The Bear

by Dustin Stevens

  Shifting his jaw to the side, Herc stuck his teeth out over his bottom lip. He gnawed at it a moment, pondering the response, before saying, “Let me guess; bastard doesn’t want the bad press of a kidnapping in his town?”

  Tinged with bitterness, it was clear the young man’s thoughts about Ecklund matched those of Wyatt.

  Apparently, there was at least some unrest in his little dominion.

  “Word for word,” Reed said. “Got pulled in and read the riot act myself this morning.”

  His head bobbing slightly, Herc said, “I think all of us have at one point or another.”

  Delivered with complete candor, it seemed to be out before Herc even realized he’d said it. Upon realizing the words were gone, his brows rose slightly, his cheeks reddening, before he added, “As for Serena, she cut through that alley almost every single night after work.”

  Having no interest to wade further into the muck that was Warner local politics, Reed let the previous comment go. His interest solely on the last statement, he asked, “Every night? You’re sure?”

  “Well, not every night,” Herc said, adding extra emphasis, “but damn near. Every one that she worked or the weather wasn’t too bad.”

  “What happened those nights?” Reed asked.

  “She drove. They have an old beater Honda, but I don’t think she liked to use it much. Probably trying to save on gas.”

  For a moment, Reed thought back to the Gipson home that afternoon. He didn’t remember seeing a Honda out front, though it could have easily been parked in the garage.

  That part didn’t as much concern him as what Herc was saying about her routine. If she was cutting through the alley with that kind of regularity, it would have been easy for anybody tailing her to pick up on the pattern.

  “Aside from this place, how much foot traffic does downtown get?” Reed asked.

  Making a face, a hint of a smile crossed Herc’s mouth as if he thought the question was humorous, dissipating as soon as it arrived.

  “I definitely wouldn’t use the word traffic. Since all the new stuff went in out by the interstate, this place becomes a ghost town after dark. The diner closes at nine, we turn out the lights at eleven, that’s pretty much it.”

  Grunting softly, Reed nodded, imposing the information on what he already knew. Every night, a young girl was cutting through a dark, narrow alley at the same time. The town surrounding it was already shut down, very few people around to see or hear anything.

  As perfect a scene for an abduction as could exist.

  Raising a finger, Reed pointed to the diner across the street. “I just came from Hanley’s, had a talk with Curt Walton, the grill cook with Serena last night.”

  “Uh-huh,” Herc said, giving the impression that he was familiar with the man and his position.

  Something Reed imagined extended to almost every person in a town so small.

  “And he mentioned seeing a guy come in for the first time night before last. Tall, kind of big, dressed like a cowboy. Jeans and flannel shirt, ballcap pulled low, bushy beard. You have anybody like that stop by lately?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The Bear had left behind a bottle of water on his last visit for two distinct purposes.

  The first - and most obvious - was that the girl needed to hydrate. It had been the better part of a day, if not longer, since she’d consumed any fluids. Coupled with the blows she’d already received, with the amount of moisture she’d lost through tears and snot and sweat in the time since, she had to be absolutely parched.

  And that wouldn’t do. Not with the real work still yet to come. He needed her body functioning at least somewhat close to normally if ever she were to get through it.

  The second reason The Bear had left the water behind was to see what the girl did with it.

  The ones that thought they were tough, that stood resolute, trying to prove to him and themselves and God and whoever else they thought might be watching, never lasted as long. They would throw the bottle away or pour it down the toilet or simply sit and stare at it in loathing, thinking that by doing so they were making some sort of pointed stand against him and their situation.

  When, in actuality, all they were doing was hastening their own demise.

  The girls who drank were already getting past the initial fear and hysteria. They were smart enough to see their predicament for what it was, reckoning that they would need the nourishment if ever they were going to make it through.

  The Bear liked those the best. He hoped this one would be such a case, the last girl breaking far too easily, almost shattered the instant she arrived.

  Not only was that not enjoyable, but it had wasted weeks of preparation, putting him back on the trail long before he was ready.

  Sitting in his chair in the neighboring room, The Bear stared at the bank of monitors before him. His earlier swat across the girl’s jaw had reopened the cut on his knuckles, the taste of his own blood salty in his mouth as he sucked on the joint, his attention squarely on the images before him.

  Since he’d stepped out a few minutes earlier, saying nothing as he dropped the bottle at the foot of the bed, the girl had moved little. Sitting with her shoulders hunched and her body twisted to the side, she’d waited for almost five full minutes, expecting the door to burst open again at any moment and The Bear to come charging in.

  Which was good. The Bear liked a little spunk; he even enjoyed a bit of a challenge, but a certain level of decorum to start with was always the preference.

  Only once before had he encountered someone openly combative, an instance that had ended badly for both parties.

  After the initial window had passed, the girl had slowly turned, taking in what had been left behind for the first time. Operating within her pure lizard brain, she had shot an arm out, grabbing for the bottle, her fingertips making it as far as the cool plastic shell before recoiling.

  Arm bent at the elbow, she’d stared at it as if expecting it to snap at her, like it was an animal coiled and ready to spring.

