by Evie Nichole
Ruth, MJ, and Tim watched Barkley leave and come back eight different times, before Ruth stood and slammed her petite hands on the table in front of her.
“Barkley, enough! You look like a lunatic!”
Barkley stopped and turned back to her slowly. “I don’t care, Mother.” He started the circuit again, speaking to the empty air in front of him. “Who’s here to care, but you?”
MJ laid a hand on Ruth’s arm. “Let him be, Mrs. Bailey. He’s lost another love, and someone he considered a good friend, all in one day.”
Ruth looked at him sharply, her face softening before she nodded, patting his hand. “I know. This is beyond unbelievable.” She turned her attention to Tim. “You should get home to your own family.”
He crossed his arms and leaned the dining room chair back on two legs, motioning to the hallway with his chin. “Barkley is close enough to family. Sonya knows what’s up right now.”
Ruth pushed down on the top of his kneecap, forcing the chair back on all fours. “Then, as the mother of the house, keep your chair on the ground.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
There was nothing to do but wait. Detective Jenkins promised to call as soon as the forensics report came back on the blood. He assured Barkley it wouldn’t be long. The fingerprinting of the room and hallway was also key. It was just waiting for now. Barkley was normally a patient man, but waiting was something he had learned to loathe.
***
Selene worked the ropes around her wrists until the skin beneath was raw. Her captors shouldn’t have underestimated her military training. Going onto a combat zone required particular training in case of capture. Escaping improperly secured bonds of multiple kinds was one of them. Learning how to use ordinary objects as a weapon was another one. She scanned the basement, not seeing much, but there was the chair Lucas had been sitting in. Breaking a leg might be feasible.
Selene licked her lips, she was desperately thirsty, and her body was exhausted, but none of that mattered. What mattered was trying to find a means of escape. She had no idea where she was, or how many people were helping them, but she had to try.
Selene’s hands crammed and were becoming slick with droplets of blood, but she breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the rope give way. She shook her hands loose and began to work on the ones at her ankles. It was a far easier endeavor since her hands were free. She rolled her feet in a circle to loosen the stiffness her feet and ankles had held for so long. When she was sure that she could stand, she moved around the basement and looked at what was available. There were boxes stacked neatly on the far side where the chair had come from and several totes. Other matching chairs were lined up against the wall beside an oval dining room table. She peeked in one box. Women’s clothing. She peeked in another. More women’s clothing. Selene frowned.
Where am I?
She opened a tote and looked at a bunch of papers and framed pictures. She pulled one picture out with shaking hands. It was a picture of a much younger Barkley in a tuxedo, his arms around the waist of his new bride in white, Sarah.
Selene knew there was only one place she could be, Barkley’s brownstone house.
Why? Wouldn’t they look for Betty here first? That could only mean one of two things: they were either going to move her again very soon, or they would kill her. Either way, she had to move fast. The large tote with the pictures and papers also had a trophy. A little gold person bent with a bowling ball in their hand was on top with a “1st place” etched in a plaque at the bottom. Apparently Sarah had like bowling.
“Sorry, Sarah,” Selene whispered. “I need this more than you now.”
Selene didn’t know if she should attempt the creaking stairs, and take her chances with whomever may be upstairs, or if she should wait in ambush for them to come get her. The first choice seemed the better option. If they had others working with them, then she wouldn’t be able to take them all on at once.
She went to one of the chairs and tried to separate one of the legs. She might be able to do it, but would risk too much noise. The lightweight trophy would have to do.
She went to the stairs and looked down at Robert’s body. He was only guilty of falling in love with the wrong woman. Pity was all she could feel for him. She couldn’t be angry over his involvement in her kidnapping any longer. He had acted out of desperation for an impossible dream of being reunited with Sarah.
Selene began moving up the stairs, keeping her body close to the stairwell, crossing one foot over the other in a cautious march. The steps would be more likely to creak at the center, and she was trying to avoid that at all costs. The fifth step up groaned a tiny protest. She froze, her eyes wide. No footfall could be heard. She resumed her pace.
Once at the top, she leaned her body close to the door and listened. She could hear voices, but they were far away from the door itself. She couldn’t exactly remember if Barkley ever talked about a basement much less where it was in relation to the rest of the house.
Selene eased the door open about half an inch. The voices were a little clearer, but still somewhere else in the house. She saw the industrial washing machine and dryer and knew exactly where she was. The kitchen was up three steps and beyond that was the entertainment room. She listened at the door, which led into the kitchen, and sucked her breath in. Betty and Lucas were in the kitchen. She looked to the garage door. She may be able to leave that way, but wasn’t sure how much noise the garage door opening would make. She could certainly outrun Lucas, or Betty for that matter, even with her bum hip.
Her fears were realized as she moved towards the interior garage door and could hear voices coming from the other side. It sounded like two men. She would have to take her chances by moving through the interior of the house. To get to the front door, she would have to go through the kitchen and then the entertainment room.
