The Call

by Kathi Goldwyn

  The Call

  Kathi Goldwyn

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  Contents

  Trigger Warning

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Acknowledgments

  Trigger Warning

  If you are sensitive to a harsh storyline, a storyline that takes you inside a kidnapped girl’s mind, this is not the book for you. Turn back now. Do not enter. Dark themes lie ahead.

  Prologue

  Bay News — April 2019

  Back in the eighties, the Cribs and the Bloodlusts waged a bloody war, attacking one another right here on the city streets. They carved out the neighborhoods and staked their claim on each corner. Over the years they fought savagely, and the city became an enormous battlefield. Finally, each gang sectioned out their territory where drugs were sold, money flowed like a river, and “gang-soldiers” held down every spot.

  Blood spilled daily as the violence wore on. By 1986, young boys recruited to go on runs spent their days peddling their wares. These children were charged with drug sales, holding down the corners with narcotics stuffed deep in their pockets. Men fought the gruesome battles and lost their lives protecting what was theirs.

  While all this was brewing, the public was only aware of the dogfights. They heard the gunshots late into the night and saw the grisly aftermath of these corner clashes. However, no one knew of the origin. They had no idea why the city seemed to be falling apart. Until the day the entire tale ended up in print.

  By 1988 the media had swarmed the story and the individual news outlets started following each conflict. Media fascination blew up over the war and the public couldn’t get enough.

  Now, years later, territory is settled. There’s no room for anyone else. No new crews dare challenge the massive gangs who rule the Bay Area.

  Quietly, in the backdrop of the city noise, thugs rule with an iron fist. They rule with blood. It costs blood to get in. Death is the only way out.

  Chapter One

  Jack

  It’s the end of my long-suffering day. I blow the hair out of my eyes and brush the wrinkles from my suit pants as I stand, shaking my head back and forth. I would jump for joy if this old body would wake the fuck up. I feel like an old, creaky man, even though I’m only thirty-one years old.

  I straighten my desk and put the papers away. I stack the files and put all my pens in the cup. I brush the crumbs off the surface and throw the trash into the can by the side of my desk. Then I take a deep, stuttered breath, push the chair under, and toss my coat over my shoulder. Thank God it’s the end of this mind-numbing day.

  I try to ignore the oppressive feeling I carry through my day. There's a dark hole where my heart used to live, before she walked away from me. I can’t shake this shadowy, inky mood that surrounds me, the crushing doubt descending upon my shattered mind.

  I walk out to the parking lot in time to see the fog eating up the cityscape. I slide the key in the handle, and as I glide into my cool-as-fuck car, one my teenage self would have died for, a car I saved for and finally bought several years ago, the engine roars to life. It’s a refurbished 1971 Camero, and on days like this it feels like my only friend. I listen intently to the purr of machinery and think ahead to the alcohol waiting to be consumed when I get this old, ragged set of bones home.

  Frustration oozes through me like molasses as I drive the solitary trip to my pad. I point the car towards my apartment, a sad, sterile place to drink alone.

  I only have one thought on my mind. It’s like a neon sign blinking steadily inside my skull. It bores into me like a drill bit buzzing through bone. When will she call? When will I finally hear from her? The wait has been a soul-crushing experience. I’ve been wanting that goddamn phone to ring for fucking ever. I’m so frustrated with her and the time that creeps too slowly past. Too many months have come and gone. I feel myself tremble. A silent tear leaks down my cheek, and I swipe it away with my shoulder.

  She’s really a fucking liar now, isn’t she? I must finally admit that I never really knew her. She said “soon,” and though I realize the interpretation of this word varies, the basic message is the same. I’m a patient man, but my heart is shredded. The waiting game makes me want to spit.

  Lizzy is always on my mind. Her name is a constant companion that haunts me day and night. No one has ever hurt me so much. I've loved and been loved, but never before has my life been broken apart like this. I feel abandoned. I’m so grief-stricken I can’t clear my own injured thoughts. It thwarts my vision and clouds my life.

  She hurt me. The hurt builds with every day that passes. The carnage created by Lizzy is simply beyond repair. My heart crunches in on itself, and I grab my chest, hoping for small comforts. Fuck, I can’t square my thoughts with my love for her. I feel like I’m fucking running out of time and out of love. Both drain away like blood dripping slowly out of a vein ripped open by a meager paperclip. Ragged skin torn open shreds my very soul. Drip, drip.

  Fury takes over my thoughts. I’m consumed with white hot rage. I try like hell to think of something else as I turn on the car radio to the Giants’ game.

