Never Be Safe: A Suspense Thriller

by Ray Backley

  She put it to his lips again.

  He took an eager gulp, then spat the lot all over her face. “Let me go,” he growled.

  She wiped the water from her eye sockets and stood back. “Have it your way. But you should try to keep your fluids up. I need you well hydrated.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? What are you gonna do to me?”

  “Something I should have done a long time ago.”

  “You gonna kill me?”

  “Oh, better than that. Well, worse for you, better for mankind, I figure.” She kept her face straight, lips flat, eyes expressionless.

  “Stop talking in riddles, lollipop. You know damn well that if you kill me, you’ll never find your man and your two rug rats.”

  “Oh, I’m not talking in riddles. I’m not going to kill you; I’m going to kill your children.”

  “Huh?” He frowned, the action breaking some beads of sweat on his forehead.

  She pulled a zip tie from her pocket and waved it in front of his face.

  “And just what the hell are you gonna do with that?”

  “I don’t want you to bleed to death, do I?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about, woman?”

  She threaded the zip tie into a loop, but left it wide. “Who’s being dumb now?”

  “You are. All that shit about killing my kids. I don’t have any kids.”

  “And you know what?” She leaned forward, her face within spitting distance. “You’re never gonna have any.”

  His face aged five years in a second. “Ah, no,” he breathed. “Jesus Christ, no.”

  She reached further down. It was difficult because he was now bouncing up and down again, flexing and writhing his body. But it wasn’t too hard to still him by sitting on his thighs, which made it easier to place the zip tie exactly where she wanted it. She pulled it merely uncomfortably tight, not dangerously tight. Not yet.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, woman. You get that thing off me right now. You hear me. If I ever . . .”

  His words trailed away to a whimper, his eyes like two cracked moons, as he watched her pull the craft knife from her back pocket.

  “Look, you have nothing to worry about, Vinnie. I’ll tie it tighter when the time is right – as tight as I can. It’ll keep blood loss to a minimum.”

  “Oh, fuck.” He pulled his arms again, his teeth grinding, the zip ties around his wrists now red with blood, the plastic shredding his skin.

  “Mmm . . .” Cath said, pursing her lips to one side, her forehead bunched with concentration.

  He stopped writhing. “What? What is it?”

  “Oh, nothing for you to worry about, Vinnie. You can just lay there and relax. But I have a bit of a dilemma on my hands here.”

  “What do you mean? What dilemma?”

  “See, I’ve just realized something. I have my husband and two little ones missing, hopefully alive, probably tied up in some remote crap hole. And you have your own man down there with his own pair of little ones, and now they’re all tied up too, aren’t they?”

  He gulped, his lips now quivering. “Guess so.”

  “And I guess so too. Well, the dilemma I have is whether I take all three in one clean slice, or whether I take them one by one, just like you took my man and two little ones.”

  “Holy shit, Karen. You’re mad.”

  “Mad? Mad? Oh, I’m madder than mad. I’m furious. You can be totally sure about that. You never heard about a woman scorned?”

  “You won’t do it.”

  “Oh, I will, Vinnie. I promise you I will. You’ve screwed me around for far too long, and I won’t lose my nerve, please believe that. I just have that dilemma to think about. You know, I might just get myself a drink and think it over.” She turned and headed for the doorway, flicking her head back just as she reached it. “Will you be comfortable for a few minutes?”

  She only got abuse by way of reply. That made her laugh.

  A few minutes later she returned, can of soda in her hand, and eased herself slowly into one of the chairs, not taking her eyes off him, just as he didn’t take his eyes off her.

  “Haven’t I suffered enough, you selfish bitch?” he said, spitting the last word out.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know, I spent thirteen years behind bars thanks to you. I did my time. I’ve suffered more than you’ll ever know.”

  She glared at him, drew her lips back to bare her teeth. “What did you say?” She saw genuine fear in his eyes but he stayed silent. She leapt toward him, standing over his head, and slapped his face. “What did you just say, Vinnie?”

