Suspicions 8/9
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"It's the delivery boy, all right," Clark said. "Wearing a Planet Security outfit, this time. Do you remember where you saw him, Sam?"
Sam shook his head. "Recently, but I don't know where."
"So, he's hanging around the Planet for some reason," Clark said.
"To keep an eye on me," Candy said.
"Probably. And that would make it pretty easy to slash the Jeep's tires, too," Clark said. He glanced at Candy. "I'm going to take a quick look around for Ellen. Don't leave, Candy. I don't want you to go to your apartment right now. This guy isn't just a random nut. He's a serial killer. If what Lois found out is right, and it sounds like it is, he's setting you up for a murder. All the killings happened in the last week of April, and that's this week. Let's not take chances, all right?"
Candy nodded. "You don't have to tell me twice," she said. "I'll stay right here."
"I'll be back in a little while and we'll figure out what to do," Clark assured her. "Jim, can you fax this picture to Wolff? Call him for me and tell him what we've figured out."
"You got it." Jim picked up the photo. "Maybe you could get Superman to look for Ellen. If that fax from Lois's friend is right, it sounds as if she could be in trouble."
"I may do that," Clark said. "I'll be back, shortly." He headed for the elevator at a half-run.
**********
And now, Part 8:
Ellen Lane stepped into the elevator, conscious of a slight sense of nervousness. In spite of her reasoning, the experience in the parking garage had left her a little shaken, but she wasn't going to let it get to her. She swallowed and pushed the button for the basement.
The elevator went into motion, and she grasped the handrail. Confronting her fears, she remembered her therapist saying, was one of the best ways of dealing with them. If you took them on directly, they couldn't eat at you and undermine your self-confidence. That was part of her problem, she thought. She tended to fret over problems until they looked bigger than they really were. Look at how she had built Clark's strange disappearances into something that they probably weren't. Clark had been amazingly patient with her really awful suspicions about him, and she very probably owed him an apology. Well, he would get one, when and if she discovered what was really going on.
The elevator slid to a stop on the eighth floor and two persons whom Ellen vaguely recognized got on. One of the men nodded at her in a friendly way, but didn't speak. His companion pressed the button for the first floor.
The car stopped again on the third floor and several more persons crowded on. The door closed, and the car moved downward once more. Finally, with a faint creak, it slid to a stop at the small lobby on the first floor. Most of the people exited, but Mary Adams, a fairly new tenant whose husband was a retired dentist, stayed on, apparently also headed for the parking garage.
The doors closed and the car started downward again. Mary glanced at her.
"How are you this afternoon, Ellen?"
"Oh, fine." Ellen grasped the rail for balance again, as the elevator had a tendency to give an occasional jolt as it moved. In spite of its elegance and an attempt at modernization, this was an old building. "How are you and Rory?"
"In excellent health, thank you." Mary also grasped the rail. "Did Security get hold of you?"
"Security?" Ellen asked. "No, why?"
"About noon, one of the guards stopped me in the lobby and asked where you lived. I think he must be new, because he didn't know. I told him you were married to Dr. Lane, in the penthouse apartment."
"I spoke to Security a little while ago. I'd lost my keys," Ellen said. "They didn't say anything about wanting to talk to me."
"Really?" Mary said. "That's odd. The guard had your keys. He was trying to return them to you."
**********
Sam watched the stair door close behind Clark. It was obvious in retrospect, he thought, that his son-in-law would take the stairs, not the elevator, as Sam had assumed he would. Clark could traverse the stairway in seconds and Superman would undoubtedly leave from the roof of the Daily Planet. It was fascinating to see the ways Clark had come up with to deal with his double life -- or it would have been, if he hadn't been so worried about Ellen.
He glanced at the print of the photo that Ellen had taken, lying on Jim Olsen's desk, and then walked over to pick it up. He frowned at the picture of the man in the security guard's uniform, wracking his brain. The face was familiar. He'd seen this man, and recently, but where? He'd even been in a similar outfit ...
