet. “How were you hurt, Ann?”

“Mostly I was beaten,” she replied. “He knew how to do it painfully without leaving much in the way of marks. But if he really wanted to hurt me . . .” She stopped, as if unwilling to say more.

Now was the time to get it out if there ever was a time. “Ann?”

“He’d take me out into the yard,” she said, the terror in her body returning although her voice belied it. “He’d chain me by the neck to a stake in the yard naked out in the sun and let the sun burn me until I blistered all over. It didn’t take long, but it hurt for . . . days, I guess. I never knew how much time was passing when I was in the closet.”

“Holy shit,” Steve replied, his own reserve breaking now. “That is, my god, I don’t have the words to use. Beyond evil, for sure. Why did he do it?”

“I don’t know, Steve. He just did. Mrs. Cooper mentioned one time that he may have thought I was a creature from hell. A vampire, or something. I mean, my skin, my eyes . . .”

Holy shit, Steve thought again, sending a mental thanks to Agnes Cooper’s memory. Agnes and Uncle Homer had to have done one hell of a job putting the kid back together after a horror story like that – not that they’d succeeded all the way, but far better than Steve could have dreamed, given a life like that. No wonder Ann didn’t want to talk about it!

“It’s possible, I suppose,” he said, trying to be a little conversational, “but some people are just pure evil, and there’s not much you can say after that. Do you know how Uncle Homer came to rescue you?”

“Steve, I know his side of the story, but all I can remember was that the closet door opened and I expected to be beaten again. But instead of my stepfather there was a stranger, an old man, who said he’d come to rescue me. I was afraid, Steve. I didn’t even realize that such a thing as being rescued was possible. My . . . my life was what it was. I do remember clearly a little pain in my arm where he poked me with a syringe, although I couldn’t have known what it was at the time. The next thing I remember was waking up in a room, I guess in a motel, and he was swabbing my whole body down with some ointment. It felt good, or at least, I didn’t hurt quite as bad.”

“Had you been sunburned again?”

“I must have been,” she sighed, some of the load seeming to come off of her, probably in relief of not having to remember the terror she endured. “Like I told you, my memories of those days are mostly a blur. I try to not remember them. It’s very hard for me to tell you now.”

“I’m sorry I had to ask, Ann,” he replied, realizing that she hadn’t called him ‘sir,’ not even once, in the last several minutes – but she had called him by his name several times. That was definitely some kind of breakthrough, although he wasn’t sure what it meant. “What happened after that?”

“I hate to say it, but I didn’t even know how to act, except for being scared,” she went on. “At that time I had no memory of anyone being kind to me. I mean, never. I sort of remember the memories of the days before I was kept in the closet, and even being in school with other children, but they weren’t kind to me either. Even before I’d been kept in the closet I preferred to be there, since it was dark and my eyes didn’t hurt.”

“You told me one time that you caught hell from your teachers for having to wear sunglasses in class,” he observed. “That must have been when you were very small.”

“Yes, it was, and the other children were just as cruel as the teachers. Is it any wonder I liked being in a dark closet where I didn’t have to be teased about it? Steve, while I don’t have very many clear memories of those years, I do remember the only times I was comfortable were when I was alone in my closet.”

“Although I can’t imagine it, I guess it’s understandable.” Once again Steve reflected that Uncle Homer and Agnes Cooper must have had one hell of a challenge getting through to Ann – and that they’d done one hell of a job in accomplishing it. An insight struck him, and he decided to pursue it. “You must have been a little scared at not having your closet to hide in,” he commented as casually as he could.

“Oh, yes,” she sighed, lifting her head to look at him in the darkness. “In fact, terrified describes it better. Steve, I had no idea how to handle someone being nice to me and not hurting me every chance they had. I mean, the ointment or lotion or whatever Mr. Taylor spread on me felt better, but I didn’t want to do anything but hide.” She took a deep breath and went on, “In fact, I spent the night hiding in the closet of the motel room, and I felt a little better. The next morning, he got me out of the closet and had me get dressed. Steve, it had been so long since I’d worn clothes I’d almost forgotten what it was like. Mr. Taylor told me that he was taking me someplace where I would be safe, and he gave me the choice of riding in the front seat of the Lincoln with him, or under the back seat where I’d ridden the day before, although I didn’t remember it.”

“And I’ll bet you chose to ride under the back seat.”

