by DJ Owen
She could hear the footsteps on the deck, getting closer with each step, so she didn't dare chance looking around the corner. Instead, she ran as fast as she could around the house to the other side. As long as the person didn't turn around, she would be able to see along the back of the house to determine what he was doing. She crouched down, hoping that the deck railing would help hide her should the man be heading back to the French doors.
She tipped her head to the left so that she could see along the rear wall, and saw that her suspicions were correct. Roache was leaning over the storm shelter doors, unlocking the padlock that kept them secure.
A lock on a storm shelter in tornado country? That's a really dumb idea. Alex knew the lock was likely indicative of where her sister was being held.
Alex was at a complete loss as to her next move. She could run along the back wall and jump the deck railing, then enter the house through the French doors. That would get her into the house where Roache thought he was secure, but that door hinge might be loud enough to be heard down below.
There was no way she could surprise him in the cellar, and if Monica was down there with him, she would be at more risk than she was now.
Alex could retreat to the woods and call for the police, but they would either come with sirens wailing or start banging on the door. Roache would have no choice but to use Monica as a human shield or kill her outright. There was a small chance he would just give up and surrender, but really...how often do criminals choose to do that?
Alex was once again debating a course of action when she saw a head rising up above the open cellar doors. She instantly recognized the wavy black hair of her sister.
Monica looked around the backyard, probably seeking an escape. As she looked to her left, Alex threw up her hand in hopes that Monica would see her and know help was on the way. Monica looked away, and Alex's heart dropped a little. She had really wanted that moment of connection, some evidence that whatever happened next, Monica would know her sister was there doing what she could to rescue her.
Not wanting to risk being seen, Alex fell back so she was hidden again. Roache's head would pop up from the storm cellar any second.
Alex moved to the front of the house and looked through each window until she could see the French doors. There was nothing personal in the house at all. Roache must have been planning this from the start, she realized.
There was movement on the deck and then one of the French doors opened, Monica entering the house first. Close behind her was her captor, the undeniable shape of a gun in his hand. She saw him give Monica a little push. He was saying something to her sister, and they passed through the room heading toward the dining room.
At that moment, Alex felt the familiar vibration of her phone, so she ducked down as she pulled it out to look at the display. She didn't want to miss Roache's call. This time it was Kyle calling. Alex didn't know, however, if he was calling to check in, or if Amy had seen the text she had sent and told Kyle about it.
She put the phone back in her pocket and lifted her head enough to look over the window sill. No one was there, but she saw movement outside at the garage. The bumper and tail lights of a dark gray sedan came into view as the car backed out of the garage. Completely exposed on the front of the house, Alex turned and dashed back to the far side for cover.
She felt her phone vibrate again. This time it was a blocked call.
"Hello?" Alex had to answer. She couldn't chance missing the call and possibly losing track of Monica again.
"Alex. It's so good to hear your voice again." Roache's voice was almost slimy with mock politeness.
"Wayne. Or do you prefer Mark?" It was too easy to let anger get the best of her. If it did, Alex knew she would give away her advantage.
"Oh, so you know who I am? Well, good for you. You realize I have Monica, don't you?"
"Of course. If you didn't, I wouldn't have bothered answering the phone." There it was again, the anger that kept bubbling up out of frustration that she hadn't kept Monica safe from this monster.
"Now, now, Alex. You don't want Monica to suffer the same fate as Jeremy, do you? You would be wise to be nice to me." The word 'nice' brought the image of a snake to Alex's mind. She could have sworn Roache had added a bit of a hiss to the word.
"You're right, Wayne. Neither of us wants anything to happen to Monica, right? Just tell me what you do want, and I'll make sure it happens. Do you want to leave town? Just leave Monica somewhere and we won't tell anyone you're gone. I have a little money left that I can give you."
Alex watched as the sedan, which she identified as a Lincoln, left the driveway and pulled out of sight. She almost dropped the phone when laughter came barreling out of the speaker.
"Ha! You think I need money? I was paid very nicely before I turned in my resignation. I don't need money."
"So what do you need? Just tell me and it’s yours," Alex almost pleaded. She was walking briskly back to her car.
"What I want is you, my friend. I need you to meet me. Start driving toward Columbus on US-62. I'll call you back in a few minutes."
"Wait! Let me talk to Monica first. I need to know if she's okay."
"Of course." Alex heard him say something to Monica, but couldn't make out what it was.
"Alex? It's me. I'm okay. Just do what Mark says so we can get out of this, alright? I'm so, so sorry, Alex. I didn't mean for this to hap..."
Roache didn't allow her to finish. "See, your sister is fine. I'll call back soon."
Alex slid behind the wheel of her beloved Mustang and gunned the engine, taking off in the direction the Lincoln had gone. She realized her speed could catch the attention of local police, so she slowed down closer to the speed limit.
Her cell phone vibrated again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kyle was calling her this time. She answered, "Kyle? Hey, sorry about earlier. Not a good time."
"Where are you? Detective Kang sent officers to check on you and no one can find you." The concern in Kyle's voice helped mask his frustration.
