***
One Week Later
The case against Evelyn Bailey was well on its way to becoming national news. The real estate heiress proclaimed her innocence each step of the way while deploying a highly-skilled legal defense team to tackled each charge against her, from conspiracy to commit murder to false statements to the police.
She admitted talking with Salazar, even knowing him, but said that he had been hired to fix the plumbing in the Bailey mansion while claiming no knowledge of his plans to break into the place and murder her aunt. Salazar, of course, told an entirely different story.
There was no doubt, however, that he was going to face most of the charges. Financial transactions showed only two hundred dollars from Evelyn Bailey to Salazar, justified as payment for an estimate. The audio of her discussing bilking her aunt with dozens of fraudulent charities was questioned as well. Regardless of the outcome, Dobson was satisfied with simply seeing the truth come to light.
And then there was Lieutenant Fitzpatrick. While in custody, the young star detective admitted to planting evidence in Randall Morris’s trailer and was charged with a number of felonies he would soon face in court. He admitted to being seduced by Evelyn and manipulated into putting Morris away for good, since he was such a burden on the community. Strangely enough, Dobson felt little gratification in seeing the lieutenant placed in handcuffs. The entire department was prepared for the fallout of negative press, but it was Dobson who was blamed by the other officers for the black-eye to the department.
He arrived home Wednesday evening, after a particularly uneventful day spent reading files to an open case and finding both Rachel and Penny home and in low spirits. Penny’s condition, Rachel said, was going steadily from bad to worse, and earlier, she’d had a bad episode. Dobson knew the prognosis. As a twenty-three-year-old cystic fibrosis patient, the doctors told them that Penny would soon need to look into possibilities for a lung transplant. The thought terrified him, as it did Penny and her mother.
He sat down on the couch with his TV remote in hand and turned on the evening news. Rachel was making spaghetti in the kitchen as Penny lay in her bed, sleeping from the litany of medications she was on. For a moment, Dobson felt strangely alone. The aura of the house seemed empty and bleak, foretelling darkness on the horizon. Rachel and Penny weren’t acting like themselves. Neither had had much to say about the case he’d broken the week prior. His name had been in the news. He was something of a small-town celebrity. His wife and daughter, however, didn’t seem to notice. They had other, more important, things on their minds. Dobson could understand. Yet part of him wanted to get away. To get away from the house and maybe the entire town. He needed a break; a vacation from everything.
A breaking news bulletin suddenly came on the TV that piqued his interest. He turned up the volume as the screen displayed a mugshot of Randall Morris. At first, he thought it yet another recap of the Bailey murder, but no, something was different. They weren’t referring to that case at all.
“Newly released former convict, Randall Morris, has been shot and killed after a standoff with police that involved the fatal shooting of thirty-four-year-old convenience store clerk, Adam Hopkins, and police sergeant Devin McNeal, a twenty-year veteran of the force. McNeal was shot and killed while trying to apprehend Mr. Morris, following the deadly afternoon robbery that occurred a few hours ago in Nashville, Tennessee, where investigators say Morris was planning a nation-wide crime spree.”
Dobson froze in his seat, aghast as the reporter continued.
“The baffling crime spree happened only days after Mr. Morris was released following a wrongful arrest, in which Summerville Police Detective Lieutenant Fitzpatrick was charged with planting evidence to implicate Morris in the death of Andrea Bailey, the wife of wealthy real-estate magnate George Bailey. Some in Nashville say that Morris should never have been released.”
Dobson’s cell phone suddenly rang as a wave of sickness gripped his stomach. He slowly reached for the phone and tried to speak, but words could barely come out.
“Yes…”
“Hey, buddy. Did you hear about Morris?” Harris’s voice said.
Dobson swallowed as his body tingled and his heart thumped wildly in his chest. “I… I just saw it on TV. Is this for real?”
“Unfortunately, Mike. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I don’t know, Jack,” he said, lowering the cell phone, eyes locked on the screen. “I don’t know.”
No Police
It had been a restless night for Victoria. She might have had two or three hours’ sleep. By the next morning, she woke up, staring at the ceiling, her mind drifting, the blurred line between reality and fantasy not too clear. She hadn’t seen Todd in almost two days. The affair still jabbed at her insides like a dull knife. His betrayal was still fresh in her mind. She felt angered and vindicated, but it wasn’t all about Todd. Her mystery stalker was a close second in her growing emotional turmoil. She’d make him pay too, if given the chance.
It was a Saturday morning, and normally she’d be up and making pancakes. Instead, she lay paralyzed with grief and hurt—a stomach in knots and a dazed sickness that consumed her in the darkness of her room. She could hear the TV on in the living room. Brooke was up, and no doubt expecting breakfast.
Victoria pulled the covers off, sat up in her T-shirt and underwear, and then crawled to the bathroom, where she washed her face under the glow of the circular bulbs above. The stone-cold reflection in the mirror was barely recognizable.
She slipped on her blue bathrobe and left her room, not quite prepared for the sunlight radiating from the open windows throughout the house. As she entered the kitchen, she saw Brooke at the table eating cereal with the TV blasting in the distance.
“You’re up,” Brooke said, smiling.
“Good morning,” Victoria said in a strained, croaky voice.
Brooke eyed her suspiciously. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” she said, trudging toward the coffee maker. “Just a little under the weather today.”
“I wanted to make you breakfast, but we’re all out of milk.”
“What are you using there?” Victoria asked, pointing to her cereal.
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Please. There was barely enough for this.”
Victoria continued to the counter with her back toward Brooke. “That’s fine. I’ll think of something.”
“Remember, I’m staying at Katie’s slumber party tonight, Brooke said.
Victoria set the coffee maker and turned around. “Do you have any homework?”
“Yes,” Brooke said. “I’ll do it today, before I leave.”
“Good then,” Victoria said as she walked over and gave her a kiss on top of her head.
