Her Own Drum

by Ali Franklin

  Teddy reached over and patted her arm. “Ryan, it’s not your fault.” Ryan looked up with fire in her eyes.

  “It is my fault! Don’t you see? If I hadn’t fallen for Grace’s charming act, if I had just let them keep her in jail, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Ryan, sweetie, take a breath.” Teddy stood and put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “No one is blaming you. Please call Jack. Maybe Grace said something that will be a clue.”

  Ryan nodded and found Jack’s number. While the call connected, she laid the phone on the table and pressed the speaker icon.

  “Maddie?” said a man’s voice.

  “No, Jack, it’s Ryan McCabe.”

  “Ryan, you talked to Grace? What did she say? Where’s Maddie?”

  “I don’t know. She said Maddie is ‘out of commission.’ You don’t know where she is?”

  “Are you still at your friends’ house?” he asked.

  “Yes, and there’s a deputy out front.”

  “I’ve dispatched another deputy to cover the back of the house. Stay there and do not let anyone inside.”

  “Jack, what’s going on? Why don’t you know where Maddie is?”

  There was a pause before Jack spoke. “Grace took her. She kidnapped Maddie while we were at her house.”

  Ryan’s fingers flew to the bridge of her nose. Summer and Teddy both put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

  “Ryan? Did you hear me?”

  She could hardly think. “But how could that happen?”

  “She’s very smart and she must have known we were coming. She was ready for us, Ryan.”

  “Is Maddie going to be okay?”

  “She’s a tough one. Maddie will be just fine.”

  Ryan was shifting her weight from one leg to the other, adrenaline coursing through her body. “What can we do, Jack? We have to do something.”

  “You need to stay right where you are. Do not move, and do not let anyone into that house until I tell you it’s okay. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No arguments, Ryan. We can’t let Grace kidnap anyone else. And I can’t go get her if I have to worry about you doing something dangerous. Promise me.”

  “I understand.” She concentrated on slowing her breathing. “Jack?”

  “Yes?”

  “Please find her.” Jack wasn’t sure which “her” Ryan was talking about, but he had seen the way his partner had acted around Ryan. He didn’t have to be a detective to know there was something between them. He was going to find both Maddie and Grace if it was the last thing he did.

  “I will, Ryan.”

  29

  The three women looked at each other as the light outside grew brighter for a moment. Less than two seconds later, an enormous clap of thunder rattled the windows. Rain started coming down in buckets.

  "Wow. I hope everyone's okay," said Teddy, rushing to the window. She looked at her front yard and the yards of the nearest neighbors. "I don't see any trees toppling over."

  Summer had run to the sliding glass door in the den and was looking at what she could see of the back yards. "Nothing here, either."

  The women returned to the kitchen table. They listened as the rain pelted the house. It was one of those sudden Texas storms that seems to dump all the rain in the world on a little town in a hurry.

  When the initial shock subsided, Ryan started pacing laps around the house. She called out to her friends as she walked. “We should try to figure out where Grace would take Maddie. There can’t be that many places she feels comfortable enough to take a hostage.”

  Teddy and Summer looked at each other. Neither of them knew any more about Grace than Ryan did. But it couldn’t hurt to help Ryan talk through the possibilities. They yelled ideas back and forth with Ryan as she walked.

  “What about her office?” offered Teddy.

  “No, there’s nowhere to hide a car out there.”

  “Does she have another house?” asked Summer.

  “I have no idea.”

  The back-and-forth continued. After her fourth lap, Ryan stopped in the living room and draped herself, face down, onto a couch. She screamed into a pillow, beating her fists against the cushion.

  Summer came into the room. “You okay?"

  Ryan turned over and exhaled. “I am so stupid. I can’t believe I let her play me like that.”

  “She played everybody,” said Summer. “You can’t beat yourself up over it.”

  “She’d still be in jail if I hadn’t tried so hard to get her out.”

