Intervention

by Terri Blackstock

  mom i’m at Exxon station 2 nd avenue please come

  Barbara’s heart almost lunged out of her chest. She tried to call the number back, but again, it didn’t connect. There were no bars. She felt like throwing the phone, but didn’t dare. Sporadic service was better than no service at all.

  She scrambled to her feet and sprinted back to her car.

  fifty-six

  Barbara had been gone too long, and her Expedition still sat in front of the Cabaret Dress Shop. Leigh began to wonder whether she would come back to her car. Fatigue and thirst was pulling him down, and the pain from his facial cut was killing him. He needed something for the pain, but if he took anything, he might fall asleep and miss her.

  Then it hit him. The best way to get to Emily was to wait in Barbara’s SUV. Had she taken the time to lock the doors?

  He looked around the parking lot. A couple walked out to their car on the other side of the lot, but they were paying no attention to him. Hoping the darkness would be adequate cover, he got out. Shielding his face, he crossed the lot and reached her car. As he’d hoped, the door was unlocked. He slipped into the backseat, then climbed over and crouched in the space behind the seats.

  All he had to do was be still and quiet, and she’d never even know he was there.

  He waited for a while as the rain beat down, and finally, he heard the door opening.

  Someone slid in and started the car. He heard little beeps as Barbara typed an address into the GPS. The guidance voice told her to pull out of the parking lot and take a left. Yes, she knew where Emily was. Soon he would have them both right where he wanted them.

  fifty-seven

  On the way to the Exxon, Barbara tried to call Kent. Her phone showed that she had a slight signal — only half a bar — but maybe it was enough.

  He answered quickly. “Barbara!”

  “She called from the Exxon station on Second Avenue. I’m on my way there!” she said.

  “Barbara, we’re minutes away. I’ll have the Dalton police dispatch cars right now.”

  “Hurry!” She cut the phone off and saw the Exxon sign looming ahead. Her heart jolted. As she pulled in, Barbara flashed her lights and laid on her horn. Through the window she saw her daughter!

  Emily stood up, wet, dirty — the most lovely sight Barbara had ever beheld. Before Barbara could pull into a space, Emily bolted out the doors. Barbara stopped where she was and opened her driver’s side door.

  Emily flung herself at her. “Mom!”

  Barbara held her, weeping, not wanting to loosen her hold or move away from her child. But after a moment she pulled back and looked at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, just get me out of here.”

  “No, we have to stay here. The police are on their way. Get in the car, honey.”

  She let Emily go, and her daughter went around the car and got in on the passenger side. As she closed her door, a voice came from behind her. “I should have killed you while I had you.”

  Barbara jumped, and Emily turned and screamed.

  “Shut up, Emily,” Leigh said, leaning over the backseat and aiming a revolver at her head.

  Barbara looked out the window, hoping someone saw. The woman who’d been sitting with Emily was getting into her car. She smiled and waved, oblivious. The back windows were tinted, so no one could see the killer.

  Leigh looked like something out of a horror movie — his eye cut and swollen shut, tiny bandages across a gash on his face, one side of his mouth thick and split. Holding the gun fixed on Emily, he clambered over the backseat and sat just behind them, the revolver inches from Emily’s head. “I want you to do exactly as I say.”

  Barbara gritted her teeth. “You are not getting my daughter.”

  “Drive or I’ll blow her head off.”

  Barbara turned back around. Blue lights signaled the arrival of the police. Slowly, she began to drive.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said. “You flash your lights or blow the horn, and Emily’s gone. I’ll get caught, but it’ll mean two life sentences instead of one, which doesn’t make any difference to me.”

  She had no doubt that he meant it. Trembling, she stepped on the accelerator and looked over at her daughter. Emily stared out the windshield … petrified.

  “Drive, Barbara. Let’s go.”

  She pulled out of the parking lot, knowing that the gun was trained on the back of Emily’s skull, and that with one bump or jostle, he could squeeze the trigger.

  fifty-eight

  Kent saw four police cars when he pulled into the Exxon parking lot, but he didn’t see Barbara’s SUV.

