by Lisa Ladew
She stepped onto a white, tiled patio and wondered if she should go to the front door or the back. Would anyone even be home? Her head swam threateningly again as more blood gushed from her nose. She made her decision. It wouldn’t do to pass out on the narrow strip of grass leading to the front of this house. She would knock on this back door and pray someone answered.
The top half of the door was divided into glass panes. She leaned against it, holding her face with one hand, and knocked hard. No answer, no noise inside the house. Far behind her, she heard a door slam. Her heartbeat tripled in fear. Reflexively, she tried the doorknob. Unlocked. Relief filling her, she slipped inside the house and closed and locked it behind her. The house was dark, quiet, and empty. She felt more blood fall from her nose and tried to clamp it shut. But the pain was incredible. Inside her head, she apologized madly to the home owner, both for breaking into the house, and for bleeding on the floor. Dizziness caused her head to wobble again and she braced her hands to the sides of her face. She just needed to sit for a second. Get herself together. The door she came through had opened into a foyer. Through the next doorway was a kitchen. And to her left, a door. She opened it. A dark, walk-in pantry. Ivy walked in and slumped against the back wall, taking deep, even breaths. She had to get help. Quickly.
Her phone was still in her pocket. She pulled it out and poised her finger over the screen, not sure who to call. She didn’t even know where she was. Ryker. If only she could get ahold of Ryker he could tell her what to do. Ryker had uncanny street smarts, and he might have an idea where Brandon would have taken her. She pressed the button and listened to it ring. Ten rings, fourteen rings, twenty rings. Ivy stifled a sob of frustration and hit END CALL. This time she dialed 911.
“911, what is your emergency.”
Ivy spoke as quietly as possible. “I’ve been kidnapped. I’ve only just gotten away. I’m hiding in a house. I’m not sure where I am.”
“Can you speak up ma’am, I can’t hear you.”
Ivy spoke a bit louder, trying to find a medium between the dispatcher hearing her, but no one else hearing her. Her voice sounded cramped and nasally to her. “I’m kidnapped. Brandon Savoy. He broke my nose. I’m hiding from him in a house.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know. I might be behind a house on Emery Street. No Emery Lane. Um. I’m really not sure. I broke into a house. Can’t you trace my phone?”
“No ma’am, we can’t do that. What is your name?”
“Ivy Oakes. I’m… I’m supposed to be in the next police recruit class that starts…” Ivy tried to remember what day it was. Had the class started yet?
“Ivy, can you go out of the house and see what street you are on?”
“Um yeah. I’m scared though. He might see me. But I’ll do it. Just stay on the line with me.”
“I will.”
Ivy pushed herself to standing and took a step towards the door. The sound of glass breaking somewhere in the house carried through the closed door.
She froze, fear spilling into her every cell. “He’s coming!” she whispered frantically into the phone. The dispatcher said something. To Ivy it sounded so loud she was certain Brandon would hear it. She pressed END CALL without hesitation and shrank against the back wall, clutching the phone to her chest.
Footsteps sounded in the entryway. Ivy held her breath, feeling her heartbeat slam painfully against her ribs.
She knew he was coming. She knew he would find her. All he had to do was follow the blood trail. Was he going to kill her? Or would he try to send her down to Mexico to replace Ryker’s mother and sister? Ryker, where are you? she moaned silently. The footsteps outside came closer. They sounded maliciously slow to Ivy, like Brandon was trying to terrorize her. She had to do something. She would call 911 back. Leave the line open. But when she unlocked her screen, Ryker’s number was the first thing she saw. She pressed it and watched the green light glow, indicating it was ringing. She held her breath.
Ivy looked around wildly for something to use as a weapon. There was nothing. Just canned soup, pasta, and bags of chips. She grabbed a can of soup and hoisted it in her hand. She would fight. Even if she was going to die, she would fight. She would not just let Brandon take her easily, no matter what. She put her phone halfway in her pocket, checking once to make sure it was still ringing, then hoisted the can of soup over her head, and grabbed another for her other hand. She wasn’t ready. No way. But it would have to do.
