Taken By Surprise (Taken Trilogy Book 1)

by Jessica Frances

  “Dad, I can go down to the station if they want me to.”

  “No, the only way they can force you down to the station is to arrest you.” Dad narrows his eyes at the cops.

  “Dad, this is just something routine, right? She had some allergic reaction or whatever.” I start to stand up, but stop when I hear Dad’s next words.

  “Trust me, Charlie, it doesn’t mean they’ll care about the truth.” Dad is giving me a stern look.

  “I hate to break this up, but we can arrest him if you feel that is the only way he will be willing to come down with us to the station.” The overweight cop crosses his arms over his bulging chest and panic rises up inside me at his words.

  “No! Dad, shut up.” I get up from the stool and walk over to both officers.

  “I don’t see why you can’t just question him here.”

  “Because this is being classed as a murder investigation and we would like to do things thoroughly and properly.”

  “Murder? Nora was murdered?” I numbly follow the two officers out as Dad insists he drive me to the station and they agree.

  ***

  I’m taken to 1200 Travis, which is where Houston Police Department is housed. I have never stepped foot in the building before now. I’m placed in a room with a large desk; opposite my chair sits the two police officers who had come to get me. A large mirror is placed on one wall and nothing on the other. The whole room is a stark white and the light above is blinding. I don’t feel like this is just a friendly chat. I feel like I’m about to be interrogated, as though I’m a suspect. Am I a suspect?

  “Tell me what happened, son.” I don’t like how the police officer speaks. It’s like he is asking if I had a nice holiday. It sounds fake and it sounds like a trap.

  “I don’t know what happened. I was on a date, everything was going fine and then Nora fainted. I took her to the hospital.”

  “You say the date was going fine, are you sure about that? You sure it wasn’t turning into a disaster and you felt things spiraling out of control?”

  “What?”

  “Did she remind you of someone you hate? Had you planned this all along? Or did she personally upset you?”

  “Wait, what?” I feel even more lost by this questioning.

  “When did you poison her food?”

  “Poison?” I gasp. I sold her on having the streak and it’d been poisoned?

  “Did you get off seeing her eat it, knowing what would happen only a couple hours later?”

  “Her food was poisoned?” I can’t believe it. I had commented about how great the steak was and it had been poisoned! Would she still have had it if I hadn’t said anything? Why did I say that? Why did I recommend it to her? Is this my fault?

  “Why do it, son? You’ll feel better once it’s out in the open.”

  “Was everyone who ate the steak sick?” I ask them, wondering if I’m the only one in here being interrogated. Was it just Nora who died? Am I being questioned about a lot of people dying? Why suspect me? Did they have other suspects?

  “Are you saying you poisoned more people last night?”

  “What? No!”

  “Because that’s what it sounds like to me.”

  “I didn’t hurt Nora.” My breathing speeds up and my hands turn to fists. I feel panic starting up and I try to calm down. It doesn’t work. Seconds later, the light flickers out and, by the sounds outside the room, it wasn’t only this room that was affected.

  “Shit.” Sounds like the overweight cop speaking.

  The interrogation room door is opened and I see the silhouette of the fat cop leaning out into the hallway.

  “Jerry, did you overload the system again?” I hear rustling outside the room, and then several voices speaking at once.

  “Open the curtains.”

  “Get some light in here.”

  “The whole street is out apparently.”

  “Someone must have hit a line in the ground nearby.”

  “Get on the phone and find out what the problem is.”

  “Why didn’t the backup generator work?”

  “Charlie?” The last voice I do recognize, it’s Dad.

  “Dad?” I call back. I see a shadow appear in the doorway. There is no window in this room to shed any light, but there is light from somewhere down the hall that shows an outline of him and someone next to him.

  “Charlie, this is Trevor; your lawyer.”

  The other man steps in and he looks around, however apart from that, I can’t tell anything about him.

  “I hope you are not questioning my client without his council present.” He speaks with precision and just from his voice you would be able to guess he is a lawyer.

