Nevermore

by Wrenn Montgomery

  So much for that.

  “Raven?” a man’s voice calls from below, and I shudder.

  Time to face the music, sweet pea. You got yourself in this and you’ll find a way out.

  I start down the stairs carefully, unsure of what’s going to be waiting for me at the bottom.

  When I reach the last step, I see a tall thin man with salt and pepper hair standing in a modern and large kitchen.

  “Raven.”

  There are tears in his eyes and I immediately hate him. This is what I do. When people show emotion I shut down and turn their emotions against them.

  “It’s clear that you know my name. Care to do me the favor of telling me who you are?” I say.

  “I see your fiery spirit hasn’t changed.”

  A sinking feeling in my gut tells me what I need to know. Those eyes, they’re my eyes. That’s where I got them. The sharpness of his chin is the same as mine. I’m assuming his salt and pepper hair was jet black a few years ago, also just like mine.

  “So you’re my father, then.”

  “I am.”

  I stare at him a few more seconds, the rage building.

  “I’d love to talk with you, to get to know—”

  “Did you kidnap me?” I cross the room and I’m in his face in seconds.

  What the hell is wrong with my fight or flight instincts? Flight, Raven. Flight.

  He starts to shake his head and I interrupt him before he can talk.

  “Because from where I’m standing, someone attacked my best friend, sent me a threatening letter, has been casing my store, and then suddenly shows up at my store and the next thing I know I’m drugged and somehow wind up here with you.” By the end of my rant, my voice has reached a new octave I didn’t know I had.

  “Whoa, hang on, Raven. I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can see how this is confusing, but I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you.”

  Blue lights and frantic noise surround Raven’s store, an echoing of the sickness in the pit of my stomach.

  When we first got here, there had been what appeared to be a wreck out front. One car is still on the scene, completely demolished. The driver is gone, a blood trail stopping around the corner where he must have been picked up by another vehicle.

  We have an alert out at every local hospital to call us if someone has related injuries.

  Reggie was inside Poe’s at the time, along with the lone customer who had called 911. Both of their statements had been taken, both of them saying that Raven had walked right up to the man who entered—the man we assume was Brent Smallwood.

  He then grabbed her and she went limp as he carried her out over his shoulder and put her into his car, which was then hit head first by the other vehicle. We think Brent got away on foot. The other vehicle was not as damaged and drove off, after securing Raven and putting her in their car. This entire thing is a nightmare, and none of it makes sense.

  I’m taking a little solace in the fact that it doesn’t appear as though Raven is currently with Brent, but nonetheless, she has been kidnapped and right now we have no idea who this other party is.

  “I know you’re worrying yourself sick and it’s understandable, but you’ve got to pull it together so we can find her and you don’t get yourself jerked off this case,” Monica says to me under her breath, the voice of reason.

  I nod at her and make a note to buy her coffee for an entire month after this is over to thank her for being so supportive during this whole ordeal. She could just as easily rat me out to the captain and tell him how this is affecting me.

  “We’re having the tech department see if they can get a visual on the car that Raven was put in from any of the traffic cameras. That’s really all we can do right now, until someone gets a lead on the APB we put out. Why don’t you go home and try to rest? We need you at your best for this, Em.”

  I know she’s right but the thought of going home and doing nothing makes me want to hit something. “I’m going to stay here a little longer, in case anything turns up. You go ahead, though. I’ll be heading home soon. I promise.”

  At this point we are both on our second hour of overtime. I should be curled up with Raven in her bed right now, not pacing her store and trying to rack my brain for who could have snatched her.

  Monica nods and heads out with the last of the officers and crime scene investigators, leaving me alone in the shop.

  Reggie left an hour or so ago, thoroughly shaken up. His partner had come to pick him up and seemed to be doing a decent job of calming him down so hopefully he can get some rest tonight. I’m sure there will be more questioning tomorrow.

  I sigh and look around trying to think.

  Who would kidnap Raven? Other than this Brent Smallwood.

  Who is she estranged from?

  She said her mother is into drugs; it could be one of her dealers who found out she has a daughter. I make a note to get in contact with the mother tomorrow. She’ll take some tracking down but we need to rule out every option.

  She hasn’t seen her father since she was a baby, so that’s out.

  No other ex-boyfriends except the one who’s now deceased.

  I need more to go on. I don’t want to snoop through her things—it’s a violation of privacy and a line I don’t want to cross—but I need to think like a detective and not like a lover. And a detective would be going through her things, looking for clues on who would do this to her.

  I start with her desk downstairs in the main room of the shop, but I don’t find anything of any value. Just receipt records, a wish-list of books she wants to order for the shop, future goals she has for her business, and things like that.

  I move to the storage room, but all I find there are books waiting to be stocked, extra T-shirts with a cartoon Raven—the bird, not my girl—and a swirly handwriting font advertising Poe’s.

  I know I need to head upstairs. Anything personal would be up there. Raven is too private to have anything of importance down here.

  I reveal the hidden staircase and head up the steps, her scent hitting me as I reach the loft. My vision swims and actual tears form in my eyes.