  “Fuck this,” I spit. I’m in for another quiet night. Me and booze have a long way to go until I can shake off another humdrum day and sleep allows me the escape I’m desperate for.

  Lizzy’s beauty caught me at first glance. She’s stunning, no doubt about it, with her gorgeous lips and large, lipid blue eyes. I love the way her shiny ebony hair falls in curls down her back. My fingers would swirl in a curl and follow it all the way to her ass. That perfect, heart-shaped ass.

  I scream as I hit the Boulevard.

  It’s been two years since Lizzy came bounding happily into my life. She’d just moved into the apartment on the bottom floor of the three-story walk-up where I live. Lizzy was my new neighbor, and I almost tripped over my boots where I stood as her broad smile captivated me. I found her on the stairs as I went down the steps to the laundry room. I carried my basket of dirty clothes when my senses were attacked and sent straight to my brain. She was a beacon of hope, hope that I coul
d have a better life.

  As we silently gazed at one another, her soft, sweet, touchable skin forced me to slam my hands in my pockets to keep them to myself. Her intoxicating smell surrounded me as she drew near. I took in her ocean of milky smooth skin, unmarred except the beauty mark on the corner of her upper right lip. Those perfect, bowlike lips. Stunning. Lizzy was stunning, and I heard the sweetest voice softly caress me.

  My mind travels back to that day, the day I met my beautiful girl.

  “Excuse me,” I whispered as I caught this vision’s eyes with my own. I was captured in her web of beauty, lost in a sea of unconscious thoughts driving me closer towards her.

  “Who are you, handsome?” the seductress said as she batted her long, dark eyelashes that gently caressed her sweet cheeks. I could get lost in her gorgeous warm blue eyes.

  “I live up top. My name is Jack. Jack Winton. And you are?” I held out my hand and took her smaller sweet palm in mine. I wanted to get to know her, but I felt awkward staring into her beautiful face for so damn long.

  “Well, Jack from the top, good morning. My name is Lizzy. Most people call me Lizzy.” She gave me her wide, gorgeous smile, and my heart hitched in my throat. We gazed at each other for long moments, then I shook myself out of my stupor. “Lizzy, how is it I haven’t met you before?” I felt stupid; there’s no way I could have missed this alluring creature.

  “I just moved in, silly,” the goddess giggled, turning now to get a better look at me.

  Her eyes warmed with a smile as she took me in, and her lips tipped up in a half smile. My heart stuttered inside my chest. Those lips looked divine, all swoopy with a bow right in the middle, and I almost reached out to touch them, her presence so intoxicating I lost myself in a sea of lust for the moment.

  “Well, new Lizzy,” I whispered, “how about a coffee with me tomorrow morning?” I was shocked by my boldness, but fundamentally I knew deep down I needed to spend time with her.

  “Sounds good.” And then she smiled another huge-ass grin, and my heart stopped cold as I tried to catch a breath. I was speechless as her dazzling smile swooned over me. I was in love. I fell instantly under her spell. I always scoffed at this insta-love, doubting its existence. Until now, when Cupid’s arrow pierced straight to my heart.

  “Okay, I’ll swing by your apartment tomorrow morning around 8am?” came tumbling out of my mouth. I felt like a fool. A fool in love. My lips went numb as I tried to form words. I closed my eyes briefly and shook myself out of this hypnotic feeling. Snap out of it, I breathed to myself.

  “See you then, handsome.” Then, she was gone. Handsome? Me? I had never thought of myself as a handsome man. I was just shy of 6’2” and sure, I had that going on. But my thick, dirty blonde hair fell over my brow, and my blue eyes seemed chalky bleak.

  I went back to my apartment, my heart slamming in my chest. I’d just met the woman I would marry! I was confident she was my destiny. She was the kind of woman I had dreamt of my entire life. Destiny had come knocking at my door at twenty-nine.

  I began life in a small town called Crocket in the Bay Area, raised by a single mom who was kind and loving. I was never left wanting for anything. My mother worked two jobs, and we lived in a comfortable two-bedroom house with a tiny backyard. Lemon trees grew in the side yard. We cooked with lemons almost daily.

  I shared my room with my younger brother, Jeremy. And yes, she just had to do that to us. It makes me chuckle even now, thinking back on her struggles over our two J names. Ugh. When she was yelling at us, she would stammer, “Je—, Jac— Oh shit, YOU!” and we would laugh our asses off as she pointed to one of us.

  After I met Lizzy that fateful morning, I ran upstairs to my apartment and straight for the bathroom to look in the mirror. Handsome. The way Lizzy had said ‘handsome’ made me want to verify it in some way. Maybe I had a spark to my eyes that I hadn’t noticed before.

