by Mia Luxe
He hangs up.
Then he sits back down as if he’s waiting for a haircut.
His breath forms a cloud of steam in the cold air, but he doesn’t seem to notice the cold. The roof of the warehouse is full of holes, and brackish water drips onto my shoulder. I try to move away from it but it slowly soaks me to the bone, leaving me shivering as I try to press against the zip ties binding my wrists.
Come on, it’s just a zip tie, it’s just plastic, I can break it.
I want to beg him for mercy, but his eyes have none.
He stands up slowly. His lips curl back, showing me his teeth as he walks towards me. He stands above me like a building. I look down at his feet, unable to do anything but stare at the huge boots.
He looks me up and down, then reaches forward. His hand grips my chin, pulling it up, forcing me to look into his beady eyes.
He breathes in deeply and then breathes out, sending a wave of rotten stench over me.
“It’s been five years since I fucked a woman. Five long years. I could have you, now.”
I’m hyper-aware that my shirt is ripped, showing off the slopes of my breasts. He reaches down, groping me and I want to throw up.
I pull back away from him but his hand tightens around my chin and jaw. I pull against my bonds, feeling the plastic slicing into my skin. I can’t tell if water is dripping from my wrists or blood as the torrents of rain pour down against the leaky ceiling and drain onto me.
“A Maturi keeps his word. If that rat comes back with the money, I won’t touch you. If he doesn’t… you’re mine.”
He lets go of me, his hands leaving my body and turns away. He walks back to his chair, sitting down. His expressionless face could be made of rock. I was expecting a brutish, angry man who couldn’t control himself. He looks like he’s been waiting for this moment for years, visualizing it patiently.
I start to wriggle my hands back and forth slowly, hoping to ease the plastic ties. Nothing happens. I slow my breathing with all my might, trying to think.
Trying to be calm.
If I need to get out quickly, I’ll slam my hands against the back of this chair until my hands break or the zip tie does.
Good. I’m planning again. I’m thinking. There’s no time for terror.
The clouds cover the moon and there’s no light in the inky blackness to shine through the holes in the roof. The lamp is steady and weak, the electric light pale and cold. My body is shivering uncontrollably. I lost feeling in my hands and my clothes are soaked through.
The sound of a car driving up the dirt road makes a sickening combination of hope and fear swell in my heart.
Joe stands at the sound, holding his weapon tight in his hammy hand. He steps behind me and I crane my head trying to see him when I feel the icy blade at my throat. I gasp and the knife presses against my skin deeper, biting in and about to break my skin.
He could slit my throat with a flick of his wrist.
I try to stop my shaking but I can’t control my freezing body.
The door to the warehouse opens slowly.
Connor steps in. He’s got a winter jacket on and is empty handed.
So he never did have the money. Or he would have brought it. Oh God, Joe Maturi is going to kill us both and bury us out in the middle of nowhere.
I can see the pistol over my shoulder as Joe Maturi aims it straight at Connor.
“Where the fuck is my money!”
Connor holds up his hands.
“Joe. Just let her go. She isn’t part of this. It’s just you and me.”
The knife presses harder against me and I shrink away as far back in the seat as possible.
“The money, you rat. Where is it? Answer me now, or I swear I’ll take her head off and put a bullet in your knee.”
His pistol lowers slightly, and I know Joe is fixing his sights on Connor’s leg.
“The money’s here. Almost all of it. There’s still 14.5 million dollars. I couldn’t use it all at once, or I’d be suspected. So I hid it.”
The knife leaves my throat, hovering in front of me instead of biting into my skin. I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding.
“Where?”
Connor walks forward slowly, his hands still up.
“Stop walking! Take of your jacket.”
“Alright. Whatever you say Joe.”
Connor takes off his jacket slowly, throwing it into the corner. He’s wearing a sweater underneath.
“Take off your sweater and shirt!”
