The Water

by Nancy Jackson

  He was heady with elation. Soon, he spotted another. Yes! I will help her. I will help her get clean too!

  Carrie and Lainey had taken their time eating. Nothing nefarious would happen until after dark and with the summer days lasting until nine-thirty, they knew they had time.

  They were becoming more comfortable with each other and after the revelation Carrie had experienced earlier in the day from Lainey’s poignant words, she was eager to learn more about her and how she had overcome such a tragedy. Maybe it would work for her as well.

  Their talk was light-hearted, and they chatted about the guys at the agency, and about the crazy things they had experienced in their law enforcement careers. Carrie wasn’t sure, but she thought she felt a little lighter when they drove back downtown. The laughter and comaraderie had done her good.

  “Where to?” asked Carrie.

  “You said all three of the girls worked this downtown area, but it seems they worked mostly around the hotels and convention centers. What do you think about going to somewhere on Broadway where the Renaissance and the Sheraton are?”

  “Sounds good,” responded Carrie.

  “I want to park somewhere that I can easily pull out should I need to follow you.”

  Carrie let Lainey out in front of the Cox Center and circled the downtown streets several times. Finally, thirty minutes later, she was able to find a parking spot on the street, just south of the Renaissance Hotel facing west.

  Lainey had texted that she had walked up Broadway on the east side of the street and then back down on the west side. She had finally found a short brick retaining wall on the southeast corner of the Sheraton hotel and was sitting on it.

  From there, Lainey was visible to anyone at either hotel and those coming out of the north entrance of the Cox center. She had once again assumed a lurid pose and waited.

  From where Carrie had parked, she could easily see Lainey. There were only four cars parallel parked in front of her along the curb. She wasn’t as close as she would have liked, but then she didn’t want to be seen either.

  The AC felt cool and after the meal, she was having to resist feeling sleepy. She repositioned herself and even opened her window to hear the street noise, but then quickly closed it again because of the heat.

  They had advised patrolmen of their operation. They couldn’t devote additional manpower to focus solely on an operation that was as iffy as this one, but they knew to be on alert should Carrie radio in. And after the other day, she would radio in before she took a breath.

  Lainey was getting stiff sitting so long in an unnatural position, so she stood and walked back and forth. She turned the corner and walked west along Sheridan still where Carrie could easily see her.

  Suddenly, before Carrie could respond, her passenger door flew open and electric shock jolted her body convulsively. Two electrodes protruded from her chest.

  Almost as quickly as she had felt the pain and her body went rigid, a large man with dark hair slid into the passenger seat next to her. He reached over, took her gun and tossed it into the backseat.

  Then, just as suddenly, a girl jumped into the backseat, picked up her gun and pointed it on her. The man retrieved the electrodes, and the girl jabbed the gun into her ribs.

  “Drive!” barked the man.

  “Where to?” asked Carrie.

  The girl jabbed the gun deeper into her ribs. “Just drive,” he said.

  Carrie put the SUV in gear and pulled out into the street. It was around midnight and with no events, there was little traffic. She turned to watch for Lainey as she passed the area where she had last seen her.

  Panic seized her as she noticed the blue Plymouth and Lainey talking to the man. Engaged in conversation, Lainey never saw Carrie pass by in the SUV.

  Lainey was expecting Carrie to be watching her, but with her own gun jammed into her ribs and her phone displaced into the passenger floorboard, what could she do?

  Carrie could hold her own in a fight, but now it was two against one. The man had reset and readied the taser and had it once again pointed at her. The girl had her gun firmly on her. If she could take out one, the other would surely fire.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” asked Carrie.

  “Just drive.”

  About three blocks ahead, he instructed Carrie to pull over to the right, alongside the street. The girl gave the gun to the man, shoved a dark pillow case over Carrie’s head, and jumped out.

  She quickly jerked Carrie’s door open and slapped a handcuff on her left wrist. The man shoved Carrie forward against the steering wheel, and the girl swiftly pushed the cuff across Carrie’s back. The man grabbed Carrie’s right wrist and slapped on the cuff.

  The man then came around, pulled Carrie out of the front and shoved her into the backseat face down. Then he seated himself in the driver's seat, and the girl got in the front passenger seat. It all happened so quickly and efficiently that Carrie was convinced this couple had made many abductions just like this one, or similar.

  The area where she had stopped the car was a run down commercial district. Many business still operated in the area during the day, but at night there was no one around.

  Carrie was trying to feel the movement of the car to determine the direction and distance between turns they were taking. But at one sharp right turn, she was slung to the floorboard. By the time she had recovered, she had lost track.

  She knew however that they hadn’t gotten far when the man pulled the car over and stopped. It was pitch dark out. It was a moonless night, and they were in an area with almost no lamps or artificial light.

  It had all happened so fast that all Carrie could tell about the man was that he was large and had dark or black hair.

  The girl was small and had stringy long blonde hair, but she could not determine exact facial features or eye color.

  The man turned around and faced the backseat. “Now, what I want to know, is why you’re looking for me?” he asked.