  Jesus, Fisher.

  I’m so worried about her I could puke. Whoever took her stole her from a harmful kidnapper. I can only hope they won’t harm her and were simply saving her.

  But if that’s the case, why hasn’t she called?

  Heading over to the desk in the corner, I try the drawers. One is locked and another opens easily. The one that opens has nothing interesting, just some notebooks and a few novels she’s stashed there with bookmarks in the pages. One of which is the book I was reading on her sofa a few nights ago. When I flip it over a sense of familiarity rushes over me. The symbol on the back cover is the same Celtic knot the guy from the car had tattooed on his forearm.

  Could this just be a coincidence?

  The author is R. Cole. I pull out my phone and take a photo of the front and back of the book, storing it away for future reference.

  I feel around in the drawer, knowing Raven wouldn’t be the type to store a key inside an unlocked drawer.

  Where else would it be? Think, Emmett, think…

  I check all the potted plants. Walking over to the windowsill I lift them one by one, until I find a tiny key under one.

  Smart girl.

  Rushing back over to the desk, I unlock the drawer and pull it all the way out. Sitting down on the floor, I begin to empty the contents one by one. There’s a letter addressed to Raven, a photo of a dark-haired baby in the arms of a red-headed woman and a dark-haired man with a striking resemblance to Raven.

  They must be her parents.

  Underneath those are a pile of check stubs and deposit slips. All of them in huge amounts of money, starting almost five years ago.

  Who is sending her this much money? Landry’s family?

  Is it hush money?

  I go back to the letter and open it, trying not to feel guilty for reading something I
really have no business reading. But if it helps us find her, it’s worth the wrath I’m going to receive.

  Raven,

  I know you don’t know me, and I know you may not want to. I wish I could tell you my real name, but I can’t yet. I promise you, one day I will explain everything. I am your father, but for now, you can call me Robert Cole.

  Nothing can replace the years that I have missed out on with you. Nothing will ever make up for me leaving you when I did. Please know that I have always loved you. I have watched you from afar for a while, trying to learn about you and your life here.

  I’m so proud of you for everything you have already accomplished, and I know you will accomplish so much more.

  I have enclosed a check. If you’re anything like your mother, I know you won’t want to cash it. Please do, Raven. It’s the very least I can do. I know college isn’t cheap, and I hate that you’ve taken this burden upon yourself. I will continue sending checks every month. Please take them and allow them to provide security to you. I know it doesn’t make up for anything, but at least I’ll know you’re financially taken care of.

  Love you always,

  RC

  I put the letter down.

  What in the fuck did I just read?

  Raven’s real dad—whose name we don’t know—has been sending her money for the last five years? To make up for abandoning her?

  I flip through the check stubs. She didn’t cash the first check until over seven months after it came. I’m guessing she held out as long as she could before she had to use it. This would have been around the time Landry went to jail and his parents quit paying her tuition. I can imagine how much it hurt her pride to cash those checks.

  A pounding on the door downstairs sets me on edge and I grab my gun, cautiously heading back down the steps.

  When I turn the corner I see a very short, very bruised, very angry blonde banging away on the door and cussing worse than any Marine I’ve ever known.

  An angry Elliott James may be scarier than any Marine I’ve ever known.

  “What the fuck do you mean, you saved me?” I spit out, the rage still burning in my chest. I know I look angry, too. I always turn red when I’m mad and my chest and neck are on fire.

  “Okay, so you don’t remember anything?”

  “No!” I snap. “How about you start explaining? Now.” My plan to go with calm and collected has flown out of the window, fast.

  My father rubs the space between his shoulder and his neck. “I’ve been watching your bookstore for a while.”

  “Oh so that’s been you then? The creeper in the black sedan out front? Nice.” The sarcasm is so thick you could reach out and dip your hand in it.

  “Yes, Raven, that was me.” He at least has the gall to look sheepish. “I was parked half a block down this evening when I saw a man enter the shop. Something about him didn’t sit right with me, and I drove a little closer up to get a better view through the windows out front.”

  “Brent,” I state.

  “Excuse me?”

  I roll my eyes, which is petty because this isn’t really his fault, but the entire situation is pissing me off and I think I have a right to be snarky. “Brent Smallwood. He’s the guy who was entering the shop. He’s the one who has also been stalking me, and he raped my best friend this past weekend. He’s the guy that drugged me.” I’m wary to tell him anything else, in case he’s actually working with Brent, though my gut tells me that’s not the case.

  “Jesus. I saw him come in and I saw you approach him. You looked defiant, like you were ready for a confrontation. When he reached out and grabbed you, I saw you go limp and my instincts took over. The second he was in his car I rammed him head on. In retrospect, I should have left it at that, but I didn’t know if he had more goons with him or if someone else would be coming along, so I grabbed you, put you in my car, and drove us here,” he finishes, watching me cautiously like he’s not sure if I’m a bomb about to go off.

  He’s smarter than I’ve given him credit for all these years.

  “So you kidnapped me…from a kidnapper…”

  He rubs his hands over his face and says, “Essentially, yes.”