Chapter 16
Ryker slowly swam out of the deep, dreamless, drugged sleep that consumed him. His alarm clock was blaring. He tried to hit the snooze button but his hand met with solid glass. Slowly, he opened his eyes to bright sunlight. He was in a car. He looked around blearily, feeling as though his brain was lodged in quicksand. He couldn't dredge up any significance to this car. What day was it? Where was Ivy? Who’s car was this?
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. His phone. That was his phone ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket. But it wasn’t his phone. It was the phone Agent Shaw had given him Friday morning. And this was Brandon’s car. Brandon, his own cousin, who had kidnapped his mother and his sister. Ryker sat up as these thoughts marched matter-of-factly through his head, clenching his jaw and looking around for the asshole. He opened the car door and stepped out. He recognized this place. It was where Brandon had brought him and made him leave his truck. He walked to the garage where his truck was and opened the door. His truck was gone. Ryker stood still for a moment, blinking, trying to sort his newest thoughts in a mind that still seemed stuck on slow-motion. He walked back to the car and looked in it at the McDonald's cup in the center console. Brandon must have drugged him. That’s why he felt so strange, so out of it. His phone rang on and on in his hand. He lifted it to his face, but before he saw who was calling he realized that if Brandon had his truck, Brandon also had his phone. Ivy!
His eyes finally settled on the phone. It was Ivy. He pressed the button quickly. “Ivy. Where are you?”
No answer. He looked at the phone, confused. The line was open. He held it to his ear again and listened intently. From what sounded like a distance he heard grunts of exertion and a feminine moan of pain. Pressing the phone to his ear hard enough to cut off the blood flow to his skin, he ran to Brandon’s car and looked frantically for keys. Of course Brandon hadn’t left the keys here for him. He dropped heavily into the driver’s seat, wishing madly that he knew how to hot wire a car. But he didn’t. He didn’t know the first thing about it.
He stood up and pressed the phone harder to his ear. Ryker heard something more, possibly a moan of pain, then sounds of movement. Ryker ground his teeth together hard enough to crack them. “Touch her and I’ll kill you, Brandon,” he whispered, running frantically out to the road and looking left and right. It was a quiet suburban street. Small houses, close together. Not one person in sight.
With the phone pressed up to his ear, Ryker ran to the first car he saw and tried the door. Locked. His head pounding in fear for Ivy, he ran to the next car and yanked on the door handle. Locked too. He ran across the street to another car, a black SUV. The door handle opened and he pawed frantically through the glove compartment and center console, one-handed, looking for keys. Nothing. He checked above the visor. Nothing. A moan escaped his lips. On the phone, he heard only a loud rustling.
He climbed out of the SUV and whipped his head left and right, trying to decide which way to go. In front of him, a large white Cadillac sat in the driveway of a small white house. He ran to it, praying fervently. He ripped at the door handle, but it was locked. The door of the house opened and an elderly woman with wispy white hair, wearing a blue and white flowered dress and a neat, blue hat stepped out of the house. Their eyes locked. Ryker imagined what he looked like. A car thief. A crazed car thief. She was going to call the cops on him. He needed to call Hunter, and quickly, so he didn’t just get arrested. But the phone! He couldn’t hang up on Ivy!
The woman looked h
im up and down. Her eyes showed no fear, which amazed Ryker. “There now, young man, what is the matter?” she called.
Ryker felt caught. His thoughts spun. Maybe if I tell her the truth, she won’t call the police. Words spilled out of his mouth. “My girlfriend. She’s in danger. I have to help her. I need a car.”
“And were you going to steal it?” she asked sharply, tilting her head back slightly so she could look into his eyes.
“Well, I, ah. Ma’am, I didn’t feel I had a choice.”
“You always have a choice, young man, remember that.” She looked him over calmly. “Are you telling the truth?”
Ryker felt like he was about to have a meltdown. Ivy was hurt maybe, about to disappear maybe, and he was having a conversation with a stranger on the street. But he heard himself speak anyway.
