by Ciana Stone
The fear that stabbed him had JD reaching for support. He held onto the doorframe, feeling sweat suddenly explode from every pore on his body despite a chill that swept over his skin.
"When?"
"About an hour ago. Guy just mentioned it to Jayce as we were leaving the rodeo after-party."
"What are the police doing?"
"Deputy Tom is on his way now and we're questioning everyone who's still here to see if anyone saw anything. Tom said he'd put an APB out on Brigg's truck."
"Where's Dawson?"
"He rode with that new girlfriend. Jasper is calling him now."
"Tell him to go to Pop's now. Wait, is Pop home?"
"He's on his way now. I'll tell Dawson. We're gonna drop the kids off at Pop's and start looking."
"God almighty, Bronson."
"I know. But we'll find him, JD."
"I'll wait on you."
"We'll be there soon."
JD ended the call and turned, looking out into the darkness. Some monster had his son and the woman he loved and JD didn't have a doubt that the man meant them harm. He had to find them, save them. But where the hell did he start looking?
He thought about the last time the guy grabbed Jo. He'd taken her to an abandoned property. Would he be foolish enough to take her to the same place? Probably not.
JD stepped back out onto the porch and sat down on the step. At first, his mind took its normal path, and he beat himself up. He shouldn't have let Jo stay, he shouldn't have let the boys stay on their own, or should have warned them about splitting up. He should have told one of his brothers to keep an eye on them.
His phone rang again. It was Cody.
"Cody?"
"JD, Daddy and I are going out with a couple of the hands here to look for Briggs and Jo. I just talked to Wes Pursell, and he's rounding up every hand they have to start a search party. They're dividing men up in groups. On horseback, ATV's and in trucks. We'll find them, JD."
"Bronson and the rest of the family will be here soon. We're headed out as well. Cody, tell everyone to focus on any abandoned properties. That's where he took her before. He'll be looking for a place that's out of the way, a place they won't be spotted."
"Yep. We're on it JD. Keep your phone handy and tell everyone else to do the same. If you find them let us know and we'll do the same."
"Thank you."
"We'll find them, JD. Talk soon."
JD stared back across the yard, his thoughts as dark as the night. Fear was still there, but it joined by a deadly companion. Rage. Someone had taken his boy and his woman and there wasn't anything that would stop him from finding them and making sure the man paid.
On his life, he vowed it. That man would pay.
*****
Jolene had expected Malcom to direct Briggs to some out of the way, run-down, or abandoned farm. It surprised her that he had Briggs drive them to Rock Ridge, the next town over. They ended up in what would be considered a seedy part of town, populated by rundown strip joints and bars, old factories long forgotten and abandoned buildings.
Malcom had Briggs pull his truck around to the rear of an old brick building. Dumpsters lined the back wall, overflowing with trash and stunk like someone had dumped dead things into them. "Get out." He ordered when Briggs parked. "This side and you try anything funny and I'll shoot. You got it?"
Jolene didn't bother answering. She was trying not to vomit from the smell. Once everyone was out of the truck, Malcom snatched the keys away from Briggs and gestured for them to precede him. They walked up four concrete steps to a pitted cement landing. The old metal door had no handle, but Malcom jerked it open by putting his finger in the hole.
Jolene gagged at the smell when she stepped inside and felt for Brigg's hand in the darkness. A flare of light behind her had her turning, shielding her eyes. Malcom held a flashlight and pointed it in the direction he wanted them to go.
Half rotten crates and piles of trash littered the way through the maze of walls that were half torn down, missing sheetrock or riddled with holes. Finally, Malcom called a halt and gestured toward an open door. Once inside, she heard the slam of the door. She stood there, hanging onto Brigg's hand and jumped when light flared.
An old camping lantern hung from Malcom's hand. He set it on a rickety table. Jolene looked around. Aside from a metal bedframe with a wire mesh bottom and a stained blanket, there was a set of manacles slung over an exposed pipe in the ceiling, a pile of rope on the floor, and the table where the lamp sat.
"Get on the bed." Malcom snapped at her.
"No."
"Bitch don't make me tell you again."
"I said no. Go ahead, shoot me, but I'm not getting on that bed."
Malcom cursed and then abruptly grinned. "Fine, I'll shoot the boy."
"No!"
It was one thing for him to threaten her, but she couldn't let him hurt Briggs. Her mind went into gear, trying to come up with a way to convince him to let them go, or at least let Briggs go free. Nothing came to her, but another possibility popped into her head.
"Just so you know. If it's ransom money you want, hurting us is a mistake. The cable network will pay handsomely for my safe return and you know the Weathers want him back, so it'd be in your best interest to make sure no harm comes to us."
She could tell that until she spoke, he'd not considered ransom. Now he was. She waited, tensed for him to make a sudden move.
"Call 'em."
"Who?"
"Them network people."
"I'm sure they're all asleep."
"Then wake 'em up. And put it on speaker."
Jolene pulled out her phone and found her boss's number. She placed it on speakerphone. It took half a dozen rings before her boss, Devin Richards answered. "Jo? Why're you calling me in—?"
"Devin, I'm in trouble."
"What kind of trouble."
