by Jane Blythe
“You have another family to kill,” Annabelle said flatly. Another family who was innocently going about their lives, completely unaware that a killer was waiting to destroy them. Another person who was about to lose their whole family in an incomprehensibly horrific manner.
“Last one,” he nodded agreeably. “Only the police think I’m all finished. Didn’t want them getting in the way of this one; it’s the most important.” His face grew dark. “So I’m going to tuck you away someplace where you can be helpful, and then saving you will be all that boyfriend of yours can think of. I’ll be able to kill the last family and get away.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
Bending over, he hoisted her over his shoulder, making her groan in pain, and carried her to the corner of the basement where her father had built a wine cellar a few years back. Balancing her with one arm, he swung open the door and deposited her on the floor inside the small room.
“You’re going to leave me in here?” fear laced her voice.
“Yep.”
“It’s a wine cellar. An airtight wine cellar,” she told him, even though she knew he already knew this.
“Yep.”
“You’re leaving me here to die.” Even though she’d known that Ricky probably planned on killing her, hearing just how he intended to do it still terrified her.
He shrugged. “I don’t really care if you die or if your boyfriend finds you first. I just need you to keep him occupied.”
“You can’t do that,” she protested, panicked.
“Of course I can.” He was already closing the door. “Thanks for your help, Annabelle.” He winked at her, then slammed the door, locking it behind him.
Wiggling herself to the door, she positioned herself so she could kick at it with her feet. She knew this was not going to get her out and yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. After a couple of minutes her energy was all used up and she slumped back against the cold, hard floor, gasping for breath.
Forcing herself to calm down, Annabelle did the math. The room was approximately five feet by five feet by five feet, which at best gave her maybe eight or nine hours before the carbon dioxide levels became toxic.
But that was a best case scenario.
Her body was already weakened from the injury to her shoulder and the associated blood loss. Plus, she was panicked and her respiratory rate was increasing as fear about her impending death took control of her mind. The faster she breathed, the faster she would produce carbon dioxide, and the faster death would come.
Once again, she attempted to calm herself down. Xavier was looking for her. He had to be. Which meant that she had to do her part. She had to keep herself as calm as possible so she would still be alive when Xavier found her.
Ricky had said that he didn’t care if she died or if Xavier found her first. Which had to mean that he thought it was a genuine possibility that Xavier would find her here. Reminding herself that she meant nothing to Ricky, that he was just using her, he wanted Xavier to find her, wanted him either in a blind panic about her death or a blind panic rushing her to the hospital.
She was trying desperately to keep herself controlled. Imagining Xavier breaking down the door, scooping her up into his arms, cradling her gently, telling her he loved her.
But it did no good. Annabelle knew what was coming. Over the next couple of hours, she’d start experiencing headaches, dizziness, fatigue, her vision and hearing would begin to be affected, her blood pressure would increase, she’d lose control of her limbs, then unconsciousness and death.
It was too late, all attempts at calm were gone. Annabelle began to sob hysterically.
* * * * *
10:53 P.M.
Xavier felt closer to Annabelle here.
Maybe he should feel closer to her at his house since she’d spent several nights there with him, but he’d been drawn here, back to Annabelle’s house, to the place where he felt like he had first managed to connect with her.
After Kate had dropped him off at his place, he had moped around for several hours, but couldn’t settle himself to anything. He’d tried cooking dinner but all he could think of was Annabelle sitting in his kitchen watching him cook. He’d tried watching some TV but all he could think of was Annabelle sitting beside him watching movies. He’d tried taking a shower to relax but all he could think of was washing Annabelle’s hair. He’d even tried getting some sleep but all he could think of was Annabelle curled up beside him.
So instead, he’d been drawn back here.
He remembered the night he had found her here. When he’d held her in his arms as she’d cried. If he concentrated he could still feel her breath against his neck, her hair tickling his nose, her arms encircling his waist as she clung to him, the way she’d gone still when he’d called her Belle. Because in her dreams that was what the man who would love her called her. She’d called him out on switching between calling her Annabelle and calling her Belle. He hadn’t realized he’d done it, but she’d been right.
Sighing, she’d been right about a lot of things.
Climbing from his car, Xavier wandered through the Englewoods’ front yard, recalling the last time he’d seen her. Her white eyes had been full of devastation when she heard he still loved Julia. Devastation changing to raw fear when she’d told him she couldn’t cope with losing him if she let him get close and then he left her for Julia.
Leaning wearily against a tree he slid to the ground, completely worn out from the stress and emotions of the last few days. Xavier knew he shouldn't have left her alone that night. He should have stayed and convinced her that there was zero chance of him ever going back to Julia. He should have stayed and held her in his arms until he’d wiped that defeated, lost, heartbroken look from her eyes.
He should have convinced her that he wanted her to be Belle.
At the very least, he should have sat in his car outside her motel room to make sure she was safe.
