Freeze Frame_a Snapshot novel

by Freya Barker

  I’m surprised to find it’s started snowing when I step outside. There’s no wind, but it’s plenty cold enough so my breath comes out in a little stream of fog.

  The snow may have something to do with the heavy silence, but still it’s odd not to hear a thing. No sounds at all. I walk away from the house a few steps, and try to listen closer, hoping perhaps for a thud of a piece of wood thrown on the ATV I heard Ben take down earlier. Or maybe the whir of an engine.

  Nothing.

  I want to walk over to the rock, so I can see the campground below, but I promised Mak I wouldn’t go far. Something is off. Something is way off.

  With a sudden sense of urgency, I turn back to the house. I need to get to Mak, to a phone.

  My hand is already on the door when I hear something: a low hum, an engine, and then the crunch of wheels on the snow. I turn to look at where the road up meets the level ground of the driveway, expecting the four-wheeler to come into view.

  It’s not.

  CHAPTER 28

  Ben

  The first thing I notice is the smell.

  A strange combination of freshly turned soil, mold, and fresh wood shavings; not entirely unpleasant.

  But the sight when I manage to crack open my eyes, is, unpleasant.

  The last thing I remember is going to pick up the saw. Nothing else, no sound, no warning. Judging by my throbbing head, I got clocked good.

  I try to let my eyes adjust to the limited light coming in through the small, dirty windows, but I keep my focus on the shape in front of me. The more I see clearly, the more disturbed I am.

  “There you are.”

  Even the voice is revolting. I can barely recognize the syrupy, breathy sound. Although there must’ve been something about the woman in front of me I once found, at least somewhat, attractive.

  Whatever that might have been is now gone.

  I remember thinking it was odd there weren’t any more current photos of her at her mother’s place. This woman is a caricature of the young pretty blonde in the picture I saw on the fireplace mantel, or even the grainy image Neil had dug up and handed out copies of this morning. I’m sure underneath that elaborate, almost clownesque makeup job, she’s still there, but I’m having a hard time finding her.

  “Jahnee.” Her face lights up when I say her name, and a slight shiver runs down my spine.

  I’m lying on a bed, in what looks to be the bedroom in a small cabin, my arms and legs tied to the solid bedposts with very little movement available to me.

  I can see her sitting through the open door at a small, Formica kitchen table, her long, talon-like nails tapping on the hard surface. She’s dressed in some flimsy dressing gown that she left half-open. That’s got to be cold. I swear the temperature in here is not much above the outside one, even though there’s a small wood stove burning against the far wall behind her.

  What’s most disturbing, and yet almost mesmerizing, is her other hand, dipped between her widespread legs, her fingers playing in the clearly wet curls there. It’s like passing an accident on the road, you want to look away but you find yourself drawn.

  “Where am I?” I ask, my voice raspier than normal, and I’m surprised to see she can hear me from there, when I force my gaze back up to her face. She smiles and suddenly I recognize the girl she once was, but the very next moment her words chill my blood.

  “Home,” she coos. “You’re finally home.”

  Isla

  I land hard.

  A sharp jab shoots up both knees, when they hit the ground. The cart in front of me keeps rolling and I vaguely register it bumping into the shelves. I’m still hanging on to the second cart, the one I was dragging alongside me.

  “Jason!” I hear a woman yelling behind me, but before I can even turn around, strong hands slip under my arms and lift me straight onto my feet.

  “You okay?” The voice, smooth like dark chocolate, belongs to Caleb. The man doesn’t say much, but when he does speak, he has all your attention.

  He turns me to face him, while his hands distractedly brush at my coat. That’s when I see the little boy being scolded by what appears to be his mother. There are tears streaming down the poor kid’s face.

  “I’m okay,” I call out, as much to Caleb, as for the mother’s ears. “Really, I’m fine.”

  The woman marches up, pulling the reluctant kid, who’s maybe six or seven years old, along with her.

  “Apologize to the lady, Jason.” She gives the boy a little shake.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles through his sniffles.