  “The kid isn’t under arrest, yet.”

  “Then I assume he is free to go whenever he pleases.”

  One of the cops grunts, I can’t tell which. I feel strange sitting here in the dark.

  “Good. If you wish to speak to my client further, then ring my secretary and I’m sure she will be able to fit a time in somewhere.” He places something on the table in front of me, maybe a business card. “Come on, Mr. Nichols.”

  I stand, but don’t move. Having a lawyer makes me look guilty.

  “I didn’t poison her. I didn’t even really know her.”

  “Charlie.” Dad’s arm reaches out and grabs mine, pulling me outside.

  ***

  Monday I drag myself out of bed to go to work. Sleeping so much is upsetting Dad a lot and working is bound to help distract me from the questions running over and over again in my mind. I make a showing of taking two helpings of cereal and leave to go to work. I get there late today and find most of the guys already working. I make my way towards the shaft to move to the top floor when Adam finds me.

  “Decided to turn up to work?” Adam taunts. I’m definitely not in the mood today so I ignore him.

  “What, nothing to say? Did I upset you? You’re not going to poison my food, are you?”

  “Shut up.” I clench my fists, trying to keep my cool. My jaw tightens and my teeth start to hurt from the pressure.

  “You know, I suppose I should thank you for not dating Gemma anymore. Who knows when you would have decided to poison her. Is that what happened with your date? Did she not want a second one with you?” Adam steps closer to me, completely oblivious to the anger raging through me.

  “You know poison is a pretty shit way to kill someone. Too afraid to get your hands dirty?”

  I lose control then. The hums that surround us on a daily basis goes silent as they all shut off. I turn and slam Adam into the side wall and hold my arm over his neck. I want so badly to squeeze his throat into the wall further so he stops breathing, so he stops talking.

  “Charlie!” Frank, the foreman, yells at me and I force myself to calm down. I reluctantly let go of Adam and watch as he splutters and coughs, trying to breathe in air before he collapses to the ground.

  “What the hell is going on over here?” Frank demands. I don’t have an answer for him and, luckily, I don’t need one.

  “Frank, everything’s shut off. We’ve lost all power. We’re already behind three weeks—”

  “I don’t have time for this shit, so sort this out and if this happens again, I don’t care who the hell you are, you’ll both be fired,” Frank yells at us and then storms off, slapping his radio as he tries to get it to work.

  I turn away from Adam as well as all the stares I’m getting from the guys and storm off. I can still feel that anger inside me and I know I have to cool off. I walk off the site and down the opposite side of the street to the coffee place where I met Nora.

  I hear my cell go off and pull it out of my pocket, thankful it’s still working and expecting to see Dad’s name. Instead it reads Hilary. She’s a girl I dated on and off for a few years at school. She had been head cheerleader and, with me captain of the basketball team, we were a match made in high school heaven. After school, we broke up and became friends. The pres
sure to be together at school had really been what had held us together and the fact that Hilary is now a lesbian really shot down any chance of a reunion.

  “Hey, Hil, did you find anything out?” Hilary has been working at Houston PD for a couple of years and I called her yesterday to see if she had heard anything.

  “Yeah, I did some digging. Tests found that your friend had her steak poisoned with a Beta Blocker. It’s used to treat heart problems and a bunch of other things. Used improperly, though, it can be deadly, which you obviously already know now. No one else who ate the steak was poisoned. I pulled a favor with one of the detectives and found out that after several interviews with staff and other patrons, it is believed a new woman who was hired just the day before was the one to bring your food out to you guys. A couple thought they remembered seeing someone sprinkle a seasoning over a meal around the time you guys received yours. The woman, a Jane Smith, if you can believe that, has not shown up for work today and the address she gave to her employer is a fake. The heat’s off you now and it’s on this mystery woman.”

  “Why hurt Nora?”

  “I dunno, Charlie. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks for looking into it for me.”

  I click off my cell and keep walking. So she had been deliberately poisoned. Did Nora have enemies? I really didn’t know much about her.

