by James Hunt
The kidnapper spun around, revealing the cleared desk space and the blank paper that rested on top. The bipolar hospitality returned with a smile and a gentle hand against the cheek he had previously struck. “I’m sorry, Gary. I didn’t mean it. Truth is, I’m a little nervous.” He chuckled slightly and pulled another chair that he set right in front of Gary. He crossed his legs and cupped his hands together. “I know you have questions. I know you’re wondering why I brought you here.” He pulled a blade from his side, and it gleamed in the light. He examined the knife in his hand, revealing the serrated edge meant for cutting.
The steel was cold against Gary’s throat, and he looked away, his eyes squinted shut, waiting for the kidnapper to draw blood. But nothing happened. He slowly opened his eyes once more and stared into those small, lifeless eyes.
The kidnapper cocked his head to the side, his face stoic. “I’m going to take the tape off of your mouth. You can scream, but no one will hear you. I’ve soundproofed this place.” He glanced around, smiling to himself. “It’s just us down here.” The stoic expression returned when his eyes locked back onto Gary’s. “But if you act out, I will cut you. Understand?”
Gary nodded carefully, making it a point to avoid the scrape of the blade on his jugular. The kidnapper pinched the corner of the tape over his mouth and peeled, slowly. Every inch of the tape that was removed burned his skin, and when it was finally done, he drew in a sharp breath.
“There,” the kidnapper said. “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” He balled up the tape and chucked it into a trash can.
Gary moved his lips, running his tongue over the chapped and sensitive skin around his mouth. “W-what do you want?”
The kidnapper smiled, the intimate nature of his proximity unsettling. “Stories, Gary. I want to learn more about you. I want to hear about your life.” He leaned closer, like a child looking to a parent at bedtime. “Will you tell me?”
“I d-don’t have anything t-to tell.”
The kidnapper jumped out of his chair, waving the blade through the air, and circled Gary like a shark that smelled blood. “See? Now, I know you’re lying.” He gripped Gary by the hair and yanked his head back, and again the cold steel was placed against his throat. “Or if you prefer, I could go and speak to Annabel?”
The icy waters of fear submerged Gary’s senses, and every fiber of his being went numb. Then slowly, with every thought of his wife that flashed in his mind, he warmed. The hot flush of anger melted the cold fear in his veins, and he trembled with rage. “You don’t touch her!”
The kidnapper smiled. He released Gary and shoved his head forward, circling slowly now. “If I wanted her, then she would be in this chair and not you.” He tilted his head to the side, those beady eyes piercing, watching. “We’ll start with how the two of you met. And then maybe I’ll decide if you’re worth the effort.” He took his seat. “You don’t tell me, and I promise you she dies.”
Gary’s tear soaked cheeks glistened under the light. The words came slowly, as if he were remembering a dream. “I met Anna at her work.” He paused and closed his eyes. “She’s a seamstress. And she had some of the most beautiful hands I’d ever seen.” The intimacy of sharing his memories made him sick, but the thought of her gave him strength, and he felt his resolve harden. “I needed a pair of pants hemmed. It took her twice as long as it usually did to finish them because I gabbed her ear off the entire time. Once she finally finished, I asked her out for drinks after work, and she said yes.” He squeezed his hand and felt his wedding ring. His palm had grown sweaty, and his fingers slid across the metal quickly. “My entire life I’ve searched for something, a part of me that was missing. I tried so many different things to fill it, hoping to feel whole, but nothing ever worked. So I grew used to it. I grew numb. I continued to walk through life with lowered expectations. But that moment, seeing her…” He smiled, his eyes red and glassy. “I knew I would never have to feel that way again.”
The kidnapper nodded, smiling, his beady eyes fixated on Gary, entranced. “That was beautiful.” He released a soft sigh. “She sounds like a wonderful woman. The two of you must have shared some precious memories.” He squeezed his hand, his knuckles popping from the pressure. “I never had that.” He glanced up to the ceiling, frowning. “Even my own mother hated me. She tried to take this place away from me.” A smile curved on his lips, and the angle of the lighting darkened his eyes. “But I won that contest.”
Gary eyed the staircase to his left. It was less than ten feet away. “Please. Just let me go. I won’t go to the cops.” His voice caught in his throat, which grew thick with phlegm. “Let me go back to Anna.” He watched the kidnapper’s features soften. “I love her. More than anything in the world. You said you’ve never had that before, so you know what it would be like for her if I died. You know how much she would suffer.” He leaned forward as far as the restraints would allow. “Let me live. For her.”
In the silence that followed, Gary’s heart beat wildly. Each heavy thump pounded like a bass drum. Time inched forward at a crawl, and when the kidnapper finally stood and turned his back, walking slowly to the desk, Gary believed his last chances had been squandered. He lowered his head in defeat and waited for the end.
“You’re right.”
Gary lifted his head. “What?”
“You and Anna should have a happy ending.” The kidnapper turned and sheathed his knife and crossed his arms. “But in order for that to happen, I need to know more. And I want it recorded.” He raised an eyebrow. “As a show of good faith from you.”
A faint glimmer of hope pierced the darkness of Gary’s soul. He huddled around it eagerly, protecting it from the harsh unknown that still remained. “Y-yeah.” He spoke eagerly. “Whatever you need me to do.”
The kidnapper shoved Gary’s chair to the table with the blank pieces of paper. He opened a drawer and rummaged through its contents wildly. “I know it’s here somewhere—aha!” He slammed the drawer shut, clutched his prize in his fist, and took a seat on the desk. “When I was a little boy, my family barely had any money. There were times when I went days without eating. Days!” He raised both eyebrows in exclamation. “Luxuries weren’t anything we could afford, so my mother would try and make up games for me to play. I would close my eyes and pretend that I was in another place, somewhere far away where there were toys and candy.”