Selene eased her way into the kitchen opening the door only as far as was needed to get her body thorough, keeping her position in a crouch. The refrigerator was to her right and the left corner of the massive island was directly in front of her. The breakfast nook was visible, but it was void of either Betty or Lucas. She worked her way, still crouched with hip screaming in protest, to the other end of the island. She risked one eye to the swinging door which led into the entertainment room. It was propped open by a man sitting in one of Barkley’s breakfast nook chairs. His attention was somewhere in the entertainment room. It sounded like a movie or some television program was on low in the next room. The man snickered every once in a while when the fake crowd laughter echoed out of the television.
Selene backed up on her hands and knees, resting her back against the base of the island. Her only consoling thought was the fact that the kitchen had many more readily available weapons. A factor she hadn’t considered was the landline mounted to the wall on the other side of the refrigerator. She hadn’t considered it until it began ringing.
“Let it ring!” Lucas barked from the room beyond.
Selene eased around and looked at the man still seated in the chair. She would risk catching his attention if she stood and removed the cordless hand set from the wall. He was still staring into the room beyond, the butt of a gun sticking out of his waistband.
Selene would have to take her chances. She didn’t know what else to do. She moved upward slowly, until her eyes and forehead becoming visible over the edge of the island. She kept eyes on the man and moved backwards in the same position. She reached up and took the receiver from the wall, ducking back down just as he turned his head.
The man frowned, his tan skin pulling downward at each corner of his mouth. He stood and cautiously moved toward the island. Selene held her breath. If he came around the side she was on, it would be bad. It could even be deadly. The man stopped and shrugged, returning to the chair, which would have been a welcome sight for Selene if she could have seen it.
She counted to ten and worked her way back to the door which led to the laundry room. She reopened it in t
he same manner as she had entered a few minutes before, the trophy under one arm and the phone in her free hand. She hadn’t recalled seeing a basement door leading to the outside, but fire code probably demanded it. She went back to the basement door and began her slow descent back down. It was doubtful anyone would hear her if she did make a noise, but she wasn’t about to take that chance.
Once back downstairs, she stepped around Robert and began looking for the door. There wasn’t one. She supposed it might be because of the low-hanging unfinished ceiling, and the fact that it wasn’t a full basement. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t get out that way anyway now. The one tiny window was far too small to climb through.
She hit the talk button and dialed 9-1-1.
“Nine one one. What is your emergency?” A firm sounding female voice asked.
“My name is Selene Velasquez, and I’ve been kidnapped.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m in the basement, and I’ve gotten free, but there are other people, I don’t think I can get out without being seen.” Selene spoke a quietly as she could.
“I have your location as 1117 Leonard Street, is that correct?”
“Yes.” Selene’s head shot up as she heard footsteps above her head. “I think they’re coming again. Please hurry.” Selene pressed the end button and frantically looked for a place to hide. The basement door opened, as she maneuvered a tote under the oval table. She folded her body as tightly as she could behind it.
“I’m telling you that ‘in use’ light was on!” A gruff voice said, coming quickly down the steps.
“Well, it’s not on now!”
“Where’s the hand set…then.” The voice stopped when his feet hit the concrete. “Well, shit.”
The other feet moved back up the steps quickly, calling out a warning that Selene was loose.
The man still in the basement scanned the space, pulling his gun from his waistband. “You have nowhere to go, lady. You might as well make it easier on yourself and come on out.”
Selene’s back was tight against the wall and her chest equally as tight to the side of the large tote. She could see a shift in the light as the man moved from under the larger pool of light of the hanging bulb. The only thing that might shield him for seeing her was the fact that the oval table was above the tote.
“Get up here!” A voice yelled down.
“Why? I’m looking for her!”
“There’s no way she’s down there! Nowhere to hide! Lucas said to get up here!”
Footsteps moved rapidly up the steps, and Selene moved the tote, creeping out from behind. She stood and moved silently to the steps. A pair of strong hands reached for her, twirling her easily, laying a thick forearm against her throat.
“Got you!” the man breathed near her ear.
Selene brought the trophy up and stabbed at the man’s face blindly with the bowling person end. The man howled in pain as the trophy hit its mark in his eye. He released her and held a hand over his eye. He was unprepared for Selene to kick him between the legs and send the trophy under his chin as hard as she could. Something made a crunching noise as the man lost consciousness. He was out before his body hit the floor.
Selene grabbed his gun from the waistband of his jeans, checking the clip to see how many bullets were there. Luck was still with her. The clip was full. She shoved it back into place and clicked he safety off. The police had been called. They would come. The safest thing was to wait in the farthest corner of the basement, with the gun ready to stop anyone who came after her next.
Let the police handle it.
Footsteps ran above her head, and as she knew would happen, more footsteps came down the stairs. They stomped angrily. Betty, her face a mask of fury, came around the stairs, raising her gun to point it at Selene.
“Give it up, Betty! I will kill you if I have to. The police have already been called.”
Betty’s hand shook, causing the gun’s barrel to wobble uncertainly. “You ruined it all!”
“No,” Selene denied. “You and Lucas did when you sent that poor woman down that well. Barkley would have given the place to Lucas for the asking.”