  Lowering his hand from his mouth, The Bear smiled. Already, he liked this one, a combination of woman and child, the potential to be exactly what he wanted for a long time to come.

  What he’d always hoped, believed, that Molly would one day be.

  A moment after the initial explorative reach, the girl ventured a second pass. Sliding her hand around the bottle, she pulled it toward her, carefully inspecting the ring around the top, ensuring that it was still sealed and had not been tampered with.

  A move that made sense, even if it was completely illogical.

  If The Bear wanted to harm her, he would save the pleasure for himself, not leaving it to a bottle of spiked water.

  Start to finish, the sequence took another five full minutes before the girl finally stripped away the cap and began to drink.

  As expected, the first attempt sent her into a fit of coughing.

  The second, only nominally better.

  With her parched and swollen throat, it wasn’t until the third time that she had the good sense to settle for a small sip. Keeping it down without another coughing spell ensuing, she then tried a second, followed by a third.

  Each swallow brought relief to her aching esophagus, every gulp larger than the one before. A minute after her first taste, she had finished almost half the bottle.

  Forcing herself to slow, she managed to drag the remainder out twice as long. When she was done, she returned the cap and dropped the bottle by her feet. Her chest and shoulders heaved slightly as she fought for air, the act of drinking taking what little energy she had left at the moment.

  “Perfect,” The Bear whispered, a smile coming to his face as he sat and stared at her.

  The grin still in place, he allowed his gaze to drift to the side, landing on the twisted coil of metal and handheld blowtorch resting on the corner of the table, ready to be called into action.

  Chapter Thirty

  Billie was across the back
deck before the SUV had even stopped rolling down the driveway. By the time Reed opened the driver’s side door, she was there, pressing her muzzle into his lap. As if sensing what he’d been doing, she drew in deep pulls of air, scanning the smells he’d picked up.

  Knowing better than to interrupt, Reed kept himself propped sideways on the front seat, allowing her to get her fill. Reed let her start with his hands, and once she had moved on, he laced them along either side of her head. His fingers left turrets through her thick coat before coming together on her neck and sliding down the length of her spine.

  “I know,” he said. “It wasn’t my idea to leave you behind.”

  “Old girl has been a wreck since the moment you left,” his mother called out, pulling his attention upward. Wearing a blue-and-yellow calico apron, she stood on the edge of the deck with a spatula in hand, the end of it already dotted with streaks of meat and sauce.

  From that, combined with the scent wafting through the air, Reed guessed that pork chops were imminent.

  After what he’d been subjected to at the diner and the gas station, he wasn’t opposed to the option in the slightest.

  “Yeah, I know,” Reed said as Billie backed away, finally letting him escape the confines of the SUV. Swinging the door shut behind him, he fell in beside his partner as they followed the stone path around the side of the house, joining his mother on the deck.

  Sitting atop the same table where they’d had lunch hours earlier, the makings of dinner were already coming together. Three place settings were out, a bamboo bowl filled with salad sitting in the middle. A pitcher of lemonade rested beside it, fresh fruit chunks and ice cubes floating along the top, bits of condensation just starting to form on the glass.

  A far cry from what dinner looked like most nights for Reed.

  “How’d it go?” Cheryl asked, moving back to the grill and lifting the lid. As she did so, a plume of smoke and steam rose into the air, the aromas of the meal growing exponentially stronger.

  Ignoring the pangs of hunger that jabbed into his core, Reed took a step closer, inspecting the spread laid out before them.

  “Corn on the cob, potato wedges, pork chops, and garlic rolls,” his mother rattled off, using the spatula as a pointer as she went. One hand still on the lid, she shuffled a few things around, making sure everything got a shot at the warmer spots, before closing it and turning back to Reed. “Even without a full kitchen yet, there’s only so much fast food we old folks can take.”

  Knowing we old folks was the playful moniker she liked to use in referring to her and her husband, Reed allowed a hint of a smile, though nothing more, his mind elsewhere.

  As he suspected it would be for some time to come.

  “So?” Cheryl prompted, drawing Reed’s attention up to see an expectant look on her face.

  “Not a lot to report yet,” Reed said. “Made the preliminary rounds, talked to her family, to the place where she worked and was coming from last night, to the guy behind the counter at the gas station again.”

  “Nobody saw anything?” Cheryl asked, a small frown forming on her lips.

  “Worse,” Reed said, his face crinkling slightly as he gave a shake of his head. “One of those towns where everybody knows everybody. Nobody worries about anything.”

  Waiting a moment for him to continue, Cheryl’s brows rose slightly. “And that’s worse?”

  “It is,” Reed said. “People that live in bubbles aren’t near as vigilant as they should be. Billie and I go walking through The Bottoms at night, our heads are on a swivel. We know everything going on around us at all times.”

  Grunting softly, his mother considered returning to the grill before deciding against it, her attention staying on Reed.

  “But somewhere like this,” he continued. “Beautiful young woman, walking home alone. Headphones in, staring at a bright screen when it’s dark out, never thinking twice about taking the same alley at the same time night after night.”

