Gillian muttered, “Oh, shit.”
She rushed from her chair, stopped the tape and ejected it. Her hands trembled as she placed the cassette into the box labeled The Howling.
What kind of sick crap is this? she wondered.
She stepped over to the shelves and scanned all the titles on the three rows of video tapes. No Torture Slave in the whole collection.
She slipped the cassette back into its place and pulled out Star Wars. She opened the box. The cassette inside had no label at all.
She took it to the television. Crouching there, she inserted it in the VCR and pressed the Play button. For a few seconds, the screen was blank.
Then a young woman inside an elevator approached its opening doors. Before she could step out, two thugs in leather jackets rushed in, knocking her backward. She slammed against the rear wall of the elevator. Laughing, one of the men tore open her blouse. The other yanked her skirt up.
Gillian stopped the show. She ejected the cassette and took it back to the shelves.
Probably E.T., Back to tbe Future, and the rest of them in this section of Fredrick’s collection were more of the same. The popular titles on the containers were camouflage for his secret library of sick videos.
Where did he even get such things? Gillian wondered. Maybe he ordered them through one of those S&M magazines he kept in his bedroom. Did they come packaged as legitimate films? That hardly seemed likely. Pretty expensive, though, if he bought all those popular videos just for their cases.
The guy’s loaded. He can afford to squander money when he has that much of it.
Why would he even bother? He could keep the things in a closet, or something. Maybe he enjoys having them hidden in plain sight. His little secret.
A guy like this, his mind’s warped. He probably has plenty of strange games. I’d just as soon not run into anymore of them, Gillian thought.
She wondered if she should get her camera and snap some photos of his video tape collection. She didn’t much care to have such a reminder; it would be like taking a little of Fredrick the Gross home with her. On the other hand, she already had shots of his book and magazine collection—with the exception of S&M and child porn. If she left without taking pictures of his tapes, she might regret it later. Besides, she had time to kill.
She went to the bedroom for her camera.
I don’t have to put any of these in my scrapbook, she thought. Just throw them in the back of a drawer if I don’t want to look at them. But at least I’ll have the things.
Back in the den, Gillian removed Psycbo, I Spit on your Grave, 2000 Maniacs, and several more from the shelf of legitimate videos and arranged them on the floor. She took a close-up showing their covers. As she put them away, she wondered if even these were what they seemed to be. Probably. But she opened the case of I Spit on your Grave. The label on the cassette inside had the same title. So the psycho/ slasher movies were for real. Naturally.
Crouching, she took down a dozen of the videos with the phony cases. She spread them on the floor, took a shot, and returned them to the shelf.
She wondered when she’d find time to put all this down into note form-but maybe she wouldn’t want to; the pictures would speak for themselves. She returned to the bedroom with her camera and put it into the suitcase. The clock on the nightstand showed five minutes after four.
The washing machine had probably stopped by now.
Gillian hurried through the house.
I won’t wait for five o’clock, she decided. As soon as the robe’s in the drier, I’ll come in and get ready. By the time I’m set to go, the robe should be pretty dry. Jerry won’t mind if I show up a little early.
Outside, she resisted the urge to peer over the fence again. She walked straight to the laundry room. The washing machine was silent. She opened the lid, reached inside, and lifted out the heavy, sodden robe. She dropped it on top of the drier.
Bending over, she opened the drier’s door.
And groaned.
Fredrick had gone off and left laundry in the machine.
Just what I want to do, Gillian thought. Touch his stuff. At least it looks dry.
Reaching into the drum, she pulled out a washcloth, a shirt, some white socks and a few pairs of brightly colored bikini underpants. She tossed them on top of a drier beside Jerry’s robe. When she dragged out a large blue bathtowel, the machine was empty.
Except for a book.
It was oversized, with a brown leatherette cover, and looked like a photo album.
So what’s it doing in the drier? Gillian wondered.
She supposed that Fredrick had put it there as a precaution, to save it in case the house burnt down while he was away.
She removed it, set it on top of the drier, and stuffed Jerry’s robe into the machine. She dosed the door. She pushed a button to start the drying cycle.
Then she stared at the album.
My big chance, she thought, to see what Fredrick looks like. A guy with mirrors all over his bedroom would probably have quite a collection of photos featuring himself.
It’s more likely crammed with Polaroids of his girlfriends in the raw. That would be his speed.
Do I really want to find out? I doubt it.
Gillian left the album on top of the drier, turned away, and walked to the laundry room door. She stepped outside into the sunlight. Then she halted. She sighed.
If I look in the album, I’ll regret it.
She muttered, “Shit,” turned around, strode to the drier and picked up the album. Holding it under one arm, she walked quickly to the lounge and sat down. She rested the book on her crossed legs and opened it.
There were no photographs on the page. Pressed beneath the clear plastic sheet was a newspaper clipping. There was nothing to indicate the name of the paper or the date. Gillian read the story.U of A CO-ED VANISHESFoul play is suspected in the disappearance, Saturday, of 19-year-old Candice Fairborn, a University of Arizona co-ed, from. her apartment on Spring Street.According to police authorities, the roommate of Miss, Fairborn returned to the ground-floor apartment Stun-day evening after a weekend outing to find a rear window open. Further investigation led to the discovery of an upset lamp in the victim’s bedroom along with the torn. remnants of her nightgown.. Being sought in connection with the disappearance Ls Miss Fairborn’s former boyfriend ...
The story continued, but Gillian didn’t bother to finish it. She turned the page. And found another clipping.MYSTERY BODY GREEN BAY HOUSEWIFEThe partially decomposed body discovered Thursday by hikers in the Bagley Rapids area has been identified as Kathy Ellen Warnack, the 22-year-old wife of Ronald Warnack, who disappeared from their Jackson Avenue home on August 4.According to the coroner’s report, the slain woman had been sexually molested and died of multiple stab wounds...
Gillian had a tight, cold feeling in her stomach.
Why did Fredrick Holden keep these clippings? Why, indeed ?
Her hand trembled as she turned the page.GRISLY DISCOVERYSaranak Lake—The remains of an unidentified female were found Saturday in a densely wooded area north of Saranak Lake...
She glanced at the next page. Eighteen-year-old Pam Jones had vanished from her parents’ home in Park Ridge while they were out playing bridge. On the next page was the story of Maggie Drukker, a twenty-three-year-old housewife who disappeared from her New Orleans apartment while her husband was working the graveyard shift at the airport.
The raped and mutilated body of a Seattle secretary was found in the woods near Salem, Oregon, two weeks after her disappearance.
Remains, partially devoured by wildlife, were found in the bayou and identified by dental charts as belonging to Maggie Drukker, who had disappeared from her New Orleans apartment on November 2nd.