  I turn the corner and walk straight into an old lady.

  “Sorry.” I glance at her apologetically. I’m too distracted to be out in public. Next, I’ll be walking into oncoming traffic. After seeing my face, though, the lady grabs my arm tightly. “Ouch, lady, what’s your problem?” I try to shake my arm to get it free, but she holds on even tighter. She pulls out a knife with her other hand and holds it to my stomach. I freeze.

  “Don’t move or I’ll stab you.”

  “Here.” I reach into the back pocket in my jeans and grab my wallet. “I don’t have much, but just take it.” I’m strong enough that I’d probably win a fight between us, even given the knife, but I’m not keen to take the chance.

  “I don’t want your money,” she gasps at me. She looks pale and I notice she’s sweating badly. She looks ill.

  “What do you want?” I’m confused, but it’s quickly disappearing and returning back to fear.

  “I’m so sorry about Nora. I never meant to hurt her. I forgot she hadn’t given up eating red meat yet. When I saw the steak, I just assumed it was yours. I never knew you to eat a salad out at a restaurant.” This lady speaks in a rush and I take several moments to take in what she’s saying to me.

  “You act like you know me.” I again try to pull my arm away, but she holds my arm in a death grip. My hand is going numb from lack of blood being able to pump down to it. People start to stop and stare at us, the knife hidden from the position we’re standing in. I should call out for help. I should do something.

  “I do know you, or at least, I would have.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” Did this woman break out of some mental facility?

  “I really am sorry about Nora. She may have broken your heart in the end, but she was good for you. She helped you think for you and not for your father.” There are tears now falling down her face.

  “I don’t understand.” I look around us, knowing now is the time to call out. This lady is crazy.

  “It’s okay, Charlie. Just close your eyes and think of something happy. You’ll be with your mother soon.”

  My stomach drops and I feel dizzy for a moment. Am I about to die? “Who are you?” I demand.

  “It’s not important, dear. Just do as I say. Close your eyes.”

  I refuse to. “Let me go.” I again struggle.

  A man steps closer to us, his eyes widening as he finally sees the knife sitting closely to my stomach.

  “It’s the way it has to be.”

  “You’re insane. I don’t know you and you don’t know me.”

  “I’m sorry, Charlie.”

  “Please don’t.” A panic overwhelms me and people around us start moving quickly, panic in their faces, too. I already know I have shorted out their cells, it’s impossible for any of them to call out for help.

  “You’re making this harder for me.” I feel her grip falter and I take my chance to pull my arm free. I watch, frozen in place, as she starts to fall down. Her body is shaking now and sweat is pouring from her face. “No, I must do this.” She cries.

  I freeze over her, not taking my chance to run and, instead, watch her gasp for breath. I wonder if she, too, has been poisoned. What does it matter, though? This lady has admitted to killing Nora, admitted to wanting to kill me, has even attempted to kill me right this second. I take a step back, but can’t bring myself to run. I should, she held me at knife point and still holds that same knife in her hand, but I feel drawn to her.

  “Are you okay?” It’s completely ridiculous that I ask that. She has killed an innocent girl and tried to kill me.

  “I failed you and I’m so sorry.” She closes her eyes and gasps for a few moments before she is then deadly still.

  I reach out a hand to check her pulse, but then her entire body seems to shake before it caves in and turns to ashes. I jump back, fearing this is some chemical reaction doing this, that if I touch her, I’ll have the same fate. Bodies don’t disintegrate like this, something isn’t right.

  Feeling more than freaked out, I follow the lead set by everyone around me and run. I sprint down the street and keep going until my legs hurt and I have to stop to catch my breath. My body is shaking all over and I feel powerless when something damp is forcibly placed over my mouth.

  That’s when I am dragged forward and see a white van with its side door opened.

  Am I really about to be kidnapped after what I’ve just been through? Is the world simply having a screw-with-Charlie kind of day?