Brooke then got up and left the kitchen with her bowl of cereal, sitting on the couch to watch TV. Victoria opened the blinds of the kitchen window and stared outside to a seemingly peaceful street, Todd’s spot in the driveway empty. She thought it better for Brooke to be stay at her friend’s house anyway. They could visit her parents next weekend and get away from it all. That was what she needed.
The morning paper rested at the end of the driveway. Normally, it was Todd who grabbed it first thing in the morning. She couldn’t believe he had snuck into the house while she wasn’t there and left a note. But it was just like him to do so. Part of her was relieved that he had made no attempts to call her or Brooke. Another part of her wondered why. While the coffee was brewing, she decided to take a walk outside and retrieve the paper.
She put her slippers on in the foyer, where she often left them, and then opened the front door. The porch was shaded under a small roof and as she stepped out, her foot bumped against something resting up against the doorstep. She froze and looked down as a shiver traveled down her spine. A large green box sat there, three times the size of the last one, with a red ribbon tied around all
four sides and a bow on top. She backed away, petrified as she heard a muffled whimper and scratching, as if something alive were inside.
She looked around the yard beyond the front porch and saw no one. Not a single trace. The morning paper no longer mattered. She ducked back inside the house, trying to remember where she’d left her cell phone. Detective Weaver’s card was somewhere as well. The whimper inside the box suddenly shifted to a faint yelp. Or was it a bark? Brooke appeared behind her mother, curious.
“What’s going on, Mom?”
Victoria raised her hand up. “Stay right there, Brooke! Don’t come an inch closer!”
Another muffled bark followed as the box shook, the sound of claws scrapping inside. Brooke couldn’t help but squeeze past to get a better view.
“What did I say?” Victoria shouted.
“There’s something in there,” Brooke said, staring down at the box. “Don’t you hear that?”
“Go get my cell phone,” she said. “I’m calling the police.”
Brooke went to her knees and pressed her ear against the box, listening. A smile suddenly came across her face, her eyes widening. “Oh my gosh…”
Victoria leaned forward and pulled Brooke toward her, hoisting her up. “I said to stay away.”
“It sounds like a dog, Mom! Don’t you hear it?” she said, trying to squirm from Victoria’s grip.
“I don’t care. I don’t want you near that box. Do you hear me?”
Brooke held a finger to her lip, shushing her. “Listen.”
Victoria went quiet as the box shook with several unmistakable barks from what sounded like a puppy.
Brooke lunged forward, freeing herself and dropping to her knees at the doorstep. “You can’t keep him in there, Mom. Let him out!”
“Stop it,” Victoria said. “We don’t know what’s in there.” But the continual barking proved otherwise. Her mind raced with an explanation. Was it Todd’s doing? He was crazy enough to put a puppy into a box and leave it on their doorstep. If that was the case, she was even angrier with him than before. How long had the poor thing been sitting there, cramped up in a little box? Or were her senses deceiving her? Was there really anything living in the box?
“Step back,” she said sternly.
Brooke glanced up and then slowly moved back as Victoria crouched down and carefully lifted the box with both hands. There was no note or writing on the box. Its anonymous delivery had been deliberate. She ducked back inside, struggling with the box, and walked to the kitchen with Brooke eagerly following. The barking continued as the weight shifted inside. Victoria was quick to set it down, as she carefully backed away.
“Well…” Brooke said from behind. “Are we going to open it?”
Victoria brought a hand to her forehead. “Just… give me a minute, okay?”
But Brooke already had a pair of scissors in her hand for the ribbon. “Maybe Dad dropped it off.”
“I don’t know,” Victoria said. “But hand me the scissors and stay back.”
Victoria took the scissors and approached what resembled a present under the Christmas tree—colorful and neatly wrapped, just like the smaller package she had received two days before. She snipped at the ribbon on all sides and then carefully lifted the lid a few inches from the box. She saw a puppy’s nose immediately stick out, sniffing the air.
Brooke pushed her way forward, full of excitement, leaving Victoria little choice but to remove the lid altogether.
“I can’t believe it!” Brooke shouted, ecstatic. “You got me a puppy!”
Inside the box, a small Golden Retriever began jumping on its hind legs, excited and trying to claw its way out. Brooke dipped her hands inside and grabbed the puppy, pulling it out and holding it above her head. “He’s adorable! This is the best birthday present ever!”
Victoria stood back, unsure of what to do or say. The puppy’s tongue was hanging out, as if it might be smiling, its tail kept wagging, and there was no separating Brooke from what appeared to be love at first sight.
“Hold on,” Victoria said. “We don’t even know if it’s had its shots yet.”
“It’s a boy,” Brooke said, holding him up. “I think I’ll call him Henry.”
“Are you listening?” Victoria asked, stepping forward.
Brooke turned to her, innocent-like and cradling the puppy in her arms. “Can we go to the vet today, then? Please?” The puppy licked her face, tail wagging. “Just wait until I tell Katie. She’s going to be so jealous.”
Victoria leaned forward and peered into the box to see what else might be in there. Inside was a plastic dog bone and a DVD case with her name scribbled across it in black marker.
“Can I take him for a walk, Mom?”
Victoria stared into the box, hesitant to touch anything.
“Mom?”
Victoria turned, shaking her head. “Go to your room. Take-take the dog and put him in the bathroom or something.”
“But, Mom!”
Victoria cut across the air with her hands. “Brooke. Now!”
“I don’t want to leave Henry. He’ll be afraid.”
“Give me the dog,” she said, reaching for it.
“No, Mom. Please!” Brooke cried.
Victoria looked at her sharply. “We don’t know where this came from. It’s not safe.”
“He’s just a puppy. And if you didn’t get him for me, then it must have been Dad.” She pulled the puppy closer and protected him from Victoria’s grasp. Its innocent, brown eyes glanced up at her as it licked Brooke’s cheek.
