The Abducted Super Boxset: A Small Town Kidnapping Mystery
Page 36
He looked down into her eyes and could only read sincerity. Her pleading was nothing short of convincing. He turned away, annoyed, but compliant. “Damn it, Miriam. No.” Despite what he said, he began walking toward the door, muttering he believed there to be a bottle of wine in the kitchen, overlooked and left there by the previous owner. “But if it ain’t there,” he said, turning at the door, “you drop this nonsense and get ready to go.” He slammed the door without another word.
Knowing her time was short, Miriam jumped from the bed and dug the bent and dulled knife behind the plate once again, nearly getting it loose. The long screws were exposed almost to the very ends. Her heart leaped. With one final jerk, she pulled on the chain and the plate came free, so suddenly that the momentum sent her backwards, almost falling, as it came free from the wall and fell onto the mattress in a cloud of dust. Elated, Miriam fell to the bed and grabbed the end of the chain. Now, for the first time in a long while, she had a weapon. But the timing had to be right. She quickly picked up the plate, pushed it back into the wall, and waited.
The door unlocked. Phillip entered, holding two plastic cups, one of which she was sure was laced with a sedative. She knew how his mind worked. He was every bit as paranoid as she was. His face looked brighter, almost happy.
“You find something good?” she asked, sitting on the bed as before.
“Sure did,” he replied, handing her the cup. She smelled it, rising from the bed as he held out his cup for a cheers.
“Why don’t you go ahead?” he asked. “I was never good at toasts.”
She thought to herself and raised the glass. “To new beginnings,” she said.
They clinked cups, and she brought it to her mouth, pausing. He took the first sip, and she knew that the moment had finally arrived. The wine hit his face in a violent splash as she tossed it at him, cup and all. Phillip recoiled and dropped his cup to the floor. His face was a combination of anger and shock, complete disbelief at what had just happened.
But it didn’t take him long to come to his senses, and he reached inside his jacket for his pistol. Miriam grabbed the chain with her free hand and yanked it as hard as she could, ripping the plate out of the wall.
Phillip stood there dumbfounded for a second, pistol in hand, then raised his arm to fire. She swung the chain in a half circle, smacking his face with a loud crack and sending him to the ground. As he fell, she screamed out in impassioned rage and swung the chain at him over and over again like a whip as he covered his head and tried to crawl away.
“You son of a bitch!” she shouted.
The chain struck him, blow after blow, all over his body as she swung it with all her might. He fumbled with his pistol and tried to stand, but as he did, she reeled the chain back and swung it full force across his skull, knocking the pistol out of his hand and sending it flying across the floor.
“I’m sending you to hell where you belong!” she screamed out in a rage.
She thrashed the chain across his burnt body until she couldn’t swing it any more. As he lay there on the ground, beaten to a pulp, she stopped and yanked the chain back over to herself. His hand suddenly shot up and grabbed the links, pulling her toward him.
Miriam panicked and slipped as he pulled with both hands with thunderous force. She flew to the ground and landed on his chest as one of his gloved fists pummeled her in the face. She squirmed and moved away the best she could as white spots fluttered in front of her eyes. She felt dizzy and lightheaded when another blow came, followed by a white flash.
“You first!” he said, spitting blood between his gritted teeth.
She ended up flat on her back, and just as Phillip tried to get up, she grabbed the chain with her free hand, laid it across his neck, and pulled with both arms, squeezing and squeezing as he thrashed in desperate panic. The chain locked around his windpipe, pulled tighter and tighter as he struggled and wheezed.
She wrapped both of her thin, muscular legs around his waist and held him there until she could feel the life leaving his body. For a moment, she just went still and all was silent. Phillip’s arms went limp. His burnt face was a discolored blue and covered in blood.
She released the chain and crawled out from under him, rising to her feet and hyperventilating as she struggled to breathe. One look at his still body and wide-open eyes, and she knew that he was finally dead. She took the gun lying next to his body and fired one shot into his head, just to make sure.
The silencer on the pistol muffled the shot, but its powerful kick split his head open and released a geyser of blood and brain. Without a second look, she turned and walked out of the room, dragging the chain behind her. She was free. The darkened staircase, which had seemed a million miles away from her mattress, was finally at her feet. She turned to look at the room one last time. Phillip’s still body lay there, a pool of blood under his head. It was over. Her legs wobbled up the creaky wooden stairs. She looked up to see a door at the top, approached it and turned its squeaky handle.
She pushed it open and saw a room, a kitchen, with hardwood floors, dusty and vacant. A table sat near the empty counters with three chairs. She limped past the kitchen and entered a living room without a single piece of furniture in it. Beyond the windows was the night sky, filled with tiny specks of light. She approached the front door, dragging her chain along, and opened it while completely bypassing the two bedrooms without a glance inside.
The fresh, desert air hit her face and she felt a rush of relief, gratitude and something close to happiness. She stepped out onto the porch and walked down the steps, which led to a sandy patch of yard. She looked around; a pale moon hid behind the clouds and darkness surrounded her as far as the eye could see. An El Camino was parked not fifty feet ahead of her. She was free. And all she had to do was find her way home.