One thing he was determined not to do though was play the what if game. He’d already been playing it for three years. What if he’d been home the night of Julia’s assault? What if he’d paid more attention? What if he’d noticed that she wasn’t excited about the upcoming birth of their baby? What if he’d been able to stop her from killing that couple and orphaning their child? What if he’d been able to get her to plead insanity and go to a psychiatric facility? So many what ifs and none of them changed the facts.
He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes with Annabelle that he’d made with Julia.
He wasn’t going to waste time on what if. He should have kept Annabelle safe but he hadn’t; now he needed to focus on getting her back and then helping her deal with all of this.
He was going to get his life back. Three wasted years was enough.
Glancing at his cell phone, Xavier wanted to call Kate and see if there had been any progress made in finding Ricky and Annabelle, but he didn’t want to distract her. Initially he’d been shocked and furious when Kate had told him that she was going to have him removed from the case, but almost immediately he had realized she was right. He was too emotionally involved to be able to do his job. And Annabelle’s life depended on clear headedness, not panicked turmoil.
Xavier knew he was lucky to have a friend like Kate. A friend who was prepared to do what was tough because she knew it was also what was best for him. It made him sad that she hadn’t told him about her pregnancy because she wasn’t sure he’d be completely happy for her. It was also something he intended to rectify. He was thrilled to pieces to be a godfather to Kate and David’s baby.
Kate was right. Her pregnancy did make him think of his daughter. He would always love and miss the little girl he had never gotten a chance to know, but he was also ready to move forward.
He dialed Kate’s number when he became aware of a presence nearby. Without looking up, he reached a hand slowly to his gun. Keeping his cool, he asked, “Where’s Annabelle?”
“Waiting for you,
” came the reply.
“She’s still alive?” He held his breath as he waited for the answer.
“She was last time I saw her,” Ricky answered.
“You know I’m going to arrest you.” He wondered what Ricky was hoping to achieve by turning up at Annabelle’s house.
“We’ll see,” came the bemused reply.
“Why did you do it, Ricky? You have to know that your mother’s death was just an accident.”
“No one helped her, they watched her die and didn’t do anything. That’s murder.” If Ricky was surprised that they’d figured out what he was doing, he didn’t show it.
“But the Englewoods, Jenners and Ranklings weren’t there; they had nothing to do with the fire and your mom’s death.” He tried to keep Ricky occupied while he surreptitiously dialed Kate’s number.
“Drop the phone, or I won’t tell you where Annabelle is.” Ricky was suddenly beside him.
Xavier complied. “Where is she, Ricky?” Xavier asked desperately.
“I told you, she’s waiting for you to come and save her,” the smile Ricky gave him was bone-chilling.
“I’m going to get my handcuffs and take you to the station, Ricky. Then you can tell me where Annabelle is and I’ll go get her. It’s over,” he said softly, already reaching for his handcuffs.
“I think I better tell you where Annabelle is before you arrest me, in case you change your mind,” Ricky was grinning smugly.
“Why?” Xavier was getting a sinking feeling that he’d just played right into Ricky Preston’s hand.
“Because you can’t have both.”
“Can’t have both of what?”
“You can either arrest me or you can save Annabelle’s life. You can’t do both.”
He clawed at denial. “I can arrest you and then find out where you’ve hidden her.”
“But not in time to find her alive,” came the singsong reply.
“You were using her all along.” Xavier’s fear was replaced by rage.
“Yep,” Ricky nodded agreeably. “And she’s doing her job just perfectly.”
“Did you hurt her?” his hands curling into fists.
“So what’s your decision?” Ricky asked instead. “Me or Annabelle?”
“How do I know that she’s really still alive?”
“You don’t.”
Wavering, Ricky was a danger to anyone and everyone he came into contact with and yet this was Annabelle they were talking about. It was one thing to let Ricky go if it saved Annabelle’s life, but if he let Ricky go only to find Annabelle was already dead…
“Ticktock, ticktock. By my calculations, Annabelle doesn’t have long left. So what do you choose? Are you going to arrest me and let the woman you love die, or are you going to be her knight in shining armor and save her life?”
He battled his indecision. His heart was telling him to pick Annabelle, his head wasn’t all that far behind. But Annabelle was Ricky Preston’s ticket to freedom. As soon as he gave up her location, he knew Xavier would go running to her rescue and he would use that time to flee. Flee the country if he was smart. They had enough to convict him. Fingerprints, DNA, not to mention Annabelle’s statement.
“Last time I ask. Are you going to let me go or do you want Annabelle’s blood on your hands? Me or Annabelle?”
“Annabelle.”
* * * * *
11:21 P.M.
She was unable to move now.
Annabelle was too weak.
She was panting, struggling for breath. Her head spun every time she moved it. A headache pounded viciously at her temples. Her eyes were clenched shut. If she opened them, she saw sparks and stars, the sensation adding to the dizziness.
It didn’t look like Xavier was going to find her.
At least not in time.
It had been hours since Ricky locked her away in here. He had probably killed the last family and was ready to leave the country by now.
Annabelle wished that she could have a chance to live her life the way she always should have. Ricky had said that she was weak and scared, and she had been. Her whole life.
Twenty-three years wasted.
