by Wylder, Tia
“Don’t try to fight the pain, Mr. Harrington – if we need to up your dosage of painkillers, just say the word.”
As bad as the pain was, it somehow brought me a new wave of strength. Gianna’s face flashed through my mind, and I knew without a doubt that something terrible had happened to her.
“My wife,” I said, clutching the sheets in my hands until my knuckles turned white. “Something happened to her – she was with me, in the car, when I crashed.”
The two doctors exchanged a strange look.
“What?” I demanded. “What is it? Tell me!”
“Mr. Harrington, there was no one else at the scene,” the male doctor said. He narrowed his eyes.
“I know that,” I said in exasperation. “She was taken. You don’t get it – someone was chasing us, and I crashed.”
“You were going over ninety miles per hour,” the doctor said disapprovingly. “The paramedics reported everything.”
“Because I was trying to get away from the idiot chasing me,” I said angrily. “And then when I crashed, they took my wife.”
The female doctor’s face turned white, and she gasped.
“Yeah,” I said drily. “She’s gone. I need to find her – I need to speak to the cops, immediately.”
“That’s not possible,” the male doctor said. “Not in your condition, Mr. Harrington. You need to rest for a few days, and—“
“Bullshit,” I snapped. I tried to sit up in bed but the pain was so bad I saw stars in front of my eyes. Gritting my teeth and clenching my jaw, I groaned in agony as I gripped the plastic sides of the hospital bed and tried to pull myself upright.
“Mr. Harrington!” The female doctor gasped. “Lie back down immediately!”
I shot her an angry glare. Then I looked down to her left hand. Sure enough, she wore a wide wedding band of white gold.
“You’re married?” I grunted. The pain was still coursing through my body and sweat had broken out over my forehead.
The female doctor nodded.
“And if you went missing, what would your husband do?”
Her cheeks flushed.
“You know he’d look for you,” I growled. “You know he wouldn’t stand by and wait. You know he’d do everything he could to find you.”
“Mr. Harrington, that’s enough,” the male doctor said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “And it’s time for your medicine.” The male doctor didn’t take his eyes off me as he pressed a nurse call button on the wall. Seconds later, a nurse in bright scrubs walked into the room with two paper cups in her hand.
“What is this?” I asked warily. One of the cups contained water, the other contained a selection of pills.
“Painkillers,” the nurse said. “And a pill to ward off infection. Your leg was seriously damaged, and you’re at risk.”
“Go on, Mr. Harrington,” the male doctor said. He cleared his throat. “It’s about time for me to start making my rounds.”
I looked to the female doctor for sympathy, but she just flushed and gave me an apologetic look before shaking her head.
“Fine,” I snapped, grabbing the cup of pills. With the eyes of the doctors and the nurse burning into me, I tilted the cup into my mouth. The nurse handed me the cup of water, and I mimed swallowing, shoving the pills under my tongue. They tasted bitter, but it was nothing compared to the bitterness and anger I felt in my heart.
“Very good, Mr. Harrington,” the male doctor said. “I’ll be back this afternoon to check on you.” He left the room, with the nurse in tow.
The female doctor lingered behind. She bit her lip. “You didn’t swallow them, did you?”
I grabbed the empty paper cup from the side of my bed and spat the pills into it.
She sighed. “I really should make you take them,” she said.
“But you can’t,” I said. “Not until you bring me a phone. Not until I can speak to someone who can help me find my wife.”
The female doctor swallowed and gave me a nervous look. “I could lose my job for this,” she said, crossing the room and opening the small plastic cabinet that stood by the wall. Inside was a large plastic bag full of my things. She took out my phone and carried it over to me.
“Make your calls,” she said. “I’ll come back in an hour and put this away.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I really mean that.”
The nurse smiled. “I know,” she said. “And then, Mr. Harrington, promise me something?”
I frowned. “What?”
“That you’ll take your pills,” she said. “Okay?”
I nodded. Now that I had my phone back in my hand, I was eager to get started. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” I said. “Thank you.”
The female doctor nodded before leaving the room. She closed the door most of the way, and I sank back against the starchy pillows, exhausted from my brief interaction with the hospital staff. I pressed the button on my phone until the screen turned bright white. As soon as I had reception, I called the very first person I could think of – Thomas Winsell.
“Hello?”
“It’s Barnes,” I said quickly. “I need your help. Gianna and I – we were in a bad wreck, and she’s gone missing. Someone kidnapped her, I know it.”
“Jesus Christ,” Thomas muttered under his breath. “Have you called the cops?”