“Fine. Take him into your room, and give me a minute to sort this out. It’s not even the kind of dog you wanted.”
“I don’t care,” Brooke said, leaving the kitchen with Henry in her arms. “He’s perfect.”
Victoria stared into the box with her hands on her hips as Brooke’s door closed. She then turned and went to the sink, looking out into the front yard. Gray storm clouds had formed on the horizon, and the trees in the front yard swayed with a building breeze. She wished that she had woken up sooner and caught the person who left the box. The situation was uncanny, impossible to figure out. Why a dog? Unless it was Todd, how did they know?
Victoria reached into the box for the disc, storming out of the kitchen and into the living room. Her cell phone rested on the coffee table, within reach. She paced the room, trying to decide what to do, deciding there was choice but to call Todd.
Then, stopping at the TV, she had second thoughts. No, she told herself. You can do this on your own. you don’t need to call Todd.
She opened the case and took the disc out, inserting it into their DVD player. She then backed away with the remote in hand, staring hesitantly at the television’s blue screen. But she couldn’t make herself push the Play button.
She looked at the phone, picked it up and held it against her ear, calling Todd’s number. It went to straight to voicemail. She hung up and called again, feeling increasingly desperate.
“Hi, this is Todd Owens. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back with you as soon as I can. Thank you.”
She waited for the beep and spoke. “Damn it, Todd. A puppy? Are you serious? I have to know. Was this you? Do you really think that’s going to make everything better? I just… I don’t understand. Call me back.”
She hung up with a wellspring of frightened emotions running through her. The phone dropped from her hand onto the coffee table as she walked to the couch, defeated, and pressed the Play button on the DVD’s remote.
The screen flickered to a grainy shot of a darkened room where a camera remained the sole light source. Victoria inched forward, as the camera panned down to a man tied to a chair with gray duct tape wrapped across his mouth and eyes, his face almost entirely covered, and blood oozing down his neck. She gasped, and a small cry escaped. The man grunted and shifted around as he wheezed for air through his nostrils. His hair fell in sweaty strands. His white T-shirt was covered in blood.
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Victoria brought a hand to her mouth, horrified as a blurry driver’s license entered the frame, held up by the gloved hand of the person behind the camera. The camera focused to reveal Todd’s license, his picture undeniable. Her throat began to constrict. The camera panned back to the man, tied to the chair and struggling to free himself, squirming and moaning with pained, muffled grunts. For a moment, none of it made any sense. Then, like a nightmare, what she hadn’t wanted to see, hadn’t wanted to admit, seeped into her brain and became clear to her. She looked more closely at the screen, slowly studding every detail: the man’s size, the way he moved his head, the slant of his cheekbones, his jawline.
“No! Oh no!” she cried through her hand, moaning in anguish. Todd. Denying it no more. It was Todd.
“No. No. That can’t be!” Her panicked, watering eyes then glanced toward the sound of Brooke’s laughter and Henry’s barking, coming from her bedroom.
“Do not call the police,” an unseen, distorted voice said on the TV. “We have your husband. If you do not deliver our ransom in two hours from the time you watch this message, we will kill him. Our asking prince is ten thousand-dollars cash.”
“Who are you?” she shouted at the screen.
“We are watching. If you so much as look at a cop, he dies. You make a call, your daughter dies. You try to send anyone a message, you die. Got it?”
She reached for her cell phone in haste just as the gloved hand re-entered the frame, holding a knife to Todd’s throat, pressing it against his skin.
“Okay, I won’t!” she said, tossing her phone down, to the sounds of Todd’s muffled pain.
“We will call. If you fail to answer or comply with us in anyway, your husband dies, your daughter dies, and you die in that order. Don’t do anything stupid, Victoria. We only want the money. Then all of this will go away.”
The screen went blue again as the disc stopped playing. Victoria looked around in panic. She’d never felt so alone, so terrified. Only a fool wouldn’t call the police.
“What am I going to do?” she asked herself, shaking as she sobbed. “What… can I do?”
Brooke laughed again from her room as the puppy barked.
“Okay,” she said, quietly calming herself. “It’s going to be okay. Just get the money and everything will be fine.”
They had about twenty thousand in savings. Trembling, she ran through the scenarios in her head. She could make a quick withdrawal and tell the bank that it was for a down payment on something. Best not to raise suspicion. She could get Brooke on a plane to her mother’s house in South Carolina. She’d be safe there. Then maybe she could call the police and tell them not to make a move. She could explain the fragile situation. Detective Weaver would understand.
Her cell phone suddenly vibrated against the coffee table, startling her. The screen flashed with a strange number, with eight as every digit. She waited and then seized the phone on the third ring, rushing to her room in a frenzy.
She slammed the door behind her and answered the phone, standing with her back against the wall and eyes searching for her .38.
“Don’t take so long next time,” the familiar, distorted voice said.
“Who are you?” Victoria asked in desperation.
“Ten thousand dollars in one hour at a location of our choosing. Got it?”
“But you said two hours.”
“One hour!”
“Withdraw the money and standby for further notice.”
Victoria paced the room, trembling. “I-I don’t think I can do this.”
“Of course you can. You’re Tricky Vicky. You’ll figure it out.”
“What did you call me?” she said.
The caller hung up, leaving her flustered and without answers. She lowered the phone and stared at it. Her mother would know what to do. She’d tell her to call the police. Only a fool would put the lives of their family in the hands of some lunatic kidnapper. Even if she got the money, there was no guarantee that they’d let Todd go.
She walked to the DVD player, dizzy and short of breath, and took out the DVD. Brooke was still in her room, thank God. If she gave the DVD to the police, they could probably find Todd in time. She was no expert negotiator. It was better to let the professionals plan it. But then Brooke’s distant laughter made her think otherwise. She pictured the house full of cops, turning it into a central command and scaring the hell out of her daughter. There was no reason Brooke even had to know.