“Yes. My girlfriend’s name is Ivy. A dangerous man has her,” he said simply.
The woman’s face folded in on itself in concern. “Then here, take Matilda.” The woman rummaged in her purse and held out a set of keys to Ryker. Ryker stared at them in disbelief. She dropped them in his hand and motioned for him to open the car.
He yanked open the door and dropped behind the wheel, forgetting completely to say thank you. He switched the phone to his other ear and jammed the keys in the ignition. The car roared to life, the deep growl of the engine sounding to Ryker like confirmation from Heaven. The Caddy responded to his lightest touch, pulling smoothly out of the driveway. He spun the wheel in his hands, slammed the transmission into drive, and sped down the street, realizing at once that he didn’t have a clue where to go.
Chapter 17
The door to the tiny pantry where Ivy was cowering opened swiftly. Ivy cocked her arm back, ready to slam the can of soup into Brandon’s face. But it never appeared. Confused for a moment, she finally saw him in the crack of the door where the hinges met the wall. He had opened it while standing behind it, probably expecting her to launch some sort of attack. He peeked around the door at her and Ivy thought she saw a smile on the portion of his face she had a view of. She threw the can of soup in her right hand as hard as she could at his head. He ducked behind the door and it missed him entirely.
“Now, Ivy. Don’t be like that.”
She heard the laughter in his voice. Anger flared inside her. He was toying with her. Like a little jerk. Like there was something fun about this. The thought galvanized Ivy into motion. She sprinted out of the pantry towards the door they had come in, hoping it would take Brandon a few seconds to realize what she had done. She wrenched the back door open, grateful she didn’t seem to be feeling dizzy at the moment. She passed the threshold and tucked her elbows in, ready to spring across the lawn, any lawn, when searing pain lanced through the back of her head. He’d caught her by her hair. Ivy gasped in misery and her hands flew to her head. She clawed at Brandon’s hands, trying to rip his fingers apart.
She realized she couldn’t budge his fingers. He sucked in a breath in pain as she tried to rip open his skin. She redoubled her efforts and opened her mouth to scream. He twisted his grip in her hair and she felt several strands pull out of her scalp. She yelped from the pain, but it wasn’t the attention-grabbing scream she’d been aiming for. She sucked in another lungful of air to try again when Brandon forced her face to the ground and pulled her back in the doorway by her hair.
He spoke into her ear, malice in his voice. “Listen, bitch. I know you want to get away, but you’re not going to. And if you don’t quit trying you’re going to be very sorry. I can’t shoot you, because I can’t afford for you to die right now, but I can make you wish you were dead. Got me?”
Ivy stopped struggling. She got him. She couldn’t get away with his hands in her hair. That was for sure. She’d shear it all off if she found some sharp scissors though. Or stick them in his eye and keep her hair. Hatred seared through her for this … this punk who had somehow gotten the advantage over her. If Ryker were here … bent double like she was she could see her phone in her pocket. Was it still ringing? It didn’t seem to be, but she had an open line. Ryker was listening?!
“OK, OK,” she gasped. “I’ll stop. What do you want with me, Brandon?”
“Good,” he said, standing up and pulling her up with him. He ignored her question completely and her anger flared again. “Now we’re going to walk across this lawn, real nice-like. If you scream even once, you’ll be sorry.”
They walked, his fingers still locked in her hair. Ivy’s eyes searched the yards around her and the bit of the street she could see. There were no people anywhere. Somewhere in the distance she heard a dog barking. Her mind worked frantically. She saw they were heading towards Ryker’s truck and her already rabbit-like heartbeat doubled in speed. Was he going to take her somewhere else? That couldn’t be a good thing. Was he going to ship her out of state or out of the country? She had to keep fighting him. Or distract him somehow. As long as they were out in the open like this, someone could see her, call the police. Or maybe the police were already looking for her. Oh why hadn’t she mentioned Ryker’s truck when she talked to 911?