“I don’t know, I mean, no,” I said quickly. “I…I didn’t think they’d be able to do anything.” For a moment, I was too ashamed to mention that it was my fault Gianna had been kidnapped. If only I had been so stupid and pigheaded, the cops would have already been watching us.
“Barnes, you need to call them,” Thomas said. “This is dangerous – anything could happen to her.”
“I know,” I said miserably. I took a deep breath. “Thomas, there’s more. Someone has been stalking her, and I kept telling her that it was nothing – that it would pass, you know?”
“Jesus!” Thomas exclaimed. “Barnes, how could you do something so stupid?”
“I know,” I groaned. “I know. But this isn’t the time, I have to find her.” Emotion washed over me, and for a horrible moment, there was a lump in my throat that made me feel like I was going to cry. “If anything happens to Gianna, I’ll die,” I said quietly. “I couldn’t forgive myself.”
Thomas sighed. “I know a good private investigator,” he said. “She mostly works for women who suspect their husbands are cheating and other family cases, but she’s the best in LA.”
“God, that would be amazing,” I said.
Thomas gave me the woman’s name and phone number, and then we hung up. I was still feeling panicked and scared and helpless, but I knew that I had to keep my shit together. This wasn’t a time to break down – I had to stay strong if I was going to help Gianna avoid what I feared would be a grisly fate.
With shaking hands, I dialed the number of the private investigator.
“This is Jessica Norris,” a sharp female voice said. “How can I help you?”
“I need to hire you to find my wife,” I said quickly. “And I need to speak with you, in person, as soon as possible.”
“Sir, if you’re afraid that your wife is stepping out—“
“My wife has been kidnapped,” I said sharply.
There was a long pause.
“Can you come to my office in an hour?” The woman gave me an address located in downtown Los Angeles.
I laughed humorlessly. “I’m in the hospital with a compound fracture in my femur,” I said. “I doubt I’ll be going anywhere any time soon.”
I gave Jessica the address of the Malibu Memorial Hospital and then turned my phone off, lying against the pillows as my heart thumped frantically in my chest. I felt relieved to have a good private investigator on my side, but I wouldn’t feel better until there was good news of Gianna.
A little over twenty minutes later, a petite woman wearing a suit walked into my room. She had bright blonde hair twisted into a knot at the back of her neck and shar
p brown eyes.
“Barnes Harrington?”
I nodded.
“I’m Jessica.” The blonde took a chair and set it by the side of my bed. She offered me her hand to shake – to my surprise, her grip was as firm and strong as a man’s.
“I’ll need you to tell me everything,” Jessica said. “Starting with the beginning.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before launching into the story of Gianna. I told her everything – the fights we’d had, my stupid, bullshit promises to protect her…and of course, the photographers outside of our home and in Malibu. When I’d finished, Jessica looked ruffled.
“And you didn’t once think to call the authorities?” She narrowed her eyes. “That was very dangerous, Barnes.”
“I know,” I said. I shuddered. “I feel responsible for her kidnapping.”
Jessica’s silence indicated that she agreed with me.
“Well, the best way to start is to get out there now. Does Gianna have any enemies? Anyone who would want her out of LA?”
“No,” I said. “Nothing like that. Everyone likes her. She’s doing very well here – she’s brought new attention to the show.”
“What about another actress?” Jessica raised an eyebrow. “Is anyone jealous of her?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Or at least, I don’t think anyone would be crazy enough to attack her because of jealousy.”
“There has to be something you’re not telling me,” Jessica said. She pursed her lips. “Think, Barnes.”
“Well…there is her family,” I said slowly. “She was…very sheltered growing up, and even though she’s legally an adult, she ran away from home.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling lame. “They’re unhappy that she’s here now, but it’s not like they can force her to come back home.”
“You may be onto something,” Jessica said slowly. She closed her notebook and got to her feet.
“I’ll start looking for her immediately, and you’ll be the first to know as soon as I find something.”
“Jessica?”
She was almost to the door, but at the sound of her name, she turned around. “What?”
“Do you think there’s any chance that she’s…”
“Dead?”
I winced.
Jessica shrugged. Her expression had gone back to clinical coldness. “Maybe,” she said. “But for your sake, I hope not.” With that, she turned and left my room.
I stared up at the ceiling and thought a silent prayer to the heavens that my wife was safe. If anything happened to her – anything at all – I knew that I’d never been able to live with myself.
Chapter 13
Gianna
I had no way of telling time in that cheap little motel room. The shades were drawn tightly down over the windows, obscuring the light outside. There was no way of knowing where I was, or what time of day it was, or just when someone was going to come and tell me why they’d kidnapped me.
I shuddered. It could be anything. A deranged fan, a jealous co-star?
Or something worse?
