by Curry, Edna
Chapter 7
I screamed, then sucked in a quick breath. Rearing back, I slammed my elbows into him. A guttural grunt told me I’d connected, but he twisted my arms and wrapped a rope around my wrists. Rough hemp sent pain through my skin.
He shoved me toward the side of my house. I could see the outline of a car there, and fought harder, knowing I’d have less chance of getting away if he got me into a vehicle. My heart pounded in panic and I bit at him but only connected with cloth. I pulled up my knee and stomped down hard, but he moved quickly and I missed his foot. My throat tightened in fear.
He shoved me inside the car and slammed the door. I wiggled around and tried to open the door with the side of my arm, but couldn’t. Then he jumped into the driver’s seat and locked the doors. “Sit still or I’ll have to knock you out,” he growled at me.
“Who are you?” I managed to get out. I tried to see him in the dark car, but could only make out a shadow. “What do you want?”
“I’m Bob Weeks,” he grunted, backing into the street and then roaring down it at top speed. “I need you to open a business for me.”
I broke out in an unsteady giggle, relief surging through me at knowing who the man was. “And this is how you call me to do a job? What’s wrong with using the phone like normal people do?”
“Are you saying I’m not normal?”
“If the shoe fits…” I swayed against the door as he swung around a corner, then sped out on the highway. “Hey, take it easy. I’d like to stay in one piece, you know.”
He grunted and said nothing.
“What business do you need to get into?” I asked. This guy has gone nuts. Should I tell him now that I need my tools to get into anything? Or wait and hope to gain time to get away from him? Or will he be even angrier if I wait to tell him? Shouldn’t he know that? But maybe the average person doesn’t.
“Ma’s bar, of course,” he said, speeding up to pass a semi.
I sent him a nervous laugh. “What makes you think I can get into the bar? I don’t have a key or the alarm codes.”
He snorted at me. “You’re a locksmith. You can just pick the door lock and cut the alarm wires or something, so it won’t go off. I saw someone do that on a television show just a couple weeks ago, so don’t tell me you can’t do that.”
I heaved a sigh and wanted to scream in frustration. Television shows always make it look so easy. One twist of the picking tool and the lock is open. Yeah, right. “Did you bring lock-picks or a wire cutter?”
“Of course not. I don’t have any tools like that.”
“Neither do I,” I said.
He slowed and stared at me. “You have a whole van full of tools, don’t you?”
“Ye..es,” I said, and waited for the obvious to sink in.
He swore, made a three point u-turn and sped back toward my house.
I wriggled my hands, trying to loosen the rope. There, it gave a little.
I decided to try reasoning with him. “Bob, I can probably pick the door lock, but I can’t disable that alarm. I have no idea how it works. I don’t even know what brand it is.”
“You’re just saying that so I’ll let you go.”
“You’re in big trouble already,” I said. “Kidnapping is a felony.”
“Not if they don’t catch me.”
“You plan to kill me to keep me from talking?” I gasped, my pulse speeding up again. Yikes, maybe goading him isn’t such a good idea after all.
“I’ll just keep you out of circulation until I get this will settled and the property sold. Then I’ll disappear with the money somewhere overseas and it won’t matter in the least what you tell them, ’cause they won’t be able to find me.”
“You’re nuts, Bob,” I said. I got my right hand free! I slipped it into my pocket, turning away from him and pretending to look out the window, so he couldn’t see what I was doing.
I flipped open my phone, thankful I had set it on vibrate for the evening and hadn’t yet changed it back. I carefully felt for the raised buttons and dialed 9-1-1, knowing my number and GPS location would show up to dispatch. Would they realize something was very wrong? Or just assume it was a mistake when I didn’t talk to them? Who was on duty tonight? I coughed and asked loudly, “Bob, where are we, anyway? Don’t drive so fast, you’ll have an accident.”
He tossed me a dirty look and slowed a bit.
I heard the high voice of the female dispatch answer and closed the phone so Bob wouldn’t hear her.