  “All I’m saying is you’ve been a free woman all these years, and I’ve been forced to—”

  Another slap in the face pulled his sentence short.

  “You want me to speak or not, you stupid bitch?”

  She pulled the knife out from her pocket, pushed the button to bring out the blade – clean, shiny, and super sharp. She held it close to his eye then moved it to his throat, holding it like a dagger – like she had every intention of using it. He edged his head away as best he could, and spoke with a whimper.

  “You’ve had it so easy. I’m the one who was locked up for all those years. You didn’t—”

  “Shut up, Vinnie. You’ve sung your song, now you can just shut up and listen to mine.” She turned and pulled up an armchair, so she could sit and still hold the knife blade to the skin an inch from his Adam’s apple.

  “You’ll listen to me now, Vinnie. You’ll listen because you need to know, and you need to understand. So be quiet, and the point of this blade can stay where it is. You understand?”

  Vinnie gave the slightest hint of a nod.

  “Yes, it’s true you’ve wasted the best years of your life rotting in a prison cell, and I know it can’t have been pleasant. I get that. But nobody forced you to be a drug dealer, or to do what you did to Jose, or what you did to me, or what you did to God knows how many other young girls. But eventually you got out, and even then, you could have chosen a different path in life. Nobody was threatening to hunt you down. You could have tried your best to live a decent, normal life, but you blew it again, and that was your choice. Your choice. It’s your fault you’re here like this, nobody else’s.

  “But me, I never had much choice. Once they showed me the postmortem photographs of people who’d testified and decided to keep their identities, once I’d seen what people like you can do to other human beings, I was already on that treadmill to another existence. I missed my grandpa and grandma so much, and that’s a cut that won’t ever heal. I missed them more than you’re capable of missing anything, certainly more than you miss those thirteen years. I couldn’t even go to their funerals, and not only that, I couldn’t tell anyone how much that hurt.

  “I lost my old life. Karen Fisher disappeared; she didn’t exist anymore. My interests, my beliefs, what food I liked, what music I liked, my personality – the whole ‘who I am’ – it was all put through a blender, poured out the other side, and left to drain away. Whenever I listened to music I was scared. Was it safe for me to be the same person I was, with the same tastes? Would telling people I liked Nirvana and REM blow my cover? Dumb, I know. But not really dumb, just paranoid. Paranoid for a damn good reason. And you did that to me.

  “But you won’t understand the worst thing, Vinnie. You won’t understand because you’re not capable of loving. Ever since I met Dan, I’ve been forced to lie to him. Every day I’ve been a fraud to the man I love and who means the world to me. And every one of those days has twisted me just a little more, which is why I’m so screwed up inside. I’ve done things I shouldn’t have done, because I’ve had to lie to my husband and keep that lie running, and it hurts me so much to know I’ll never be quite normal. Your prison sentence ended, but mine never will. Like I say, you won’t have any idea how any of that feels, but I’ll promise you this, Vinnie: if you beef and gripe one more time about how you’ve suffered those thirteen
years, I swear to God I’ll slice your throat out as you lie on this bed and I’ll gladly watch you bleed to death just so my hell can die with you. I’ll do that even if it means taking my chances that I can find my family without your help. Do you understand me?”

  She drew the knife to his flesh so it nicked him, letting a few drops of blood out.

  “I understand,” he said.

  “Good.” She slowly pulled the knife away.

  “So . . . what are you gonna do with me?”

  “My God, did you listen to anything I just said?”

  “I did. I heard good. Truth is, my thoughts were kinda elsewhere, trying to work out what your next step is.”

  Cath nodded and let out a long sigh to relax herself. “Well, now that I’ve got that off my chest, I need to cut to the chase. And I know that’s a cruel choice of words for you, but it’s where we’re at right now. I’m not the evil son of a bitch that you are, so I’m giving you a chance – one last chance, and it’s a simple one. If you stop messing around and tell me where my husband and children are, and if they’re safe, I’ll let you go in one piece, fully intact.”