Victoria rushed to her room and changed into a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt. She tucked her shirt in, took a look at herself in the mirror, and snatched a jean jacket and Todd’s red ball cap from a chair. She reached for the .38 on the nightstand, unable to control her shaking hands. “You can do this,” she said into the mirror, holding the revolver at her side. Her hair was tucked inside Todd’s hat as if she was undercover. After several deep breaths, she turned from the mirror and left the room, not looking back. She walked past the living room toward Brooke’s room and slipped the .38 into her jacket pocket. She stopped outside the door and knocked. She could hear Brooke on the phone.
“Brooke?””
“It’s open!”
Victoria pushed the door a crack and saw the puppy on Brooke’s bed, already making itself at home, as Brooke stood at her window, cell phone against her ear.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Hold on, Katie,” Brooke said, lowering her phone. “What’s up?”
“Tell her that you’ll call her back,” she said, walking in. The puppy stood at the edge of the bed and barked, apprehensive about jumping off.
Brooke rolled her eyes and told Katie that she’d call her back. She hung up and looked at Victoria, waiting.
“Something has come up and I have to go into work.”
“Why are you wearing that hat?” Brooke asked.
Victoria ignored the question. “I’ll be gone most of the day. Is it okay if I drop you off at Katie’s?”
Brooke thought to herself, confused. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” Victoria said.
Brooke scanned her room, thinking. “Um. I guess I could. Can’t Dad take me later?”
Victoria crossed her arms and stared at her without answering.
“Oh, right. You guys are fighting.”
“Just call and ask her. I don’t want you to stay here alone, and that’s not up for negotiation.”
Brooke called Katie back and made the request in her own confused tone. “Yeah, my mom wants to know if she can drop me off at your house this morning.” She paused and looked out the window, turning her back to Victoria. “I know. It’s weird. She said that she has to go to work and doesn’t want to leave me—”
“Hey!” Victoria said, stepping forward. “Just ask her if it’s okay, and cut the small talk.”
Brooke turned to her, slightly annoyed. “Is it okay with your mom? Sorry about the short notice.”
Victoria waited impatiently as her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She reached for it with dread and saw that she had received a text message from the same mysterious number.
You’re stalling. If we don’t see you walk into the bank in twenty minutes, your husband loses an ear.
Victoria gasped and put her phone away as Brooke suspiciously glanced at her.
“So, it’s okay? Henry too? Great. Thanks, Katie. I’ll see you soon.” She laughed and hung up the phone, shaking her head at Victoria. “You’re acting strange, you know that. And now you look like a weirdo to Katie.”
“Just get ready,” Victoria said, rubbing her forehead while trying to not give in to her intense anxiety.
“It’s rude, you know?” Brooke continued. “Now I feel like I’m, um. Imposing on them.”
“It’s either that or Mrs. Edison’s house.”
“No. It’s okay,” Brooke said, moving.
Mrs. Edison was an elderly widow who lived down the street who Brooke often did chores for. Brooke quic
kly packed, as Victoria stepped out of the room.
“We leave in two minutes.”
Her heart raced as she walked to the kitchen to retrieve her purse. Nerves shot, she again considered calling the police. Not calling meant leaving Todd’s fate to the word of a kidnapper, but she was afraid. She didn’t want to do the wrong thing.
Brooke emerged with one bag over her shoulder and the other in her hand, carrying Henry. “I’m ready. If we have to go.”
“We do,” Victoria said, moving past her. She walked outside and went straight to the car, looking down both sides of the road. There were no cars around and no one seemed to be watching her. They got into her silver Corolla as she started it up in a hurry, slammed the door shut, and put her sunglasses on.
“So, who got me the puppy, anyway?” Brooke asked, strapping herself in, with Henry on her lap. “Was it Dad?”
Victoria backed out of the driveway, distracted. “I-uh… I think so.”
“I should call and thank him,” she said.
“No,” Victoria said, straightening out the car. She pressed the gas and the car jolted forward.
“Why not? That’s pretty rude,” Brooke said.
“He’s not answering,” she said in a shaky voice. “He’s busy. You’ll have to call him later.”
“You’re both weird,” Brooke said, glancing out the windows as neighborhood houses raced by.
Victoria drove as fast as she could, swerving between lanes and passing every car along the way to Katie’s. She barely stopped at any stop sign and gunned through each traffic light just before it might turn red. They arrived at Katie’s house roughly ten minutes after leaving. Victoria pulled into the driveway, relieved but torn. She didn’t want to leave Brooke. Not in her current state. They were supposed to spend the day together. She wanted to tell her the truth. She wanted to tell her everything, but couldn’t muster the nerve. Besides, it probably wouldn’t be wise.
Brooke opened her door to step out when Victoria stopped her.
“What is it?” Brooke asked.
“Give me a hug before you go.”
Brooke set her backpack onto the driveway and climbed back onto her seat, leaning into Victoria’s arms.
“I’ll see you soon. I love you,” she said, squeezing hard.
Brooke seemed surprised by her mother’s sudden change, but attempted to hug her back. “Love you too.”
Victoria held her for a moment and then stroked her hair. “Have fun. I’ll call you later, and everything will be okay. I promise.”
“Got it, Mom,” Brooke said, awkwardly trapped in her mother’s embrace.
She released Brooke, quick to wipe the tears from her eyes before they rolled down her cheeks. Brooke backed away and lifted Henry’s bag, carrying him out of the car. “Bye, Mom,” she said with a smile. “Tomorrow then?”
Victoria thought to herself. She had forgotten that it was slumber party night. “Yes. Tomorrow.” Though she didn’t know if that would be the case. Brooke closed the door and waved as Victoria watched her walk to Katie’s doorstep. It pained her to leave, but at least she knew that her daughter was safe for the time being. She drove off once Brooke walked inside and watched the house from her rearview mirror, fading into the distance.
