Chapter 2: Discovery

May 11^th 2007: Jennifer stood staring at the damn door. It used to be called the basement door, now in her mind it was the damn door. It was solid oak, like all the doors in the house, but this one was always locked. The normal handle lock was present, but there was also a heavy deadbolt, which was driving her insane. A deadbolt for a door going from inside the house to a basement with no door outside was paranoid wasn't it?

Jennifer worked in the house, forty hours a week, sometimes more, sometimes less, she was the confidential assistant to William Carter, the famous mystery writer. She had been working for Bill for six months, since she had been hired in November, and other than a few details, loved her job. Probably because she had fallen in love with Bill minutes after meeting him. Her attempts to flirt or make passes at him had all been returned, but Bill had never followed up on those verbal games. Occasionally Bill would stand very close to her, leaning over her to read something or explain the way he wanted to see something done, and Jennifer would feel her insides melt, and her heart would ache for the day when he would place his arms around her, and kiss her deeply. Jennifer was convinced the key to his heart lay in the basement. It had to, there was no reason for a deadbolt lock on the door otherwise.

Jennifer's job had her in the home office with him all day, and most of the time all she had to do was answer fan mail forwarded from the publisher. This wasn't as hard as it might seem as almost all the questions that people asked had answers prepared in snippets saved to the computer. Jennifer would personalize these responses into a quasi form letter, which would then be printed, folded, and mailed each day. She had to arrange travel and hotels when he would fly off to do a book signing or some interview.

For the mailings, there was a stack of publicity photographs and a slick program that would sign them in Bill's handwriting with whatever message Jennifer thought was appropriate. She handled all of Bill's daily detail stuff so he could write. Mysteries usually sell fairly well, and Bill's books were very popular. He had a dedicated fan base, because he never withheld a clue, always giving the key information somewhere. He would give you something terribly small, seemingly insignificant in the early part of the book, and then use it to solve the mystery later. This early vital clue, the one small detail, was the needle in the haystack that would solve the case. Bill was also good at giving you false clues, things that seemed important, or pointed to one character who was really innocent, Bill would usually tossed in a couple of those to fool the reader.

Among the few small annoyances in working for Bill was that he would disappear for the weekend twice a month or so, without any information on where he was going. She was specifically forbidden from calling his cell phone, and in case of an emergency, she could send a text message. An emergency being defined as death, dismemberment, or the house burning down. There was also the damn door.

Jennifer was working on solving that particular mystery, she was convinced she had clues to the mystery of the damn door. One just had to be a clue. For the past month, she had been working this clue and found nothing so far.

Six weeks ago, he had returned from one of his reclusive weekends away, and Jennifer was in an insulted mood. She was the confidential assistant, and supposed to be involved in everything, but he cut her out whenever he felt like it. She had made this point before, and during this discussion, she pointed out how he was too valuable to disappear like that, and needed to work with her. His answer had been a clue, it had to be.

"Jennifer, I don't think you're really in the position to chastise me, just in case you had forgotten who the boss is." Bill had said ending the discussion.

Chastise, he had never used that word before, or since. He had never written the word in any of his books. It wasn't a word he used and Jennifer had searched all the texts of his books in the computer. It had to be a clue, it just had to be. There were other clues that said the key had to be here. In Bill's second book, the investigator was looking to enter a house, and told his partner "When you're trying to get into a locked house, look close to the door for a hidden key." In the book, they found a key, but didn't just about everyone hide a key within a few steps of the door?

Jennifer was currently in the library located across the hall from the basement door looking for the key, feeling that it had to be hidden here. The house was empty because Bill was off on one of his secret weekends. She had time to work the clues.

She looked behind the bookshelves she could reach, nothing. Perhaps behind one of the books, but there had to be at least three thousand books in this room. Some old, some new, arranged by a plan that only Bill understood. Which book would he have hidden it behind? Jennifer started scanning titles looking for Chastise or some other word that leaped out at her as significant. Jennifer followed the books from the left side of the door, and after covering half the left wall, gave up. It was getting too far from the door.

Going back to the door, she started on the right side of the room scanning titles again looking for something to leap out at her, and finding nothing. Looking at her watch, and noticing it was almost eleven, Jennifer sighed and decided to finish her days work, and go home. It was the one fringe benefit of his secret weekends; she was free to leave when she was done answering mail.