Because she was too scared that no one could ever love her, and too weak to put herself out there and try.
Too bad she’d learned her lesson too late.
If she had any energy left, she’d cry.
But she didn’t have any energy left.
Already she was gasping desperately, the oxygen levels in the room had dropped dangerously low. Annabelle knew she had maybe minutes left before unconsciousness came. Death would follow soon after.
The pain in her head prevented her from forming any more logical thoughts.
She couldn’t catch her breath.
She was choking.
And then everything faded away.
* * * * *
11:30 P.M.
“Kate, I need paramedics and officers at Annabelle’s house now,” Xavier yelled into his phone as he headed for the Englewoods’ basement.
“What?” came his partner’s confused reply.
“I was at Annabelle’s house thinking about her, Ricky showed up, he has Annabelle locked away in her father’s airtight wine cellar.” Clattering down the basement stairs, “I have to go now, I have to get her out, Ricky said she didn’t have long left. Hurry up and get here.”
Not bothering to listen to Kate’s response, he hit end, and shoved his phone into his pants pocket.
“Annabelle?”
Hammering on the cellar door. It was locked.
“Annabelle, just hold on, I’m coming.”
Searching desperately for a key, he was hesitant to kick down the door because he didn’t know if Annabelle was too close on the other side, or what condition she was in.
He was about to give in and risk breaking down the door when he saw a keychain hanging on the wall by the bottom of the stairs. There were three keys on the chain, and Xavier struggled to insert the first key into the lock because his hands were shaking so badly.
Thankfully the key turned, and with a soft clunk the wine cellar door swung open, revealing Annabelle’s body lying in front of him. Blood streaked her face from a gash on her cheekbone, blood also streaked her arm and chest from the wound to her shoulder. Her arms were pulled behind her back, and she rested awkwardly on her side, head lolling limply.
Xavier dropped to his knees beside her. “Annabelle?”
She was barely breathing, and when he pressed his fingertips to her neck, he could hardly detect a pulse.
He needed to get her out of here. Scooping her gently into his arms, ignoring for the moment the rope that bound her wrists, he ran with her up the stairs and out into the night. He carefully set her down on the soft grass. “Annabelle?”
No answer.
Her whole body was shaking violently. Leaning over her, he covered her mouth with his and forced oxygen into her starving lungs.
“Come on, Annabelle,” he urged, brushing the hair from her face.
Still nothing. Covering her mouth again, he breathed into her.
“Annabelle, please, wake up,” he begged. Surely he couldn’t lose Annabelle now, not when he’d just found her, not while she didn’t believe that he loved her.
Ever so slowly, Annabelle’s eyelids began to flutter.
“Come on, honey,” he encouraged, taking her face in his hands.
Her eyelids fluttered a little more and then he was looking down into her stunning white eyes.
“Hey, welcome back.” Relief flooded through him at the sight of her conscious.
She was groggy, her gaze disoriented, she moved her lips but no sound came out.
“Don’t try to talk,” he cautioned gently. “Don’t try to do anything, I've got you, just concentrate on breathing.” She was still gasping, each breath shallow and harsh. Hopefully the ambulance would be here soon, she needed oxygen, and she needed it quickly. Drinking in the sight of her, his fingers tracing her face, runni
ng through her hair.
“Xavier,” her voice so faint he could hardly hear it. “You came.”
“Of course I came,” he admonished softly. He didn’t like the way Annabelle was so overly grateful over every little thing people did for her, like she didn’t deserve it. When she was stronger they were going to discuss that.
“My head hurts.” Her eyes fell closed again. “And I feel sick.”
“I know, honey, you need oxygen, an ambulance will be here soon,” he assured her. “Here, let me untie you.” Carefully, he sat her up, propping her against his shoulder as he reached for his knife and sawed through the rope binding her, trying to hide his wince at the sight of her badly damaged wrists. The ropes had ripped all the skin off, leaving them bloody and raw, fibers from the rope left behind in the wounds.
Annabelle noticed his wince. “How bad are they?”
“Pretty bad,” he answered grimly. “What happened to your face?”
It was her turn to wince. “Ricky hit me. I think it’s broken.”
She was probably right, her cheek was swollen and already turning black. Anger rippled through him at the thought of Ricky hurting Annabelle. Now that he had Annabelle safe, he was going to hunt down Ricky Preston before he had a chance to get away.
“My shoulder,” her gasping voice continued, “I think all the stitches pulled out while I was trying to stand up.”
He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he didn’t need the details right now. Annabelle needed to remain calm, not relive every detail of her abduction. “They’ll re-stitch it at the hospital,” he soothed. “Try not to worry about that right now. Just try to relax.” He settled her against his chest.
“Xavier?”
“What is it, honey?”
“Ricky raped me,” her voice quivered.
He tightened his grip on her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Xavier pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“No, I’m sorry.” Annabelle tried to lift her head from his shoulder, but he pressed it back down. “I should have believed you, when you said you wouldn’t go back to Julia, but I believe you now. I do, I really do,” she implored.
