by Nikki Chase
Alice
The old farmer points at a crate on the ground, which contains the biggest, heaviest melons I could find in his stall.
Raphael groans and gives me a look. “Really? All those melons? What are you making?”
I shrug. Of course there are no recipes that require that many melons, especially when I’m only cooking for two, but Raphael doesn’t know that.
A crate full of melons just seems like the perfect thing to occupy Raphael for a few minutes while I run away.
And I actually saw a police station just around the corner from the parking lot where the farmers’ market is set up.
Looks like my luck has turned at last.
“I shouldn’t have agreed to take you here. Women and shopping. I should’ve known it was going to take forever,” Raphael grumbles.
“Look, the sooner you put the crate in the car, the sooner we’re done shopping.”
And the sooner I can start running, I think to myself.
As if I’d stay in Seth’s house, after Raphael inadvertently told me the truth about how I got into trouble in the first place.
I was already planning to escape just because of the principle of it. No one’s keeping me anywhere without my consent, not even if I’d be living in luxury. Even when I still had the tracker around my ankle, I fantasized about running away. I thought I just had to reach the cops before Seth found me.
And now, knowing that Seth was the one who got me into this danger in the first place? It just makes everything seem false. The things he has done so far in the name of protecting me, they all seem so meaningless now.
He’s not doing me any favors. He’s just minimizing the damage that he caused himself.
I have no idea what kind of danger I’m in and why. All I know is Seth is the one responsible, and I’m sure he’s not the only one who can keep me safe. Wealthy as he is, I’m sure Seth is not as powerful as, say, the cops.
“This is the last time I’m taking you shopping. Seth can do it himself next time,” Raphael says.
Despite his protests, he bends his knees and picks up the crate with his powerful hands. He holds it close to his body as he walks toward the car.
Great. Everything is going according to my plan. Next, he has to put the crate back on the ground, get his car key to open the trunk of his black SUV, actually pull the door open, and load the crate inside.
It should give me enough time to disappear in the crowd.
Now!
I take one last glance at Raphael, who’s distracted by the crate of melons, and walk briskly into the crowd. I quicken my pace, faster and faster, until I’m running at my full speed.
I’m not a very athletic person. All I do to keep in shape is watch what I eat, which is easy to do as a chef. I know I’m going to run out of breath very soon. Within minutes, I’d be hunched over with my hands on my knees, gasping and wheezing.
I should really take up running as an exercise. It could come in handy, although I don’t know if I’ll ever find myself in another situation where I have to escape a mansion where a megalomaniacal man wants to keep me locked up for the rest of my life.
Luckily, we’re really close to the police station. I’d be gasping and wheezing there, at least, where it’s safe.
“Hey!” Raphael’s voice booms from behind me.
Instinctively, I turn around and look over my shoulder, only to see what I already know is behind me. Raphael is pushing the crowd apart, trying to get to me.
If he manages to catch up before I reach my destination, I’m screwed.
Unfortunately for Raphael, his big body is a disadvantage here. With my slimmer build, I can easily weave in and out of the crowd.
I climb up the steps leading into the police station, the muscles in my legs screaming in fatigue. I don’t care, though. I’m almost at the finish line.
I pull open the door and careen into the counter. My legs are so tired I could just collapse into a heap on the floor. I consider doing that, seeing as I’m already safe here, but I push on.
The only officer manning the counter is a man in his late thirties. He’s helping an old lady fill out a form, pointing at the paper and reading out what it says.
“Help!” I exclaim between gasps. “Please! I need help.”
The police officer turns toward me and slides over on his swivel chair until he’s sitting right in front of me. “How can I help you, Miss?”
“I was kid—”
“Alice!” Raphael’s voice comes from behind me, where the door is. “Finally!”
I twist to look at him. I can’t believe my eyes. He seriously followed me all the way into the police station? Is he crazy?
“Yo, Rafe!” The cop in front of me raises his hand to greet Raphael. “Long time no see!”
What the hell?
“Yeah, man. Good to see you,” Raphael greets him back. He doesn’t look like he has just exerted himself. Obviously, he’s in a better shape than I am. He says, “I see you’ve just met my cousin, Alice. She got lost at the farmers’ market.”
His cousin? His damn cousin? Do we even look alike?
The officer looks at me and gives me a smile. “Ah, another crime solved. All in a day’s work, folks.”
“It’s nice being a cop in a small town, huh, Max?” Raphael grins.
“It’s the best, Rafe,” he says. “You should try it.”
Wait a minute. What the hell is happening here?
“No, wait, Officer, I’m here to report a crime.” I point at Raphael. “He’s not my cousin. Look at us.” I point at Raphael, and then at myself. “No resemblance at all. I got kidnapped and held against my will by a man named Seth Wayne.”
“I’m sorry, she’s a little dramatic,” Raphael says, rolling his eyes. “You know how dangerous it is around here for Seth and the people who live in his house. Alice here,” he says as he puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close, “is from out of town and doesn’t understand why she couldn’t just walk around on her own here.”