Victoria arrived at the East Union Bank in a brief panic. She had forgotten that it was Saturday and feared that it might be closed. The other cars in the parking lot put her at ease. They were open until noon on Saturdays. She glanced at the dashboard clock. It was 10:15 a.m., thirty minutes since she had received the call from her husband’s kidnapper. No further instructions had been given to her, beyond getting the money. She assumed she was being watched.
She surveyed the bank from the car, sunglasses and hat concealing her appearance. Customers walked in and out of the building carefree and oblivious to the terrible situation just a few feet away. She bowed her head and brought up her folded hands, praying.
“Please give me the strength to do this. I’ll take him back. I don’t care. We’ll move on. Brooke needs her father. She needs her parents.”
She squeezed her hands together more tightly, pressing them against her forehead, with her eyes squeezed shut. For a moment, everything was quiet and undisturbed. Her eyes opened, and she felt a renewed defiance. They could take the money, but she was getting her husband back, one way or the other. She wondered how they had gotten to him in the first place.
She thought about the gifts sent to her, the flowers and everything else. Was it all about a kidnapping? Why her and her family? How could something like this even happen in Clearwater? She no answers. All she knew was that the clock was ticking. She adjusted her hat and took off her sunglasses, stepping out of the car. The less attention she brought to herself, the better.
She hoped that their financial adviser, Gary, wasn’t there. He’d ask questions about her large cash withdrawal. Would they even have that much cash on hand at a small bank? Concealing her emotions was going to be challenging, regardless. Parked several aisles away from the entrance, she glanced around the parking lot, closed her door, and walked quickly toward the bank. Her head was down, with her eyes on the pavement. She couldn’t believe that she was actually going through with it. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head, demanding that she turn back and call the police, but she pushed the door open anyway and walked inside.
Withdrawal slip in hand, Victoria went directly to the first teller available, indifferent to the young woman’s rosy smile and warm greeting.
“Yes, I need to withdraw cash from my savings account. Can you help me with that?” she asked in a quiet voice.
The teller studied her for a moment and then looked at the slip as she slid it under the glass. She read the amount and then looked back at Victoria with uncertainty. “Yes, ma’am. I can help you with that.” She suddenly paused and looked around. “I just have to find the manager.”
Victoria nodded, as the teller walked around the counter and toward the offices in the corner. She was glad to see that Gary’s office was empty, with the lights off. Her foot tapped against the floor as she leaned against the counter and squeezed the bridge of her nose. The teller was taking too long, and Victoria was getting nervous.
She watched a uniformed security guard pace the lobby behind her, with his attention elsewhere. A clock on the wall behind the counter showed the time as 10:22. Her mind was everywhere. She pulled out her phone and checked the screen. There were no calls.
The teller soon returned with a mustached bank manager with perfectly groomed hair. She had never seen him before, and prepared herself for his questions. Suddenly, he veered off and left the teller, as the woman returned behind the counter, smiling at Victoria with some forms in her hand.
“Sorry about the wait. Our bank manager said that all you need to do is fill out this disclosure form for the IRS and we can begin your withdrawal. I’ll need your license and bank card as well.”
Victoria sighed under her breath as the teller pushed forms to her under the glass. It was too much already, but she had to remain calm. Todd was depending on her. “No problem,” she said, taking a pen.
The teller typed into her computer and then looked up at Victoria with a smile. “Okay, Mrs. Owens. How would you like those bills?”
Victoria paused. She hadn’t yet given it thought. The kidnappers sure hadn’t specified. “Can I get twenty five hundred dollar bills?” she asked, doing the math in her head.
“We should be able to do that,” the teller said. “Would you like it all in one envelope?”
“Yes, please,” Victoria said, returning to her paperwork. Well aware that she was gutting their nest egg, Victoria didn’t care. The kidnappers could have asked for it all. She scribbled as fast as she could, signing document after document as the teller ran a handful of bills through a machine and banded them in the middle, placing them in one bank envelope.
After withdrawing ten thousand dollars from their savings, Victoria sat
in her car and waited for further instructions. The ransom envelope rested on her leg, and she was eager to get rid of it. She stared at her cell phone, increasingly anxious, as the car idled.
“Come on, you bastards,” she said.
Each minute that went by filled her with fear. She didn’t know what kind of sick game they were playing or why they were taking so long to get back with her. Then it dawned on her that they were probably having a good time torturing her. She glanced up as a police car pulled into the bank parking lot and parked in the back. There was still time to get them involved.
Suddenly, the phone number of all eights flashed across her screen. She answered immediately.
“I have the money. Where do you want me to go?”
“We knew that you could do it,” the distorted, nearly robotic voice said. “Time’s almost up.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to call!”
“Parking garage outside the textile factory. You have ten minutes.”
Victoria shook her head. “That place has been shut down for years. There’s no way in.”
“The gate will be open. We’ll be watching. Once you arrive, you’ll be given further instructions.”
“No,” Victoria objected, her voice a mix of conviction and fear. “I want to meet somewhere safer. I can leave the money in a public place, and you can release my husband. We don’t even have to meet.”
“Clock’s ticking.”
“I refuse to be pulled into some trap!”
“Your husband is going to look strange without his ears.”
“Fuck you!” she shouted.
The line went quiet, and Victoria instantly regretted what she had said. She strained to listen, when a sudden scream of agony came over the line. There was no mistaking who it was.
“Okay! Stop! I’m sorry. I’ll drive. J-just don’t hurt him!”
“Ten minutes,” the voice said, hanging up.
Victoria trembled as she shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. The old textile factory was at least fifteen minutes away, and she didn’t know how she was going to make it in time. She cut across four lanes of traffic and sped through the light as a cacophony of horns honked in the distance. “I’m coming, Todd,” she said, gripping the wheel, over the roar of her engine.
