Tuesday 16:57 Somewhere in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, Alberta, Canada
Thunder rumbled outside as the taller of the three men tucked the cell phone into his back pocket. “We’re to take him downstairs. Bag him again.”
“No,” Michael shouted. “Please, no!” But it was too late. The wrap that smelled like an old barn was encased over his head once again and he was wrestled up from the single chair inside the huge, empty, multi-car garage by his armpits and steered across the concrete floor. He whimpered.
Rain began to pour down outside and the building vibrated as another thunderous boom erupted nearby.
“I’ve told you everything! Please, let me go!”
His armpits hurt as the fingers of each man on either side dug up into the crevices as they manhandled him. His hands remained bound together behind his back.
“Watch your step here. There’s a step up.”
A door was opened and Michael lifted his feet high and stepped inside. It took a few minutes to cross a long hallway, descend a set of stairs, and cross another long hallway. He was soon seated on a leather couch in the lower level of the building. The wrap around his head was removed and the tie-wraps cut. He rubbed his wrists. A red mark was visible on both, his left suffering a small abrasion from when he was stomped on earlier. The small smear of blood that eked out had dried long ago.
“Make yourself comfortable.”
He looked up at the two faceless men. Black shrouds shielded all but their eyes.
“You want a drink? A soda?”
Michael shook his head. He wanted to go home.
One of the men left the room. The other walked across the small apartment to the galley kitchen. He opened the fridge. “Wow,” he said, and reached inside and removed a beer. He raised it towards Michael. “You want one?”
Michael shook his head.
“Suit yourself,” he replied and twisted off the cap. “They’re cold. You look like you could use one right now.”
Michael shrugged. His mind swirled. With his heightened anxiety came the return of the whispers.
The man crossed the room and dropped into the small chair opposite Michael.
“Look,” the man said. “If we were going to hurt you we would have done that already.”
It was hard for Michael to believe anything right now.
They took Lucy. Now it’s you they’ve come for, Michael.
Michael tried to speak. He stammered. The whispers made it hard to focus. “I’m not…I mean…what are you going to do? Uh…to me, I mean…uh…then?”
The man tugged up the bottom of his balaclava and guzzled back half the bottle of beer and belched once.
“I just told you.” He laughed. “We’re not going to do anything to you.” He chugged back more of the beer. It seemed like he was trying to finish it before his mate returned.
“Then…when can I go? Please, just let me go.”
“Can’t do that.” He finished the beer, got up out of the chair, and returned the empty into the kitchen.
You know it’s about Lucy.
“But why? I don’t understand.”
“There’s not much to understand. Our boss wants you to be our guest for a while. While you’re here, he wants answers. That’s it.”
“I already told you what I know. I don’t know who any of you are.”
The man returned to the seat and stared at Michael. Michael dropped his eyes and looked away.
“I don’t know any of you,” he said again. “If that’s why you grabbed me.…”
The man remained silently staring at Michael.
They know, Michael. They know you were hiding and have come back for you. Run if you can, Michael. If you see a chance…take it.
“No, I am pretty sure you don’t know who we are. Not me at least,” he said as he placed his fingers on his chest. “I’ve never met you before.”
Why did they take Lucy?
Michael trembled. He glanced up. The man was still staring at him. He dropped his eyes again.
“Why…?” he asked.
The man chuckled. “Why what?”
“Why did you take her? What did she do?”
The man didn’t respond.
Michael looked up and probed the man’s eyes as he asked his question again. “Why did you have to kidnap her? What did she do? Huh? What did she do that she deserved to die?”
Michael couldn’t tell for sure because of the balaclava pulled over the man’s head, but he thought he saw the man frown.
He doesn’t know, Michael. You saw what he just did. He doesn’t know she was killed. Ask him if he knows.
“You weren’t part of it, were you?” Michael asked. He tried to read what he could from the man’s eyes. “Answer me…please. I need to know why. Why did she have to die?”
The man shifted his feet, blinked rapidly a few times, and broke Michael’s stare.
Did you see that, Michael? He looked away.
Michael dropped his head. Tears had formed as he thought of Lucy. He wiped them away and looked back up. “You don’t know what really happened, do you?”
The two locked eyes again.
“You don’t even know what I’m talking about,” he added.
The man shifted his feet, crossed his arms, and looked towards the door and back at Michael.
“Your friends kidnapped her and threw her off a mountain,” Michael said.
He had no idea if these men were the same men that grabbed Lucy, but it was the only thing that seemed to make sense.
The man cleared his throat once, glanced briefly towards the door and then leaned in towards Michael. “What did you say?”
“On Saturday. They threw her off a mountain. She didn’t fall. I know because.…”
Michael! Stop talking! Stop now! This is a bad path to go down with these men.
The man leaned even further towards Michael. He was only a foot away. “Who threw who off a mountain?” he asked quietly. “Is that…?” He stopped and pointed up, probably to the garage where he had been interrogated. The house shook again as the storm above continued to thrash about.
He doesn’t know, Michael. Stop talking. This is bad.
“Your friends threw Lucy off a mountain. She was my girlfriend.”
The man leaned back. He looked towards the door and remained staring at it for far too long before looking back at Michael and placing one hand on his chest. “My friends?”
“Yes. Your friends. They took her on Friday and threw her off the mountain on Saturday.”
The man leaned back, stood, and put one hand to his chin. “Are you talking about Mr. Metcalf’s daughter?”
“Yes,” Michael replied. “Lucy. She didn’t fall off a mountain while hiking.”
Now you did it, Michael. You’re dead. You might as well tell them to shoot you right here.
The door to the apartment opened and one of the other men entered.
“The pizzas will be ready for pickup soon. Did you offer him anything to drink yet? He still looks pretty upset.”
“Uh, yeah,” the other replied. “He, uh…he didn’t want anything” He kept staring at Michael and Michael returned his stare.
Only the muffled rumbles of the fury outside could be heard. Neither Michael nor his captor spoke another word about Lucy.