The Trophy Wife

by Diana Diamond

  Emily moved first and dove toward the gun. Her hand was reaching out for the weapon when her fingers suddenly pulled up short. Rita had leaped down beside her and caught the shackle chain that was dangling from her wrist. Emily tried to get to her feet, but Rita held the chain and pulled her back down to her knees. She twisted Emily over onto her back, took the length of chain in both hands, and began forcing the links down onto Emily’s throat.

  It was a struggle of strength for which Emily was poorly matched. Rita was up on her knees so that she could lean her weight across the chain. Emily was on her back, able to generate little resistance. The links were pressing into her flesh and against the hard edge of her windpipe. She gagged as she tried to scream. All the strength she could muster wasn’t enough to back the chain off her neck.

  Emily let go with her free hand, taking all of Rita’s choking pressure. Instead of continuing the losing struggle, she swung the free chain and handcuff into the murderous face that was high above her. Rita struggled through the first blow, resuming her chokehold after it released for a split second. But the second blow hit into her eye and she let out a scream. One hand flew up to her face, giving Emily freedom to swing another blow. This time the iron cuff tore across Rita’s nose. Both hands went to her face, letting Emily grab the chain that had been pressing on her throat and quickly force it under Rita’s chin. Their roles changed as Rita lost her balance and fell heavily from her knees onto her side. Emily spun around on the floor to open some distance between them. She kicked out viciously, leaving her opponent in a helpless ball. Then she scrambled to the gun, snatched it up, and struggled to her feet She stood wobbling for an instant and then fell back against the wall.

  “Don’t move,” she managed when Rita tried to lift herself to her feet. “Stay right there or I’ll start firing. I swear to God, I will.” Rita settled back and sat on the floor. Emily stood watching her, the gun wavering as she panted for breath. From the corner of her eye, she spotted the telephone, mounted on the wall on the other side of the doorway. She began to slide toward it, keeping the gun oriented in Rita’s general direction. Emily knew that she couldn’t aim precisely, but she was sure she could hit her target at the close range between them. There was no doubt in her mind that she had the courage to fire and to keep firing until Rita was no longer moving. She eased past the open doorway.

  There was a fraction of an instant when she thought she was aware of Mike, a sense of his presence or possibly the sound of his breath. But long before she could react, an arm swung around her neck. A hand reached across her and grabbed for the pistol. She tried to swing the gun at her attacker. A shot exploded in her face. There was a thud over her head as the bullet tore into the ceiling, sending down a shower of plaster. Then the gun was ripped out of her hand.

  She flew forward, crashing into the kitchen sink. When she turned, Mike was a distance away, still in the doorway and leaning against the jam. His face was contorted in rage. A web of bloodstains trickled out of his hair and across his face. The handle of the gun dangled from his grip.

  “Shoot the bitch,” Rita groaned from her seat on the floor.

  “Yeah … yeah …” Mike promised between gasps for air. “But not here … down in the washroom … where the blood won’t matter…”

  He didn’t bother to turn the gun in his hand so that he could hold the grip and put his finger across the trigger. Instead he stood away from the door jamb, wobbled for a moment while he found his balance, then stepped across to Emily and twisted her hair between his fingers. Without a word, he began dragging her to the open basement door.

  She knew she should flail out with her hands or turn herself around so that she could aim a kick. Anything that would keep him from dragging her to her execution. But there was no struggle left in her. She had used up every bit of her strength and all her will to fight. She moved along meekly to the top of the stairs.

  The telephone rang.

  Mike froze. His grip on her hair relaxed and his labored breathing seemed to stop. Rita, who had been trying to pick herself up, hesitated with one knee still on the floor. Emily looked at the phone as if she expected it to begin talking.

  It rang again. Mike looked from Rita over to the phone and then back to her again. He listened and with a quick jerk of his head ordered her to answer it. She moved quickly and lifted the handset during the third ring.

  “Yes?” There was fear in her voice. She listened for several seconds. “Yes,” she said again and then listened in silence for half a minute. “No. No need to repeat anything. I understand.” She put the phone back on the hook and then stood and stared at it as if she expected it to ring again.

  “What?” Mike demanded.

  “We have to let her go. Then we pick up the rest of our money.” She and Mike stared at each other.

  “Fuck it,” Mike finally managed. “We owe this bitch.”

  “We let her go tonight and we pick up five thousand tomorrow,” Rita corrected.

  “No. We finish her so there’s no witness. And then we get our asses out of here. I’m not leavin’ her to have the last laugh on me.”

  “She’ll be laughing at both of us if we’ve been through all this and don’t have anything to show for it. And her remembering us won’t mean a thing. Sooner or later they’re going to open that van and figure out who we are.”

  He turned the gun in his hand and then pushed the muzzle against Emily’s cheek. “I don’t want to leave her behind. It’s too dangerous.”

  “And I don’t want to walk away from five grand. That’s just too stupid. Look, we drop her off tonight and as soon as they see she’s okay, they tell us where to pick up the money.”

  “There won’t be any more money!” He shouted at her.