  “That’s me playing my only trump card, lollipop. It’s the only thing keeping you from killing me.”

  “I don’t want to kill you, Vinnie, but I might point out that this knife beats whatever trump card you have. And if you screw me around anymore, you know exactly what I’m going to do with it, don’t you?”

  “How do I know you won’t do it anyway?”

  “You don’t. But I’m done playing games. You need to tell me now. You get me? Now.” She stood up and took a step to the side, gripped the knife more like a gutting knife, held the blade close to his genitals.

  “Hey, hey, hey! Cool it. I was just asking. I was just asking.”

  “Well, don’t. All you need to do is tell me. You have ten seconds or I pull that zip tie as tight as my strength will let me and—”

  “They’re tied up in an old hay barn. It’s hard to find. If you untie me, I’ll write directions down for you.”

  “You’re trying my patience. Just tell me. Five seconds.”

  “I need to write it down.”

  She gripped the end of the zip tie between thumb and forefinger. “Three seconds.”

  “Turn left onto the gravel road, drive till you hit a crossroads, left again, stay on that road for fifteen miles or so. Turn right where it says Higson Farm. Back barn. Hayloft. You happy now?”

  She put her knife away. “Wasn’t hard, was it?”

  “Now you can untie me.”

  She laughed.

  “Untie me, you bitch. You got what you wanted.”

  “Not yet, I haven’t. When I get them back, when I know you’re not screwing with me, then I’ll come back and let you go.”

  “Why not just untie me now? You don’t wanna have to drive all the way back here.”

  “No. If you’re screwing with me, it’ll be the last screwing you ever do. No second chances.”

  “You can’t leave me like this!”

  “I can. It’s happening. Believe it.” She headed for the door.

  “Wait!” he shouted out.

  She stopped. Turned.

  “Okay. I lied. They’re in the old hotel.”

  She strode back to him, knife out again. “What did you say?”

  “Put that thing away. It’s the truth. The hotel. Side door is unlocked. Basement. Door’s the fourth on the left.”

  She pointed the knife at him, snarling, saying nothing.

  “I give up. You win. I got nothing else. Just promise me you’ll come back and untie me.”

  “All I can promise is I won’t hurt you if they’re safe.” She put the knife in her pocket. “So you’d better pray they’re all alive. Otherwise I’ll come back, knife at the ready, and you know damn well what I’ll do with it. And that’s also a promise.”

  She ran out of the bungalow and across to the ruin of a hotel. And the side door was unlocked. That much, Vinnie was right about.

  Chapter 35

  A few seconds after Cath had let the hotel door swing shut, Jonathan Dee’s yellow pickup truck turned off the gravel road and onto the dirt track leading up to the old hotel.

  The recent contact he’d had with the woman he remembered as Karen Fisher was still playing heavily on his mind. He bitterly regretted that part of his history, so when the woman – who now wanted to be called Catherine – started talking about Vinnie, it made him curious about how Vinnie might feel about her. If she really was serious about contacting him, their meeting might even be the catalyst for some kind of change in Vinnie’s attitude.

  And that man so needed to change.

  Jonathan had picked Vinnie up from San Quentin on his release and bought him his first beer in thirteen years. And then his second, third, and fourth. When Vinnie wanted to continue beyond that, Jonathan drew the line, telling Vinnie that getting blind drunk wasn’t the way to a fulfilling existence. Vinnie got annoyed at that, telling him that getting blind drunk was exactly what he needed to do. Jonathan suggested they go home to meet his wife, with the promise of more beers there, and Vinnie agreed. The only condition was that Vinnie had to agree to come to church the next morning.

  Sadly, Vinnie took the beers and then said church wasn’t for him. Jonathan let it slide. The guy was just out of prison, after all.

