by Lisa Harris
Theresa took a step back, but her head didn’t turn. The shouting grew louder and more vulgar, with the demand that she open the door. The glass windows and doors rattled and shook like an earthquake.
“Theresa!” He forced his voice to stay clear and calm even as he battled the fear beating in his chest. “I need you to listen to me. Step away from the window. Walk backward to the laptop. Then grab a piece of furniture. Heavy but something you can lift. A small table. A chair.”
She wasn’t listening. Her eyes darted to the weapons above the fireplace.
Dear God, please help me protect her!
Her hands struggled in vain to pull the antique weapons down from the brackets holding them.
“Theresa! Please! Listen to me!”
Oh Lord, please, save her life.
The patio door splintered. Theresa turned and ran toward the laptop. But she’d barely taken a step before the world exploded behind her. Wood splintered. Glass shattered. Wind whipped through the open doorway, hurling snow in with it. Three men ran through in winter jackets, blue jeans and ski masks.
Armed with shotguns.
A scream ripped from Theresa’s lips. Her fingers reached toward the keyboard.
Someone grabbed her from behind. The laptop fell to the floor. It landed on its side and for one helpless moment Alex could see nothing but muddy floorboards and boots. Then Theresa’s head hit the ground. A gloved hand pushed her against the floor.
Theresa’s panicked face filled the screen. Her terrified eyes met his.
*
Theresa’s lungs ached with every breath. A hand gripped the back of her head pushing the side of her face into the floor. A knee pressed hard into the small of her back.
Alex’s eyes met hers through the screen of the fallen laptop. She could hear the men searching the cottage. Things were being tossed off shelves. Furniture clattered and fell. Male voices shouted and swore. She kept her eyes locked on Alex like a lifeline. Alex leaped to his feet, still holding the laptop in one hand while he dialed his cell phone with the other.
“Stay strong, Theresa,” his voice filtered faintly through the speakers. Fear filled his blue eyes, making something inside her own chest ache in pain. “I’m coming for you. I promise.”
A boot landed hard on the laptop, stomping it over and over again until the screen died. Alex’s face disappeared. She was alone. Theresa closed her eyes and prayed. Lord, help me. Please. Whatever this is, please keep Zoe and Mandy safe from it. Thank You that Alex knows I’m in trouble. But please, keep him out of danger.
His cottage was a good forty-five minutes’ drive from here. The nearest police station was more than an hour and a half away. Even if Alex came for her, would she even be here when he arrived? Would she even still be alive? Panic filled her throat pushing tears to her eyes.
Mandy had seemed so anxious and distracted about something. Did it have something to do with these men? If so, how had Theresa missed it? Dealing with victims of violent crime was a huge part of her work and yet she’d never imagined Mandy could be linked to something like this.
“Castor!” A voice filtered down from the second floor landing. “It’s not here!”
“Well it’s somewhere!” The man pinning her down shouted loudly. “Tear the place apart if you have to!” His hand jabbed in the direction of a small, wooden hatch, barely visible in the floor near the kitchen’s old-fashioned wood-burning stove. “Check the cold cellar. Check everywhere. If they’ve got it, they’ll have brought it here.”
A heavy man in a red ski mask yanked the hatch open. “There’s nothing down there. Just wood and kindling.”
“Then check upstairs.” Her captor growled in frustration. Then he yanked her head back. His low, menacing voice filled her ear. “Where’s the trunk?”
“What trunk?” She tried to turn her head toward him but his grip held her tight. “Look, this isn’t my cottage. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We’re looking for a trunk!” Castor shouted, so loudly her ears rang. His mouth grew even closer to her face. The stench of stale coffee and cigars grew stronger as he leaned toward her, shifting his weight deeper onto her torso. “You know, a large, heavy, old-fashioned luggage trunk. Something big enough to hide a body in.”
Snickering came from the other side of the room.
“Again, this isn’t my cottage!” She could almost feel the defiance rising in her voice, battling back against the fear as her breath pushed its way out of her aching lungs. “I just got here this morning. I haven’t seen a trunk.”
Castor sat back, relieving just enough of the pressure on her torso to let her gasp a deeper breath. He turned and shouted more frustrated profanities at his two henchmen. For a moment, she was ignored again as they ransacked Mandy’s family cottage. She closed her eyes, prayers filling her heart as she listened and tried to focus on any tiny sliver of information she could glean. Castor called the other two Brick and Howler. Brick sounded angry and frustrated by the futility of the search. Howler barely spoke.
“Where’s Mandy Rhodes?” All too soon Castor was back barking in her ear again. “And that other woman she drove up with?”