  “Not if they don’t get her back. That was the deal and that’s the way they’re playing it. You said there were probably some heavy hitters behind this. I don’t think it would be safe to cross them.”

  Mike shook with frustration. Then he took a deep breath and screamed. “Ahhhh!” He shook his grip on Emily’s hair as if he hoped to tear her head off. Then, when his venting was over, he flung her through the open cellar door. She grabbed the banister and spun with the momentum of her own weight, but managed to keep her footing. When she heard the door slam above her, she slumped in defeat on the bottom step, back in the room she had escaped.

  Monday

  MIKE WAS SUDDENLY SUSPICIOUS. “Rita,” he said in a stage whisper. She came out of the kitchen wiping her hands in a towel. “Ya ever see that guy before?” He was standing close to the front window and the jerk of his head indicated that she should look outside.

  She reached for the curtain, but Mike grabbed her hand. “Just look! Don’t let him see ya!”

  She squinted through the dusty lace curtains. “The guy with the cap?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Probably someone from the factory.”

  “Now? It’s past midnight. No one is going to the factory.”

  She looked again and watched as the figure continued around the corner. “Let’s not get jumpy. We’ll be out of here in an hour.” She went back to the kitchen and ran some water into a pan. Then she called, “I’m taking a washcloth downstairs so she can clean herself up a bit. And I’m bringing her down some old clothes.”

  “As far as I’m concerned,” he called back, “we can dump her just the way she is now. You think anybody is goin’ to give a damn?”

  “Just watch the top of the stairs,” Rita told him. “I want you nearby in case she has some other tricks she wants to try.”

  Mike shuffled into the kitchen. He hated the thought of Emily going free. They were already set up for kidnapping charges and he had added rape and assault. There was no longer sentence waiting for them if they just buried her behind the house. He wasn’t sneering at the extra money. He just didn’t think it was worth giving her the chance to point him out from the witness stand.

  But Rita had made one point that had registered with him
. Some crime boss might be behind the kidnapping. He had stuck his neck out for a shot at an extra fifty thousand. But he didn’t want to cross anybody big just for the satisfaction of putting the crazy bitch away.

  Rita came up from the basement. “No more trouble from her. She’s sitting down there sucking her thumb. Never even moved while I washed her off.”

  “Did you have to dress her, too?” he asked sarcastically.

  “No, she’s doing that herself. In slow motion.”

  He walked back into the living room. He and Rita had been pacing around the house since they had packed their things into the stolen car. They had spent the whole evening waiting for 1:00 A.M., when they were supposed to take Emily out to a public school parking lot and leave her bound and blindfolded on a bench. Mike moved to the edge of the window and for the hundredth time, glanced out through the curtain. There was another man crossing under the streetlight.

  He pulled back, afraid that he might be seen. He waited an instant and then leaned out again. The man was still there and he didn’t seem to be going anywhere. He had walked out of the light and down to the corner of the brick factory building. But he was still standing in the shadows right where the other one had disappeared.

  Mike eased over to the side window and looked across the empty lot to the cross street. It seemed as gloomy as always—another industrial building with trash piled on the street outside. This one had windows across the second story. The lights were out and there was no sign of activity. He went back to the front window and found that the second man he had seen had also disappeared. “Take it easy,” he told himself. He went back into the kitchen for another glance at the clock. 12:20. They didn’t have to wait any longer. What difference would it make if they dropped her off a half hour early.

  It was just by chance that he saw another figure crossing to the back of one of the houses down the street. Auto headlights from a car turning at the farthest intersection panned across the open lots. They silhouetted the form of a man running from the street.

  “Rita!”

  She turned instantly and came up next to him at the kitchen window.

  “There’s somebody out there,” he said, again whispering as if to keep a secret. “I saw him movin’.”

  “Probably lives in one of those houses,” she answered. “I saw people down there before.”

  He hurried back to the living room. Through the front curtains, he could now see both of the earlier men at the corner of the factory building and a third man walking toward them. He went to the side windows. A car was parked on the street in front of the darkened industrial building. He caught sight of a person moving from the car to the building and then of a steel door swinging open. In the dim light behind the door, he could see other people inside.

  “Christ!” he called out as he pulled away and ran back into the kitchen. “There’s cops all over the place.”

  Rita looked at him, her eyes a wide open question. “You sure?”

  “Look for yourself,” he told her. “You have any more bright ideas?”

  She thought for an instant. “Yeah, I do. I think if they have us surrounded we’ll have a much better chance in court.”

  “We’re not giving up,” he snapped.

  “You’d rather shoot it out with the entire New Jersey state police? For Christ’s sake, Mike, the judge won’t blow you away with an assault weapon.”

  “Get the bitch up here, quick.”

  “I’d rather give up before someone sees what you did to her.”

  “Get her up here. She’s going to be our ticket through all that heat.”

  “Mike, please! They have sharpshooters. Don’t think like a gangster. Give it up and take your chances.”

  “Get her, dammit. If I die then she dies, too.”

  “Okay,” Rita said. “But I’d rather not be included. Let me go out waving a bedsheet.”

