Chapter 19 rewrite

The Internet café had closed by the time Edmond and Susan got back to Portland. They went to Susan's apartment, and used Susan's computer. Her roommate started to give Susan a hard time about it being awfully late to have a man in her room, but she saw the looks on their faces and realized that they were very serious about whatever it was they were doing, and that they were not in any mood for games. Then she realized that this must be the Edmond Randolph that Susan had mentioned earlier. "What's going on?" she asked. Susan replied, "We're afraid that Mark has kidnapped Lena." There was a pause, while the other young woman tried to decide if Susan was serious or not. "Surely he wouldn't do that." Edmond spoke up, "Let's hope not, but right now, both of them seem to be missing. Lena's vehicle is at her apartment building, Mark's is not at his." Susan made some quick introductions, "Edmond, this is Marguerite, Marguerite, this is Edmond." "Just call me Maggie. Marguerite is way too long, and it sounds way too formal." Edmond surveyed Maggie's long, curly black hair for a moment, and her expressive dark eyes. "Maggie it is, then. Nice to meet you." They shook hands. “Pardon me for not standing,” Edmond said.Edmond started checking more county records on line, getting farther and farther away from Portland. Finally, he found a listing for the Poppengales in Tillamook County. He copied down that address, and kept searching the Northwest corner of the state. He didn't find anything else that looked likely. He went to Mapquest and got directions. Susan looked over his shoulder. "That's a long drive," she sighed. Edmond nodded his head. "A little over an hour and a half. Not much longer than what we drove from here to the place near Mount Hood." Edmond craned his neck so that he could see her face. She was tired; he could see it. Still, he was anxious, and he believed she was, too. They had just spent three and a half hours on a red herring, and neither one of them wanted to do that again. That was why he had checked every county in this part of the state, but there was still no guarantee that Mark had even taken Lena to one of his parent's properties. "If you don't feel up to it..." his voice dropped off. He really didn't know what to do next if she didn't. He was not willing to wait until the morning to check this out. He would have to find some other way out to Tillamook Bay. Susan took a deep breath. She didn't want to let Lena down. "No, I'm okay. Let's do this." Maggie asked, "Do you want me to go with you?" Edmond was unsure. A part of him felt like more people would be better, but, at the same time, he wasn't sure what to expect at the bay, and he didn't want to endanger any more people than absolutely necessary. Susan bit her lip, and looked at Edmond. Edmond returned the look, but there was no answer in his eyes. Of course, more people meant that Susan’s car would be more crowded. Finally, Susan made a decision, "No, I think we'll be all right. If I'm not back by morning, though, you know where we went,” gesturing at the computer screen, still showing directions to a house near Tillamook Bay. A thought struck Edmond. "Do you have any kind of a weapon?" Susan shook her head, but Maggie said, "I carry mace in my purse." "Can we get that from you, just in case?" "Sure." Maggie got her purse, dug out the mace, and handed it over. “Be careful with that, though. It’s pretty strong stuff; don’t use it unless you really mean it.”
Edmond nodded, Susan thanked her, and they went out the door, hoping that this wasn’t another wild goose chase.