  “It’s fun, isn’t it?” I tell the boy with a wink. “I used to do exactly that when I was a kid, until I learned going fast is really only fun when you have brakes.” Caleb chuckles behind me, and I don’t really know if what I say will stick with young Jason, but my Aunt Kate always said you can’t pass up on a teaching moment. This seemed like a good one.

  “You done shopping now?” Caleb asks, his big hand still steady on my upper arm.

  “I think I am.” I take a step away and he drops his hold. “Even if she had eyes on me, she wouldn’t make a move now.”

  “Can’t count on that. For all anyone knows, I’m just a fellow shopper jumping at the chance to pick a pretty girl up off the floor. Plenty of damsels in distress need rescuing at the local food market.” The slight smile that follows—more like a tilt of the mouth—is nevertheless potent as hell. What’s with these guys?

  “Grocery store hero?” I joke, causing his smile to deepen as he shrugs.

  “More like clean up in aisle five.”

  It’s my turn to laugh, as I pick up the few cans that have rolled off the shelves.

  “Grab your carts and let’s get out of here,” he says, all business again, before disappearing down the aisle.

  -

  I’m loading the last of my bags in the back of the SUV, when I hear my name called. Young Phil McCracken is behind the wheel of his rig, waiting for the light to turn across the road. I lift my arm and wave, but instead of waving back, he leans out the window and yells something I can’t quite make out. I put my hand behind my ear, a universal sign I haven’t heard a damn thing.

  “Did...father call you yet?” This time I hear enough and I shake my head. I haven’t heard from the old curmudgeon, but it could be my uncle knows something.

  “No,” I yell across the road, just as the light turns and the rig starts moving. With a flick of his hand that holds the middle between a wave and a dismissal, Phil drives off.

  I shake the snow, that’s starting to come down good, from my head and arms and climb up behind the wheel.

  As I make my way out of Dolores and up the mountain, I’m lost in thought, finding I’m both relieved and disappointed that nothing happened. When my phone rings in the deep dark recesses of my purse, we hadn’t set mine up on the car system yet. I pull over on the shoulder to dig it up. Not the kind of weather conditions to be attempting to do anything but keep your eyes on the road when you drive.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Ferris? I’m calling from Southwestern Memorial. We wanted to let you know there’s been a change in Ms. Gustafson condition.” My heart shoots up in my throat.

  “A change? What change?”

  “We’ve started bringing her out of her coma early this morning and she’s starting to respond.”

  “Have you called Ben? Her brother, Mr. Gustafson? He should be listed as primary contact.”

  “There’s no answer at that number. We’ve tried a few times,” the woman says, and that anxiety I thought I felt moments ago, is nothing compared to the sheer panic seizing me now.

  “We’ll be in touch,” I mumble in the phone before ending the call, and taking a deep breath in before I steer the car back on the road. The woman probably thinks we’re a heartless bunch, not caring about Stacie. She’d be wrong, but the truth is, I have a feeling that even though Stacie has turned a corner, the rest of us may have just slipped further down the rabbit hole.
>
  I’m surprised to find Uncle Al coming down the steps as I pull into the drive, and I don’t like the look on his face.

  “Get inside and lock the door,” he says, the second he pulls the door open.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I need you to get inside,” he bites off through gritted teeth, basically pulling me out of the car and taking the keys from my hand.

  “Where’s Ben?”

  “Goddammit, girl! Would you just do as I say?”

  I’m shocked into compliance. I’m quaking on the inside, and no less so now that my uncle, who hardly ever raised his voice at me, just yelled at me. Loudly.

  The front door opens before I reach it and all I see is Mak’s pale little face peeking through the opening. I slip inside and close the door behind me, when I’m tackled by Mak, who wraps her skinny arms around my middle, and buries her face in my coat.

