The Big Bad Wolf - James Patterson [44]
“I’m not exactly sure where we are right now,” I said as we rode to a local state troopers’ barracks. “How far is this from where Mrs. Meek was abducted?”
“We’re five miles,” said one of the agents from Philly. “It would take about ten minutes by car.”
“Was she held captive near this area?” I asked. “Do we know yet? What exactly do we know?”
“She told the state police that the abductor brought her here early this morning. She’s not sure of the directions but thinks they rode for well over an hour. Her wristwatch had been taken away from her.”
I nodded. “Was she blindfolded during the ride? I assume that she was.”
“No. That’s odd, isn’t it? She saw her captor several times. Also his vehicle. He didn’t seem to care one way or the other.”
That was a genuine surprise to me. It didn’t track, and I said so.
“Stump the stars,” said the agent. “Isn’t that what this case is about so far?”
The state trooper barracks occupied a redbrick building tucked back from the highway. There wasn’t any activity outside, and I took that as a good sign. At least I had beaten the press there. No one had leaked the story so far.
I hurried inside the barracks to meet Audrey Meek. I was eager to find out how she had survived against all odds, the first woman who had.
Chapter 50
MY VERY FIRST IMPRESSION was that Audrey Meek didn’t look at all like herself, not as she did in any of her publicity. Not now, anyway, not after her terrible ordeal. Mrs. Meek was thinner, especially in the face. Her eyes were dark blue, but the sockets appeared hollowed out. She had some color on both cheeks.
“I’m FBI agent Alex Cross. It’s good to see you safe,” I said in a quiet voice. I didn’t want to interview her right now, but it had to be done.
Audrey Meek nodded and her eyes met mine. I had the sense that she knew how lucky she was.
“You have some color in your cheeks. Did you get that today?” I asked her. “While you were in the woods?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so. He took me outside for walks every day he held me captive. Considering the circumstances, he was often considerate. He made my meals, good ones, for the most part. He told me he’d been a chef at one time in Richmond. We had long talks almost every day, really long talks. It was so strange, everything about it. There was one day in the middle when he wasn’t at the house at all. I was petrified he’d left me there to die. But I didn’t really believe he would.”
I didn’t interrupt her. I wanted to let Audrey Meek tell her story without any pressure or steering from me. It was astonishing to me that she had been released. It didn’t happen very often in cases like this one.
“Georges? My children?” she asked. “Have they arrived yet? Will you let me see them if they’re here?”
“They’re on their way,” I said. “We’ll bring them in as soon as they arrive. I’d like to ask a few questions while everything is still fresh in your mind. I’m sorry about this. There may be other missing people, Mrs. Meek. We think that there are.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Let me try to help, then. If I can, I will. Ask your questions.”
She was a brave woman and she told me about the kidnapping, including a description of the man and woman who had grabbed her. It fit the late Slava Vasilev and Zoya Petrov. Then Audrey Meek took me through the ritual of the days that she was held captive by the man who called himself the Art Director.
“He said he liked to wait on me, that he enjoyed it immensely. It was as if he was used to being subservient. But I sensed he also wanted to be my friend. It was so terribly weird. He’d seen me on TV and read articles about Meek, my company. He said he admired my sense of style and the way I didn’t seem to have too many airs about myself. He made me have sex with him.”
Audrey Meek was holding herself together