  Carrie’s mind accelerated to attempt to determine which man this could be. Suddenly she realized, the man had to be the man in the sketch. And the girl with long stringy blonde hair. Could that be Sam? Carrie wondered.

  “I’m looking for a girl named Sam, Samantha Anderson. We thought you might know where she was and if you could help us find her.” Carrie was hoping to elicit a response from the girl. With her head covered, she couldn’t see the expressions on their faces.

  In the front seat, the man and girl looked at each other for a long moment. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.

  “We are concerned about her. Her parents miss her.” Then Carrie realized that Sam had probably not heard about her sister Cami. Should I tell her now? Would that be cruel, wondered Carrie?

  “No one ever seemed to care before. Why are you looking for her all of a sudden?”

  “Her sister Cami is dead.”

  A huff of air and a freakish squeak as if someone had punched the girl squarely in the stomach, flew out. “No!” she screamed as she doubled over, gripping her hair with two fists and banging her head on the console. Wails of agony continued.

  The man grabbed the back of her hair at the nape of her neck and jerked her head up. Once upright, he backhanded her face with the hand that held the taser. “Shut up!”

  The girl’s head snapped and then hung limply from the man’s grip. Tears, mixed with snot ran in rivers down her red splotched face. Her eyes were dark and hollow. “You, don’t speak again. You hear me, you dirty whore.”

  The girl remained silent. What else can he do to me, she wondered. Then the man slung her head backwards toward the passenger side window and let go. She hit the window with a thud, then slumped into the seat, wishing for death.

  “You need to stop looking for me,” he once again addressed Carrie.

  Carrie’s mind was searching for some way out of this. She had lost her gun. Being in shorts and a tank top for undercover work left few places to conceal a weapon, but she had a
knife.

  These particular shorts had an inside pocket at the waistband where she kept a small retractible knife. In her current position, though, it was of little use to her.

  “I’m just looking for Sam. They told me you were the last person to see her. I just wanted to question you. We were looking for the man who killed Cami and thought that person might have Sam too.”

  In the front passenger seat, the despondency that had invaded and consumed Sam over the past two years, was rapidly turning into a rage.

  This man had manipulated and controlled her. Had he killed Cami too? The more Sam thought about it, the angrier she became. The pain she felt just now, receded as splinters of light flashed in her mind. Her breathing was growing jagged and as if launched out of a rocket, she came off of the seat and aimed the gun she still held, squarely at the man.

  Before the man had time to think, Sam was unloading the clip into the man’s chest. She didn’t stop until all that was heard was click, click, click.

  Carrie was writhing in the backseat at the sound of the first gunshot, trying to turn over and right herself. Once awkwardly up on her knees, she scooted up onto the seat. She bent forward and grasp the top of the pillowcase between her knees and pulled it off.

  There before her was Sam holding her empty gun, still pulling the trigger. The man was slumped back against her driver side door with blood dripping from the splatters on the ceiling of the SUV.

  “Sam,” said Carrie. “Sam.”

  Finally, Sam slowly turned her head toward Carrie. She held a blank stare as if looking, but not really seeing.

  “Sam, I need to get these cuffs off. Can you give me the key?” asked Carrie. “Sam?”

  Carrie knew Sam was in shock. She may be drugged too, but she needed to get the cuffs off. She needed to call this in and get back to Lainey.

  Finally, Sam seemed to notice her surroundings and looked around as if for the first time. She reached over and dug in the man’s pockets and found the key and unlocked the cuffs.

  Sam didn’t notice as Carrie reached over and gently removed the gun from her hand. Sam’s face was turned down, focused on something unseen. She released the gun to Carrie.

  As soon as Carrie had secured her weapon, she reached across the front seat and down into the floorboard. She grabbed her phone and dialed 911 to report her situation, then immediately afterward called Lainey.

  The phone rang and rang. The hair on the back of Carrie’s neck stood on end. No, this can’t happen. She has to be okay, thought Carrie as she redialed Lainey’s phone. Again, the only response was Lainey’s voicemail.

  Suddenly panicked, she had to respond. She got Sam out of the front seat and shut the doors. They stood next to the SUV waiting for OKCPD.

  Sam was a skeleton and had aged considerably from the picture that Carrie had been carrying around. Her hair was long and stringy, and unkept. Her face was gaunt and her eyes were ringed with sunken dark circles.

  She stood limp next to Carrie on the gravel lot, her head hanging down as she appeared too tired to hold it up. She had not spoken a word since she had screamed in rage at the man.

  Carrie reached out and put her arm around Sam and pulled her close. Compassion for this young woman consumed her and broke her heart.

  She felt sorrow, which gave her pause. She had been sad for Pride, and Jenny. She had felt a measure of pain and regret, but she realized now that formidable emotional wall she had surrounded herself with had suppressed it.

  Earlier, when talking to Lainey, she had felt that wall begin to crumble. Now she could feel the raw emotion of sorrow and compassion for Sam, and it hurt so good.

  Tears rained down Carrie’s cheeks and she thought she might just be on the path to emotional recovery.

  “Sam, it will be okay,” Carrie said as she hugged Sam tighter while wiping her own eyes.