She approached a vacant building on a rural back road—the worst possible meeting place she could imagine. A tall chain-link fence surrounded the premises, with a rusty “No Trespassing” sign posted in clear view. The front gate was open as promised. She slowed and hesitated to go any farther. Her instincts told her that it was a bad idea, but she couldn’t bring herself to deviate from the plan, not with Todd’s life at stake.
She turned and drove inside as broken glass crunched under her tires. There was trash everywhere, and a dozen pallets blocked the way toward the building, with its tall chimney pipes protruding from the roof. She halted and saw an open path that led to a four-level parking garage in the distance. It was the only place to go. She parked and held her cell phone, waiting. Her eyes scanned the area, alert and afraid, but she couldn’t see anyone, and it felt as though she were completely alone.
Her trembling hands gripped the steering wheel on both sides as she leaned closer to the windshield and scanned the desolate area. She had been a minute late, and hoped to God that they wouldn’t penalize her for it.
This is bad, she thought. What am I doing here?
Her cell phone vibrated and flashed with the mystery number on the screen.
“I’m here,” she said. “Do you see me?”
“Are you alone?” the voice said.
“Yes, I’m alone!” she paused, holding back. “Where to now?”
“Parking garage. Third level. We’ll be waiting.”
“I want to speak to my husband,” she said, but the caller had hung up. She let go of the steering wheel and fell back against her seat, delirious and breathing rapidly. “Son of a bitch,” she said, resting her palm against her forehead.
They had her exactly where they wanted. She was alone, frightened, and vulnerable. What they didn’t know, however, was that she was armed. She felt the revolver in her coat pocket, when it dawned on her that she hadn’t fired a gun since she was a kid. If only she had practiced, but when? She sat up straight, knowing she could stall no longer and drove down the curving path toward the parking garage. She figured she would be okay as long as she didn’t see their faces. The money was all that mattered. Why else would they have gone to all this trouble?
She continued past a patch of weeds amidst a littered bedrock outside the empty parking garage, pulling into the first darkened level. She removed her sunglasses and followed the faded directional arrows, up the ramp to the second floor, and her heart raced as she reached the third. She drove slowly. There were no other cars around, only oil stains, beer bottles, and soda cans strewn on the ground and graffiti on the walls.
Her headlights guided her past empty spaces as her engine echoed throughout the garage. She slowed upon seeing a vehicle parked in the far corner, alone with its lights off. She had seen it before. It was the burgundy Oldsmobile Cutlass. She had seen it before. There was no telling how long they had been watching her and her family.
Her eyes welled with tears at her initial shock. “I should have been more vigilant,” she said, wiping her cheeks. “I-I could have done more.”
Her car coasted toward the Oldsmobile as she stopped at a safe, hundred-foot distance and parked, headlights on and engine running. She dug into her pocket for her revolver, gripping the envelope in her other hand as her cell phone rang and rang, echoing in the car and the vacant building. For a moment, she let it ring, as she examined the Oldsmobile, but she couldn’t see who was inside. Daylight shined in from around the openings in the garage, but not enough for full visibility. She did, however, feel slightly better, seeing only one vehicle waiting for her.
“Hello?” she said, answering.
“Step out of your vehicle and walk toward the car,” the voice demanded.
“You want this money, right?” she said, holding the envelope up to the windshield. “I want to see my husband first. Let him go.”
“You don’t make the demands. Now do as we say. I’m not going to ask again.”
Emboldened, Victoria lowered the phone and then brought it back to her ear. “How do I know you won’t hurt me? I need some kind of sign that this isn’t a trap.”
“Is that a question?”
“No,” she said.
“Good. Get moving,” the voice said.
“I don’t want to see your face,” she pleaded. “Please. Don’t show me anyone’s face. J-just let my husband go. I’ll toss the envelope out and wait for you to count it.”
But she was talking to no one. The caller had again hung up.
She hurled the phone at the windshield in anger and then immediately lurched forward to retrieve it, her only lifeline to Todd. Her body shook as her mind grappled with how to proceed. She felt in no condition to face her husband’s captors. She didn’t have it left in her. All she wanted to do was go home with Todd and yell at him for getting kidnapped and for putting her family in jeopardy. She’d forgive him this one and only time.
Victoria opened the door, wiping her face and trying to regain her composure. She stepped outside with the window down and the engine running and approached the Oldsmobile with caution. She held the envelope of money out in display while concealing the revolver in her coat pocket. She expected another call, but was surprised to see the driver’s door open and a tall man wearing a coat and fedora step out into the shadows.
Victoria stopped and averted her eyes, looking down. “I said that I didn’t want to see you!” Her voice echoed through the garage as the man walked to the front of his car and leaned against the hood, hands in his side coat pockets. He said nothing.
“Here’s your money,” she said, holding it out. “You don’t have to say anything.
I don’t want to hear your voice either.” Eyes forward, she leaned down and cautiously set the envelope onto the ground. “There,” she said, taking a step back. “You can count it while my husband and I wait. Just let me have him back first.”
The man shook his head in a manner that gutted her hopes. His face was hidden under the shadow of his hat.
“What else do you want? I did everything you told me! Now it’s time to uphold your end of the bargain.”
The man stood straight and walked around his car to the trunk. He unlocked the back with his key and then opened it, concealing himself in the process. Victoria watched in heightened anticipation as he pulled something or someone from the trunk.
“Todd?” she said.
The man shut the trunk to reveal a disheveled and beaten Todd gagged and blindfolded, with his hands tied behind him.
“Todd!” she shouted.
The man lifted Todd up and guided him along, toward Victoria. Everything was going as planned as the nightmarish ordeal seemed to be coming to an end. Suddenly, the man stopped halfway and pushed Todd onto his knees with one forceful thrust. Todd fell with a muffled shout of pain as Victoria stepped forward, reaching into her coat pocket. “Let him go!”