"Holy ...!" He broke off the exclamation.
"What's the matter, Sam?" Jim had half-risen from his desk, the telephone receiver in one hand.
"I know where I saw this guy! He was standing right outside the penthouse door when I left it, a couple of hours ago!"
Perry White had come out of his office and now he crossed the room to Jim's desk. "What's goin' on?"
Sam thrust the paper into the editor's hand. "Jim can tell you! I have to get back! He's looking for Ellen!"
"What?" Perry said. He looked at the paper. "What's this?"
"But Ellen was here," Jim said. "He couldn't have found her."
"But, what if she went home?" Sam started for the elevator. "When Clark comes back, tell him where I went. And if he finds her first, tell him to call me right away!"
"You got it, Sam. And I'll tell Wolff what you said." Jim was punching a number into the phone as he spoke.
Sam barely heard him. He almost ran up the ramp to the elevator and rang for the car. His hands were shaking. If Ellen had gone back to the penthouse, the guy could have found her. He could have killed her already!
The elevator car arrived, after an interminable wait. He squeezed through the doors before they had entirely finished opening and was pushing the button for the first floor.
He had never realized before how unbearably slow the elevator for the Planet was. The doors took their time closing, and then the car moved downward at the pace of a dying snail. By some miracle, it didn't stop before it reached the main floor, although for a short time, he was positive that it had stalled. At long last, the doors opened on the lobby of the Daily Planet.
He shoved his way rudely through the cluster of persons waiting for the elevator. It was faster to go out the side door than to try to crowd through the mob at the revolving doors. His car was parked halfway down the block, and Sam literally ran toward it, vaguely grateful, in the back of his mind, that he made a point of playing tennis three times a week to keep in shape. Heads turned as he went by, but he didn't slow down.
He was shaking so hard that he missed the door lock twice with the key before he forced his hand to stop trembling long enough to insert it and unlock the door. Wrenching it open, he yanked the seatbelt over his torso with one hand, while jamming the key into the ignition with the other. As the engine roared to life, he belatedly shut the door and twisted about.
The car behind him had pulled in close. Sam made himself back carefully and move out into traffic with a modicum of caution. He didn't know that Ellen was at the apartment building, he reminded himself. Chances were that she was still around here somewhere, and that Clark would find her, but the near-panic that welled up in him wasn't rational. Somewhere near their home, a killer was lying in wait for Ellen. He had to be sure that she was all right. He wasn't going to let a man who was already a murderer harm his wife!
Traffic was starting to get heavy. Early afternoon rush hour was already underway, and veteran rush hour drivers neither gave nor expected quarter. Sam, in general, avoided driving during rush hour. The big, black Mercedes was his pride and joy, and he didn't even like to contemplate the thought of picking up a scratch or a ding on it's sleek exterior, but now, that consideration was nonexistent in his mind. He changed lanes under the nose of a gasoline truck and promptly switched lanes again into a space barely longer than the car. Brakes screeched behind him and horns blared, but he paid no attention, swinging left around the corner against the red light, with inches to spare ahead of oncoming traffic. The driver of a bright red Ferrari saw the big, black car directly in his path and jammed on his brakes. Tires squealed and another chorus of horns sounded, but Sam shot across the intersection, turned left into the nearest open lane and stepped on the gas.
**********
"He had my *keys*?" Ellen repeated.
"Yes. He showed them to me. He said he'd found them in the lobby. A key ring with a gold tag on them that had your name engraved on it. I offered to take them and be sure you got them back, but he said he couldn't legally do that. So, I told him where you lived."
"Oh." Ellen smiled mechanically. She'd been sure she'd lost those keys at the Daily Planet. Was it possible she'd been mistaken?
No, it wasn't. She'd driven to the Planet, and she'd had to use her keys to do it. The security guard had lied, and there was only one reason he would do that. Ellen gulped down the lump of panic that tried to rise in her throat. This time she couldn't tell herself that it was all her imagination.