Bob parked at my house and got out. I hurriedly repeated the call to 9-1-1, and said, “Break in at the Lilliput.” Then I closed the phone and stuck my hand back into the loop of the rope, pretending to be still tied.
He came around the car, opened my door, pulled me out and shoved me towards my van.
“Give me the keys,” he demanded.
“They’re in my purse, on the floor of your car,” I said.
He turned back to get them. I ran to my van and tried to get in, but he was quicker. “So you got loose, eh?” he said, slamming me up against the metal side door. “Guess I didn’t tie that rope tight enough.”
Pain ricocheted through my body as my back connected with my van and I cried out. My phone vibrated against my hip as he retied the rope and shoved me inside the van. I hoped the caller was dispatch, trying to make contact. And that she’d send someone to check out the call when she didn’t succeed.
“Get those ropes loose again and I’ll tie your feet, too,” Bob threatened. He shut the door and went back to his car for my purse. In a minute he was back. He got in and tried to start the motor. My van is old and cranky. It took him three tries before it turned over.
“What a piece of junk. Now, do you have all your tools in here?” he growled at me.
I nodded. I had them all right, but I didn’t have to be successful at using them. Obviously, he didn’t know how to use them, so no one would get inside the Lilliput. Or I could get him inside and set off the alarm, bringing the cops if my calls hadn’t succeeded in doing that.
He spun out of my driveway and back down the street. I hoped one of my neighbors would notice the noise late at night and call the cops. Every back-up call would help. The pain in my back had receded to a dull ache.
There was little traffic at this late hour. My van clock read four minutes after midnight. I decided to try reasoning with him again. “Why do you want to get into the bar this late at night, anyway? There won’t be any money there, except for the change fund. I know they take the day’s receipts to the bank every night.”
“I know that.” He ignored my question and sped on.
I tried again. “So what are you going to do after you get in there?”
“Find Ma’s real will, of course. That had to be a fake one that the lawyer made up. Ma always told me she was leaving me the bar. She wouldn’t have changed her mind.”
“You think there’s a newer will than the one the lawyer has?”
“Not newer, just the real one. Sue and I searched the house from top to bottom. It’s not there, so it has to be in her office at the bar. I know she wouldn’t have left half her property to Frank. She gave him away as a baby. She didn’t even know him, why would she give him something?”
Maybe she had an attack of conscience? Obviously, there was no arguing with him. Bob had lost his ability to reason. I sighed and gave up. I could only pray that my message had gotten through to dispatch and that she would follow through on it.
Fifteen minutes later, we turned onto the main street of Landers. I was disappointed to see no police cars. Hadn’t dispatch heard me when I said there was a break-in at the Lilliput?
He parked behind the bar. “Come on, we’re here,” he said, getting out. He came around and pulled me out. I stumbled and almost fell. He grabbed me, helping me balance, muttering, “Clumsy.”
“Did you ever try to get out of a vehicle with your hands tied behind your back?” I demanded.
He ignored that, pulled open th
e side door and peered into the back of my van. The street light sent an eerie glow across the parking lot. “What tools do you need out of here?”
“My picking kit and wire cutters,” I said. Might as well play along and pretend to work at this. Maybe I hadn’t given the cops enough time to get here yet.
“What do they look like?” Bob frowned at the array of tools and stuff in the back of my van.
“There’s a flashlight under the driver’s seat. Get that and shine it in here. And it would help if you untied me. How do you expect me to work like this?”
“Okay,” he said, undoing the rope. “But if you try anything, you’ll be sorry.”
The rope dropped away. I stretched out my numb hands and worked them a bit.
“Hurry up. What are you doing?”
“Trying to get the blood flowing in my hands,” I snapped, glaring at him. “I can’t pick a lock with numb fingers.”
Bob frowned at me, as I rubbed my hands together. “Come on, how long does it take? Find your stuff and let’s go.”