Hi! I hope you enjoyed my latest series. Quality story telling is very important to me. It’s my living, and I can’t thank you enough for your support and for taking the time to read this boxset. But the learning never stops, and your feedback is vital to improving each new series I explore.
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If you would be so kind, please leave a review showering the book with endless praise. Of course, I’m joking, but it would be great to hear from you. If there are any issues you had with the story or any pesky errors or concerns, feel free to email me and let me know. I’d love to hear your feedback, regardless. Your support allows me to do what I do, and I’m in your debt. In a way, I work for you, the reader. So let me know if I’m doing the job. Thanks again and, please, feel free to contact me or leave a review for the book at your earliest convenience.
With Gratitude,
Roger Hayden
The Abducted: Odessa
AMBER Alert
Odessa, Texas
Traffic was rough downtown, and Kim Forester was in a rush to get home. It had been a long day, and she was ready to relax for the remainder of the evening. She had just picked up her daughter, Natalie, from track practice and was a few blocks from their neighborhood when she suddenly remembered a phone call from earlier with her husband, Doug, reminding her to pick up some chicken for dinner.
She slammed on the brakes, halting at a stop sign as Natalie lunged forward, her iPad hitting the dashboard. “Mom!”
“I'm sorry, honey,” Kim said, clutching the wheel.
Doug was working late, Kim was too tired to cook, and they barely had any food in the house to do so anyway. She had planned to just pick up some fried chicken at the supermarket instead, but, in a hurry to get home, she had passed the Food Mart miles back without even realizing it. She groaned and brushed back her light brown hair with an elongated sigh.
“What's wrong?” Natalie asked, wearing a sleeveless top and jean shorts that she had changed into after her track meet. Her hair was still damp from showering.
“I forgot to stop at the grocery store,” Kim said.
“Dinner!” her mother snapped. She then took a deep breath and apologized as Natalie went silent. “I’m sorry. It's just been a crazy day.”
She then made a U-turn and raced back in the opposite direction. She had just escaped the rush hour, which, in the small town of Odessa, consisted of two lanes of stop-and-go traffic for about five miles.
The Food Mart was only a few miles away, but it was still a frustrating delay. She was tired, and her feet hurt. Her job as a medical records administrator could be stressful at times, and today was no exception. She took a back road, ending up at the busy intersection of Anderson and Main, as a news update played on the radio.
“It's been a week, and police are still searching for local missing girl April Johnson, who disappeared last Monday after leaving a friend’s house in the late afternoon. Residents showed up at a candlelight vigil last Saturday evening to pray for Ms. Johnson's safe return. There have been few developments in the case, and the investigation is still underway. While friends and family eagerly await April's return, authorities urge anyone with information pertaining to April's disappearance to contact the crime line immediately.”
“I know her,” Natalie said.
“You do?” Kim said, surprised.
“I mean, I don't know her, but she goes to my school. She's in seventh grade.”
“Oh, okay,” Kim said. She turned to Natalie with a look of concern. “I'm sure she'll be okay. They'll find her soon.”
“That's not what the other kids are saying.”
“Natalie, stop it. That's not nice,” Kim said.
The light at the intersection turned green, and Kim pressed on across the street and into the busy Food Mart parking lot.
They passed a utility pole with “missing” flyers stapled all around it, displaying young April Johnson's smiling picture—her most recent school photo. After driving through three parking aisles, Kim was elated to find an open spot not too far away from the store. She immediately pulled in under the shade of an elm tree planted in the mulch of a parking divider. With the Cherokee idling, Kim turned to Natalie, noticing that her daughter’s full attention was on her tablet.
“Are you waiting here?”
“Yep,” Natalie said, swiping her screen.
“Okay,” Kim said. “I'll just be a minute.”
“Got it.”
Kim unfastened her seat belt and opened the door, stepping onto the pavement in her worn loafers. She left the engine on and the air conditioner running. Her sleek black pants and teal top were like a kind of uniform, casual business clothes that didn’t vary much day to day, and she wanted nothing more than to get into an oversized T-shirt and relax.
She grabbed her purse, told Natalie to stay put, and then ventured toward the Food Mart entrance. The automatic doors opened as a gust of cool air enveloped her in a soothing embrace that put her at ease. Five of the eight registers were open, with long lines at each one. Kim wasn't surprised, but in any case, she would be back on the road soon enough. All she needed to do was to pick up one thing. In the deli section, she grabbed a ten-piece box resting under the heat lamps and made her way back to the checkout lines.
She headed to the express checkout line, tapping her foot nervously on the floor, waiting for the customers ahead. An elderly woman approached from behind, carrying a shopping basket with milk and eggs inside. “Long day,” she said to Kim with an exhausted smile.
“It sure is,” Kim said, smiling back.
The elderly woman glanced at a local newspaper near the checkout lane with April's picture on the front page. “That’s just terrible,” she said with sadness.
Kim turned and glanced at the paper, shaking her head. “I'm so worried for that poor girl and her family.”
“It's scary that something like that can happen in our town,” the woman said.
“I just hope they find her soon,” Kim said.