  “Where’s Uncle Ben?” Her wobbly little voice slams home the fear already crawling over my skin.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  I’m not sure how long we stand there, my back against the door and Mak clinging to my front, when I notice Atsa whimper. Shortly after the crunch of wheels on the snow can be heard outside, and I shove away from the door and yank it open, making a grab for Atsa’s collar when he tries to slip through. A large SUV and a pickup truck are pulling up behind the Toyota. Gus and Neil get out of the vehicles and join my uncle, who gestures at the campground. It’s Neil who spots me in the doorway, holding on to the dog on one side and Mak plastered against my other. All three heads turn in my direction and they slowly make their way over.

  “Inside, Isla,” my uncle orders in a warning voice.

  “Where is he?” I counter, not budging, staring my uncle down.

  “Let’s talk inside.” This from Gus, who gently, but firmly, puts a hand behind my neck as he leans close. “Please.”

  -

  The general mood in the great room is gloomy. Mak and I, snuggled together on the couch, are flanked by Uncle Al and Gus, who’s talking in a low voice on his phone. Neil is at the dining room table, tapping away on a large laptop he hauled out of his truck.

  “I’ve gotta do something,” I announce, kissing Mak on the head before I hand her off to Uncle Al, who wraps the sniffling girl in his arms.

  In the kitchen, I start yet another pot of coffee before I turn to the breakfast dishes still in the sink. We have a dishwasher, but I don’t think we’ve used it more than two, maybe three, times since we moved in. Much more economic to do them by hand. Besides, sticking your hands in warm water is always good therapy.

  The thoughts in my head are tumbling around as I try to cling on to something Gus said earlier. He suggested that if Ben had been this woman’s obsession, it’s unlikely she would harm him any more than she already had.

  Oh God, I hope so.

  Caleb took Atsa down to the trailer earlier, on a leash so he couldn’t take off. Since the snow has been falling steadily for a few hours now, the only thing they could find was a wide swath, which looked like it had been made by a sled. Caleb thought she might have used it to transport Ben to a waiting vehicle. The trail stopped just on the other side of the gate to the road and some vague tire impressions could be seen leaving.

  There was no question at this point that she somehow managed to snatch Ben. Atsa sniffed out his phone, lying in the snow, not far from a length of wood that had some blood on it. The thought of Ben injured made me nauseous. My uncle had tried to keep Mak distracted, while the guys had been updating me in the kitchen earlier.

  I’m not sure what everyone is up to now, but I don’t doubt they’re doing the best they can, and I’m leaving them to it. I just had to stop asking questions, when I noticed how upset it was making poor Makenna.

  It’s hard sitting still with just your thoughts for company, and I look over at Mak whose eyes are glued to me.

  “Wanna help me make some sandwiches, sweetheart?” I ask her, looking to offer some semblance of normalcy in this emotional chaos.

  It’s not until after we’ve made lunch and fed the guys, and managed to eat a little ourselves, that I remember the call from the hospital. I catch my uncle’s eye, while Mak is momentarily distracted by a show on Netflix, and nudge my head in the direction of our bedroom.

  “What’s up?” he says, closing the door behind him after he follows me in. Before I have a chance to answer, he has me wrapped against his teddy bear body, and I fight to keep the tears at bay, feeling like that twelve year old again. “It’s gonna be okay, girl. You’re man’s been in much hotter water than this, trust me. Either he’ll find his way out, or we’ll find him.”

  “I know. It’s not that,” I say, taking a step back from his embrace. “With everything going on, I totally forgot that the hospital called earlier. They couldn’t get hold of Ben and called me when I was on my way home. Stacie—they started weaning her off some meds—she’s apparently showing signs of waking up.”

  “That’s great news.”

  “I know. I was rushing home, so I could tell Ben. I’m sure he would’ve taken Mak to see her. I don’t know what to do, Uncle Al.” I watch as my uncle walks to the window and stares out in the waning light, running a hand through his hair. The next second, he turns to me with a big smile on my face.

  “Listen, I’m going nuts sitting around with my finger up my ass, too. If it’s not too late, why don’t I take Mak down to the hospital? I’ll keep my phone on, anything happens you can get hold of me, but it may be best for everyone? What do you think?”