  I struggle against the arms forcing me forward and try to turn my head to get a look at who is taking me, but my vision doubles suddenly and my stomach lurches with every jolt. The damp cloth is taken away from my mouth as I’m roughly pushed into the van. Black boots follow me in and my head drops close to them. I want to move out of the way, fearful I am about to get a kick to the head, however my body won’t move and my eyes begin to close. I feel paralyzed and panic rises up for only a moment before it gives way to exhaustion. Sinking into a deep sleep, I can only hope that when I wake, this will all be part of some strange nightmare.

  BLAKE DWELLS

  Chapter Eighteen – The White Van

  Gillette, Wyoming

  Tuesday, April 9th

  “What’s wrong?” I walk over to the kitchen bench where Mom is looking over paperwork and sit on the stool across from her. She’s worried and lately, every time I see her, she appears to have aged another few years.

  “Nothing, Blake.”

  “Are those bills?”

  Mom turns and gives me a warning look. I get them a lot when I speak to her about money. “No, and I don’t know why I have to keep telling you that. If we’re having problems, I would tell you. Your sister and you are fine, you don’t need to worry.”

  She goes back to looking over the paperwork as I grab an apple from the bowl of fruit sitting between us on the bench. I know she’s looking at bills. I can see it in her eyes, read it in her face. She is struggling to make ends meet and within months, we’re going to be homeless. I feel the pressure and strain she’s under, but she refuses to confide in me.

  Dad is away on business. He used to go away for a couple weeks and then come home for a couple, yet lately, he’s been gone longer and at home a lot less. Basically, his work is making cutbacks and, hoping he won’t be one of them, he is putting in extra time. It’s hard on Mom to be alone so much. I can see it in her. It also doesn’t help that Nicole is causing problems continuously.

  Nicole is my twin sister. We look incredibly similar and yet, we are polar opposites. I have a girlfriend who I’ve been with for almost a year while Nicole can’t stay with a guy lon
ger than a week. I’m acing school and she is failing. I have a good group of friends; she has a bad group. I want to study to be a doctor, however Nicole is most likely going to end up a drug addict. It’s harsh, I know, to think that about your own sister that way, but it’s different for me.

  They say twins are close, that they can share a connection. Nicole and I share DNA and that’s about it. All of the things you hear, that twins share with each other, don’t apply for Nicole and me except for what I share with everyone else.

  For some freak reason, I’m able to sometimes read people’s thoughts. I’ve been able to for as long as I can remember. When I was little, Nicole and I fought all the time and we would drive Mom crazy. The first swear words I learned were from Mom. She never said them in front of us, of course, but they would simply scream in my head. They used to make me cry and Mom always blamed Nicole for upsetting me. I didn’t know it until later that no one was screaming in my ear, that in fact, I was hearing what they were thinking. It was only angry things at first because they had to be booming for me to hear and usually when Mom was angry, her thoughts grew louder. Then as I grew up and knew Mom, Dad and my sister better, I could hear the quiet things, too.

  I once told Mom I heard voices and all that got me was a trip to the doctor’s. I could hear the fear in her voice and even her thoughts. Thinking I was different or weird worried her. I remember scaring the doctor silly by repeating his thoughts back to him, but when I realized I was scaring Mom, too, I stopped doing that. I said I made it up and since Mom couldn’t afford the constant doctor trips anyway, we never went back.

  Now I’m seventeen and things are still the same. I can glimpse people’s thoughts and the more I know them, the easier they are to read. It’s a lot harder to read the thoughts of a stranger on the street than it is my own family. I can also tell easily whose thoughts I’m reading. When I’m in a crowd and picking up thoughts, I mostly can’t tell whose they are. A person’s thoughts don’t come through to me like the sound of their voice, it always sounds different, softer. I know the sound of my family’s thoughts better than their actual voices. I can also sometimes hear them in separate rooms. I have tried once to hear their thoughts from a separate location, but it never worked and, apart from a situation where one was in trouble, I doubt I’ll ever want to do that.