There was a chime as the elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened. Mary stepped out, waving one hand at Ellen and breezed away down an aisle of cars toward her assigned spot. Ellen automatically stepped out after her.
Wait a minute! What was she doing? If that guy was still looking for her, this was the obvious place for him to do so! Ellen spun, reaching for the call button, but the doors had already closed as she did so and the lighted "B" on the display panel went out. The number "1" lit up.
Frantically, she pushed the call button several times, looking around as she did so. No one was in sight, but she heard the engine of a car start up somewhere. That was probably Mary, she thought.
The lighted "1" went out, and after a few seconds the "2" lit up.
This wasn't going to work, she thought. Standing here, waiting for the elevator to come back was making her a target. But, what should she do?
Her car was only two rows away. Once in it, she would be fairly safe. She could drive out of here and back to the Planet. Clark would know what to do, she thought. He always seemed to, anyway. Wait! Why not call him? She had her phone, now. She was no longer isolated just because no one was nearby.
She had started to reach for the catch of her purse, when she heard the echo of footsteps light and quick on the concrete. They stopped, and she waited, straining her ears in the silence that had descended.
Another rush of footsteps, and again, silence.
She felt as if she were spotlighted in front of the elevator, a target for whoever it was that was stalking her so frighteningly. She couldn't stay here!
Cars were parked on either side of the elevator doors, close to the concrete wall, the nearest no more than ten feet away. Ellen turned and half ran toward it, her own footsteps almost silent in the rubber-soled jogging shoes.
Somewhere, she could hear more footsteps. The echoes of this place made it difficult to tell exactly where they were coming from, but she was fairly certain they were still some distance away. Still, he must be able to see her, or he wouldn't be coming toward her. The only reason he was being careful, she thought, must be the fear that someone else would suddenly appear on the scene, or perhaps a car would drive into the garage, and the occupants would see him.
One of the big, concrete supports loomed on her right, and she ducked behind it, breathing hard. This wouldn't do as a hiding place, she thought. He had probably seen where she went, but there was a row of cars only a few feet beyond. If she ducked into that, keeping as low as possible, perhaps he wouldn't be able to tell for sure where she had gone. All she needed was a few, uninterrupted seconds to call for help.
She looked around. No one was visible from her position against the concrete pillar, but the thought that he might be sneaking up from the other side left her almost breathless with fright. She gathered her nerve and made a rush for the row of cars. There was a space between the fenders and the wall. She edged between it, made her way along the wall. If he tried to come at her now, at least she would have plenty of warning.
But, he could see her, and she couldn't see him. That gave him the advantage. What if he had a gun?
There was another uneven rush of footsteps that echoed around her and a glimpse of movement among the cars some twenty yards away made her hair try to stand on end. She fished in her purse, groping for the cell phone.
"Ellen." The voice echoed softly around the concrete structure. "Come on, Ellen. You can't get away. You're twice my age, and I can move faster than you. Why don't you just give up?"
She flattened herself against the wall, watching the spot where she had seen that flash of movement.
Soft laughter. "Stupid. I'm coming for you, Ellen. Maybe, if you're a good girl, I'll make it quick."
He was right. He had all the advantage. What would Lois do in this situation? Ellen looked right and left, frantically searching for some way to help even the odds.
"I've turned off the intercom, Ellen. If you scream, Security won't hear you. You can scream your head off, and nobody will come."
To her left, farther along the wall, was a metal box. It had the circuit breakers for the lights here in the garage, and the padlock had been gone for months. If her pursuer couldn't see her, it would make it harder for him to locate her, or to shoot at her, and might give her a better chance. In four steps she was at the box and jerking it open. Quickly, she snapped all the switches, one after another. The parking garage was plunged into dimness.
She could hear the footsteps coming toward her again, and she ducked between the cars, bending low, and scurried as fast as she could toward the next aisle, her feet nearly silent in the rubber soles.