Jennifer sat with her lunch, a small chef's salad, and finished printing the responses, and customizing the pictures, putting them in envelopes to be mailed out Monday. She put her computer to sleep, and standing headed for the front door slinging her purse over her left shoulder. Just as she passed the library, she stepped inside, wondering what she had missed, what had she just not seen.

Jennifer walked around the Library one last time, she looked around the room, waiting for something to wave at her and scream, "It's me, or I'm the next clue." Nothing did, and Jennifer rolled her eyes in exasperation and started to leave.

Stopping after the first step, she turned slightly to her left looking at a shelf. One book did not fit the shelf. The other books were brown, this one was blue. It was right by the door, and the blue book was taller than the brown ones. Squatting down Jennifer looked at the title, "Justine and other stories by the Marquis de Sade" was one the spine.

Jennifer pulled the book partially out and looked behind it, no key. Damn, well it was worth a shot. Standing and headed for the door again Jennifer resolved to put it out of her mind. Jennifer remembered reading that book in College. Her copy hadn't been a collection, but the story itself in a single novella form. Jennifer stopped in mid stride just short of the front door. Her book had been titled "Justine, or Good Conduct well Chastised."

CHASTISED. "Shit" Jennifer said turning and dropping her purse. Rushing back, she pulled the book from the shelf and opened the cover. Inside was a table of contents, and Jennifer felt the rush of satisfaction on that victory. Chastise, yes it was chastised. Jennifer started to flip through the book, but it didn't open right. The book was hollowed out, and inside the hollowed out area, a ring with two keys.

Jennifer's eyes gleamed with triumph as she took the keys, laying the book aside on a table and walked across the hall. She smiled knowing that this was the key to the door, and the door the key to the mystery she had been living. Jennifer unlocked the deadbolt, and then the handle lock turned easily with the key. Opening the door, she did not notice the magnetic sensor built into the doorframe, which registered the movement of the magnet in the edge of the door. The computer did the rest six seconds later, sending a text message to the address in its memory. As Jennifer reached the bottom of the stairs to the darkened basement, Bill's cell phone had begun to vibrate the notification of a received message.

Jennifer found the switch at the bottom of the stairs, and turning the lights on, stood stunned and looked at the basement, no it was a torture chamber. There were cages, a leather topped table, chains, whips, bookshelves, and an incredible assortment of sex items. No wonder he hid the key in a book by the Marquis de Sade. This could be a shrine to the sadist philosophy.

Jennifer stepped around, looking at everything, feeling numb from the shock. She saw chairs that had bindings built in, more bindings, both leather and steel hung from the walls. Erotic art hung almost everywhere, and each one had a similar motif, a woman bound, granted they were artfully done, each picture displayed different bondage positions and style. Jennifer felt a small thrill rush through her as she remembered when she had enjoyed such things. Her hand rested on a table as she looked at a picture of a woman spread eagle on a large wooden X, stretched taught by bindings on her wrists and ankles, another strap around her waist.

She turned and found her hand resting on a leather binding attached to a chain at the corner of the leather covered table. Her fingers danced across the chain, and for a moment she wondered what it would feel like to be stretched across this table, and have Bill on top of her prostrated and helpless form. Her stomach tightened and her nipples stiffened slightly at this mental image.

Jennifer angrily shook this out of her mind. She didn't do that anymore, and she told herself she wasn't going to be sucked back into it now. She had that demon purged from her long ago, when Jeremy had cheated on her and then abused her. Never again would she be helpless.

Bill had been driving on I-16, out of Savannah; after a morning meeting with his broker, and then had reluctantly accepted the inevitable lunch invitation. He was headed west, and was ten minutes past the main Statesboro exit when his cell phone buzzed at him. He growled "This had better be an emergency, It's my weekend away damn it." He reached for his cell phone and a couple button pushes later, was reading the message at sixty-five miles per hour. He read it twice to make sure he was not mistaken. "I think this qualifies."

"Secure Door Breach" was the entire message. Three words that told him everything. Jennifer was in the basement, and he needed to be there soon to talk to her. He needed to talk to her before she ran screaming from the house.

He accelerated to seventy-five, and made an illegal U-turn across the median, and accelerated back towards Statesboro. He got off on the right exit. He pushed past the speed limits on all the roads towards home, ignoring a yellow light that turned red as he reached the intersection. Fortunately during the entire drive, his radar detector had remained silent, and no police observed his somewhat reckless driving.