Connor nods. He pulls off his sweater and shirt at the same time, standing bare-chested in the dim light.
He isn’t wearing a wire. Oh God, no one else is coming.
Connor stands with his hands in front of him, clad in only his jeans.
“Alright. Now talk, dammit. Where’s the money?”
“In Mallory’s grave.”
Joe starts to laugh. A long, low chuckle. I can smell Joe behind me. He doesn’t smell human, and with every laugh a wave of rotten meat is wafted over me before dissipating in the damp air.
“I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t have left 14.5 million dollars out in the wild.”
Connor shakes his head.
“It was the safest place I could. I couldn’t it in a bank. If I took it to my home, and I had a fire, or a burglary… where could be safer than in a remote stretch of government land? No one can develop it. This warehouse was built illegally and it still stands. No one cares about this land.”
The knife moves against my skin again. I don’t know if Joe notices how tight it is against my flesh. My heart pounds in fear, and I ache to call out to Connor. For him to do something, anything.
“Explain yourself. Why is there so much of the money left?”
Connor looks at me, his eyes meeting mine, but in the darkness I can’t read anything in his expression.
“There was suspicion on me in the inquest. They knew there was money, and it either went to a Maturi associate… or to me. I visit this place once a year and take a hundred thousand. It’s the most I can safely take and use without alerting the IRS.”
“Come closer.”
Connor walks forward slowly. Water drips down and splashes against him as he walks.
“That’s close enough. So that was your whole plan? Take a hundred thousand a year? You were planning on living another 150 years, or leaving my money to rot?”
Connor is close enough that I can see the bullet wounds on his chest. The ugly reminders of the man who is holding me hostage. I see how tense his body is. His voice is so calm when he speaks but every muscle is taut, like a jungle cat ready to pounce.
Is he going to rush Joe? The gun is aimed straight at him! The knife is at my throat! We’ll both die! Please Connor, don’t do it, don’t do it, please, don’t do it.
“I started a consulting business. It’s growing well, with the help of a few extra ten thousand here or there. Once I have a reputation as the best, I can work for Hollywood Stars consulting on blackmailing cases and targeted breakins. High paid work. Once I start billing in the millions… it’s a hell of lot easier to launder 15 million dollars.”
The knife leaves my throat again.
Then it comes back tighter than before. It is tenser, vibrating up and down.
“No. It’s bullshit. If the money’s buried and you come here every year, you would have brought a shovel.”
Connor nods.
“I did. I wasn’t going to walk into here with a shovel that you might think was a weapon and get her killed. It’s in my trunk. Should I go get it?”
He hasn’t used my name yet. It’s like he doesn’t want to say it in front of this man.
The knife is still at my throat.
“No. You planned something, didn’t you? You’ve always been a sneaky bastard, Connor. A sneaky little rat. You’ll dig with your hands. Alright, lead the way. I remember exactly where I buried that whore. I strangled her to death, you know that Connor? But if you have mak
e any moves, your little slut here isn’t going to have such a pretty death. I’ll take her fucking head off. Stand, bitch!”
The knife leaves my throat and he pulls me up by my wrists. I take a step forward but my legs are too cold and cramp up, and I fall forward, the ground rushing towards me. My hands try to protect me but they are zip tied behind me.
I turn my head and hit the ground, pain rushing through my body. I look up and Connor moves towards me, then stops, frozen like a deer in the headlights.
“Don’t you fucking take a step closer. What the fuck was that little stunt?”
“My legs, they are so cold, they gave out,” I say as fast as I can, needing him to know I wasn’t trying to escape.
Please believe me.
I feel his big meaty hand grabbing my left wrist and he pulls me to my feet again. This time he holds me up.
“Take a step forward. Slowly. Warm up your legs.”
He doesn’t care about you. You aren’t even a human to him. He just needs you to move.”
I can see the pain in Connor’s eyes as he looks at me. He has no fear, only utter agony.