“Of course,” she replied, laying her head back down on his chest again. “It was as if I was back in the safety of my closet. It was a tight fit and I’ve grown too much to get in there now, but I would have died of fright if I hadn’t been able to be there then. That was how I came here the first time.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t have any idea of what to expect.”

“Oh, no. Even with Mr. Taylor being nice to me, I didn’t have any idea that things could be any different for me than the ways things had always been.” She let out a sigh, and snuggled a little closer to him. While he had been able to feel the tenseness of her muscles in the last few minutes, he now realized that she was relaxing a little, as she was back into more comfortable memories.

“By then Mr. Taylor had figured out my problems with being light-sensitive,” she went on.

“He’d arranged his schedule so that we arrived after dark. He brought me into the house, where there was a bedroom made up, the same one I use now. He told me I could sleep in the bed if I wanted to, or I could stay in the closet, but that I could only use that closet, and I had to come out when he asked me to. Needless to say, I chose the closet.”

“That’s not surprising. How long did you stay there?”

“Several days, I’m not sure,” she told him. “Mr. Taylor called me out briefly several times, usually to have me eat. Mostly it was at night, but he gave me sunglasses to use when things were too bright, and by that I mean any brighter than it is in here right now. I was much more sensitive to brightness in those days, mostly because I was so used to the comfortable darkness of my closet. About all I could say is that I slowly realized I wasn’t always going to be hurt when I came out of my safe little dark hole. Then one day he called me out of my closet, told me to wear my sunglasses, because he needed my help with something. I went out to find a couple of men rolling an old woman into the house on a gurney. I watched as they slid her from the gurney onto a tray that was next to this machine that had been sitting in a room off the living room, and they slid the tray into the machine. Steve, I know I mentioned Mrs. Cooper to you, but I don’t think I told you she had to use an iron lung.”

“You didn’t,” he said, squeezing her a little just to let her know he cared, “but Uncle Homer told me quite a bit about her.”

“Steve, I had no idea what was going on. I’d never even heard of such a thing, and the only thing I could think of was that this was some new and special way to torture the woman. I wanted to run and hide and to this day I don’t know why I didn’t. All I could do was stand there and watch as they slid her into the machine, and turned it on. Steve, I’ll remember to my dying day Mrs. Cooper telling Mr. Taylor, ‘Oh, thank you Homer! That feels so much better!’”

“Uncle Homer told me about that. He said he’d never seen anyone happier in his life.”

“I certainly hadn’t,” she smiled. “I didn’t have any idea of what was really going on, but I soon figured out that Mrs. Cooper’s iron lung was her equivalent of my closet. She was comfortable there when she couldn’t be comfortable outside, just like my closet was for me.”

So that’s how Uncle Homer and Agnes got through to Ann, Steve thought. It wasn’t planned, either; he remembered Uncle Homer telling him that he’d been working on Agnes’ rescue before he’d found Ann. Unlikely as hell, and it might not have worked in any other time or place, with any other people – but it had worked with Ann. You couldn’t ask for much better than that.

“I didn’t know what to make of it, Steve,” she went on. “I stood there for a long time, I don’t know how long, just watching, trying to make sense of it, even after Mr. Taylor introduced me to Mrs. Cooper. I couldn’t say a thing. It was something beyond my imagination. The ambulance people left, and Mr. Taylor went to do something in the kitchen. He told me to keep Mrs. Cooper company, and I still couldn’t say anything.”

“I guess that would be a little hard to comprehend when you don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“Oh, it was worse than that, Steve. I . . . I guess I finally figured out that there was no way Mrs. Cooper could hurt me when she was trapped in that thing, with only her head sticking out. It meant I didn’t have anything to fear from her. Steve, that was the first time in maybe ever that I hadn’t been scared of someone.”

“Even Uncle Homer?”

“Especially Mr. Taylor,” she sighed. “I mean, he hadn’t tried to hurt me up to that point but there was always the possibility in my mind that he could. I had just been waiting for it to happen. I’m afraid I was a long time getting to the point where I realized I could trust him. It wasn’t that way with Mrs. Cooper, not with her being in her iron lung.” She let out a sigh and went on, “Perhaps the best way to say it is to say that right then she was like a tiger in a cage. The tiger may be dangerous, but the cage keeps it from hurting you. Now, saying that is very unfair to Mrs. Cooper, but that was something of how I felt at the time, that in her cage she couldn’t hurt me. More importantly, it gave us the first step toward building a friendship.”

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