Chapter 18 rewrite

Back in the basement again, Lena was thankful that she had been able to keep the knife pinned in between her arm and her back without cutting herself, while Mark tied her hands. At least, she hoped she hadn't cut herself; the knife seemed sharp enough that she might not feel it actually cut her, but at least she didn't feel any blood. It occurred to her that she shouldn't try to keep the knife on her, but she probably shouldn't cut the ropes just yet, either; Mark would know something was up if he came downstairs and she wasn’t tied up. She wanted to the blade close by, but not on her person, in case Mark searched her, or decided to watch her take a shower. At this point, she was starting to think it would be worth it to let him watch, just to be able to shower. Still, if she did get a shower, she would have to put the same clothes back on, and these clothes could just about stand up by themselves. She had never in her life worn the same clothes for so long... She discovered that, with her hands tied together, the knife didn't slip out of her left sleeve nearly as easy as it had slid in. By holding her arm as far out from her body as she could, and shaking it as hard as she dared with a sharp knife in her sleeve, she was able to get it to slide far enough down her sleeve that she could just reach the handle with the tips of the fingers of her right hand. Each time she tried to get a grip on it, though, it slipped farther back up her sleeve. She couldn't risk having it cut her, it might hit a main artery and she could bleed to death before Mark even realized that there was anything wrong. It wasn’t like Mark checked on her very often. She didn't think she would ever forgive Mark for this. Even if she didn’t bleed to death, Mark would undoubtedly become suspicious if he found her lying in a puddle of blood. Finally, she managed to work the knife far enough down that she could actually grip it with her hand. Carefully, she slid it out of her sleeve. Now, what to do with it? Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the dim light, and she looked around to try to find a good hiding place. She needed something easily accessible, and at the same time, someplace where the knife would not be easily seen. Right now, the best place seemed to be under the stairs, but she couldn't make much of anything out, yet. The stairs were a good distance from where she was; unless she cut herself loose first, it would take her several minutes to get over to the stairs, and several more to get back. She might leave a trail on the floor, too; she wasn't sure how clean it was. By rolling onto her stomach, and then pushing with her left shoulder and her left knee, she managed to turn over. She found herself facing several cardboard boxes. There was a space in between two of the boxes just about the right size to conceal the knife from a cursory inspection. She scooted herself along the floor until the space was at her waist, then flipped back over again. She felt for the space between boxes, and then deposited the knife in it. Then she made sure that could get the blade back out when she was ready to use it, and scooted back to her original position, hoping that she hadn't disturbed the dust on the floor too much. Of course, questions remained, such as: Would she ever actually get the chance to use the knife? Would she recognize that chance if she got it? What would that chance look or sound like? Would Mark notice the knife missing before she got the chance? She tried to stop the thoughts in her head. If something did happen, she wanted to be well rested, not that it seemed likely under these circumstances. She lay awake for a while, worrying and fretting and trying to figure out what she could do, and trying not to worry, fret or figure. Eventually she drifted off into a troubled sleep.

Chapter 17 rewrite

Edmond and Susan returned to the Internet café. He started looking for information about the owners of Poppengale Manufacturing. The owners were Robert and Mary Poppengale, and they had lived in the Portland area for a long time. They still owned several properties nearby, even though they spent most of their time in Singapore now.
Edmond went to the Multnomah County tax assessors website, and started searching for properties belonging to one or both Poppengales. Most of these properties were either in Portland itself, or in nearby suburbs, like Beaverton, but none of them seemed to be likely places to hold a kidnap victim. It was much too risky. How would Mark explain Lena to the neighbors, if they happened to see him carry or drag her into the house? He couldn’t chance being spotted bringing her into whatever building where he was keeping her; he would need a location with a certain amount of isolation.
Edmond expanded his search, and started searching neighboring counties. In Clackamas County, he spotted a cabin near Mount Hood. That seemed perfect. He pointed it out to Susan. “I’m not sure I have enough gas to make it that far,” she intoned. The sound of her voice made it clear that she was anxious to go check it out, but she was legitimately afraid of becoming stranded.
“I’ll buy you some gas,” Edmond answered. Susan nodded, and Edmond typed the address into Mapquest. Once Mapquest calculated the directions, they printed them out, and they left.
At the gas station, Edmond whistled. “Since when does gasoline cost that much?” Susan glanced at the sign, and then back at Edmond with a puzzled look on her face.
“What do you mean? Is gas less than $4.47.9 in Chicago?”
Edmond looked at her for a long time. “Maybe not. I don’t know for sure. The last time I bought gas, I paid $1.36.9.”
It was Susan’s turn to stare. “That must have been a long time ago.”
Edmond nodded. “Seems like a lifetime ago,” he said softly, looking back at the sign in amazement. He tried not to get caught up in nostalgia; the last time he bought gas was just a few hours before the accident. Everything in his life had changed that day.
Soon they were on I-84 headed east. Following the directions, they exited the Interstate, and followed state route 35 south, and eventually came to a local blacktop, which led to a winding lane, and then a dirt road. “There are no tire marks on the dirt road,” Edmond pointed out.
“Maybe he came a different way.”
“Why? because he was afraid of leaving tire marks?” Edmond shook his head. “I don’t buy it. Still, we’ve come this far, we should go ahead and check it out.” Susan turned onto the dirt road, and they continued on until they reached the cabin, but, as Edmond had expected, the cabin showed no signs of being lived in, or even having been visited in recent history. “It must be nice to be able to afford to pay property taxes on buildings that you never use,” Edmond growled, frustration evident on his face.
“So, this is a dead end.” Susan half asked.
Edmond nodded. “For us it is, anyway. I’m afraid we need to go back, and check other counties.” Susan turned the car around, and retraced her car’s tire marks back to the lane.