Her heart was beating like a hammer in her chest, but the trembling and feelings of panic were under control. She had always assumed that she would freeze with terror if she were ever faced with something like her daughter faced on a semi-regular basis, but she hadn't. All she felt was a determination to survive, somehow. Was this how Lois felt in a tight situation?
All she needed to do was to find a place to hide for a few minutes. If nothing else, she could speed dial Lois. Her daughter could call the police. Or Superman. Superman always seemed to show up when Lois needed him. Maybe he would come for her, too.
Faint light leaked into the parking garage from the entranceway, but deeper in the structure, the darkness was nearly complete. She scooted around the rear of a convertible and scuttled, crouching low, down the row of cars.
"That wasn't very nice, Ellen," the soft voice echoed around her, mocking her and she resolutely strove to ignore the shivers it sent up her spine. "Now, I'll have to make you sorry for what you did. Why don't you just give up?"
Giving up wasn't in the cards, she thought. Not this time. Not in the most important contest of her life. She was through giving up. She knew where that got her.
She could hear her pursuer's footsteps back the way she had come. He was bound to turn the lights back on any second. She needed to find a hiding place as quickly as she could.
The next vehicle in the row was an SUV. She slipped around it and pressed her back to it, trying to breathe quietly, and found herself silently giving thanks to her aerobics instructor for getting her into the shape where she could actually tolerate this kind of strenuous activity. She groped in her purse again and her hand closed around the cellular phone.
The lights blazed back on, seeming much brighter than a few moments before, although she knew that it was only an illusion. She flipped open the phone and her finger punched the two-number combination to speed-dial Lois.
"I see you!" The voice sounded much louder, bouncing around the walls of the cavernous space.
She didn't think he did. It was a trick to lure her out, to make her bolt from cover, but she could feel her heartbeat speed up.
The phone was ringing, and Lois's voice was suddenly answering. "Hello? Mother?"
"Lois, help!" she whispered into the little mouthpiece, as loudly as she could. "Help!"
**********
The apartment building loomed ahead and Sam swung into the garage entrance. His heart was still pounding with dread. In spite of his aggressive driving, to describe it in the best possible light, it had taken too long to get here, even though his watch only said ten minutes. The thing was broken; it was the only explanation.
He pulled to a stop at the barrier and rolled down his window, fumbling for his parking pass, and a woman's scream made his heart leap into his throat. That was Ellen's voice.
The plastic card dropped to the ground and Sam shoved his foot to the floor. He barely noticed the wooden arm snap like balsa wood as the Mercedes lunged forward.
**********
"Mother? Where are you?"
"Pent --" She broke off as the footsteps pounded toward her. He had heard the whisper. The echoes of this place had given her away.
The figure of a man clad in the uniform of a security guard appeared suddenly, less than ten feet from her hiding place. Ellen screamed and threw the phone at him. He ducked, and incredibly the little instrument bounced off the bridge of his nose. She turned to run, one hand groping in the pocket of her suit as he recovered and lunged toward her, his hands outstretched. His clutching fingers caught the sleeve of her jacket and she screamed again, trying to wrench free.
There was a screech of tires and a splintering crash, and her assailant jerked halfway around. Unbelieving, Ellen saw Sam's treasured Mercedes as it burst into the garage, part of the splintered, wooden arm that regulated cars entering the lot still clinging to the grill, as she aimed the little canister of teargas and sprayed her captor full in the face.
The Mercedes screeched to a stop and Sam leaped out. "Ellen!"
The would-be assailant was clutching his face, choking and coughing, tears running down his cheeks. Ellen sprayed him again, for good measure. Sam ran toward her, and Ellen saw that his face was unnaturally white. "Ellen, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Sam. This man --"
"He's a murderer." Sam grabbed her and held her tight against him. "My God, I've never been so scared in my life!"
There was a whoosh of air, heralding the arrival of Superman, but held tightly in Sam's arms, Ellen barely noticed.
**********
(tbc)