A shiver of fear ran through her heart. How did he know who they were? Had they been watching them?
Lord, please keep Zoe and Mandy far, far away from here.
“I don’t know where they are. They went for a drive.”
“Where did they go?” Castor’s grip tightened. “When are they getting back?”
“I don’t know! They didn’t tell me!”
Her hands were yanked back. She heard the rip of duct tape tearing. Then she felt him bind her wrists together behind her. Castor stood and pulled her to her feet. She looked up at the tall, heavyset man, whose sneering mouth and dangerous eyes seemed to float unmoored through the holes of a ski mask. “You’d better not be lying to me.”
“I’m not. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
Castor leaned in so close that his face was inches from her, making it difficult not to turn away from the stench of his hot breath. “What if I threaten to kill you, slowly and painfully? Would that help you remember?”
No. But it would make her even more determined to not go down without a fight. She head butted him, as hard as she could. His head snapped back as her forehead cracked hard against his jaw. He let go of her. She turned and sprinted across the wooden floor toward the shattered remains of the doorway. Melting puddles of snow seeped into her socks. A bracing winter wind brushed her face. A sharp pain filled her skull as Castor’s rough hands grabbed her hair and snapped her backward. “Now I’m really going to make you hurt.”
Lord, please. I need You now…
“Come on, dude! This is a waste of time!” The rail-thin masked man the others called Howler snorted loudly from the corner of the room. The sound that was halfway between a laugh and a snarl. He waved his shotgun in their direction. “This wasn’t the job I signed up for. You want her dead? I’ll kill her. Bang. Right now. No problem. Or if you can, kill her quick so we can move on. Whatever. You said we’ve got a trunk to find. All I care about is getting my cut of the money. And I don’t wanna not get my money just because we’re stuck here waiting while you punish that finicky little princess chick for not telling you what you want to know!”
Finicky little princess? Theresa blinked as the words clanged like old bells at the corner of her mind. But before she could decipher the ringing, Castor shoved her across the room. He pushed her into the broom closet. She fell, landing hard on her knees among the mops and cleaning supplies. Castor stood over her. Blood seeped through the mouth of the mask. Her head butt had split his lip. “Fine. We’ll go find the trunk. But then I’m coming back and dealing with her when we’re done. She knows something. I’m sure of it. It’s in her memory somewhere. Even if she’s too useless to remember it.”
“Whatever,” Howler said. “Do whatever you want to do. Just after I get my money.”
The closet door sl
ammed shut. Darkness fell. She heard a chair being scraped against the door.
“Brick!” Castor snapped. “Sit here. Watch the door. Shoot her if she tries to escape. But don’t kill her. I might need her later.”
There was a muffled argument and some more swearing that ended when Castor snapped that Brick would get an extra cut of payment at the end if he stayed behind to watch her, and a shotgun slug in the head if he didn’t. Then there was the thud of a body landing in a chair against the door. Castor and Howler’s voices faded away.
Theresa pulled herself into a seated position, slid a metal bucket behind her and scraped the duct tape binding her hands against the spout. It loosened slowly. Her socks were so wet and cold her feet stung. Theresa prayed hard, begging God to save her life and to protect Mandy, Zoe and Alex from danger. Then she took a deep breath and focused her mind on the criminals, pulling together the scraps of what she knew as if this was a file that she’d gotten through Victim Services.
These men were thieves. That much she knew. Castor and his lackeys were looking to steal some kind of trunk that he seemed to think she’d know about. But why? What could it hold that was worth ransacking a cottage over? Whatever it was, the henchmen were worried about running out of time and not getting their cut of the bounty. Castor had mentioned Mandy by name and knew about Zoe. So she couldn’t rule out that it had something to do with Mandy’s anxiety. But Theresa couldn’t be sure. Both Mandy’s older brothers were successful enough to have enemies.
Howler had called her a “finicky little princess.”
She closed her eyes and worked her duct-taped hands faster against the pail as the words pricked at painful memories buried so deep in the recesses of her mind that she had to ease them out slowly, bit by bit, like getting burrs out of her hair. She’d almost managed to forget that some of the kids at Cedar Lake had called her “princess.” They’d called her “useless,” too, and other things implying they thought she was too pampered and nonathletic to ever be one of them. She didn’t know who’d started it. But it’d definitely gotten worse after they’d seen her sailboat capsize in a sudden summer storm. She’d gotten tangled in the rigging and might’ve drowned if Alex hadn’t come to her rescue.