"The kind that is demanding a ransom."
"Jo, what the hell's going on?"
Malcom snatched the phone away from her. "Listen up mister. I want money and I want it fast or I'm gonna carve this Indian bitch up and send her to you in pieces. You got that?"
"Yes, yes. How much?"
"How much you got?"
There was a long pause, long enough that Malcom shouted into the phone. "You still there?"
"Yes, of course. I think I can safely say the network would pay one million."
"A million cash?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Well, it is the weekend, so we wouldn't be able to get our hands on that much cash until the first of the week."
"Monday. You'll do it on Monday."
"Yes, yes, it may take a day or so—"
"No. You do it on Monday. I'll call you Monday at 5 and tell you where to deliver."
"You mean where to make the exchange. We're going to need to know that Jolene is safe and unharmed before we give you anything."
"I'll send you a picture. Monday at 5."
He ended the call, looked at Briggs and then at Jolene. "I know you're screwing his old man. Call him."
"You have the phone. Call him yourself."
He snorted and looked through her contacts. She heard the call connect. There was but one ring before JD answered. "Jo, thank –"
"Listen up Weathers. I got your Indian bitch and your boy and if you want 'em back, you'll get your ass to the bank on Monday and get a million bucks."
"Who is this? Where's Briggs and Jo? I want to talk to them."
Malcom held up the phone. "Talk."
"Dad?" Briggs spoke loudly. "Jo's with me. We're okay, but he has a gun."
"And not afraid to use it." Malcom shouted.
"We're okay." Jolene spoke up. "He hasn't hurt us and won't. He just wants the money, Justice."
"You're sure you're okay?"
"Well aside from industrial strength stench, fear of asbestos poisoning and a loathing for the seedy side of town, I'm just dandy."
There was a moment o
f silence before he spoke again. "Mister, I don't know you and you don't know me, but you can know this. If you hurt them you won't live to spend that money. You hear me?"
"You get me my million dollars or I'll chop them into chunks and leave them for the rats."
"Where do you want me to bring it?"
"I'll call you at 5 on Monday to let you know."
"You'll need to call me before then. I want two-hour updates. You take a video with that phone every two hours and send it to me so I know they're okay or no deal."
"Get me my fucking money. I'll call you with an update in the morning."
Malcom ended the call and stuck the phone in his pocket. "Now, boy. Gimme your phone, get that rope and take a seat on the bed."
Jolene nodded to Briggs and he did as told. Malcom had Jolene lash Briggs' hands behind his back and his feet together. He then made Briggs lie down and had her tie his feet to the bedframe.
"Now you." He gestured with the gun at Jolene. "Tie yourself."
"Hard to tie my own wrists."
"Your feet you dumb bitch."
She did, but made sure the ropes were tied in the same fashion as Briggs', over the boots. Once her feet were tied, Malcom lashed her wrists and shoved her back on the bed. "I'll be back in the morning and just in case you're thinking you can scream…" He pulled two dirty bandanas from his pocket and gagged both of them.
Satisfied with his handiwork, he leaned over Jolene. "Just so you have something to look forward to, I'm gonna have some fun with you before I give you back. So you just think on that."
He then turned and left. She could hear him fumbling with something at the door and guessed that he had padlocked it. Jolene started jerking her feet, making the rickety bed rock. Briggs looked over at her like she was crazy. She just kept at it. With each tug she could feet her feet sliding up in her boots. The thin blanket offered little padding and she could feel the broken wires in the mesh beneath her cutting into her back.
It didn't matter. They had to get free and find a way out. Malcom might tell the network and JD that he intended to release her and Briggs unharmed, but she had seen the look in his eyes. He didn't plan on them leaving this place alive.
The ropes were snugger than she realized. Jolene had no clue how long she worked at it but she reached a point she had to stop. She lay back, sweating and breathing hard. Briggs grunted and she turned her head to look at him.
She wished she had a way to communicate comfort to him. He looked so scared. That gave her added strength and she went back at it. On and on until finally she felt her right heel slip past the rope. A few minutes later, she worked her right foot free. She used it to press against the ropes to give her more leverage. When her left foot slid free she fell back, breathing hard.
After she caught her breath, she sat up and hopped off the bed. She knelt down, sliding her wrists beneath her butt, then sat and worked her arms down her legs and over her feet. Her arms and shoulders screamed at the strain but when she stood her wrists were in front of her.
Jolene tore the dirty bandana from her face, climbed on the bed and did the same for Briggs. "Roll over as far as you can on your side and I'll untie your wrists."
Once his wrists were free, he untied her then freed his feet. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Okay, we have to get out of here."
They both climbed off the bed and went to the door. It opened to the outside, so they tried pushing on it and kicking it. It didn't budge. "I think it's padlocked, or there's a bar over it." Jolene said and looked around.
There were no windows or other doors, the ceiling was at least ten feet above them and looked to be concrete. She sat down on the floor, feeling defeated.
"Now what?" Briggs took a seat on the floor facing her.
"I don't know."
"Do you think he'll let us go?"
Her first inclination was to lie and tell him everything would be okay, but she didn't do that. If nothing else, he deserved honesty. "No. That’s why if we can't find a way out, we have to be ready when he returns."