Chapter 16 rewrite

Lena heard Mark coming down the stairs again. She was almost glad to see him. She felt well rested, in spite of the sleeping conditions, and she needed to use the washroom. She was also pretty hungry. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in the basement this time. For that matter, she didn’t know how long she had been in the basement the previous time either. As Mark untied her, she asked, “What day is this?”
“It’s Sunday,” Mark replied
Lena stated ruefully, “I missed church.”
“I’m sure they’ll get over it.” Mark smiled. “I’m certain that God will forgive you, too, just blame it on me.”
At least Lena knew that by now somebody would have missed her, although possibly not anybody who would actually do anything about it. There was a good possibility that no one would actually start looking for her until tomorrow morning when she didn’t show up for work. There was some groundwork being laid for a search party, though.
She wondered what Mark was going to do. He had a job; she wasn’t sure that he actually needed the money, but if he didn’t show up for work, would they just write it off as the spoiled little rich kid deciding to quit pretending he was supporting himself? Would anybody catch on that he and she had both stopped coming to work at the same time? He led her to the bathroom. Once again, she took care of her business, and then spent a few seconds looking out the window. There was actually a significant drop between the house and the beach. She judged it to be at least 30 feet. She still couldn’t tell for sure what was to the North or to the South of the house, but there was no sign of any close neighbors. She washed her hands, and opened the door.
Mark led her back to the kitchen. Once again, she fixed salads. This time he grilled steaks. Lena almost smiled to herself at the thought that Mark must have decided that he wanted steaks because he thought he had something to celebrate. While he was grilling, she went to the silverware drawer, and got out everything she would need to set the table, including 3 steak knives. One of those knives went in her sleeve while Mark was preoccupied with the steaks. When the steaks were done, the table was set, and they each had a bowl of salad. Once again, they ate in silence. Lena didn’t normally eat steak, she tried to stay away from red meat, but this time, the knife in her sleeve made her feel that she had something to celebrate.
Feeling brave, she decided to broach the subject of work tomorrow. “Are you going to leave me here alone while you go to work tomorrow?”
Mark shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’ve put in for a couple of weeks vacation time. My boss thinks I’m in the Caribbean.” He laughed. “I guess I should work on my tan. It might be suspicious if I came back from a two week vacation in the Caribbean looking white as a ghost.”
Lena’s heart sank. Even if anybody noticed their joint disappearance, there was a good chance that people would think that the two of them had planned to run off together, and that she had forgotten, or been embarrassed to, put in for vacation time for it. She contemplated whether she smelled badly enough to ask about the shower. She wasn’t entirely sure, one way or the other. She felt like she should need a shower, if this really was Sunday, but she really wasn’t smelling herself. Of course, she was aware that one can become acclimatized to smell, especially if the smell builds up gradually, so that might be why. Of course, if he insisted on helping her shower, then he would discover the knife in her sleeve. Of course, if he insisted on helping her shower, that might be reason enough to use the knife. She decided to wait until next time.

