The Gate House

I retrieved the handcuffs and snapped them loosely on my wrists.

“Okay, you’re going up the stairs on your hands and knees. Down.”

I got on the floor and started crawling toward the stairs. Anthony moved behind me, and I could hear the bolt on the front door slide shut.

I made my way up the stairs on my hands and knees, and Anthony kept his distance as he followed me. He let me know, “I have the rifle pointed right at your naked butt, and my finger is twitching on the trigger.”

I weighed my options, but there was nothing to weigh. I just wanted to see that Susan was alive – then I’d think about what to do.

Anthony also let me know, “Tony took your wife’s Lexus. I hope you don’t mind. So, you’re thinking to yourself, ‘How did this dumb wop get the drop on me?’ Right? Is that what you’re thinking, smart guy?”

The thought had crossed my mind, and I was angry at myself for being so damned stupid. But the attacker always has the advantage. His late uncle would agree with that.

“You and your wife think you’re so fucking smart. Or maybe you and your stupid wife thought I wasn’t coming after you, and you got sloppy.”

I reached the top of the stairs, and he said, “Stay on your hands and knees and move toward your bedroom.”

Anthony moved quickly past me, keeping the rifle aimed at me as he went toward the bedroom door. He stopped and watched me as I crawled down the hallway toward him.

He said, “Yeah, your dumb wife gets a call from the gatehouse, but it’s Tony calling, and he says, ‘I got a package for you, Mrs. Sutter. I’ll bring it around when I check out the property, like your husband asked me to do.’ So, you got to be careful who you talk to, John. Maybe that security guy you talked to was working for me. Right? Hey, say something. Say something smart.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s not so smart. I can’t believe I was going to hire you. Look at you – buck naked on your hands and knees, with cuffs on, and you’re crawling where I tell you to crawl. So you’re really not that fucking smart. And I’m not as dumb as you thought I was – okay, stop there.”

I stopped about ten feet from the bedroom door.

He continued, “Yeah, so Tony rings the bell, she looks through the peephole, sees a guy in an All-Safe uniform, then just opens the door. How fucking dumb is that? And you should’ve been there, John, when Tony pushes her into the house, and I walk in behind him. I mean, she just stares at me, and right away she knows who I am. And then she remembers Tony from when she was fucking my father. And I say to her, ‘You killed my father, you bitch,’ and I thought she was going to piss her pants. And then she goes for this rifle in the umbrella stand, and I knock her on her ass.”

“You’re a real man.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He said, “So you keep a rifle by the door. You expectin’ trouble?” He laughed. “Does that rich bitch even know how to use a gun?” He realized that was a stupid question and said, “That bitch shot my father for no reason-”

“I told you the reason-”

“You’re a lying asshole, but I’ll get the truth out of you and her tonight.” He threw open the door, stepped aside, and said, “Go see your wife.”

I started to stand, but he shouted, “Hands and knees, asshole!”

I crawled through the bedroom doorway.

“Up on your knees.”

I got up on my knees.

Susan was lying on the bed, naked, and it took me a moment to realize that her wrists and ankles were tied to the bedposts. Then I noticed white tape over her mouth.

She turned her head toward me, and I could see fear in her eyes. But thank God she was alive.

Anthony shut the door behind me and said, “So there she is, John. You wanted to see her, and now you and me can see all of her. And I see she’s a real redhead.”

I kept staring at Susan, and she was looking at me, tears ru

I stood and took a step toward her, then I felt a blow to the middle of my back, and I fell forward onto the floor. I lay there, less stu

He said, “Get up.”

I could tell he’d moved away from me, so I lay motionless, hoping he’d come close enough to hit me again with the rifle butt.

Instead, he fired a round into the floor next to my face, which made me jump. He shouted, “Get up, or the next one goes up your ass!”

I lifted myself back to my knees, took a deep breath, and looked at Susan. She was pulling at her bonds, which I saw were nylon ropes, and she was crying and trying to call out. I also saw that there were red marks on her face, where he’d apparently hit her, and I saw a leather belt – one of my belts – lying on the bed.

Anthony said, “I’m going to rape your wife, and you’re going to have a front-row seat.”

“You’re a sick bastard.”

“No. I’m a nice guy. I told you, women and children get a pass. So I’m not going to kill her, but when I get through with her, she and you are go

I didn’t say anything, but I knew I had to make a move, even if it was a bad move. Where was the shotgun? It wasn’t where I’d left it propped against the nightstand. Maybe it was in the closet.

Anthony moved around to the far side of the bed, and he put the muzzle of the rifle to Susan’s head and said to me, “Crawl over to that radiator. Come on, asshole. Move it.”

I knew if I went to the radiator, I’d be cuffed to the pipe, and that would end any chance I had to turn this around.

Anthony picked up the leather belt on the bed, stepped back, and brought it down hard across Susan’s thighs. Her body arched, and I could hear a muffled scream through the tape.

He raised the belt again, and I shouted, “No!” I moved on my hands and knees toward the radiator under the window. I looked around the room as I crawled to the radiator and saw Susan’s robe and panties on the floor, and I also saw that the two suitcases were knocked off their luggage racks, and the clothes were strewn around the carpet. Where was the shotgun?

“Kneel next to the pipe with your back to the wall. I want you where you can get a good view.”

I knelt beside the radiator. He took another pair of handcuffs from his gun belt and flung them at me, hitting me in the face.

“Cuff yourself to the radiator.”

I hesitated, and he said, “You’re fucking with me, John. I don’t want to kill you. I want you to watch. Don’t fuck me up, and don’t fuck yourself up.”

I cuffed my left wrist to the radiator pipe and knelt, staring at him.

Anthony set the rifle on the bureau and looked at me. He said, “Okay, let the fun begin.”

He walked to the foot of the bed and looked at Susan. “Well, I can see why my father liked to fuck her. Good tits, nice ass, and great legs.”

Anthony had a script, a fantasy, and I knew he’d thought about this. And I hoped, too, that he really didn’t intend to commit a double murder.

He lit a cigarette and said to me, “So you were going to London. What’s the matter? You don’t like it here? Something here scare you?”

He drew on his cigarette and said, “Just so you know what to look forward to, John – you’re going to watch her give me a blow job, then I’m going to fuck her so hard she won’t be good for you anymore.”

When I didn’t respond, he said, “And you better watch, asshole. And when this is all over, you two will shut your fucking mouths and thank God you’re alive. But if you go to the cops, then I swear on my father’s grave, I’ll kill her, and I’ll kill your kids. No free pass for them if you go to the cops. Understand?”

I nodded.

“Okay. So you understand the rules. No one has to die. You just got to live with this so every time you fuck your wife, you can both think about me. Right?”

Again, I nodded.

“Good. And you don’t care, anyway. My father fucked her, I’m go