“Another step. Connor, lead us.”
I walk forward again, my leg shaking but supporting my weight. Each step sends pain shooting up from my feet to my hips.
When Joe is sure I won’t fall again, he lets go of me and I walk forward. He rummages behind me, picking up the lantern and the dim light follows us into the darkness as Connor leads us into the blackness of the storm.
He walks slowly towards the woods. The trees were cleared near the warehouse, but the huge pine trees stand over us like baleful sentries. The wind hits me hard, chilling me deeper. There was a fence around the compound but it’s broken down and rusted. We go through a portion of the fence that is torn down, the chain links slicing against my skin as Joe pushes me through. I barely feel the pain, losing feeling in my limbs from the cold.
I could die from the cold.
The sudden realization that Joe Maturi might not be the thing that kills me tonight makes my knees buckle, but I catch my balance before I fall into the mud.
I know the second time would be punished.
The light from the lantern grows and I know he’s turned it up a setting. It’s a brief circle of light around us as we trudge into the woods.
Where are we going? To a grave? Is Connor telling the truth? Has he been lying to me all this time?
Something slaps my arm and a short scream leaves my mouth. Connor turns and the knife finds my throat, holding me tight.
“Just a branch, you dumb bitch. Eyes forward Connor. We’re almost there.”
Connor nods and turns, walking forward.
The forest at night has always felt so lonely to me. We’re so far from civilization, so far from any chance of aid.The wind whips through the trees, shrieking as the branches bend and move.
A clearing stretches in front of us as far as the light from the lantern reaches.
Connor steps forward ten paces and stops. There’s a large rock in the middle of the clearing next to him.
He turns around and looks at Joe.
“We’re here.”
We walk closer and I see that the patch of grass around the rock looks thinner.
Like it’s been dug up every year.
Jesus… he was… telling the truth.
Connor stole the money. He’s been… what’s the word, dammit… laundering it every year. He is dirty.
He was using me. Lying to me.
The pain of betrayal hits me, but it’s nothing compared to the iciness that’s moving from my body into my brain. My thoughts feel sluggish, fighting to find the right words.
Keep it together. You need to stay… stay… sharp.
All I want to do is lie down on the ground and pull my legs close to myself. My adrenaline has worn off and all I feel is the biting cold.
“Dig!”
Joe yells over the roaring wind, and Connor slowly moves the rock to the side. Every muscle in his body tenses as he heaves the rock.
Then he gets on his knees and puts his hands in the muddy dirt, methodically pulling the wet soil away. He is exposed to the driving rain but his body doesn’t shake like mine. His muscles flex as he digs deeper.
“You dig like a dog. You’re digging your own grave, you fucking rat. Finally I’ll put an end to you.”
Joe speaks in low, deep voice, and Connor makes no reaction. I don’t know if he even heard him over the storm. In the clearing there are no trees to protect me from the deluge, the driving rain pouring down on me.
Connor looks up after he’s dug a foot.
“You promised she would be unharmed! She’s going to freeze to death. Let me use that to dig.”
Joe forces me to my knees, my legs splashing in the mud. I can barely think from the cold. I hear some sort of rustling and suddenly Joe’s huge winter coat is around me, shielding me from the driving wind. Connor is looking at a large branch that could be a make-shift shovel.
“No. You won’t have a weapon near me. She’ll be fine now!”
The night is still cold, but his jacket is fur lined and huge on my body. Joe is almost three times my size and his coat is like a huge fur blanket.
I should feel disgusted to be in his clothes, but God, it’s so cold.
Slowly my shivers quiet as Connor digs deeper. It could be half an hour or two hours when he is three feet deep. His hands are bleeding, his nails broken as the dirt gets thicker.
Joe walks forward in front of me. He’s got his pistol aimed at Connor.
“Why did you stop?”
“It’s here,” says Connor, looking up. He shivers, the first sign of weakness, and I know he must be frozen and aching from exertion.