  “Where are they?” Lance asked. “Where are Mom and Emily?”

  He hadn’t taken time to drop Lance off at the police station. When he’d gotten Barbara’s call, he decided instead to take him right to his mother. “I don’t know. Maybe she parked in the back. Wait here. I’m going in.”

  His voice brooked no debate, so Lance sat quietly as Kent got out.

  He went inside. Andy was standing with the Dalton officers, talking to a lady who must be a witness.

  “Where are they?” Kent asked.

  Andy turned to him, frustration drawing his face. “You’re not gonna believe this. They drove off. This lady says Emily and her mother were together in Barbara’s vehicle, and that they left.”

  “Left? I told her I was coming!” He turned to the officers. “Were they here when you got here?”

  “No sir,” one of them said. “She was already gone.”

  Something was wrong. Kent dialed Barbara’s number, waited. It rang four times, then went to her voicemail. “Barbara, where are you? I need you to call me back. I told you to wait at the Exxon station.”

  As he clicked the phone off, a sick certainty hit him. They were in trouble. “She’s driving a white Expedition. Didn’t any of you see it?”

  “I did,” one of the Dalton cops said. “That car was driving off when I drove up. I didn’t know it was her.” He went to the window, looked out. “She can’t have gone far.”

  Kent couldn’t believe it. “We need to set a fifteen-mile perimeter and put up roadblocks.”

  “Maybe she was headed to the closest precinct,” Andy said.

  Kent walked outside and looked up the street, as far as he could see, both ways. Please, God … He turned back, saw that Andy and the police had followed him out. “Could you guys check to see if she is at the precinct?”

  While they radioed in, Kent tried her phone again. Still no answer.

  “We have people watching Leigh’s cabin. They were waiting for you to get here with the warrant. If by some chance he has them … ”

  The cop got off the radio and shook his head. “They’re not at the precinct. They said they’d let us know if she shows up.”

  “All right,” Kent said. “We need to go search Greg Leigh’s cabin.”

  “We’ll meet you there,” one of the officers said.

  Kent looked at Lance through the windshield of his car. The kid sat there with a perplexed look on his face. He hated to tell him that his mother and Emily were gone.

  “I need one of you guys to take the boy to the police station. Have someone there keep an eye on him until I can get back for him.”

  One of the cops agreed, and Kent went to Lance’s door. He opened it and leaned down. “Lance, your mother and Emily were here, but they left. I’m sure they’re all right, probably just heading to the police department. So this officer is going to take you there.”

  “They left?” Lance cried. “No! You told them we were coming.”

  “Well, she’s not here, so maybe she just misunderstood.”

  Lance looked at the cop, then regarded Kent again. “Why can’t I go with you?”

  “Because I’m going to Greg Leigh’s cabin with a search warrant, and I can’t have you tagging along.”

  The corners of Lance’s mouth pulled. “Is that where you think they are?”

  “No. But I sti
ll have to search it. Now come on, you’re slowing me down.”

  Reluctantly, Lance got out of Kent’s car and into the cruiser where the uniformed officer waited. When the cop had closed the door, Kent stepped toward him. “He’s a good kid. Go easy on him. He’s been through a lot.”

  Andy left his car there, and he and the crime scene investigators he’d brought with him got into Kent’s car. They headed toward the cabin. Kent had a bad feeling that Barbara was now in as much trouble as Emily had been. His stomach burned.

  As they drove to the cabin, he saw the Boutique Square. That was where Emily’s original call had come from. He pulled in quickly, to see if he could find Barbara’s car.

  He saw no trace of the Expedition, but a dark Infiniti sat at the back of the parking lot. No one was in it. He pulled behind it …

  “The same muddy tag,” Andy said. “Greg Leigh’s car.”

  “So where is he? Lurking somewhere nearby, or does he have Barbara and Emily?”