  Reed pulled up there, not bothering to voice the last part. Never did he believe in blaming a victim, especially in a case like this. It wasn’t the girl’s fault this had happened.

  Even if she hadn’t done much to help her cause in the process.

  “You’d think that would make it easier for somebody to have noticed something, though,” she said, tapping into the same sort of sentiment that he had experienced at the diner.

  “Possibly,” Reed said, recalling the man that Curt Walton had mentioned, the vague description at least matching with the silhouette he had seen, “but the town basically shuts down at the end of the workday. Be pretty easy for someone to run surveillance without others noticing, especially if they were smart about it.”

  That last part was what had been running through his mind since leaving the Sinclair Station a few minutes before.

  The bounds of Serena Gipson’s life were extremely narrow, but there had to have been some way that she caught her abductor’s eye. It sounded like her entire circle was school, work, and home, a radius that was probably less than ten miles in total.

  As he’d discussed with Wyatt earlier, her school was definitely an option they would look into in the morning, though he had doubts. It just didn’t seem to fit, especially considering what seemed to be the universal opinion that she wasn’t one for dating or going out at all.

  Same for the diner, the man Curt mentioned from two nights before the sole new face in ages. He said he would ask the other cook and waitresses if they’d noticed anybody, though he didn’t seem to have much hope.

  Nor did Reed.

  Still, she had somehow managed to get on someone’s radar, at which point surveilling her became infinitely easier. Her schedule was the definition of a standard routine, the patterns obvious. Swapping cars or altering an appearance would be all it took to get a good idea of where she was at any given time.

  From there, it was only a matter of putting a plan into action.

  Blinking himself back into the present, Reed checked the state of the grill before him. “I need to call Officer Wyatt right quick and fill him in, put together a plan for tomorrow.”

  “Go,” Cheryl said, rotating at the waist and motioning for him to be gone. “This stuff still has a few minutes, and it’ll need to cool before we eat anyway.”

  “Thanks,” Reed said, turning to head back toward the SUV and his phone still stowed in the middle console.

  “Hey!” his mother called, her voice raised slightly.

  Slowing his pace, Reed turned just short of the steps, his eyebrows raised in question.

  “Just do me a favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I know why you couldn’t take her today,” Cheryl said, “but promise me you’ll have Billie with you from now on?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The interior of the SUV was just the right temperature for Reed to sit and call Wyatt. In as little as a few weeks, the first throes of summer would be upon them, bringing with it a later sunset and more intense heat, but for the time being he was okay.

  Not to mention, the front seat made for an easy place for him to sit in relative quiet, not wanting to go into the house and have to recount everything again with his father just yet.

  That could wait until dinner, after he’d made the couple of calls he needed to and could get everything out at once.

  In the backseat behind him was Billie, her body an enormous shadow moving across the rearview mirror. Intent not to be left behind again, she had insisted on jumping in ahead of him, climbing over the middle console and assuming her usual position in the back.

  Having been admonished by both her and his mother since returning home, Reed knew better than to argue.

  Even if leaving her behind the first time was not what he would have preferred.

  Resting the phone on his thigh, Reed pulled up the number Wyatt had given him earlier from his call log. Three rings later, it was snatched up.

  “Wyatt.”

  “Can you
talk?” Reed asked.

  “Yeah,” Wyatt replied. “I’m alone here at the station. Super quiet night.”

  Reed had a feeling that’s how most of them were, not a far cry from what Curt Walton went through regularly, trying to find ways to fill the time.

  At least at the diner, Curt had the waitresses to talk to.

  “Wanted to let you know I made the rounds, like we talked about,” Reed said. “Started at Hanley’s Diner, sat down with Curt Walton for a little while.”

  “Yeah,” Wyatt said. “He’s been working there a couple of years now. Known him longer than that. One of those that acts like he’s desperate to leave but never will.”

  One corner of Reed’s mouth curled up as he thought on the assessment, the words nothing he would have chosen himself, though he couldn’t argue they were wrong in the slightest. He’d gotten that impression from Curt also, as well as from Herc, and a thousand other witnesses he’d talked to at one point or another.

  Perhaps apathy, but more likely just human nature.

  “Not a lot new to share,” Reed said. “Pretty much confirmed Serena’s non-existent social status and that her routine was ironclad.”

  “Making her an easy target,” Wyatt muttered, voicing the very thing Reed had just five minutes earlier.

  Recognizing it was more audible thinking than anything, Reed let it go without comment.

  “About the only thing new or useful he did share was that two nights ago there was a guy in for dinner he’d never seen before. Came in late, around eight, wearing a hat pulled low and a beard. He mention anything like that to you?”

  For a moment there was no response, Reed imagining the man either trying to place whether it had been mentioned or kicking himself for missing it in his own interview earlier in the day.

  “No,” Wyatt said, his tone indicating it was most likely the latter. Taking another moment, he continued pondering the information before saying, “Hat and beard. Isn’t that what you saw?”

  “It is,” Reed said, glancing to the rearview and nodding out of habit, even though there was nobody to see it.