“I see.” The cop nods as he listens to Raphael’s explanation.
“No, you don’t see,” I protest. I try to wiggle away from Raphael, but he’s too strong. “I was locked up in my room, my phone was taken away so I couldn’t communicate with anyone, and I wasn’t allowed to ever leave the premises.”
Raphael gives the cop a look. “As you can see, she’s holding her phone in her hand, and she’s walking around town, visiting the farmers’ market.” He turns to look at me and says, in an admonishing tone, “I told you things are different in this town. You need to be more careful.”
The cop nods along with Raphael and says, “Yes, especially if you’re Seth’s guest.”
I want to pull my hair out in frustration. Why isn’t the cop listening to me?
“It’s just a misunderstanding,” Raphael says.
His cop buddy nods.
“Excuse me,” says the old lady with the paper form. “What does it say on this line here? I knew I should’ve brought my reading glasses with me.”
The cop gives us a grin. He says, “Duty calls,” and glides back toward the lady.
I look behind me. The sun is shining outside. Freedom calls.
If I can just get away from Raphael and call 911, I’ll be rescued. This small-town cop is obviously too close to the people involved to ever see things objectively.
I know I can never go back to Seth’s mansion. He’d take away my phone and never let me out again.
So this is my only chance.
Without thinking twice, I dash toward the door, push it open, and start running again.
Please don’t fail me, legs. I promise I’ll treat you better after all this is over.
28
Alice
“Hey!” Raphael shouts behind me, right before the door shuts.
I run back toward the market. Raphael is going to catch up to me sooner or later, and I’d rather be caught in a crowded place where I’d have many witnesses.
As I turn left onto the street where the farmers’ market is, I can hear Raphael’s footsteps behind me, quickly gaining ground on me.
I look around and wish payphones were still around. These days, if you don’t have your own cell phone, you don’t get to make calls, period.
I clutch onto the phone in my hand tightly. If I lose it, that means I’ll have to waste precious time trying to convince someone to let me use their phone before I can make that critical call.
If anything is going to save me, it’s my phone. I can’t drop it because I don’t have time to stop running long enough to pick it back up.
Finally, I reach the market again. I slow down so I can blend in with the crowd. The sun is shining and the produce is fresh, so the place is teeming with locals and tourists alike. I realize I stick out because of my height, so I slouch a little.
I catch a glimpse of Raphael as he stands at the edge of the market, straining his neck to look for me. He’s easy to spot because he’s such a big guy, but getting away from him is another matter entirely. He’s fast.
I scan my surroundings, looking for the best place for me to hide so I can make the call.
I just need a few uninterrupted minutes, probably. I don’t know. I’ve never called 911 before and I don’t know how long the wait time is to get connected to an operator. If it’s anything like calling the bank or the electricity company, I’m screwed.
I think about hiding behind one of the counters of the many stalls around me, but I’m afraid some farmer might yell at me for doing that, and I don’t have any time to explain my predicament. Besides, like the cop from before, they may also know Raphael and decide to call him over because they saw us together earlier.
So I squat down where I am, right in the middle of the market where foot traffic is heaviest. Knees and shins and ankles surround me. People glare at me, their annoyed faces looking extra sinister because of the shadows cast by the sun shining high above them.
I hit the three numbers. Nine. One. One. I tap the green button to call.
My heart hammers against my rib cage as I listen to the ringback tone. My whole body is shaking, the adrenaline urging me to run again. Damn it, why are they so slow to pick up?
“Please wait while our system tries to connect you. Do not hang up. You will be connected to the next available operator…”
Fuck!
A recorded message?
Are you kidding me?
In the movies, a call to 911 always connects immediately. Nobody told me I’d have to be put on hold when I call the emergency line. Hollywood has not prepared me for this.
I look around me, hoping Raphael still hasn’t spotted me, but I can’t see him from my level. I can only see the people who are walking around me.
I already know exactly what I want to say once I get connected. Quick and concise. Just the facts.
One, I got kidnapped. Two, the kidnapper is Seth Wayne. Three, I need help getting away from him and keeping him out of my life.
I’ve checked the banner at the entrance of this farmers’ market so I can tell the cops where I am exactly. They’ll get here soon and take me somewhere safe.
I know exactly what I’m going to do once this is all over. I’m going to live with Emily for a bit. She has invited me over so many times, but I’d always been too busy. Well, I’m unemployed and homeless now, so this is the perfect time for an extended visit.
I’ve seen her place in Seattle, and I know there’s plenty of space. We can go shopping for baby stuff, and I can even accompany her to the pre-natal classes.
I’ll apply for a restraining order to keep Seth away from me. Considering the amount of money he has, that’s probably the best I can do anyway.
Seth couldn’t get out of his previous prison sentence because his parents didn’t want to give him a cent to help him. But now he can hire his own team of lawyers to deny all my claims in court. There’s no way for me to win this case.