I can’t see into the hole from where I am trapped on the ground.
He’s going to kill Connor.
He’s not looking at you. You need to break free.
Thunder booms and I smash my hands together against my back, feeling the plastic cord of the zip tie biting into my wrists hard.
Again I smash them together, but the ties don’t budge.
“I see it! Uncover the box!”
One last time. Harder. Harder.
I bring my hands up as high as they can go and smash them down against my back.
The snapping sound of the zip tie breaking seems loud to me, but Joe doesn’t turn.
I’m free.
Oh God, I’m free.
Joe looks down at Connor and I can see Connor wiping something off. There must be a huge box of some sort where he kept the money.
What can I do? Joe is so big. What if I can get his gun. No, I’m still frozen, he’s too strong.
I fight with my mind for control.
“What the fuck is this! That box is too small! Don’t you fucking move!
I know it’s now or never.
I need to distract him, just for a second, just for long enough that Connor can do something, anything.
I stand and scream into the wind, rushing towards Joe Maturi, knowing he’ll kill me, every last ounce of strength in me urged forward. My cold, shaking limbs push forward as I run towards him, yelling and screaming like a banshee.
He turns, the gun aiming towards me.
Connor, where are you? Connor, do something!
I see Connor reaching down. He doesn’t rush to tackle Joe Maturi.
He doesn’t do anything to stop him. I see him stand, but he doesn’t move forward to save me. Joe pulls the pistol up, staring down the sights at me as I try desperately to close the distance between us.
The booming crack of the gun overwhelms the rain. Shock fills me and I fall to my knees. I feel so wet, so cold.
It’s over.
Joe takes a step towards me, his eyes angry, burning holes of hell.
He aims the gun lower.
He’s going to finish me off with another shot.
Then he stops.
The gun falls from his hand.
I see th
e red circle of blood in his right side, and he looks down at it, confused. I look down at myself.
There’s no bullet wound. The gunshot didn’t come from Joe Maturi’s weapon.
He falls to his knees and Connor stands behind him like an avenging angel. A pistol is in his hand, and he aims it down at Joe Maturi.
Where did he get the gun… the box? Am I dreaming? Am I dead?
He walks forward two steps and kicks Joe in the back, forcing him to fall forward onto his face in the mud.
There is no trace of the man I know in Connor’s eyes. He is simply not there. Rage contorts his vision.
He aims the gun at the back of Joe Maturi’s head.
“This is for all the women you’ve killed. This is for me, you fucking animal!”
Connor yells over the howling wind, and I watch Joe Maturi try to push himself to his feet. His eyes meet mine, and I see the pure terror.
“Please, no, don’t -”
“Connor! Wait!”
I scream, standing up, using every last ounce of my effort to stand.
He looks at me, the rage still controlling his face.
“You aren’t a murderer! Don’t do this Connor, don’t do this!”
I see his hand clenching, his finger pulling the trigger lightly.
Then he stops.
The anger leaves his face like a dark cloud blown by the wind. I hear sirens, faint and distant, but my exhausted mind might be imagining them.
Connor rushes to me, wrapping the coat back around me. It had fallen off as I stood, and I hadn’t realized it was gone until the warmth is around me again. Joe tries to stand, but he falls to the ground again.
“It’s over Willow, it’s over. You’re safe. You’re going to be alright.”
He says the words again and again, and I feel faint, cold, and weary. Do I hear the sound of voices? Of footsteps and sirens, or is it all a fantasy?
He wraps his coat tighter around me, and I drift in and out of consciousness, not sure if I’m dreaming or if I’m in an ambulance, paramedics looking down at me and the sound of my heartbeat steady and alive.
Aftermath
Willow Harper - Saturday, November 15th
What… where am I… I blink my eyes against the bright light of the room, staring around. I’m on a small, uncomfortable bed. There’s a tube in my arm.