“Okay, okay.” I climbed in and opened a drawer, rummaged around, then closed the drawer and opened another.
“You’re stalling,” he growled at me.
“Am not. I can’t remember where I put it the last time I used it.” I saw the iron crowbar I’d used to open the lady’s safe the other day laying on the floor. I pushed it closer to the door with my foot as though it was in my way, and leaned forward again. I opened another drawer, rummaged some more and finally found the pouch with my picking tools and stepped back down beside him. The wire cutter lay on the floor toward the back, so I pretended I couldn’t reach it.
“I can’t reach that wire cutter. See it back there? Can you reach it? Or maybe if we opened the back door…” I said.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, get out of the way, then,” he said.
I stepped back. Bob leaned into the van, reaching for the tool I’d pointed to.
I grabbed the crowbar and swung it, cracking him on the side of his head.
He went down, but I didn’t have a clue whether he’d be out or just stunned.
I dropped the crowbar and started to run, but had gone only a few steps before I slammed into a solid chest. Strong arms surrounded me and held me fast. Immediately I fought the arms. I tried to knee him and kick him, but he was faster, moving out of my reach without releasing me.
“Ugh,” I grunted. Dismay sent my heart pounding even faster. Damn it! I thought I’d gotten away. How had Bob managed to get ahead of me so fast? I thought I’d seen him go down.
“Cassie!” I heard as I took a deep breath and breathed in the scent of a familiar aftershave. My eyes darted upward. In the pale glow of the streetlight, I recognized my captor. “Chance?” I gasped and stopped struggling. “Oh, my God. Is it really you?”
“Sure is,” he returned, holding me close more gently now that I’d stopped fighting him. I looked behind him and saw two other men leaning over a figure on the ground.
“You got my message, then?” I cuddled against him, shivering from tension and the chilly night air.
“Dispatch called us and told us something screwy was happening, since your GPS coordinates said you were in Canton, but your message said the Lilliput in Landers was being broken into. So we decided to wait here to see if you showed up. If you hadn’t arrived soon, we’d have back tracked to Canton to look for you.”
“Thanks, Chance.” I shivered again and he pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around me. His scent and body heat surrounded me and I snuggled closer.
I eyed Bob, who was still on the ground and edged closer. “I didn’t hurt him too much, did I?”
“No, he’s talking, just not cooperating,” Deputy Roger said, grinning a me. “You can look out for yourself, can’t you? I think I’ll tell Sheriff Ben to lay off babying you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Sheriff Ben said, stepping out of the shadows. “Just because I’m the last one here, you plan to smart-mouth me?”
“No, sir,” Deputy Roger said, ducking his head and quickly pulling Bob to his feet. He pushed the handcuffed man toward his police car.
Chance muttered in my ear, “Ben’s late because he headed to your house first to make sure you weren’t there and hurt or something. He’s such an old softie.”
“Really?” I had trouble believing that.
Ben’s sharp gaze swept me from top to bottom. “I found Bob’s car parked at your house, but your van gone, so I figured he’d made you come here. Are you sure you’re okay, Cassie?”
“I’m fine. Just cold.” I wrapped the warm coat tighter.
“Will you press charges against him?”
I nodded, still shivering.
“Ben, Cassie can fill out your report in the morning, can’t she?”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, but since Bob here isn’t talking, tell me one thing, Cassie. Did he say what he wanted to do in the Lilliput?”
“Yeah. He said he wanted to find the real will leaving everything to him like Mildred said she was going to do. That he didn’t find the will at her house, so it must be in her office at the bar.”
Sheriff grunted, “Bob won’t believe she had her lawyer write a new one, eh? See Cassie home, Chance, then come back to the office. We’ll send someone over to pick up Bob’s car tomorrow, Cassie.” Ben followed Roger who was helping Bob into his police car.
“Come on, I’ll follow you home like I should have done earlier tonight,” Chance said. He helped me pick up my stuff and put it back in my van. I got in and he leaned in to give me a kiss. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Thanks. I’m still feeling a little shaky.”