  What I think is that my uncle rocks, and I let him know as much when I wrap my arms around his neck and give him a resounding kiss.

  “But what if they give you a hard time getting in, or even letting her in?” I voice my concerns, knowing Ben had encountered a battle when he’d brought Mak in before.

  Uncle Al just grins and winks at me.

  “Don’t you worry, girl. It may not be obvious to you, but I haven’t completely lost my touch yet.”

  Ben

  I must have passed out, because this time when I manage to open my eyes a crack, I’m met with darkness. My arms hurt when I test my restraints, probably from being pulled on. I’m not exactly in particularly bad physical shape, but right now I can feel my age in every fiber of my body.

  A body that, until now, I hadn’t realized was naked. That’s not something that would normally bother me much in any kind of company, but lying here, spread-eagled with my bag of tricks flopping in the wind, I’m feeling a tad exposed.

  The door is closed. That much I can make out, and I’m listening for any sounds on the other side. There’s nothing.

  Could be it’s the middle of the night. Sure feels that way. Time to get my bearings.

  With my fingertips, I can touch the underside of the knots in the ropes tied around my wrists, but there’s not enough slack in the rope for me to work them. I pull up with my leg, to test the hold there, but all it does is tighten the noose she has around my ankle.

  Despite the cold air in here, sweat is starting to drip down my forehead as I give short little jerks on the ropes at my feet, hoping I can create enough leeway, even on one side. My head feels like it’s about to explode but I can’t afford to waste any time. I don’t know what she’s up to. Whether she’s planning to hurt Isla.

  I yank on the restraints with a little more force, ignoring the burn as the rope scrapes my skin bloody, when the door flies open, crashing against the wall.

  “I’m not gonna let you go,” she smiles, backlit in the doorway, holding up a syringe.

  Now I have a whole new reason to get loose and I try furiously. I even snap at her hand when she gets too close, but that results in backhand across my face that has me seeing stars. That is, stars on top of the stars I was already seeing, and suddenly the room spins out of control, and I can just turn my head to the side before my stomach turns inside out.

  She doesn’t
hesitate either; the moment I start yacking up whatever’s left of breakfast, I feel a sharp stab in my neck. Heat radiates out from my neck down to the tips of my fingers and toes. The last I manage to do is turn my head, so I can look at her as darkness starts filling in from the outside until there’s nothing.

  CHAPTER 29

  Isla

  “Still sleeping.”

  The whispered voice outside the bedroom door, that just clicked shut, belongs to my uncle. A soft conversation can be heard moving down the hallway, but I can’t distinguish any words.

  It must be early morning, judging by the soft light coming in the window, and just for a moment I let myself linger on the edge of awareness, where the pain of reality isn’t so sharp. Unfortunately, my bladder won’t let me linger too long and I roll over to swing my legs from the bed. A tiny groan, from the small form beside me, yanks me firmly back to the brutal truth.

  Last night she ended up in bed with me. I’m not quite sure whether it was her or me who needed to stay close, but we ended up clinging onto each other regardless. I never expected to sleep, but emotional exhaustion eventually took over, and I can’t remember much beyond actually crawling under the covers.

  Sadly, Uncle Al never got to take Mak to see her mother. I ended up calling ahead and was told even though she was starting to move her extremities, she had not woken up yet, and it was too late for a visit. We’re supposed to call back this morning.

  I look over at the little girl and am grateful she’s still sleeping, because the rush of feelings that assaults me when I spot Ben’s toothbrush on the edge of the sink, is too much brutal reality. I manage to pee and wipe the sleep, and tears, from my face with a wet washcloth before I slip back in the bedroom to grab some clothes. Mak is sitting up straight in bed, her eyes wide and fixed on me.

  “Morning, baby,” I coo gently, padding over to the bed and sitting on the edge. I reach my hand out to stroke the back of my fingers over her sleep-creased cheek. There’s no answer, just those big blue eyes playing out every emotion. “Do you want to hop in the shower? Or I can draw you a nice bath in the big tub?” A large whoosh of air is released from between her lips and she swallows audibly.