  Lainey had seen the man approach her as she stood on the south side of the Sheraton hotel along Sheridan avenue. He’d pulled the blue Plymouth up next to the curb and got out.

  Confident that Carrie was watching, she engaged with the man. He stood rigid and jutted his chin up in a superior manner.

  “Can I help you with something honey?” Lainey drawled. She reached up and brushed his cheek with her palm and felt the tension ripple through his body.

  “Yes, I think you can.” He stepped back and opened the door to the Plymouth. “Please come with me.”

  Hesitation gripped Lainey’s heart as she began to get into the car, but with a quick glance back in the direction where Carrie had been parked, she got in.

  “Where are we going?” Lainey asked.

  “I have a special place,” Anthony replied.

  Lainey settled into the car, and in just a few brief turns, they were pulling into the dirt trodden drive of a ramshackle old house, a stone's throw from downtown.

  As Lainey exited the car, she noticed the neighborhood consisted mostly of small boarded-up and abandoned houses. They had shot out the street lights and there was no light coming from the house where they were.

  Before she knew it, his hand was over her nose and mouth and the darkness became even darker.

  Soon, pain surged through Lainey’s wrists and ejected her from her stupor. As she looked around, she realized she was in a basement with a concrete floor and block walls.

  From the two by six first floor joists, were chains which had been bolted in and fixed with nuts. At the end of each chain were handcuffs.

  To her left was a young woman, Carissa she realized, hanging from a set of chains. She had a large swath of silver duct tape firmly across her mouth as did Lainey.

  To her right, was another young woman that Lainey didn’t recognize. The man had the three of them anchored by chains in the basement. This realization shot adrenalin through Lainey.

  Her mind began to frantically search for solutions. Carrie had followed her, right? Carrie would be here soon. Soon? How long have I been down here?

  The man had blown up and was filling, a small swimming pool in the center of the room near the foot of the stairs. Across the room there was a set of shelves over the space where a washing machine had once been. There was a green garden hose snaking from the water valve.

  “There now,” the man said as the water reached the top. “That will do.”

  He walked to the other side of the basement to turn off the water. The valve was leaking and that end of the basement floor was covered in a thin layer of water.

  As he turned around, Lainey saw the pleasure on his face. He looked up at her and smiled. “You’re awake, I see.” He stood about four feet away from Lainey with his hands resting on his hips, smiling up at her.

  Lainey struggled against the chains, but her feet barely touched the floor and she had no way to extract herself from the grip of the handcuffs. So, the result of her struggle was only a meager wobble of her body at the end of the chains.

  “There now. It will all be okay soon. We’ll get you all nice and clean and everything will be all better. Now then, who wants to go first?”

  Lainey thought someone had sucked the air out of her lungs by mechanical means. It was fierce and overwhelming. All three girls struggled against their chains to no avail.

  “There now. There’s no need to worry. You will feel so much better once you are good and clean. You must be washed, you know? You must become clean.”

  The man walked over to the girl on Lainey’s right. “We’ll start with you. I like to do things in an orderly fashion. You’re first.”

  He turned to get a stepladder he had nearby, and once up high enough to reach the cuffs, the woman kicked with all her might and the ladder toppled to the concrete floor.

  The man was thrown to the floor, tangled in the rungs. Stunned, he sat for a moment to regain his senses. Anger was visible on his face, but his voice belied what was clearly evident.

  “Now then, that was unnecessary.” He proceeded to untangle himself from the stepladder. When he had, he turned towards
the back of the basement and retrieved a dark brown bottle and rag.

  As he approached the woman, her eyes grew round, and she kicked and attempted to scream behind the duct tape. The man sat the bottle down just out of her kicking range and picked up a whip that had been lying to the side of the room.

  He approached and whipped the woman’s pumping legs, leaving deep red whelps. Her muffled screams soon turned to sobs, and she became still.

  “Don’t fight me. This is for your own good. You don’t want to be dirty, do you?” he crooned.

  When the woman’s legs finally ceased their fight, he picked up the bottle and rag and continued to move towards the girl.

  Lainey decided that she wouldn’t let him hurt these women even if it meant suffering the whip. Just as the man reached them, Lainey twisted to the side and thrust both legs out with all her might towards the man, kicking him backwards.

  Her force was on target and caused the man to stumble backwards and toss the bottle behind him. The moment of impact was announced with a loud shattering sound and liquid being dispersed throughout the room among slivers of glass.

  As the bottle hit the floor on the far side of the basement, it burst temporarily into flames, the water on the floor quickly extinguishing it.

  The man donned a gasmask that had also been sitting on the shelf and then grabbed the water hose. He flooded the area where the ether had ignited.

  The man could no longer hide his anger, throwing down the water hose. He stormed towards Lainey who continued to kick with both legs. The success of her boldness empowered the other two with confidence to fight back. Soon the man was suffering an onslaught of kicking from every direction.

  He ducked his head and raised his arms to shield himself, but the women were relentless. Backing away, he dropped his arms and glared up at the women.

  “You don’t want to be clean? You want to be dirty whores? Then so be it! You will suffer.” His voice had changed, and it sent chills up Lainey’s spine.