Chapter 15 rewrite

They arrived at the address. There was a large building with lots of windows, most of which were not transparent, and many of which were broken. Faded lettering on the side of the building could conceivably have read “Poppengale Manufacturing” at one time, but, clearly, that was a long time ago. The doors were chained from the outside. Edmond spoke up, “If he brought her here, he must know another way in.” Susan nodded, and drove around the building.
Every set of doors that they found was similarly chained. “Then again,” Susan said, “his car isn’t here, so maybe he has left her here, and chained the doors from the outside, as he was leaving.” Susan parked the car and got out. Edmond waited as she walked to the building and attempted to look inside through one of the broken panes of glass. Mostly she just saw darkness. She tried calling out, “Lena!” but there was only a silent response from the darkness. There was no indication that there was anyone in the building. Anyone alive, anyway. She tried to think that way. She walked back to the car with her head down. “There is no sign of her.”
“We need to find a way in,” Edmond responded. They drove around the building again, and noticed a section of aluminum wall that had been pulled back, like kids had been using the plant as a playhouse. Susan parked the car, and they maneuvered the wheelchair out of the back seat, and got Edmond situated in it. It took both of them, but they were able to pull back the aluminum enough to get the wheelchair through. Susan followed. Even on the inside, the most obvious thing was the darkness that filled the building, in spite of the numerous broken windows. After a few minutes though, as their eyes adjusted, the light coming in through the pulled back section where they had entered and the broken window panes made it possible to see. There were many places where it was clear equipment had been bolted down, but, evidently, when the manufacturing went to Singapore, all of the conveyers and other miscellaneous apparatus had been ripped out; either shipped to Singapore, or sold locally and replaced. For all intents and purposes, they were in a large, empty warehouse. They were partially frustrated, and partially relieved, when they realized that the building was empty. They hadn’t found Lena, but, at least they hadn’t found her corpse. That meant that there was still hope. In the back of Edmond’s mind that sparked a memory: He remembered hearing once, “Where there is breath, there is hope; where there is hope, there is God; where there is God, there is no need.” He pushed that out of his mind; dismissing it as silly optimism, even though he was aware that they needed some optimism at that point.
They went back to the place where they had come in. For some reason, it was much harder to push open the aluminum section from the inside than it was to pull it open from the outside. With both of them pushing, it opened just about enough for Edmond to roll the wheelchair through, but as soon as he tried to move forward, he lost his grip on the aluminum, and it started closing back up again. Edmond began to visualize himself being incarcerated for trespassing. That was not an appealing prospect. He had never been in jail before, but this weekend that thought seemed to just keep coming up. Susan looked around and saw a long pole that might give them some leverage. It turned out to be pretty heavy though, so she dragged it over to the opening. Pushing one end out through the opening, and then pushing up on the remaining end, they were able to get clearance for the wheelchair. Susan strained against the pole as Edmond wheeled out. Fortunately, she didn’t need anywhere near as much room to escape. After struggling with the pole, it seemed much harder to make the transition from Edmond sitting in the wheelchair outside the car, to Edmond sitting in the front seat of the car, and the wheelchair in the backseat of the car. They stopped to rest for a few minutes.
“Once we get out of here, then what? Do you have any other ideas?” she asked.
“Let’s go back, and do some more research on the Internet,” Edmond said. Susan nodded. Finally, they got in the car, with the wheelchair situated, and Susan started the car. She put the car in gear, and soon the Poppengale plant was just a speck in her rearview mirror.

Chapter 14 rewrite

Somehow, Edmond fell back to sleep, quite possibly due to sheer exhaustion. He had pushed himself harder in the previous 24 hours than he had pushed himself in years. He awoke to pounding on the door. He opened his eyes to realize that there was light streaming in the window. This was totally unexpected. He managed to pull himself into his wheelchair, make sure he was covered up, unplug the charger, and then roll to the door. He was aware that he probably had the worst pillow hair of his entire life, but the noise at the door sounded urgent. He opened the door, not sure what to expect. Susan Russell was standing in the hallway, looking like she was on the verge of tears.
"Mr. Randolph, I am really worried now. Lena had invited me to church, and then she didn't show up. I'm not really much of a churchgoer, myself, but she is. She particularly wanted me to come this Sunday. I asked some other people at church, and they tell me she never misses church. She's there every Sunday unless she's out of town, and she always lets people know that she's going to be out of town. I didn't know who else to go to. I'm sorry I didn't trust you last night. Please help." The words just seemed to pour out of her. She obviously had given a lot of thought to what she was going to say, but she was so distraught that the sentences just didn't come out the way she had planned.
"Okay," Edmond said, "can you give me a few minutes to get cleaned up?" She nodded. "Why don't you wait in the lobby? I'll be down soon." She nodded, bit her lower lip, and then turned towards the elevators. He looked after her for a moment, and then closed the door and started getting ready. He felt for her, but finally, somebody else was feeling what he had been feeling.
When he wheeled into the lobby, she looked pensive. "I apologize for taking so long," he said. "Some things take longer than they used to."
She looked at his wheelchair, and nodded. "I understand."
"Do you know Mark’s last name? where he lives?" he asked.
She nodded. "His last name is Poppengale. He lives over on SW 37th street."
"Did you drive?"
"Yes."
They went out to the parking lot. It took a little while to work out getting his wheelchair folded up and in the back seat of her little bitty red car, and him in the passengers seat. Fortunately, he didn’t need a lot of legroom, since he didn't have any feeling in his legs, anyway. Soon, though, they were on their way. It didn't take very long to get to Mark's apartment, but, when they got there, no one answered the door. Polling the neighbors, they discovered that no one remembered seeing him since Thursday evening.
"Any idea where else he might have gone?"
"None," Susan responded. She put her head down, and bit her lip again. After a long pause, she jerked her ehad upright, and said, "Wait a minute! Mark's parents own some kind of business here in Portland."
"Where's the nearest place to get Internet access?" Ed asked. Soon they were at an Internet café. Edmond googled the terms Poppengale and Portland and got a string of hits. Poppengale Manufacturing had its own website, but there were also a number of websites that had been set up to protest the Poppengales. It seems that Mark’s family had manufactured in Portland for a lot of years, but then the plant unionized, and suddenly it was cheaper to manufacture in Singapore than in Portland. The Poppengales shut down the Portland plant, handing out thousands of pink slips, and opened up a new plant near Bedok, in Singapore.
"What happened to the old plant, here in Portland?" Edmond asked.
"I have no idea," Susan responded, "This is all new information to me. I didn't know what sort of work Mark's parents did, and this all happened before I moved here."
Edmond was able to find the address for the old plant, and accessed Multnomah County records on line to find out who the current owner was. It was still listed as Poppengale Manufacturing; apparently no other company had bought the property.
"I bet that's where he's got her," Edmond pronounced.
Susan nodded, and looked a the address. "That's close by," she said, "We could probably be there in fifteen minutes or less." They went back to her car, and headed towards the old plant.