Her eyes fixed on the back of the house where the truck was parked. Was this Dawn’s house? She’d only seen it at night, and from the front, but it was the same size and looked right. She decided to take a chance. If Ryker was listening he needed to know where they were. “Why are we at Dawn’s house?” she asked Brandon, trying to keep her voice low and non-confrontational.
“Shut up,” he hissed at her, trying to dig into his left pocket with his right hand. His left was caught in her hair. Ivy swayed on her feet, wondering if he was going to let go of her hair long enough to get whatever he wanted out of his pocket. If he did, should she run? She cast her eyes right and left, looking for the route that would get her to other people the quickest.
Instead of letting go of her, Brandon twisted his body just a little farther and got what he wanted. As he withdrew it, Ivy saw he had the keys to Ryker’s truck perched on the very edge of his fingertips. Without stopping to think, Ivy snatched the keys with her left hand and threw them as far as she could into the overgrown weeds surrounding the next yard. Her eyes marked the place where they disappeared, but Brandon was staring at her, mouth agape.
“You fucking bitch,” he said, his words holding deadly menace. Ivy’s fear, which had been on a low simmer, spiked dangerously high. She wished she could take it back. Not throw the keys. Too late. Brandon cocked a fist and slammed it towards Ivy’s face. Ivy ducked her head and tried to drop to the ground, more hair pulling out of her scalp. Brandon’s fist slammed into the back of her skull. It hurt, but he howled in pain and rage like it hurt him more.
His fingers untangled from her hair. Unbalanced, she fell to the ground. Quickly she curled into a ball and covered her head and neck, anticipating sharp kicks to her body or face. But none came. She dared a glance at Brandon and found him red-faced and shaking in rage. He held his right hand gingerly in front of him. With his left hand he was awkwardly trying to pull a gun from his waistband. Bad move, Ivy moaned inside her head. Now he’s going to shoot you.
Ivy pushed rapidly to her knees and put her hands up. “Look I’m sorry Brandon, I’m sorry! I know where they went, I’ll find them.” Slowly, she crawled backwards, eying him warily. He watched her carefully, then chanced a look at the houses around them. Ivy heard the barking dog in the distance joined by another dog and the roar of cars somewhere on a highway. But here in this neighborhood, all was quiet. Brandon seemed satisfied and his eyes locked on hers again, a scowl of anger contorting his face.
“You better find them, bitch. You have thirty seconds.”
Ivy crawled faster, thankful for a few moments of respite. When she made it to the general area where she had seen the keys land she plunged her hands through the weeds and ran them over the ground. He fingers touched dirt, a worm, soft weeds, grass, leaves, and sticks. But no keys. Brandon had stepped closer, looking for a glint of silver also, murderous intent on his face.<
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Ivy searched whole-heartedly, but her fingers found nothing. Fear beat a steady pulse in her brain. She kept snatching looks at Brandon, her eyes drawn to the outline of the gun in his waistband. Would he really shoot her? Thirty seconds came and went. Then another thirty. Ivy felt panic trying to edge out fear as her most consuming emotion. She started pulling up weeds by the roots and pitching them away from her.
There! She’d found them! Her hands closed on them. Don’t give them up, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered. If you give them to him, you’re going to disappear. Forever. Ivy knew she didn’t have a choice though. No one had come to save her. She was on her own. And here in this quiet backyard, if she didn’t give Brandon what he wanted, he would shoot her. She was sure of it. Maybe while he was driving she could jump out of the truck in a populated area…
Brandon materialized at her shoulder, cutting off her thoughts. His foot pressed deliberately onto her hand that wasn’t curled around the keys, thrusting her fingers into the dirt.
“Hand ‘em over,” he ordered.
Ivy did.
“Now stand up. Slowly.”
Ivy stood, tugging her hand out from under his shoe. She felt steel jab into her back.
“Get in the truck. Don’t fuck with me, Ivy. I’m in no mood.”
Ivy walked toward the truck, watching the road at the end of the driveway. Praying to see a cop car or anyone drive by. It was empty.
Brandon steered her towards the driver’s side door. He opened it and prodded her in the back. “Slide over.”