"I'm driving. How's Amy?" Alex hoped Kyle would drop his line of questioning and allow her to change the topic.
"Amy's fine, but we're worried about you. Why aren't you safe at home? What's so important that you had to leave? You didn't go over to the address you sent Amy, did you?"
Alex decided it would be best to have some back-up, especially since she didn't know where she was going. "Yes, I did, and I saw Monica. She's okay, but Roache has her and they left the house a few minutes ago. He called my cell and told me to drive toward Columbus on US 62, and that he would call me again in a few minutes with more details. Roache has a gun, Kyle."
"Stop! Do not go there." Kyle didn't want to alarm Amy, but Alex left him no choice. He had enough to worry about without a panicked teenage girl to handle. "Call Detective Kang and let them handle it. They've got the experience and the equipment to get your sister out of this safely."
"Kyle, I have to. She's my sister. Don't worry about me, I'll be okay. I know better than to barge into wherever he's holding her. I'm not an idiot, but I have to try. I'll text you as soon as I know where I'll be, and you can call Detective Kang for me and explain." Her phone vibrated in her hand. "He's calling. I've got to go. Tell Amy I love her."
She hung up on Kyle, and answered the incoming call. "I'm on my way, Wayne, but I don't know where."
"I'm at a warehouse off Hwy 167. You'll see a chain-link fence on your right, one with razor-wire on top. The gate will be open. We'll be waiting for you inside. You should be here in about twenty minutes, assuming you left you house when I told you to. Don't be any later than that or your sister will be the one to suffer the consequences. And you should know better than to contact the police."
The call ended just as Alex saw the turn-off for Hwy 167. She slowed down and drove a half a mile or so until she saw a fence with razor-wire. There was scrub brush everywhere, which afforded Alex a little cover. She backed up her car
until she felt comfortable that Roache wouldn't see it from the warehouse.
At least he's not looking for me yet. I'm glad I wasn't coming all the way from Monica's. Alex wished she had her tools from the Winnebago since she didn't have any wire cutters in her car. She took a moment to text Kyle with the location of the warehouse, and then exited the Mustang. She opened the trunk to see what she might find useful there, and pulled out the carpeting that covered her spare tire. She reached back into the driver's door and grabbed the rubber floor mat.
Bending down to make herself as small as she could, she scurried perpendicular to the road until she could see the rear of the warehouse. All the windows were up high, probably to discourage burglars, but still allowing some light into the building. The gray metal walls offered no hand- or foot-holds, and there was no door in the rear. If Alex wanted to enter this building, she was going to have to go around to the front. Wayne wasn't taking any chances.
Alex examined the back fence and found where a section of razor-wire had been damaged in the past. She climbed up until she could maneuver the carpet over the razor-wire, then placed the floor mat on top for added protection. She took her time, making as little noise as possible. When she dropped to the ground inside the fence, she found only one small cut on her thigh. It stung and was freely bleeding, but she had been hurt much worse during some of her nightly battles.
There was no time to waste. A check of her watch showed ten minutes had already passed. Her cell vibrated and she found Kyle had texted her back. "DON'T GO IN" was all it said.
She texted back, "No time to wait. Expecting me in 10."
Almost immediately, Kyle's response arrived. "Police in 15."
"Too long," she texted back. She started the voice recorder app on her phone, turning the volume up as high as she could. She tucked her phone back into her jeans pocket, leaving the microphone just above the fabric.
Alex made her way through the scrub brush and old metal parts to the back of the building and then around the side toward the front. She peeked around the corner to see if she could see where Roache or Monica were, but all she could see was a window and metal door into an office area, and farther down was a row of truck docks. Only one of the big, overhead doors was open.
Hoping for all she was worth that they were near the open dock door, Alex came around the front of the building and raised her head to look in the office window. She saw Monica there, in an old, dilapidated office chair, her wrists fastened to the chair arms with plastic zip ties. Wayne wasn't in the room, at least as far as Alex could see. She took a quick look back toward the open door and saw no movement, so she raised her head a little more.
Monica caught sight of her and motioned toward the warehouse with her head.
Good, he's not around, Alex thought. She tried to raise the window, but it wouldn't budge. She slid along the wall to the office door and tried it, though she suspected it would also be locked.
Remarkably, the handle turned. She slowly tried to pull the door open but had to stop as a hinge started to complain. She looked at Monica and shrugged her shoulders.
Monica nodded and mouthed "open it". Once Alex nodded, Monica yelled, "Mark! Let me out of here!" Her yell was loud enough to cover the squeal of the hinge.
Alex propped the door open with a wedge of wood someone had left there for just that purpose. She scooted to Monica's side and used the palm knife to cut her sister free from the ties. She carefully placed the cut rings of plastic back around Monica's wrists and whispered for her to call out again.
"Mark! You can't do this! I thought you cared about me!" Monica yelled, her voice full of indignation.
Footsteps were heading toward them, so Alex flattened herself against the wall, her palm knife at the ready.
"Be quiet. Your sister will be here any moment," Roache said as he approached.