The man’s head rose as he wagged his finger at her, his face still concealed in the darkness. “Don’t push your luck,” he said in a strained, croaky voice that was anything but normal. He barely sounded human. He stood carefully behind Todd and then pulled out a long hunting knife, holding it in his black-gloved hand, pressing it to the back of Todd’s neck.
Victoria pointed to the ground at the money. “There’s the money. Now, let my husband go.”
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” the man said as Todd moaned under him.
“I said I didn’t want to hear your voice!” Victoria said, distraught beyond control. “I don’t want to know who you are. I don’t want to know anything about you. I just want for this to be over.”
The man leaned forward, pressing the tip of the knife harder against the back of Todd’s neck, making him cry out in muffled pain.
“Damn you, stop it!” she shouted.
The man suddenly cut through the air with his free hand. “You don’t have a choice in the matter, Tricky Vicky.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes. “That name… Where did you-?”
The man suddenly took his hat off and tossed it on the ground. She tried to look away, but couldn’t. He had a thin, clean-shaven face with neatly-trimmed blond hair brushed to the side. He paused, staring at her and waiting.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?”
Victoria shook her head and looked away, with her eyes on the ground.
The man stepped forward into the light, clearly enjoying every moment. “Are you sure? Maybe you should take another look.”
He pulled at his face and tore the skin off, horrifying Victoria as her scream echoed throughout the garage. His hair came next, as he dropped the limp skin-like mask and the hair-piece onto the ground. What remained startled her. She could hardly breathe. Unmasked, she saw a disfigured face of scars and charred skin. He was completely bald and without eyebrows. He displayed a crooked smile as his red skin wrinkled upward across scaling burns as if he had just crawled out from the fires of hell.
“After a while, you start to get really good with makeup, latex, and hair pieces looking the way I do,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of practice during my years of recovery.”
Victoria stood frozen, unsure of what to say or do as the man continued threatening Todd with his knife.
“We’re going to play a little game. Just like the game we used to play in high school. You remember back then, right?”
Victoria shook her head in a rush of dread and confusion. “Do I know you? Is that what this is? The flowers? The packages. Was that all you?”
He smiled again, exposing what looked like blackened, crooked teeth that sent chills down her spine.
“I must admit, I had no idea what kind of dog to get your daughter.” He then patted Todd on the head, causing him to shudder. “I got the idea from your philandering husband. He opened up at the hotel bar last night. I was in disguise, of course. We had a few friendly drinks, and having made his acquaintance, he said that his daughter wanted a dog. He just didn’t specify what kind.”
“What is this about?” Victoria said, unable to control herself.
“It’s about retribution,” he said. “But you still have a choice. The same choice you and your friends gave me.”
“Sir, please,” she said, pure desperation in her tone. “I don’t know what this is about. I did what you told me. Now, please let us go.”
He swung his arm forward, pointing at her in a fury. “You’re not going to talk down to me, understand? You can try to cover-up who you are with this phony air of kindness and interest, but we know what you’re capable of.”
“You’re alone, aren’t you?” she said with her hand touching the grip of her revolver. “There are no kidnappers. This was just a way to lure me here. This is just part of your game.”
The man nodded and then held up his knife, almost as a warning. “The hardest thing I had to deal with at first was the realization that none of you remember. That you’ve all completely forgotten about me and have gone on with your lives like nothing happened.” He then bowed his head and brought the knife inches from Todd’s throat.
Victoria gasped and screamed for him to stop.
The man looked up at her, exposing two rows of crooked teeth in his sinister smile. “Got your attention now?”
She stood frozen, unable to take the shot, angered by her own inaction.
“They called you Tricky Vicky because you always had a way to get out of jams. You were always so proper and innocent. But we know that wasn’t always the case, was it, Vick?”
“Who the hell are you?” she asked.
“Must be driving you crazy,” he said, smiling.
She had heard enough. Her hand gripped the revolver as she yanked it from her pocket, taking it in both hands and pointing it at him. “Drop the knife, you son of a bitch.”
Before she could react, he swooped down and lifted Todd up, using him as a shield and holding him at the shoulder. “What was that? Drop what, now?” He then brought the knife around to the front of Todd’s neck and pressed the blade against his skin.
“You’re not going to get away with this,” she said as her outstretched arms shook.
They were at a far enough distance that she didn’t know who she would hit if she pulled the trigger. After a fleeting moment of empowerment, she felt helpless again.
“I should have expected it from the likes of you,” the man said. “Now. I’m going to give you a choice, just like the one you gave me.”
“I don’t know you,” she said.
“No!” he shouted, raising his scratchy voice for the first time. “You think you don’t know me, because you’ve buried it. You’ve all buried it.” He then leaned forward and smiled. “But you’ll remember. Just like Liz did before I stabbed her in the heart.”
“You monster.”
“And then there was Susan Shields. You know her, right? The woman in the lake.” He paused and looked up, innocently. “Well. She had nothing to do with any of this. She just got in my way.”
“What do you mean, got in your way?” A feeling of terror seized her, but she wanted to keep him talking. He couldn’t hold Todd up that way forever.
“I mean that she got wise to me. Saw me around town a few times. Even saw me without my mask.”
Victoria shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“She worked at a diner I frequented since I’ve been here. One night, I was adjusting my makeup in the mirror and she came in to clean the bathroom.” He then brushed one hand against the other. “And that was that.”
“How long have you been following me?” she asked, voice trembling.
He exposed his crooked
smile again. “Sweetheart, I’ve been planning this for twenty-five years.”
Victoria held her gun steady, trying to take aim. “This ends now. Do you hear me?”
“Hey…” he said, innocent-like. “Exposing your husband’s affair was a freebie. I’ve been watching your family for months. Studying you. Learning the new Vicky. The one who left one boring town in South Carolina just to move to another boring town in Maine.” He paused and then with force, he yanked the tape off Todd’s mouth.