  Teddy came in and sat on the couch next to her friend. “That’s not true, Ryan. They let Grace out because my accident made them think it was someone else. They had no idea she could have done that from jail.” Teddy put her arm around Ryan’s shoulders.

  Ryan looked at her friends, her bottom lip trembling. "I'm going to call her. Try to talk her out of this.” She pulled her phone from the front pocket of her jeans and found the number.

  "Ryan, let the sheriff's office handle this," said Teddy, putting her hand on Ryan's arm. "You shouldn't be involved any more. Otherwise, she may try to hurt you."

  "I can't just let her take Maddie. I need to do something."

  Grace's phone rang and rang. Ryan called again with the same result. Finally, she threw her phone down on the couch. "She's probably turned off her phone so they can't trace her," she said.

  “Ryan,” Said Summer, “Jack and the deputies are on this. They’ll handle it. We need to do what he said: stay put and wait for them to call.”

  Ryan slumped. "I know."

  Maddie was breathing hard from her efforts to dislodge the pipe, but adrenaline was coursing through her veins. Though there was little light, she saw parts of her environment in vivid detail: the number of screws holding the pipe to the wall, how the stools were perfectly spaced beneath the lab tables, and the pattern of the red and green blinking lights coming from the far wall.

  By bending down and using a little flexibility, she had removed the gag as soon as Grace left the room. She had screamed toward the closed windows but stopped as soon as the rain had started, the thunder drowning out her voice. No one was likely to hear her anyway, unless they came inside the building. She hoped it was on some security officer's patrol route tonight.

  She had tried standing on top of the stool and pulling the pipe from the wall near the ceiling. She had also tried squatting low to pull the section of pipe attached near the floor. She had tried unscrewing the legs of the stool so she could maneuver them more easily as a potential lever. Nothing had worked, but she kept trying.

  She used her foot to pull another stool toward her. Her plan was to lift it so she could break a window, but her hands were held too close to the wall to be of any use. Her legs were free but could not raise the stool high enough to have any effect.

  As she considered her next move, she heard a door slam. She screamed as loud as she could.

  "I'm in here! Help! I'm in here!"

  The door opened and Maddie saw Grace silhouetted in the doorway. She was dripping from the rain but didn't seem to notice.

  "I'm here to rescue you...oh, no, I'm not. Have you been screaming bloody murder this whole time? You must be tired. Take a break." She produced the small canister from her front pocket. "Or I'll spray you again." Maddie decided to save her breath and remain conscious.

  Grace used her flashlight to check Maddie's handcuffs. "Still nice and tight?" Maddie grunted.

  "You won't have to put up with them much longer."

  "Oh yeah?” said Maddie, “You've realized the only way you're going to get out of this is by letting me go?"

  "Not even close," said Grace. She walked to the far wall and shined the flashlight on the machines there. The shapes with their blinking lights were computer equipment: black boxes of different sizes, monitors, and keyboards. What kind of office building had lab tables? Were they at the high school?

  The red and green lights changed
their patterns as Grace tapped at two of the keyboards. The hum changed in pitch and grew a little louder. Grace looked at the messages on the two monitors she had enabled. Maddie strained to see but they were too far away.

  "Whatcha doin', Grace?" She asked in a singsong voice.

  "Like I'm gonna tell you. But don't worry. As soon as I get your little friend here, you'll both be able to watch what's going on. Right up until your lights go out." Grace made an exploding-hand gesture next to her head.

  Maddie's heart was racing faster than it had during any drug bust, but she was encouraged that Grace was talking. The longer she engaged with Maddie, the more time Jack and their colleagues had to find her and formulate a rescue plan.

  Grace moved from one computer to the next, clicking through screens and making adjustments. She muttered to herself while she worked. Maddie heard the words "faster" and "account.”

  "Grace, it's not too late for you to stop what you're doing and turn yourself in."

  "Whatever."

  "C'mon. No harm, no foul,” said Maddie. “If you just let me go, we can make it right."