  He called for more police, and in moments the place was swarming with squad cars. He left them to search for Leigh while they headed for the cabin.

  They made their way up the hill to the address Andy’d gotten earlier — the cabin Leigh’s ex-wife had mentioned to Barbara. There wasn’t a vehicle in the driveway, and the lights were all off, as if the place was empty. They went to the door and knocked hard, heard nothing. Kent kicked the door in.

  Inside, they turned on the light and fanned out around the house. There must have been forty pictures of Leigh’s daughter Sara. Some of her artwork as a child was matted and hung in frames.

  The house was an open floor plan, kitchen and den together. Kent hurried up the hall, leading with his gun, and looked in the master bedroom. Everything was neat and in its place. He looked in the first bedroom that also functioned as an office, then across the hall.

  An apple-green room, probably Sara’s. Kent stepped in and studied it. There was nothing out of place here either, except the comforter looked a little off, not quite even on both ends. He stepped into the room, looked around.

  From this side of the door, he could see that things weren’t quite right. There was a hole in the sheetrock near the door. The closet was open, and clothes on their hangers were piled on the floor, the rod leaning against the corner.

  There had definitely been a struggle here.

  A vague, familiar scent hung in the air. Kent’s gaze flew to the trash can under the desk where a rag had been discarded. He pulled on his gloves and picked up the rag. It was the same scent he’d found on the rag in Trish Massey’s car. Chloroform.

  On the dresser lay some of Leigh’s daughter’s things — pictures, ribbons, and certificates, all lying under a piece of acrylic. He went back through the house, as the crime scene investigators began to rope off the place.

  “Trash can in his daughter’s room,” he told Andy. “A rag of chloroform.”

  “You sure?” Andy asked.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. All we have to do is find a bottle, and that’s exhibit A.”

  “This place have a basement?”

  “Nope, no basement. But Emily told her mother she was held in a basement. He must have moved her. If he’s got them, that’s where he’s holding them.” He strode to the door and into the night. “This dude’s about to make me mad.”

  fifty-nine

  No, not there!” Emily’s sobs filled the car as the doctor instructed Barbara to drive back toward the house she’d escaped from.

  “Emily, shut up! I’m fed up with you,” he said. “Give me enough reason, and I’ll make your little brother an orphan.”

  Barbara bit her lip, hoping Emily would heed his warning. Barbara’s heart pounded, and she prayed ferociously as she followed his directions.

  “Here,” he said. “Turn in here.”

  Barbara pulled down the dirt road, memorizing every landmark in case they made their way out later. It was dark, so she couldn’t see much, but she scanned left and right, looking for anything that might help. She tried to choreograph an escape. If he got close enough as they got out of the car, could she knock the gun out of his hands? No, he was too close to Emily, and she couldn’t risk it.

  “Drive around back. There. Stop the car.” Barbara didn’t pull all the way behind the house. She left the tail visible.

  “Hands up. Over your heads. Now.”

  They raised their hands, removing any possibility of their grabbing something. “The police are everywhere,” she said. “They’re going to find you. They’re going to come after us.”

  “They won’t find this place,” he said calmly. “I didn’t use my real name when I bought it. They have no idea it even exists.”

  “I told them,” Emily bit out.

  “If you’d told them, they’d be here by now.” Misty moonlight gave his disfigured face a macabre look as he jerked her out of the car.

  He gave Emily the key. Keeping the gun on her, he told her to open the door.

  She did, and hesitated at the threshold. “What if someone did this to your daughter?”

  “Inside, Emily. You’ve lost my sympathy.”

  “They know you’re the killer,” Barbara tried. “Your face is probably plastered all over the news.”

  Emily picked up on that. “The people who sold you the house will remember.”

  If it moved him, he didn’t show it. “In the house!” he said through gritted teeth.

  They stepped inside. A lamp shone in the corner of the small den. The room was empty of furniture, dimly lit, dusty. He walked them to the basement door. It had swung closed, but was splintered and broken where he’d kicked it open. “Emily, open the door.”