"Fight or die?"
"Maybe."
"You know dad will be looking for us."
"Yes."
"And that guy was too dumb to hear the clues you gave dad."
"But was it enough?"
He shrugged. "You know, I thought things were really on the way to being good. I've never seen Dad so happy."
Jolene reached out to take his hand. "You can't give up. Look, we're smart and strong and all we have to do is come up with a plan."
"Like what?"
"Well, I don't know at the moment, but sometimes you have to stop thinking about it and just let it come to you. So, let's talk about something else."
"Like what?"
"You choose."
He was quiet for a little while, looking down at their clasped hands. When he looked up, she saw tears sparkling in his eyes. "I don't think my mother ever held my hand."
"Oh, I'm sure she did – when you were little."
"No. You never met her. She –she wasn't very nice."
"Everyone has flaws and faults."
"No, I mean she really wasn't nice. Not even when we were little. Dad would be away, I remember and Pop would come get us and take us to his house. We never stayed with her. And when we got older, we figured out why. All she did was pop pills, drink and screw anything in pants."
"Briggs."
"It's true. Me and Dawson caught her twice when we were twelve and threatened to tell dad if she didn't stop."
"So she stopped."
"No."
"You told your dad?"
"No." He swiped at his eyes. "We didn't want to hurt him, you know? We knew he wasn't happy. How could he be? All she did was bitch and yell at him. So, we kept our mouths shut."
"I'm sorry. She – she had a problem, I guess."
"Yeah, that's putting it mildly."
"I'm really sorry. Maybe if she – if the accident hadn't happened she could have gotten help and been different."
"That wasn't an accident. We know Dad lied about that – about her having a heart attack. She was drunk as a skunk and left home screaming about how she hated all of us and her life and she'd rather be dead than have to spend another minute there. She killed herself."
"I'm sorry Briggs."
"I'm sorry too, sorry that Dad had to be so unhappy all that time. He was gone you know. And when he got back, he was worse than ever. I don't think he smiled for a year."
"I guess he felt responsible."
"Well he shouldn't. I know she was our Mom, but she didn't love him and didn't give a shit about whether he was happy. Just like me and Dawson. All she cared about was herself and I guess I hate her for that."
"Briggs, you can't hate her."
"Yes I can."
"But you shouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because she gave you life. You're here because of her. You have a brother, a dad, and a wonderful family because of her. So, hate what she did and that she couldn't find her way clear to do better, but don't hate her. We're all imperfect."
"Still…"
"Still, hate tarnishes everything it touches. Like that man Malcom. He's got nothing but hate in him for a reason I still don't understand."
"Yeah, what's up with that guy anyway?"
"It has to do with an article I wrote about his half-brother. He was an up and comer on the rodeo and was drugging and raping buckle bunnies. Two of them died. When he went to jail, I guess it ended the family dreams for a rodeo star and cut into their finances. That's what he says he hates me for – that I ruined his family's life."
"Sound to me it was his jerk of a brother."
"Yeah, me too, but that's the thing. People don't always want to be held accountable for their own actions. Sometimes rather than dealing with their own shortcomings – or the shortcomings of their loved ones, they assign the blame on someone else. It's not that they set out to be bad people, it's just that they're no
t strong enough to stand up and own their conduct."
"Like my mom? She blamed my dad for everything."
"Then yes, maybe like her. Again, it doesn't mean she started out to be a bad person, or even that she was one at the end. She was simply an unhappy and weak person. And… never mind."
"No, what."
"Well, as far as I can tell there are three kinds of people – givers, takers, and sharers. Givers give and give and give, and often to people who take advantage. Takers just take. They don't see others as authentic or meaningful as themselves and yet do see themselves as kind and generous people, but their gifts are always given to aggrandize themselves, so it's not really giving. Then there are the sharers and those are the rare and wonderful people of life. They understand that life and relationships are like nature. Tides can be high or low, wind comes and goes, the sun rules the day and gives way to the moon at night. It's all a balance and if you're very lucky, you find someone who understands that. There's a time to give and a time to accept."
"You're pretty smart, Jo."
"Obviously not smart enough, as our current predicament illustrates."
He squeezed her hand. "We'll get out of this."
Jolene nodded and looked away. She wanted to believe that more than anything but at the moment it wasn't looking too promising.
*****
JD finished gassing up his truck and went inside the station. He poured himself the tallest to-go cup of coffee available and went to the register.
"Any word yet?" The station owner, Houston Jones, asked.
JD shook his head. "No."
"They'll find him, JD. Half the county's out looking. They'll find him."
JD nodded. "Thanks Houston, how much I owe you."
"On the house, neighbor. Get out there and find your boy."
The generosity touched JD. "You're a good friend. Thank you."
"You bet. You let me know when you find him, hear?"
"I will and thank you again."
JD went back out and got into his truck. He pulled to the end of the drive and stopped, sitting there and trying to decide which way to go. Finally, he decided he'd drive back to the police station and look at the map.
The dispatcher Helen was marking the county map with all the places that had been searched. Volunteers had been calling in information all night.