Todd gasped for air, mouth wet with saliva. “Don’t… Vicky… Don’t!”
“Todd…” she said, unable to hold her tears back any longer.
Victoria strained to listen as he tried to speak between heavy breaths. “He… he told me… what… he…”
“Todd, what is it?” she asked.
“He’s gonna make us choose. Vicky, get out of here! Get out!”
The man slapped the tape back over Todd’s mouth, silencing him. “Don’t mind your husband, Vicky. He’s been through quite an ordeal.”
Victoria’s arms shook as she gripped the revolver. She could shoot just over Todd’s head and hit the man in the face. If she missed, however …
“Logan…” she said as a sweeping recollection consumed her.
The man paused and glanced at her, seemingly impressed. “So, you do remember me?”
“My God, Logan. We were children then. That was…”
“Twenty-five years ago?” he answered. “Well, the scars are still fresh as yesterday.”
“But I didn’t—”
“You did,” he said. “Even if you don’t hold yourself responsible. You all played a part. Sucks when the past comes back to bite you in the ass, doesn’t it?”
“Logan, please. This is crazy. You don’t want to hurt anyone. All over some high school prank?”
The man glared at her. “Prank? Is that what you think it was?”
Startled by the malice in his voice, Victoria lowered her revolver and then brought it back up, trying to readjust her aim.
“Okay,” the man said. “Let’s get started. Give me a name from someone in high school. Just like the letter said.”
“Give you a name?” she asked. “What does that mean?”
“A name. Someone, other than you, who you think deserves this. Someone you think is to blame.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man suddenly jabbed the point of the knife into Todd’s throat as he screamed through the gag in his mouth.
“Betsy!” Victoria shouted. “Betsy Wade.”
The man pulled the knife away but kept one hand on Todd as he swayed on wobbly legs. “Betsy Wade. Very nice. It just so happens I’ve been doing a little research on her, bouncing between here and your hometown.” He paused and placed a gloved hand over his chest. “It’s been exhausting.”
With his guard momentarily down, Victoria fired the revolver, surprising herself in the process. The gun blasted and the man flew to the ground, knife falling with a clang. Victoria stepped forward, exhilarated, and fired again, but missed. Todd flew to his side and rolled out of her line of fire as the man held his shoulder in agony, twisting on the ground.
“You shot me, you bitch!” he shouted.
She fired another shot and missed. His hand went for the knife and she fired two more, hitting him in the left arm. He screamed and got to his knees as she pulled the trigger again, but the chamber was empty. She had fired all her rounds without even realizing it.
Realizing her situation, she lowered the revolver and backed up to her car where she had more ammo in the glove box. The man rose, gripping his knife with one hand and holding his shoulder with the other.
Victoria glared at him as she inched toward her car. “We… we had a deal.”
The man held his hand out, innocent-like. “Hey, I’m still taking the money. You fucked it all up. Now everything changes.”
“But—” Victoria.
“You shot me!” he shouted at the top of his raspy voice. “Twice!”
She pulled the trigger repeatedly just to make sure, much to the amusement of the man, as he approached her with steady, menacing strides.
“Now, I’ll give you ten seconds to choose between your life or your cheating husband’s. Shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Go to hell, Logan,” she said, reaching the hood of her car and ready to dive in.
At that moment, the man lunged toward Todd and yanked him up to his knees. Victoria screamed just as the man took a step back and drove the knife into Todd’s throat, digging it deep inside and then releasing it to a geyser gushing onto the cement floor.
Victoria fell back against her car, stunned and unable to react. The man stabbed Todd in the chest again and again as her husband lay gasping and choking. Todd’s body slumped over and fell to the floor as the man rushed toward Victoria at sudden, break-neck speed. She managed to raise her arms up and pulled the trigger again just as he drove the blade into her throat.
Her eyes widened in disbelief at the warm, metallic taste that filled her mouth, that made her gag as she tried to say: Please, and dirty concrete below her turned red with blood. A fleeting thought came to her: What if I had called the police?
“I choose you!” he said, driving the knife in farther. “And I’ll also be taking a little souvenir to remember you by.”
She gagged for air but couldn’t breathe. She thought of Brooke as intense panic sent her grasping at her throat, trying to remove the lodged knife in vain.
“Don’t worry,” he said as she drifted from consciousness. “I’ll keep Todd around. You’ve made quite the sacrifice today.”
He pulled the knife out with one thrust and walked away, picking the money off the floor and approaching Todd, who lay helpless and bound and still breathing. “I should know never to bring a knife to a gun fight,” he said, voice fading as Vicky lay dying.
Victoria’s head fell back against the pavement as her hands covered her bloody throat, gagging and shocked, and knowing she had only minutes to live; that Logan had delivered a fatal blow. She turned and watched in her last seconds, as Logan pulled Todd up and forced him into the trunk of his car. He then returned to Victoria, bloody knife in hand, and pulled her head up by the hair. It was the last thing she saw before everything went black.
***
Logan sat at his workstation in his darkened basement amid a table of latex masks and hairpieces resting on their stands. His desk lamp illuminated the map of South Carolina unfolded on the table as the news played over a nearby radio. Victoria Owens was found dead in the parking garage near the vacant textile factory.
Her husband, Todd Owens, has been missing for days, and was considered by investigators to be a leading suspect. Logan laughed at this and continued making marks on the large map in front of him, where several street names were circled with permanent marker. Another table sat next to him, cluttered with photos and high school yearbooks piled in stacks.
His printer spewed out several copies of the same chain letter, with a stack of high school reunion flyers next to it. Logan was too immersed in his work to bask in his latest kill, and its all-too-perfect turn of events. His mind drifted toward Leesburg, South Carolina. He had been planning his strike through repeated visits, scoping out his next victims and learning their patterns. It was time to venture back home and check some more names off his list.
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