  Later, Jonathan tried his best to persuade Vinnie to attend just one church service, explaining how Jesus had helped him come to terms with his wrongdoings and find peace. He’d been giving the idea more thought ever since Cath had contacted him. Perhaps if Cath had contacted Vinnie and they’d talked, he might have seen the error of his ways and be more open-minded. Jonathan decided it was worth persevering with Vinnie, because one sinner repenting would cause more rejoicing in heaven than ninety-nine people who didn’t need to repent.

  And the battered old white Toyota was there, so Vinnie was home. And probably alone, as there were no other cars around. He crawled past the old hotel and pulled up alongside the Toyota.

  Then he thought again, and drove around the side of the bungalow to the back yard, for old times’ sake.

  Yep, Vinnie’s shooting range was still there, right at the end of the backyard. A little worse for wear, but still there. It made Jonathan smile. This was where they’d cemented their friendship all those years ago to the music of bullets hitting tin cans.

  He got out and headed for the back door, but halted when he heard the faint squeak of bedsprings punctuated by grunts and angry curses. A glance through the window at a figure writhing on a bed made him run to the back door, and soon he was in the room screwing his face up in distaste at what he was seeing.

  “Vinnie? That really you?”

  Vinnie stared at him for a half-second. “Course it’s me, you fucking retard.”

  “Uh, have I called at an awkward time?”

  “Well, what do you think, asshole?”

  “What the hell you been doing to yourself?”

  “What have I been doing to myself? Jesus Christ, man. Just go get a knife from the kitchen and free me.”

  Jonathan did, jogging all the way. “What happened?” he said as he cut the zip ties around Vinnie’s hands and feet.

  “I’ve been . . . I was robbed. I was just taking a nap on this bed and some sons of bitches broke in and tied me up like this at gunpoint, left with all my money. Gimme that knife.”

  Jonathan handed him the knife and turned his back as the final and most troublesome zip tie was cut off, and stayed turned as Vinnie pulled up his jeans and put his shoes back on.

  “Help me move that big mother.” Vinnie pointed at the large wooden closet.

  “Why do you need that moved?”

  “You know, Johnny, you can be pretty annoying sometimes.”

  In the basement of the old hotel, Dan was pretty sure he was the first one to hear the sounds – to realize something important was happening.

  Just like Phoebe and Benjie, he wa
s blindfolded and had duct tape over his mouth, so could see nothing and could only let out a strangled humming sound that was hardly worth the effort.

  But he could hear.

  The rhythmic knocking of footsteps came from above, but they didn’t sound like they were created by the heavy shoes that had been in intimate and bloody contact with his face. He wasn’t sure why it didn’t sound like Vinnie, it just didn’t.

  Then he heard the metallic thump he immediately recognized: the bolts sliding open on the other side of the door at the top of the steps.

  And he wasn’t the only one to hear it, as he also heard desperate muffled screams from Phoebe. She must have also realized that something was different – that something important was about to happen.

  And then Dan heard the most beautiful sound in the world: Cath calling out his name. A couple of tears escaped from the corners of his eyes, and he was shouting as best he could through the tape. He could hear Phoebe and Benjie both doing the same.

  Moments later the darkness was lifted, and he could see the bloodied face of the woman he now knew he should have trusted more.

  She gasped at the mess all around his left eye, then ripped the tape from his mouth, letting him take his first proper breath in a while. Then she took a knife from her pocket and reached behind him.

  “Untie the children first,” he said.

  “No way,” Cath replied breathlessly, and seconds later he was lifting and curling his arms to loosen his stiff joints while she untied the children.

  Now they were all together – how it should be – hugging and crying.

  Cath kept saying she was sorry, and each time Dan told her it didn’t matter.

  Then he held her face by the chin to check out her bust-up nose, and inspected the bruises and cuts on her arms.

  “Did he do all this to you? Is that son of a bitch still alive?”

  “It’s over, Dan. Just leave it.”

  “Hey, I’d sell everything I have for five minutes alone with that bastard.”

  “We’re all safe now. That’s the only thing that matters to me. Come on, we need to get the hell out of here.”