  Grace stopped typing and turned to face Maddie. "You really don't get it." She took a few steps in Maddie's direction. "What I'm doing right now is going to change my life forever. I'll never have to work again, I'll never have to worry about cops sniffing around my door. Hell, I can buy the cops when I'm done."

  Maddie raised her eyebrows. "That's some plan," she said. "You must’ve been working on it for a while."

  "You have no idea. I've been perfecting this for years. It's foolproof. All I needed was access to a system with this much power."

  "Is this your office?"

  Grace started to answer, then paused. "Maybe."

  Maddie was starting to feel a pain in the pit of her stomach. She was running out of topics that would keep her captor talking. The detective had to avoid angering Grace and ending the conversation. Easy Mads, you've got this.

  One of the computers beeped. Grace did a hundred-and-eighty-degree jump and let out a girlish squeal. "Yes!" She skipped back to the machines and started typing.

  Maddie could see about half of the screen Grace was now working on. Though she could not make out the words, she saw the logo that suddenly popped up: Haverwood College. Her brow furrowed. Was she hacking the college’s data right now?

  She said a small prayer that Grace had not accessed the college's records, though she was almost certain Grace had the skill to do just that.

  "Grace, what are you doing?"

  Grace turned around, smiling. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

  "Don’t do anything you'll regret."

  "I'm not going to regret anything. I’m about to be set for life." She tapped a few more keys and started talking to herself again. This time Maddie could make out more words:

  "...rich brats...work for a living...."

  Maddie’s heart sank. If she didn't stop Grace right now, the computer wizard would wreak havoc on the lives of thousands of staff and students at the college.

  "Grace." No answer. "Grace!"

  "Shut up. I’ll put you out of your misery soon enough."

  "Grace, you don't want to add more time to your sentence by hurting me."

  "Don't worry. Your death is going to be an 'accident.'" Maddie watched as the flashlight bobbed up and down, imagining Grace making air quotes.

  "Everyone knows you kidnapped me. It's not going to look like an accident. You know what happens to people who hurt cops? They get hunted down."

  "They won't find me where I'm going." Grace laughed. "Even if they do, there isn't any extradition."

  It was Maddie's turn to laugh. "You don't really believe that, do you? Those countries are happy to turn over small-time crooks like you to keep our country happy. You won't have a chance."

  Grace slapped her hand on the table.

  "Shut. Up." She turned to Maddie. "If you keep talking, I'll kill you right now."

  Maddie shut up.

  30

  Ryan rose from the couch and started walking toward the back of the house. "I need to be alone for a bit." Her friends exchanged a glance as they watched her go.

  Reaching the guest bedroom, she stood with her hands on her hips. She let her head fall all the way back and stared, unseeing, at the brushed-nickel light fixture in the middle of the ceiling. No answers came.

  She was on the edge. On one side was determination to keep Maddie from being hurt. On the other was despair. Was it going to happen again? She laid on the bed and threw her arm over her eyes, allowing the memory to wash over her.

  Ryan’s parents had come to California to see her receive her PhD from UC Berkeley. Their plan was to stay a few days after the ceremony to see the sights and enjoy the Bay area. The day before they were due to return home, Ryan's mom had met up with an old friend to spend the day shopping. Ryan's dad had always wanted to drive the Pacific Coast Highway, so there they were, speeding south in a convertible with the wind in their hair and the Beach Boys on the radio.

  Ryan had always enjoyed completing the tourist circuit with anyone who came for a visit, but she loved it even more when it was her parents. They had dropped in at least once in each of the five years she had been at Berkeley and they still hadn’t done everything they'd wanted to do. They would have to plan even more visits to this beautiful area.

  Dad pulled into a gas station out in the middle of nowhere.

  "Dad, I'm sure we can make it to the next town. Gas will be cheaper there."

  "I never take chances when it comes to gas. Too many unreliable gauges in cars these days."