“NO, he wouldn’t have!” She shook her head, tears running freely own her face. “He was like a son to me, but everyone took him away.”
“Drop the gun, Betty.”
She shook her head in tight defiant movements. She pulled the hammer back on the revolver and fired. Selene fired a fraction of a second behind her.
Pain blinded Selene, hot and razor sharp through her shoulder. She watched Betty fall to her knees, a look of uncertainty on her face, before her body went face first to the concrete floor.
“Just like my son,” Betty whispered before air rattled in her throat and she went completely still.
Selene stood slowly and moved towards Betty’s dropped gun, kicking it away with the side of her foot. The faint wail of sirens sent feet running above her again, soon the only sound left was her own ragged breath and the swiftly approaching law.
***
Barkley grabbed his phone, sliding his finger across the screen. Ruth and MJ stood like statues, shoulder-to-shoulder, waiting for the outcome. Tim supported his chin with both thumbs, his eyes closed. They listened to Barkley’s end of the conversation, hope rising in the room like a balloon.
Barkley physically sagged when the call was over, holding his phone down by his thigh. Ruth reached for him when a tear fell and his shoulders shook.
“They have her. The police have her. She’s being taken to the hospital.”
“Oh God. What did they do to her?”
“They wouldn’t go into it with me, but I need to go.” He looked at them, his red-rimmed eyes becoming hard. “You won’t believe the audacity. They took her to the brownstone. They took her to my house.”
***
Barkley had to go to his house first, which was an irritation almost beyond what he could bear. He couldn’t understand why he needed to handle things there first. Damages could be dealt with later, and the dead would still be dead whether he saw Selene first or not. Ruth had insisted she ride with him. The two-hour drive felt like it took at least four. Most of the time he drove twenty or more over the legal limit, earning him an almost constant ear full from his mother.
His brownstone home looked like a blue and red Christmas tree. Lights flashed over the front of the house and danced along the yard. A few people nosey enough had come out of their homes to watch the show safely from their own front yards, standing on tiptoe to see as much as they could around the obstruction of the boxwoods. After Sarah had gone missing, Barkley learned that he had no true friends on his street. He was judged by them as guilty almost immediately.
Barkley stepped out of his car and looked directly into the back seat of a cruiser. Lucas Mitchell sat in the backseat looking angry and incredulous all at once. He met Barkley’s eyes and refused to look away, arrogant even in the face of his impending incarceration.
Barkley walked away and entered the front door of his home. A detective, one who had been involved with Sarah’s case, led him into the entertainment room. Forensics was busy dusting every available surface.
“There were four men helping Mr. Mitchell and your housekeeper. We were only able to get two of them. One is on his way to the hospital. Miss Velasquez really did a number on him. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t lose his right eye.”
Barkley was proud of Selene after hearing that she had done that, but he could gloat later.
“Will Selene be in danger still with the other two on the loose?”
“No, I don’t believe so. The one with the loosest lips, and who didn’t sustain any injuries said they were basically henchmen, and Miss Velasquez was already here when they arrived.”
Barkley looked around the room, his eyes bright. He couldn’t believe what had happened within his home. “Betty and Robert are both…”
“Yes,” Detective Robinson confirmed. He ran a hand along his dark jaw. �
��There are some other things you need to know.” He moved as far from the bustle of the forensics unit as he could.
Ruth slid her arm through Barkley’s, clinging to the crook of his elbow.
“First, tell me about Selene,” Barkley said.
“She’s being treated. She was shot.”
Barkley’s head felt like it was spinning. “How bad?”
“It was a clean shot through the shoulder. Entry and exit wound. Last I heard she was doing fine and was being prepped for surgery. Apparently there was some ligament damage but nothing to be overly concerned about.”
Ruth patted Barkley’s arm, a reassuring smile on her lips for him.
“Alright, what else?”
“Selene talked from the moment we found her in the basement until the ambulance took her away. She has a lot of information concerning your wife. Information that was willingly given to her.”
“Like what?”
Detective Robinson licked his lips, this part of his job the hardest. “I’m sorry to inform you, Mr. Bailey, that your wife is in fact deceased and has been since the first day she went missing.”
Ruth’s hand came to her mouth, a small moan escaping her lips. Barkley could only stare at the man, the breath stolen from his lungs.
Detective Robinson gave them a moment to digest what he had told them before continuing. “Miss Velasquez said that she believes the body to be on your property in Virginia. We’re planning on working in conjunction with the police there to finally put this case on the closed list.”
Barkley felt physically sick. Sarah had been there all along. He wondered if she had suffered. Had she called out for him to save her, or had she wanted a different hero?
“Where…?” His voice cracked. “Where was she?”
Detective Robinson’s lips thinned. “In an old well.”
“An old well,” Barkley repeated, not quite comprehending what was being said.
“I’m sorry.”
Barkley nodded his head. “Me too.”
Ruth looked up at her son, her gray eyes darker than normal, under her drawn brow. “Didn’t Selene say there was a well in that place in the woods? The one MJ took her to?”