Chapter 13 rewrite

The concrete was cold and hard. Lena struggled to find a comfortable position, but her bindings made it difficult to move, and there wasn't much hope that she could ever really be comfortable on this hard floor, anyway. She couldn't sleep on her back, because her hands were tied behind her back. Lying on her side minimized her contact with the cold floor, but then her neck wasn't comfortable with the downward slope to her head. At least her belly was full, and her bladder was empty. She tried to fall asleep. Part of her wanted to take a shower, but she couldn’t be sure how Mark would react to such a request. She had showered yesterday morning before work (or was that the day before yesterday?), but a lot had happened since then. She felt sticky and dirty. She may not look all that bad; her reflection in the mirror hadn’t looked awful. Still, maybe if she worked up a good stink, then Mark would be more inclined to let her go. Then again, he might insist on washing her himself, and she definitely didn’t want that. The issue of personal hygiene could become very complicated. She decided that she would allow herself to get a little funkier, and then try to negotiate some personal time alone in the shower. It seemed to her that, if Mark was planning on winning her over, he was going about it completely the wrong way. She had actually liked the guy, or maybe just felt sorry for him, but now she felt an actual hatred growing inside of her. She didn’t want to hate him; he had genuinely been nice to her at one time. Not so nice that she wanted to continue to date him, but, still. She was grateful that he hadn't raped her, but, if he kept her tied up in the basement whenever he didn’t feel like dealing with her, then she would soon hate him almost as much as if he had. She realized that Mark hadn't watched her very carefully when they were in the kitchen. Perhaps he thought that as long as he had the gun, there was nothing she could do. Her options were definitely limited, but, what if she had grabbed two knives, and then had hidden one when he wasn't looking? Then she would be able to cut herself loose, and maybe try to escape. Of course, she wouldn't be able to tell where he was in the house, or whether he was awake or asleep, or even if she would be able to find her way out of the house. So far, she knew where the kitchen and the bathroom were. The exterior doors (if she could find them!) might have deadbolts that required a key to open, even from the inside. As far as that goes, the basement door might be locked, she couldn’t be positive. Surely there was a window she would be able to get out, though, assuming that she could get out of the basement. If she got caught, there was no telling what he would do to her. If he came back downstairs and found that she had cut her ropes, there would definitely be some form of retribution. At the very least, he would watch her more carefully in the future, and be careful not to give her another chance to escape. She couldn't afford to waste whatever opportunity she got. It would have to be an all or nothing effort. That meant that, if he caught her trying to escape, she would have to be prepared to plunge the knife into him before he got the chance to shoot her. She didn’t have that much hate for him, at least not yet, but she was determined to not let him keep her here any longer than absolutely necessary. The waves of nausea that hit her had nothing to do with the drugs that he had slipped her.