“911. Where’s your emergency?” A voice filters through the phone receiver, and my heart jumps in my chest. Finally!
“Yes! I’m at the farmers’ market at—”
Before I can finish my sentence, a big hand slaps over my mouth, cutting off my air supply. Another hand wrangles my phone away and ends the call, severing the line that was supposed to take me to safety.
Fuck! Raphael! I was so focused on the call I forgot to keep track of where he was.
If he brings me back to Seth, that’s the end of my escape plan. It will be years before I’m allowed out of the house. I probably won’t ever get a chance this good again. He’ll tighten security after this, I’m sure.
I scream, but no sound comes out, with the hand clamped over my mouth. I bite down on Raphael’s palm. I manage to break the skin, judging by the rusty taste invading my mouth. But the hand remains in place.
“Bitch!”
My whole body turns cold at the voice.
That’s not Raphael’s voice.
Who is it? Could it be the men Seth has been protecting me from? Have I escaped the frying pan, only to fall into the fire?
I try to kick and punch, but the man’s arm is now secured around my waist and forearms. No matter how much I struggle, the hold on my body is too strong for my struggling to mean anything. I’m fighting with all my strength, but I’m not doing any real damage.
Staying close to the ground to avoid attracting attention, the man drags me away from the crowd. As we approach the edge of the parking lot, I widen my eyes, looking for Raphael in panic. Ironically, I need him to find me now, to rescue me from this man.
I hear the rattle of a metal door being slid over a railing behind me. I can’t see it, but it sounds like bad news. I start kicking, but I can’t get any purchase. All I manage to hit is air.
I get pulled into a van by the man holding me from behind. Another guy, his body covered with tattoos, climbs into the back of the van and slides the door shut.
“Romeo’s not going to be able to save you now, bitch,” the man snarls in my ear from behind, making his tattooed friend chuckle.
“Walter’s going to be so happy,” tattooed guy says.
“I’m pretty happy, too,” says the man behind me as his hand slithers up from my waist and cups a breast, his grubby fingers squeezing into my flesh. My skin crawls.
I start screaming, but his other hand is still clasped over my mouth. He takes it off my lips, only for his palm to land on my cheek, hard.
My skin stings. Before I can recover, the new guy pastes a length of tape over my mouth, making it impossible for me to cry out or say anything.
Meanwhile, the man behind me jerks my arms behind me. He wraps something rough around my wrists and pulls it tight, restraining me.
I sit slumped on the rubber floor of the van, all trussed up and stunned. I know I can’t fight them. They’ve got me now, and there’s no way for me to get away.
Who’s Walter? And what are they going to do with me? Are these the people Seth was protecting me from? What do they want from me?
Maybe I should’ve stayed put in Seth’s house after all. Now I’m completely screwed, and I can’t think of anyone who can help me.
Nobody even knows where I am.
29
Seth
How could he fucking lose her?
I was already going to kill Raphael when he called to give me the news, but now, after discovering where Alice is, I’m going to torture him over multiple days until he dies a slow death.
I grab my phone to call Anthony. I tell him to get ready with two more men and wait for me in the car.
Raphael took her to the fucking farmers’ market, when I’d specifically t
old him to take her to the grocery store. Wasn't he thinking at all? Walter's whole operation is a farm. You could even call him a farmer, technically, if farmers had armies of thugs to intimidate the people they’d trafficked.
I don't like to ask Walter’s victims many questions about what he has done to them because those are not happy stories, but I don't need to hear all the facts to know how much he has fucked them up. I’ve seen the fear in their eyes, the bottomless abyss whenever something reminds them of their time at the asparagus farm.
I remember going in to pick up a few workers and help them escape.
Those guys were more nervous than a scurry of squirrels surrounded by murderous owls. They jumped into the car in a rush, then immediately ducked down so they wouldn't be spotted from the outside.
We told them we’d taken care of security so there was nothing to worry about. Still, they would only sit up after driving across the town and passing the gates into my property.
Every single batch of people we rescued acted the same way, and eventually I stopped asking them to chill and just let them gradually get used to their new lives.
Fuck knows what he's doing to Alice now.
Luckily, I put a tracker on her phone so I know where she is. Otherwise, no one would even know where she is. Fuck, I don't know if she's alive. Maybe she’s not.
I take a deep, calming breath.
It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because it's not true. Of course she's alive. She has to be.
It has barely been one hour since I took Raphael’s call, and our car is already approaching Walter’s farm.
Walter wouldn’t kill her in a hurry. He’d try to use her against me, threatening to hurt her if I don’t back off. That doesn't give me much comfort or consolation, but at least she lives, in all probability. Once I get her back, she’ll be able to move on and put this whole episode behind her.
I’ll just have to make this particular rescue mission work. It won't be my first one, but it will be my most dangerous one yet.
This time, I have one target to rescue, instead of just taking whoever shows up at the set place and time. Also, I have to actually go in there, instead of just parking right outside.