Alex watched the door handle turn. The door began to open, and she saw the barrel of the gun coming into the room. She flexed her hand around the handle of the palm knife and waited. As Wayne's right forearm entered the room, she brought down the palm knife like an ice pick, ramming it into his arm until it scraped bone.
Shocked and in excruciating pain, he dropped the gun and jerked his hand back. Alex lurched for the gun as Roache's pain turned to anger. He kicked the door open, slamming it into Alex and knocking her down. He grabbed the gun in his left hand and darted behind Monica, placing the barrel against her head.
Alex knew she had lost the upper hand for the moment, so decided on another tactic. She remained on the floor, but started talking to Roache in hopes of getting him to lose interest in Monica.
"What is all this about, Wayne? I remember meeting you in San Francisco, but I never did anything to you. And Monica certainly hasn't. All she's ever done was care about you."
"You really don't know what this is about, do you?" Roache's arm was bleeding from the V-shaped gash Alex had given him, but there was nothing he could do about it if he wanted to keep the gun on Monica. He let the blood roll down his arm and drip from his fingers onto the floor, creating a growing maroon puddle.
"I am at a loss. I have no idea why you're doing this." Alex hoped to get some sort of confession on tape before the police arrived. She only needed another five or ten minutes before Roache would start hearing sirens.
"I suppose you don't remember my brother, either." The gash in his arm was starting to clot, slowing the blood flow. "You met him at USC."
"Your brother? What does your brother have to do with this?" Baffled couldn't begin to describe how Alex felt. She realized she should have shown more tact in her answer, but Roache had thrown out a piece of information she hadn't considered.
"Yes, my brother, Bobby. He was in one of your journalism classes." Roache looked at her expectantly, waiting for Alex to realize the importance of his brother. It didn't happen.
"I still don't understand. I'm truly sorry, but none of this is making any sense." Alex eased into a more comfortable position, making sure Roache didn't consider her actions a threat. "Please, help me to understand."
"My brother was infatuated with you. Everything he wrote was about you. Week after week he turned in assignments that described his adoration. Every week you would walk past him as if he were of no more interest than a plant in the corner." Roache's face grew red as his anger built. "He finally got the nerve to ask you out, and you turned him down."
Alex thought hard about her college life. She finally recalled a boy named Bobby who had asked her out once, but nothing he wrote stuck in her mind. If he wrote about her, he kept his true intent to himself.
"Yeah, I vaguely remember Bobby. He asked me out, but I was going steady at the time." Something Kyle had said came crashing through. "Bobby died, didn't he?"
"Yes, and all because of YOU!" Roache shouted. "He was my baby brother, and he killed himself over the likes of you." He stopped pointing the gun at Monica and aimed it at Alex. Monica noticed, but sat still when she saw an imperceptible shake of Alex's head.
"I'm really sorry about Bobby, but I promise, I never did anything to him deliberately. If he misunderstood me, it wasn't because I was leading him on. I was pregnant at the time."
"It doesn't matter. You're responsible. Couldn't you see how fragile he was? He couldn't handle rejection. He dropped out of school and hung himself a few days later. I was the one who found him in our apartment. He left me a note and said it was all your fault."
"Wayne, if I had known, I would have talked to him. I swear, I had no idea!" Alex did feel a bit of remorse for not being just a little more kind to Bobby. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided. But no matter what happened then, it was ancient history and Monica certainly didn't need to be caught in the middle.
"I've been searching for a way to get even all these years. I came to your house one day to kill you, but you had already moved out."
Alex thought about the implications of what Roache had just said. "You? You killed Jeremy?" She hoped her cell phone
was recording this.
"I had to. If I couldn't kill you, I would make you suffer. I swore I would make your life a living hell. I would take away everything you ever loved." An evil grin spread across Roache's face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
"Our parents, too? That was you?" Alex was furious. Much of her adult life had been spent trying to figure out who had killed Jeremy and her parents. She had no idea it all stemmed from her telling a boy she already had a boyfriend and couldn't go on a date with him.
Roache laughed. "Now you get it. Yes, I spiked water bottles and left them in your parents' car. It took awhile, but they eventually drank them."
That was all Monica had to hear. She had sat quietly with the plastic rings looped around her wrists and the chair arms, hoping Mark, or Wayne as Alex called him, would pretty much forget about her. This news about their parents was too much to bear. Her anger exploded and she shot straight up from the chair, grabbing Roache's arm and pushing it upward so that the gun was aimed high above Alex. In one quick move and still holding his arm, she turned around to face him and pulled down on his arm, twisting it behind his back.
Alex jumped at her chance and ran forward, grabbing the gun from Roache. She tossed the gun out the open door and seized his wounded arm. She couldn't help herself, she had to squeeze where she had cut him as she twisted that arm behind his back. He tried to shake them off, but both women had a firm grip and neither was willing to let go.
Several police cars arrived a few moments later, sirens blaring. State and local police poured out of squad cars, taking their positions behind their open doors.
"Wayne Roache! Come out with your hands up!" Someone yelled, and the distinct sound of guns being cocked came through the open door.
"It's okay!" Alex shouted. "We have him under control. You can come get him!"
"Toss out any weapons and come out immediately!" One of the officers called back.