At my house, I started to invite Chance in for coffee, but he merely gave me a quick kiss goodnight. “I have to get back, he said. “Be sure to lock your doors.”
“I will,” I said, disappointed. I watched him back out of my driveway. Evidently he was still wary of what Ben would say about seeing me. And of course, if he had to file paperwork yet tonight, Ben would know what time he arrived back at the office, so he couldn’t stay with me more than a few minutes without Ben knowing about it.
***
I took a shower and decided to make some hot cocoa to settle down. I sat at my kitchen table drinking it, when Sheriff Ben called.
“Do you still want to press charges against Bob?” he asked.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Well, we’ve got a bit of a problem,” Ben said. “Bob says he only asked you to get into the bar as a locksmith job. If you claim to be forced and press charges against him, he’ll charge you with assault for hitting him with the crowbar.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said. “Ben, you know very well I was forced to go with him. And that knocking him out was my only hope of getting away from him.”
“Of course I know that, Cassie. But proving it isn’t so easy.”
“Damn it, anyway, Ben. Do you want him to get away with this?”
“No, but it’s up to you. I’m sort of between a rock and a hard place, here.”
I swore under my breath and thought about it. Now I knew what Martha felt like, trying to deal with Frank. “All right, drop the charges, then. But tell him to stay away from me.”
“Thanks, Cassie. I’ll tell him, but I’ll have to release him then. A deputy will bring Bob over to pick up his car and make sure he leaves again.”
“Fine.” I hung up, disgusted with the world. No, not the world. Just some of the people in it.
***
The next morning, I sat at my kitchen table, eating cold cereal for breakfast. I’d barely downed my first cup of hot, fragrant coffee when my phone vibrated against my hip. I yanked it out of my pocket. Darcy. “How’s Martha doing?” I asked.
“That’s why I called,” she returned. “I’m at work at the hospital. Martha wants you to stop by to see her this morning.”
“She does? I mean, of course I can.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. I had a couple hours before my fir
st appointment today. “You know I wanted to when she was first admitted, but I was afraid she’d think I was saying, ‘I told you so.’ I did warn her that an abuser usually doesn’t stop, when she told me he’d promised not to hit her again.”
“Hey, Cassie, it’s okay. She wants you to rekey her house again.”
“But…but, won’t Frank object?”
“This time, the sheriff got a judge to file a restraining order against Frank. So, even when he gets out, he has to stay away from her and Sally.”
“Great.” Or at least, it will be great if he obeys the order. But will he?
At the hospital, Martha’s bruises were fading to a greenish hue. She was sitting up in bed and asked me to give her a ride home. She was being released and her mother was busy taking care of Sally.
I thought that was a rather lame excuse, but said nothing.
She glanced at me, flushed and admitted, “I asked Mom to keep Sally a few more days. I can’t do much yet anyway, and I don’t want her to see me like this. She’s scared of Frank as it is.”
The nurse came in and helped her dress. Martha winced as she got her arms into her blouse and again when she put on her coat. “My chest is still sore. Ribs take a while to heal,” she told me with a rueful smile.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I couldn’t think of a thing else to say. Though if I’d had Frank in front of me right then, I’d have had no trouble punching him in the nose. In fact, I felt like hitting him with the iron crowbar I’d whacked Bob with last night. Too bad that was illegal.
I drove her home and helped her inside. The kitchen wasn’t nearly as clean and neat as the first time I’d seen it. The mums on the window sill looked wilted, too. “Can I do anything else, like shopping or something?” I asked.
Martha shook her head. “Mom left Sally with my sister this morning and took care of all that,” she said. “But please change the locks, just in case Frank tries to sneak in during the night or something. I wouldn’t put it past him, court order or not.”
I nodded and went through the rekeying process. Like before, she sat at the table and watched me take the locks apart and put in new pins. She seemed listless, like her mind was far away.