  She hesitated.

  “Emily, I said now!”

  She opened the door, turned on the dim light, took a step down. “Hurry up. All the way down.”

  Barbara followed her, her hands on Emily’s shoulders. He made them sit on the rug. Gun still on them, he backed into the bathroom.

  Barbara eyed the stairs. If they ran, he would shoot.

  Emily held Barbara’s hand, squeezing tight.

  Barbara saw Leigh glance in the toilet tank. “Nice try, Emily.” He dipped his hand in, pulled out the glass shards she’d hidden there, dropped them onto a towel on the floor. “I ought to make you eat it.”

  Then clutching the wadded towel, he backed his way up the stairs and closed the door.

  Barbara got up and went back up the creaky wooden steps. The door was broken and wouldn’t shut right. She doubted it would lock.

  Then she heard hammering … pounding.

  The splintered hole at the edge of the door was quickly covered. More hammering …

  She turned the knob, and it gave easily, but the door wouldn’t budge. He’d caged them in with a hammer and nails.

  sixty

  We’re okay,” Barbara said, trying to sound calm as she went back to her daughter. “We’re going to be all right.”

  Emily was crying. “Mom, it was so hard to get out of here the first time, and now I’m back?”

  “We’ll get out. Let me think.”

  She walked into the bathroom. The toilet tank was open, and there was no lid. There was a metal bar inside the mechanism. It might be possible to disengage that and use it as a tool or weapon. But it wasn’t strong or sturdy enough, and it certainly wasn’t sharp. Besides, they would need the commode to work if they were going to be down here long.

  She walked out of the bathroom. There were beams in the ceiling, along the wall. If she had the right tools, she could pry them loose over the stairs. She knew how they were hung. Maybe she could use the bar in the toilet as a screwdriver. It was a possibility.

  Another option was the light fixture. If she could hold Emily on her shoulders, show her how to take it down, maybe they could use it. Even a fluorescent bulb could be useful for fighting their way out. If they hit him in the face where he was already wounded …

  She went up the staircase that led to the doo
r, tried to move the hand rail. She could use it like a bat.

  And then it hit her. She knew what might work.

  “Come help me, Emily.”

  “What?”

  “We’re going to get ready for the doctor. And when he comes back, we’ll have a nice surprise.”

  sixty-one

  Minutes ticked by … one after another … after another. Maybe he wasn’t going to come tonight. Barbara sat on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, Emily leaning against her. Irony razored through Barbara like asbestos, cutting her from the inside. How could it be that she was with Emily now, while Lance was out of her grasp? At least he was with Kent. She prayed nothing would happen to him.

  “Mom, is Trish really dead?”

  Barbara kissed the top of her head. “Yes, honey, she is.”

  Her voice squeaked. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  “We could die here.”

  “But we won’t,” Barbara said. “We have to be okay for Lance.” She looked at her daughter fully for the first time since she’d found her. She looked awful. Her skin was gray, her eyes sunken. Her lips were dried like raisins, and she’d lost weight.

  Emily wiped her face. “When I was sitting in that dumpster waiting for you, I talked to God for the first time in a long time. I told him I was sorry … for this whole mess I’ve made.”

  Barbara had heard Emily’s repentance before — just empty words. Foxhole faith wasn’t necessarily enduring. But it was a beginning. Something God could work with. Maybe this time …

  “If we ever get out of here, I won’t use drugs again, Mom. I mean it. I’m sick of them. I’ll go to any rehab you pick. I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

  It was all Barbara had ever wanted to hear. The ultimate goal of so many of her prayers. She looked up the steps to that door. “We have to make sure you get that chance.”

  Emily’s face twisted. “Dad would be so ashamed.”

  Barbara drew in a deep breath and turned her daughter’s face up to hers. Drying the tears on Emily’s face, she said, “By the time you see your dad again, he’s going to be very proud of you, because you’ll have overcome all this.”