  “Can I make a phone call? Because I’m sure you’ve caused quite a ruckus and I need to let everyone know I’m okay.”

  “Yes, absolutely.” He jumps up and grabs his phone from the table beside the couch. “You didn’t have yours when I grabbed you…er…saved you…”

  I almost chuckle at how awkward he is.

  Guess I got that from him.

  I grab the phone he’s extending to me, my anger dissolving little by little. I don’t remember anyone’s phone numbers.

  Damn technology.

  The time says it’s close to midnight, so if I call the bookstore no one is going to answer. I use his phone to google the Jonestown PD phone number.

  “Detective Sams,” a man answers.

  “Hello, this is Raven Jackson—”

  “Raven Jackson? The kidnapping victim?”

  “Um, yeah that’s me. I just wanted to let everyone know that I’m all safe. I don’t have my phone, I couldn’t call Emm—uh, Detective Fisher—and I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

  “Oh thank God, he’s been worried sick. We all have. Where are you? Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m okay. It appears that the real kidnapper was hit by my father. He grabbed me trying to save me from more potential kidnappers and I’m at his beach house in…” I look over at my father, having no idea where we are.

  “Carolina Beach, two-eight-nine-three Magnolia Lane.”

  I relay the information to Detective Sams and he says they’ll send someone out to check on me, legally unable to take my word for my well-being. He promises he’ll let Emmett know that I’m all right, and I ask him to please also call Elliott James, to which he agrees and says someone should be here in a few hours to interview me and take me back home.

  I hang up and look over at my dad, unsure if I can even call him that. “We have a few hours. Now would be a good time for you to explain where the fuck you’ve been and why you’ve been stalking me from afar.”

  He nods. “Can I get you some coffee? You’ll probably need it.”

  I see Elliott standing outside of the bookstore, and if looks could kill I would be dead.

  I unlock the door and step back, giving her a wide berth. Her hands are flailing and I can’t understand her through the cursing and high-pitch squeal of her voice.

  “And you motherfuckers didn’t even think to call me? Me?! Her best fucking friend?? No one is going to let her best friend know that she’s been fucking kidnapped? And you of all people should have known to call me! I will have your goddamn head and your goddamn job!”

  “Elli…Miss James…please calm down and let me explain—”

  “Miss James! And what could you possibly say that could explain this? My best friend has been kidnapped and no one could be bothered to let me know? I had to find out from a frantic Reggie!”

  “Okay, if you calm down I’ll tell you what we know, but I can’t speak to you when you’re acting like this. You’re a lawyer, you know how this process works.” I try to rationalize with her, knowing it’s a gamble and she’s either going to actually calm down so we can have a conversation, or she’s going to shove my balls down my throat like she’s been threatening to do.

  She takes not one, not two, but five deep breaths in a row with her eyes tightly shut. “Okay, I’m calm. Please, Detective Fisher, would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?”

  I know the calmness is a façade, but I’ll take it.

  I tell her everything we know, her eyes growing bigger and then squinting into barely-there slits when I tell her about the second kidnapper.

  “And who the fuck was that?” she asks.

  “We have no idea. Do you know of anyone else that would do this?”

  She worries her lip while she thinks, but then shakes her head. “No, honestly. Raven
isn’t the friendliest person in the world, but she wouldn’t hurt a fly and I don’t know anyone who doesn’t love her once they get to know her. She doesn’t have any enemies that I know of.”

  I don’t want to ask but I have to. “What about her dad?”

  “What do you mean? She doesn’t have a relationship with him.”

  “I know about the checks,” I say, coming clean.

  “Oh, yeah, she’s been getting them for a few years now. I had to convince her to cash them, but as far as I know that’s the only contact they’ve ever had, aside from the letter he sent with the first one.”

  I nod, that being pretty much what I expected. We stand there for a few minutes, both of us lost in thought. The ring of my cell phone breaks the silence and I lunge for it, checking the caller ID.

  Fucking Alex.

  “Fisher,” I answer.

  “We’ve found her. Or rather, she called in. She’s safe. She’s with her father in Carolina Beach. We have officers on the way now to—”

  “No, I’m going down there.” I start gathering my things and motion for Elli to come with me, relief flooding through me at the knowledge of her being safe.

  “The captain specifically asked that you stay, but I can cover for you and say you didn’t know and headed down anyway.”

  “And why would you do that?” I ask him.

  “I fucked up and betrayed your trust, Emmett. I know I fucked up. Let me try to fix it. Go. I won’t say a word. If anyone asks, she called you, too. I’ll text you the address.”

  I pause, trying to decide if I can trust him after what we’ve been through this last week, and ultimately decide I don’t care. If he tells the captain, so be it. I’m going to her.

  “Thanks. I’ll keep you updated on her status. I need to go now if I’m going to beat the other officers there.” We hang up and I turn to Elli. “She’s with her dad. It doesn’t make much sense but I’m relieved nonetheless. They’re in Carolina Beach. You coming with?”

  “Fuck yes I’m coming with.”

  “Let’s roll then.”