She turned back around as the line moved up and placed her chicken on the conveyor belt. She was close. She couldn't wait to get out of the Food Mart and be on the road again. In a few minutes, the fragrant box of chicken was rung up and paid for. She thanked the cashier and left the store in a hurry.
She approached her Cherokee with a strange feeling in her gut, which became all the more troubling when she saw the passenger door open and Natalie nowhere in sight. Kim slowed her approach and looked around, believing that her daughter might have stepped out of the car to stretch her legs. Then panic took hold. Natalie’s iPad lay on the pavement, face down, next to one of her sandals.
“Natalie?” Kim asked, confused. She leaned inside the car through the open passenger door, crawled onto the seat, and looked in the back as her knee dug into a small white envelope, pushing it down into the seat. She got out and paced around the car, looking at the vehicles parked nearby, then at those more distant, hand shielding her face from the sun.
“Natalie!”
Her heart raced as an undeniable anxiety grew within. She began to fear the worst. The faces before her, walking to and from their vehicles, were one giant blur. She dropped the box of chicken and increased her pace around the next parking lane over. All she could do was call out Natalie's name again and again and hope that she'd come running toward her.
The Cherokee sat in the distance, still idling and ominous, as Kim made her way back to the Food Mart. Maybe Natalie had needed something and decided to come in and find her. That could have been it. Short of breath and filled with dread, Kim rushed back inside the store and scanned the front checkout lane. She ignored the curious glances of shoppers who noticed her wide-eyed, distraught expression the minute she burst back into the store.
“Natalie!” she called, voice louder than ever. “Natalie, where are you?”
She turned and rushed out of the store before the manager could make his way over to her. There was little doubt that she had made a scene. She ran back to the Cherokee, ignoring moving cars along the way. It didn't make any sense. If Natalie was playing a trick on her, she'd never forgive her. There had to be an explanation. Then her knees started to buckle, and she felt lightheaded. She clutched the top of her vehicle to break her fall. She leaned against the window, disoriented, waiting for Natalie to return.
“Ma'am, are you all right?” a young bagger asked her while pushing two carts toward the store.
“It's my daughter,” Kim said, frantic. “She's not here. I was only in the store for a few moments.” She moved swiftly toward the boy. “Have you seen her? Her name's Natalie.” She clutched the boy's shoulders, a wild look in her eye. “Help me!”
People passed by with their carts, turning to see what was going on. She backed away from the bagger and toward the open passenger door of her Cherokee. “My daughter's gone! Has anyone seen her?”
More people gathered around, concerned now and wanting to help.
“I was only in there for a few minutes,” she repeated. “Natalie was inside with the air running and the doors locked…”
Kim whipped her head around and continued her desperate search. To strangers, she knew how it sounded. They would think her neglectful and naïve to leave her young daughter unattended, even if they didn’t show it on their faces.
A man offered her assistance, but she waved him off and walked away from her vehicle, quickening her pace. At the end of the parking aisle, near the front of the store, she saw a girl standing alone. In the blur that was Kim’s mind, the girl resembled Natalie in every way, from her long brown hair to her jean shorts and top.
Kim shouted out to the girl, ecstatic, and charged across the lot, unaware of a driver heading directly into her path. The driver of the SUV slammed on the brakes, tires screeching, as its front grille smacked Kim and sent her tumbling five feet to the side across the hot pavement. A woman rushed to console the girl resembling Natalie, and as Kim lay on the ground losing consciousness, she could see that the girl wasn't her daughter after all.<
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A group of concerned people circled her, staring down helplessly as calls rang out for a paramedic. Kim could only say her daughter's name, repeatedly, as they tried to help her up, but her consciousness was fading with every breath.
Crime Scene
The police were quick to arrive on the scene, clearing most of the parking lot, taking names, and stretching police tape down the third parking lane. There were several cruisers on hand, lights rapidly flashing, as well as an ambulance and fire truck. Brian Hayes and James Shelton, two plain-clothed detectives, got the call and arrived on the scene as quickly as they could. A potential kidnapping case in the small town of Odessa had the Ector County PD on high alert.
The victim’s mother, Kim Forester, had been placed in the back of an ambulance parked close to her Cherokee, its engine recently shut off by one of the police officers. Natalie's iPad remained on the ground with her sandal—nothing touched just yet as police collected evidence. The situation didn't look good.
The news was whispered among the bystanders: Natalie—an eleven-year-old honor roll student from Sunshine Middle School—was nowhere to be found. Her mother had returned after running in to buy some chicken, only to find her daughter missing and her car’s passenger door hanging open. Whatever had happened to Natalie had happened fast, and with another missing girl reported only a week before, the circumstances were even more troubling.
Natalie's father, Doug, had been contacted and had raced to the scene from work as soon as he had heard. The parking lot of Food Mart was close to being marked as a crime scene. Worse yet, there were no witness accounts of the girl, no suspects, and no information leading to her potential whereabouts. She had vanished.
Senior Detective Hayes surveyed the scene as the police kept bystanders at a careful distance. Authorities were quick to establish perimeters and cordon off the area accordingly. Hayes and his partner were there to find the girl, and their every move since arriving on the scene was critical.