Back then, her parents owned a large seasonal equipment store on the highway north of Toronto. It sold boats, personal watercraft, sporting goods, barbecues and cottage furniture, along with whole rooms of decorative country kitsch. As a family, they’d always had the newest and nicest toys on the lake—sample models to trial, mostly. At the end of every summer, one of the other families on the lake, the Wrights, would host a huge team scavenger hunt. Afterward, Theresa’s mother would invite all the families on the lake over for barbecue.
That annual barbecue was also going be her wedding reception the summer she’d been twenty.
So, maybe there’d been some jealousy. Or the misconception that her family had more money than they did. But just before she’d turned twenty a warehouse fire had wiped out most of their inventory. The family then lost a long, hard court battle, in which, because the security cameras apparently hadn’t been working, the insurance company had accused her dad of setting the fire to cover some bad debts. So less than a month before her wedding, her parents realized they were probably going to go bankrupt and started making quiet plans to sell their business, cottage and home in a last-ditch effort to pay off their debts.
She could still remember the anxiety filling her heart as she’d gone to tell Alex. She’d been looking for a shoulder to cry on. Instead, he’d met her with the news that he’d dropped out of yet another university program, just tossing away a full scholarship and paid internship, as if real-world responsibilities didn’t even matter.
But that was just the way Alex was. He was spontaneous. But that day he’d been so full of blather that her sadness had turned to frustration. She’d said maybe they should postpone the wedding until he grew up enough. They’d fought. He took the cruel taunt that the other kids made about how she seemed to think she was royalty and aimed it at her heart with an added sting: should’ve known better than to fall for such a finicky little princess like you.
She’d handed the ring back, feeling too hurt to even cry. And that had been that.
“I’m done waiting.” Brick’s voice snapped through the closed door. “I’m cold. This is stupid. I want my money. I’m going to go find the thing myself. But I don’t know my way around this stupid lake and Castor thinks you know something. So you’re going to help me, whether you want to or not.”
The cupboard door flew open. With one desperate tug she yanked her hands free. Duct tape tore. The bucket clattered behind her. She launched herself headfirst into Brick, knocking him back so hard he slipped and hit the floor. He’d taken off his ski mask, showing a square face with fat cheeks, thin lips and deep-set eyes. She pushed past him and ran down the narrow hallway leading to the cottage’s smaller back door. If she could just grab her boots and her gloves and make it out the back door she might be able to escape through the trees and find somewhere to hide.
A sawed-off shotgun blast sounded behind her. Splinters exploded in the wall ahead as a hunting slug struck the wood.
“You keep running, I’ll shoot you,” Brick said. “Castor’s made me put up with too much nonsense to stick me on babysitting duty. I need that trunk. I want my money. So, you’re gonna help me find it. Even if you’re bleeding and in pieces.”
Her stocking feet froze beneath her as her brain struggled to think. Even if she cooperated, he was likely to kill her eventually, unless she just went along with him until she found a way to escape. But if she tried to keep running, she had no doubt he’d shoot her on the spot. There was a thud on the roof above them, like a sudden clump of snow falling off a tree branch. The hot barrel of a weapon brushed against the back of her head.
“I don’t know anything about a trunk.” Her hands rose slowly. “But I’ll help you leave Cedar Lake if you promise not to hurt anyone else.”
“Nice try.” He snorted. “But I’m the boss now. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but, either way, I’m not leaving this lake without what I came for. Castor said he was willing to pay me good to find this trunk. He’ll probably pay me double if I find it first. And if he gets mad at me for hurting you, I’ll just tell him it’s your fault for running away.” He spun her around and marched her back into the remains of the living room. “Now, you’re going to start cooperating. Because if ya don’t, I’m going to hurt you so bad you’re gonna wish I’d just shot ya.”
An ugly grin spread across his flat face. She closed her eyes and prayed.
A crash sounded from the low roof above. Brick swore. She opened her eyes in time to see a snow-covered form in jeans, a brown leather jacket and snowmobile helmet swing down through the open doorway. Brick grabbed her hard around her neck and yanked her back in a headlock, pressing her body back tight against his like a hostage. The tip of the sawed-off shotgun pressed into the soft flesh at the base of her skull just behind her ear.
“Look man, whoever you are, I’m just a guy looking for the same thing you are!” Brick shouted. “The trunk’s not here. We don’t have it and we don’t know where it is! So there’s no need for any problems. Just turn around and pretend you never saw us.”
“No can do.” The man in leather moved forward. “Drop your weapon, and I’ll let you leave. But you’re going to let her go.”
He pulled off his helmet. Her breath caught in her throat.
It was Alex.
Copyright © 2017 by Mags Storey
ISBN-13: 9781488018916
Desert Secrets
Copyright © 2017 by Lisa Harris
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