  “No, fuckin’ way. We’re goin’ to need someone holdin’ her and someone drivin’. We’re doin’ this together.”

  She moved slowly to the basement door, but hesitated.

  “Hurry up,” he called after her. “The fuckers are closing in!”

  Emily was sitting on the corner of the bed, dressed in the plain housedress that Rita had brought down and resting her head in her hands. Rita wondered if she had enough strength to make it up the stairs. She lifted Emily’s face and the dead eyes confirmed what she had already guessed. They would have no more trouble with their prisoner.

  “C’mon. We gotta get you outta here.” Emily rose slowly as Rita prodded her shoulder and shuffled toward the steps.

  Mike had doused the light on the back of the house and crept into the darkened bedroom where he could look outside without being seen. Another car had pulled up at the factory building. There was someone moving along the fence at the back of the property. Then he noticed another man, crouched low, already in position.

  Two out front and two in the back, he counted mentally. There’s a whole bunch of them in the factory, probably up in the darkened windows. And maybe there are a couple of backups still in the cars. Then he remembered the one he had seen across from the street to the back of the neighboring houses. They probably had guys hidden in the shadows over there, too. Eight, maybe ten of them all together, covering the house from every side, getting into position to rush the place. Or maybe just planning to wait, knowing that he had to come out eventually.

  He heard footsteps in the kitchen and went back to find Emily standing in the middle of the room with Rita practically holding her up. He moved directly into Emily’s face.

  “Pay attention, because if you don’t, you could get yourself killed.”

  Her eyes struggled back into focus.

  “There are cops out there with guns. They have this place surrounded.”

  Rita’s face jerked around. “What guns?”

  “They’re cops! They’re not doin’ parkin’ tickets!”

  She started for the window.

  “Stay away from there,” Mike snapped. He reached to the wall and switched off the light. “You could get your head blown off.”

  “Mike, this is crazy. We never bargained for a gun fight.”

  ’They won’t fire if they see this bitch in front of us.”

  Emily was taking in the situation. Color was returning to her face. Mike pushed her back into a darkened corner. “Now listen,” he hissed. “We’re going to walk out the side door, open the garage, and get into our car. And then we’ll drive right out of here. All of us, includin’ you. Nobody is going to stop us, and there won’t be any shootin’, because they won’t risk you gettin’ blown away. So just stay right with me, keep your head up, and walk nice and tall, you understand?”

  Emily showed a trace of a smile. “Fuck you,” she said to Mike.

  His hand shot to her throat. He pulled the gun out of his pocket and touched it to the bridge of her nose. “I could kill you right now.”

  “Go ahead,” she answered. “Just as long as I know that you’re going to get yours.”

  He pulled her away from the wall and pushed her into the darkened living room. “You’re goin’ out first and you’re goin’ to tell them, ‘Don’t shoot. Hold your fire.’ Loud and clear, so that everyone understands it. Then you yell, ‘I’m Emily Childs.’ You read me?”

  Emily laughed. “I’m going to tell them they’re a bunch of wimps. I’ll dare them to fire.”

  Mike reached for the door handle. “Say whatever ya want. They’ll see you.” He looked back at Rita. “Ready?”

  Her face was ashen. “As ready as I’ll ever be …”

  “Stay close to me,” he said. “Right behind me.” Then he told Emily. “You move nice and slow. If you try to take off, you’re dead!”

  The front doorbell rang!

  Mike and Rita froze. Emily laughed. “Give it up, Rita. You’re in enough trouble without murder.”

  “Shut up!” Mike wrapped an arm around her neck, putting her in a chokehold.


  “She’s right!” Rita pleaded.

  Mike’s eyes darted from the side door to the front door. He couldn’t walk out the front door, right into their arms. And there were probably more of them at the side door, as well.

  “I’ll tell them you never hurt me,” Emily coached Rita until Mike’s arm cut off her breath.

  The bell rang again.

  “Let’s give it up,” Rita said.

  “We’re not givin’ anythin’ up. Not while we have her.”

  “Well, what’s your next big idea?” The sarcasm in Rita’s voice masked her fear.

  Mike tightened his chokehold. He backed Emily into the darkened kitchen.

  A fist pounded on the outside of the front door. “Open the door, Rita,” a voice boomed. “This is the police. We need to talk to you.”

  Rita turned to look at Mike, then back to the door and finally back to Mike. “What should I do?”

  “Tell them to come on in. Tell them door is open.”

  She was shocked, unable to move.

  Mike’s voice hissed out of the darkness. “Do it!”

  She turned back to the front door. “C’mon in. It’s open.”

  A silent pause and then a voice said, “Come to the front door and open it, Rita.”

  “Don’t,” Mike called. “Sit down on the couch. Quick.” She moved over to the sofa and lowered herself easily.

  “Come to the front door, Rita, and open it slowly.”

  “Tell them you can’t walk. Tell them to come on in.”

  Rita didn’t understand the strategy. But she yelled through the door, “I can’t. I can’t walk. You’ll have to let yourself in!”