And what did they want with me? Why did they want me so badly they’d chased us through the twisting California roads, threatening both of our lives?
However much time had passed, it was enough to fill my head with some of the worst scenarios I had ever imagined. I wasn’t just afraid for me – I was afraid for Barnes, too. What had happened to him? Had he died in the car crash? Had someone taken him, too? The thought that he might be captive in the same dingy hotel as I was like torture. Oh, god, Barnes, please be okay, I thought as I squirmed and twisted in the chair.
I’d lost all feeling in my hands and feet some time ago, but the ropes still burned my wrists and ankles every time I tried to free myself. After the initial panic had set in, I’d tried to stay calm, but it was hard when there were so many unknown variables at hand.
Part of me was furious with Barnes. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn and foolish, I might never have been kidnapped. We might be back in our luxurious Los Angeles home, snuggling together on the couch. But deep down, I was merely sick with worry. All I wanted was to see Barnes again, to know that he was okay and that we’d be fine in the end.
The pain seemed to grow more intense with each passing hour. My head ached, and I began to worry that being tied up so uncomfortably would give me lasting nerve damage. My mouth was so dry that underneath the duct tape, my tongue and lips were torn, and I had a feeling my skin looked horrible. When I glanced down at my feet, I saw they were dirty and scabbed.
What had happened? Had someone dragged me from the wreckage of the car? And where was I? Malibu? Los Angeles?
Or somewhere far more terrifying? Oakland?
Was I even still in California?
I had no way of knowing. And somehow, that knowledge was the worst of all.
I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I thought of the breathing exercises I’d learned in an acting class, and focused on inhaling and exhaling. Inhale deeply, exhale deeply, I thought, forcing the words to repeat over and over in my brain. But the breathing technique didn’t work its usual magic, and I felt myself starting to hyperventilate. I was so dehydrated that I felt delirious and exhausted, but it was hard to sleep.
Maybe I can drift off for a little while, I thought. The idea was terrifying – what if something happened to me while I was asleep?
But then again, it wasn’t like I’d be able to defend myself in a state of wakefulness. The secure ropes around my wrists and ankles weren’t budging.
Nodding my head to the side, I closed my eyes. Just a little while, I repeated. And maybe when I wake up, I’ll finally have some answers.
To my surprise, I found myself growing sleepier by the minute. Just as I was almost in a state of light sleep, I heard a loud bang. The sound startled me awake, and I moved my mouth to gasp, but the duct tape held my lips painfully together.
The sound of a female voice reached my ears, and I strained towards the sound, trying to shift my body so I could move the chair across the floor. The legs of the chair wobbled but didn’t give, and new tears of frustration welled up in my eyes. The voice was getting closer and closer, and a bubble of hope swelled in my chest.
There’s someone outside the room, and if they hear me, they could help! I thought frantically. Beneath my makeshift gag, I started whimpering as loudly as I could, hoping to be heard. Even if it was just a hotel maid, she could still help me to a phone and make my way out of this hellhole.
The voice grew steadily louder, and I started whining loudly and trying to talk loudly under the duct tape. A steady stream of noise bubbled from my mouth and I shifted my body until the chair hopped briefly on the floor, crashing down hard with enough force to send pain shooting up my spine.
When the door to the room swung open, I sighed with relief. Finally, I thought triumphantly. Someone heard me, and they’re going to help me get out of here!
To my surprise, the person standing before me wasn’t a maid. She was a petite woman with a tidy knot of blonde hair at the nape of her neck, and even in the dim light of the room, I could tell that it wasn’t her natural color. Her brown eyes looked as sharp as a hawk’s, and there was something about the way she carried herself that filled me with apprehension.
I whimpered through the duct tape at her, expecting her to be shocked at the sight of a young woman gagged and bound to a chair. But to my surprise, the woman’s thin lips curled into a faint, cruel smile.
“You’re awake,” she said.
A cold chill of fear ran down my spine, and I whimpered in fright. The woman crossed the room and grabbed the edge of the duct tape from my cheek, ripping it painfully off my face.
“Please,” I begged. “Please help me. Please let me go!”
The woman stepped back. She crossed her narrow arms over her chest. It was so strange – she was petite and slender enough to resemble a doll, but the look on her face was more frig
htening than gazing into the face of a serial killer.
She laughed softly. “Gianna, tell me – why would I let you go when I’m the reason why you’re here?”
I ran my dry tongue over my cracked lips and shivered. “What? What are you talking about?”
The woman snorted and stepped forward. “You actresses really are stupid,” she said casually, blinking at me in a poor imitation of flirtation. “You really have no idea why you’re here?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not stupid,” I said. “And all I know is that someone was stalking me.”