  Ryan knew it was true. From the moment she had begun learning to drive, Dad had lectured her about keeping the gas tank above half full at all times. She smiled and nodded. She loved his quirks and she didn't get to see him very often, so she indulged his need to fill the tank.

  Ryan had gone into the attached mini-mart to buy some water. It had only taken a minute, but by the time she came back outside, there was a strange man in the driver's seat of her car. Her father was screaming and pulling at the man's shirt, trying to get him out. Ryan screamed toward the store for someone to call the police and ran to her father.

  The driver's door wasn't closed, and Ryan joined in the fight by trying to grab the man's legs. As she leaned toward him, she saw a gun in his right hand. She straightened up and grabbed her father's shoulders.

  "He's got a gun! Let him have the car. Dad, let go!"

  Her father was still pulling the man's shoulders. Ryan reached in to pull her dad's arms away. She saw movement out of her peripheral vision but didn't react in time. The hand with the gun smashed into her face, knocking her out.

  Ryan woke when an EMT passed smelling salts under her nose.

  "We're going to get you to the hospital. You just stay still and we'll take care of everything."

  "Where's my dad?" She looked from side to side. Her head ached like an anvil had been dropped on it. She couldn't see her car or her father.

  "He's in the ambulance that just left. We're going next." Rescue personnel turned her body and put her on a board, then lifted the board to the gurney.

  "Is my dad okay?"

  The EMT and his partner glanced at each other, but neither one looked her in the eye. "We'll check in on him when we get to the hospital. You just concentrate on staying awake." They deflected her questions all the way to the hospital.

  The ambulance ride dragged on forever. Ryan reached up to feel her head but the EMT pushed her hand away. It fell to her chest, where she felt something clammy. She looked down to see her shirt soaked with blood.

  "Whose blood is that?"

  "Yours. That guy did a real number on your nose. Probably gonna need surgery."

  Ryan sighed. Oh, well. Most people paid to have nose jobs. She'd get hers for the price of a co-payment.

  She resumed asking about her father as soon as they reached the hospital. Every doctor and nurse told her to focus on her own situation and p
romised to provide information on her father after they were both treated. She asked them to call her mother.

  Ryan had an MRI to assess the damage on her nose. It wasn't a total loss and surgery was not strictly necessary, but the procedure would straighten it our and make it easier for her to breathe through her nose. She was about to sign the paperwork for the surgery when a new nurse came into the room. Ryan looked up and asked about her father. The nurse promised to go check on him and came back with a doctor at her side.

  "Ms. McCabe, your mother is on her way."

  "Thank you, doctor. How is my father?" The nurse stepped closer to the bed and lifted Ryan's hand in her own. Lips pulled down at the corners, low energy in the face: sadness. Ryan prayed that the pain was making her misread the woman's expression.

  "Your father sustained a single gunshot wound to the head. He was dead on arrival. I'm sorry."

  Ryan’s vision swam. She felt the nurse squeeze her hand, which helped her focus again. "But he was just... just trying to...."

  "We understand that the Highway Patrol is looking for your car and the shooter now. I'm sure a detective will be in to talk with you shortly. In the meantime, we need to take care of that nose.”

  Ryan raised her hand and ran her fingertips lightly over the appendage. It hurt like hell and the surface was bumpy in a few spots. She looked up at the doctor.

  "Can it wait?"

  "You don't want it to start healing while it's out of place like that. We’d have to break it again to re-set it."

  "I need to think about it."

  The doctor and the nurse exchanged a glance. The doctor shrugged. "I'm on duty all day, but I wouldn't wait too long."

  Ryan left the hospital without the surgery. Over the next few weeks the guilt over her father's death ebbed and flowed, even with twice-weekly visits to a therapist. She relived the event over and over in her dreams. And she prayed every day for a chance to make it up to him.

  Eventually, Ryan decided to leave her nose the way it was as a reminder that life is short and we should take care of the people we love.