  But no, as I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes still seemed milky boring blue. That just couldn’t be it. My dirty blonde hair fell over my eyes, flipped by my ears and over my collar. I wish I had more muscles, and maybe a dimple would help. I had a look of...well, I was stumped, and suddenly I laughed. Maybe she didn’t mean it literally.

  I just knew the one thing: that I was in love.

  I went back to my living room to take up my spot on the couch. I had decorated my apartment in modern ‘bachelor,’ a reflection of how I felt of my status. I have a black leather chair and a matching couch with a large flatscreen that sits atop a table. The remote sits on the arm of the leather couch that runs the length of the room. The black chair sits to the side. I have a coffee table sitting smack dab in front of the couch. And everything faces the TV.

  In my bedroom, I have a queen-sized bed. I would have gotten that king, but it wouldn’t fit. I carefully took the measurements before I went to the bed store. I remember how pissed I was that for another two inches...well, that’s in the past, and who gives a fuck. Makes me chuckle now.

  The newspaper lays facing me, and I notice the headline, ‘Tom Lawton Found Slain.’ The article goes on to say that this Tom Lawton was found shot to death, execution style, at home in his bed. There are no real suspects, but the authorities believe this was a gang related death. They suspect that due to the violence of the crime, and the status of the Lawton character, that one of the gangs took him out. One of their thugs sent a bloody message to their enemies.

  I make a note in the back of my head to ask my brother about what he thought of this murder. He would definitely have an opinion. He’s followed the gangs since he was six years old.

  Lizzy and our coffee date happened over two years ago. That was my introduction to the love of my life. My heart beats a lonely rhythm. The thought of going home to the emptiness filled me with dread every day. She’s been gone for far too long. I’m in love with a ghost. She left the Bay Area, and I have no clue where she’s vanished.

  I found a note taped to my door one morning. I was completely crushed.

  Dear Jack, I have to leave. I love you. Know that. Hang onto that, dear man, my handsome man. I will call you soon. Love Lizzy

  That’s all it said. I read it a hundred times, but it never revealed more to me. I fell to my knees screaming, “NO!” that fateful morning. I was crushed beyond measure, and no amount of thinking it through would help me get over the disappearance of my girl. I just had to pray she came back to me safe and sound.

  That whole thing fucked me up big time. I’m always looking over my shoulder, always waiting for that elusive phone call. Always, no matter what, I hold onto Lizzy with dear life. I don’t know anyone who knew her, so I had no one to turn to, no one to ask where she had gone. I had to dig deep and hold on tight to the love of my life. But I felt myself waver. How could she just ghost me?

  Why the fuck had she come into my life, made me fall in love with her, made me happy, and then pulled the rug out from under me? Rage has replaced the warm fuzzy feelings I had at the beginning of this love saga. Fury fuels me now for being stupid, for what she has done to me. Anger grips me as this feeling of abandonment courses through my very bloodstream. Rage fills my nights of lonely hours with nothing but unanswered questions.

  I want to bash my own brains in.

  I am stranded on an island of loneliness that I can’t shake. My life froze the day she left me. I feel for my phone, reassuring myself that it’s within reach.

  I have an office phone, and every single time I hear that loud brwing, brwing, I pray it’s Lizzy before I pick up. It never is. I feel like everyone needs to get in touch with me except, of course, Lizzy. She never calls like she promised, but I wait faithfully to hear that bubbly voice once again.

  I know I have waited too long. I tell myself to move on, but I just don’t want to. I just can’t find that move on button inside.

  We had some rocking good times, I’ve got to say. I lay in bed at night and dream of the feel of her skin against mine. When she was beside me, I could los
e myself for hours, tracing her every fine feature and every curve of her body. She’s an enchanting goddess, gracious and oh so beautiful. My lovely Lizzy with the heart-shaped ass left me like trash on the side of the road.

  Oh, dear lord, what has happened to my beautiful girl?

  I shake myself out of my reverie. I have a job to get to tomorrow, so I drag my jeans off my lean body and fall on the black leather couch, pulling the blanket over my shoulder. I drift off and sleep a dreamless sleep.

  The next day, I’m back at the office. I'm the District Manager for the United San Francisco Bank, and my duties keep me distracted all morning long. By afternoon I feel completely spent, but I still have hours to go.

  My cell phone finally buzzes, and I grab a hold of it. I put it up to my ear and breathlessly say, “Hello? Lizzy, is that you?” I forgot to check who was calling before picking up, and my heart falls to the ground. It’s only my brother, Jeremy.

  “Hey bro, how about a drink after work?” he says flatly. He seems distracted, and I know he’s trying to do two things at once.