Gary remained quiet as the kidnapper paused, his eyes closed, reliving the memory in his head.
“But my imagination never satisfied me. Not really.” The kidnapper opened his eyes. “I just wanted more.” He leaned closer. “So one day, I was at the park with my mother. There were a bunch of kids there, most of them from wealthier families. And I saw that one of the kids had a coloring book with all of these crayons.” He laughed. “I’d never seen so many colors. And the boy wasn’t using all of them, so I took one when he wasn’t looking. But my mother saw me.” He clenched his fist tighter, staring at his hand. “That was a beating I never forgot. Or forgave.” He slammed his open palm onto the paper with a force that rattled the desk and the floor below it. When he removed his hand, it revealed a red crayon. “All of those smacks from the belt, just for taking one crayon that the boy wouldn’t have even missed.”
The kidnapper untied Gary’s right hand, and the pressure around his wrist faded. He flexed his free hand, his skin tingling as blood flow returned to his appendage. He gripped the crayon and pressed it into the paper but stopped and looked behind him at the kidnapper. “What do you want me to write?”
“A love note,” the kidnapper said. “To Anna. If you never saw her again, what would you tell her? What would you miss the most?”
“Okay.” Gary closed his eyes as he fought the nervous spasms running through his body. But fear blocked his thoughts. Every memory that came to the forefront of his mind flitted away as quickly as it appeared.
“C’mon.” The kidnapper shook the chair violently. “Where’s a place that is special
to the two of you? Why is it special? What brought you there? What keeps you going back? What connects the two of you to that place?” He leaned intimately close. “I want to know her, like you know her.”
Gary tilted his head away from the kidnapper’s hot breath on his neck. He shut his eyes. Camden Yards. With a reluctant hand, Gary scribbled the first few words down. As he gained momentum, the words flowed more easily. He purged himself of memories, the picnics, the birthdays, their first kiss, the proposal, all of the moments he was forced to share with the sick mind of a man he’d never met before today. He reached the bottom of the page and set the crayon down. “I’m done.”
Without a word the kidnapper rewrapped the rope around Gary’s freed wrist, once again cutting off the circulation, then snatched the paper off the desk, smiling to himself. His eyes scanned the pages frantically. He rubbed his chin, pacing back and forth. “Yes, yes, this is good.”
The churning pit of knives in Gary’s stomach was in full force. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to see Anna again. He felt himself hyperventilating, his heart thumping against his chest. “Let me go.” He watched the kidnapper stop under the light bulb with his back turned. “That was our deal, right? I tell you about me and Anna, and then you let me go.” The longer the kidnapper remained frozen under the light, the more Gary’s fear grew. “Let me go.” Fear slowly morphed into anger, and he clenched his purple, blood-drained fists. “Let me go!”
The kidnapper slowly turned. The shadows along his face shifted from the waning light. “You don’t appreciate what you have, Gary.” The kidnapper drawled his words slowly. “Everything that has fallen into your lap.” He gestured to the letter in his hand. “These memories aren’t yours anymore. They’re mine now. And this is the beginning of my story.” His cheeks reddened, and he moved close enough for Gary to smell the stink of his breath. “You’re special. You’re my first.” He removed the blade from its sheath and pressed it to Gary’s throat. “But you will not be my last.”
Without knowing how much time he had left, Gary closed his eyes and was greeted with Anna’s smiling face. He felt the warmth of her skin. He watched the shyness of her smile. His mind was suddenly overwhelmed with the moments they had shared together, and then he felt a stab of regret at all of the moments he would miss. Tears burst from his eyes. “Will you keep your promise?” With what courage that remained to him, he opened his eyes, finding the killer’s gaze. “Will you let Anna live?”
“But don’t you see? With your death, her soul is broken and a life with a broken soul is already dead.” It could have been the shadows or a trick of the light, but when the killer finished his thought, it looked as though the lines of his smile crawled all the way to his ears. “And what is a more painfully beautiful story than that of a broken heart?”
The serrated metal tore into the puffy white flesh of Gary’s neck. The first scream gargled in blood, and he tasted the warm, metallic crimson on his tongue. Pain flooded his mind, and he felt warmth spill onto his chest and legs. His mind grew heavy, and the warmth soon faded, quickly replaced by an icy cold. Lacking the simple strength to keep his eyelids open, his last vision on this earth was that of the kidnapper with the blade in his hand, dripping blood, smiling from ear to ear.
Chapter 2 – Baltimore – Present Day
The headstones that surrounded the crowd were just as solemn and stoic as the sea of bodies dressed in black. Sniffles and quiet sobs dotted the priest’s eulogy as heads bowed. But one face remained lifted, and Detective Adila Cooper squinted from the glare of the sunlight off the casket.
Scabs had formed over Cooper’s knuckles, the wounds nearly healed, but with the tight grip with which she held onto her detective’s badge, they looked ready to burst and bleed once more. She stood off to the side, away from the rest of the family per Tim’s wishes, which had been the only instructions he’d given her after Beth’s passing. The fact that her will stated she be buried in Baltimore didn’t help things either. Despite Tim’s rant with the lawyer, there wasn’t anything he could do. However, when Beth had made the arrangements, she probably didn’t think she would die so young. No one did.
Cooper’s eyes drifted from the casket to her nieces. Mary, the youngest, cried into her father’s leg, while Sarah had her head bowed but her eyes open.
It should be me in that box. Beth was the one with a family. She still had people that cared about her, loved her, needed her. Cooper looked to Hart, who stood by her side, the only other officer in attendance besides herself. It’d been a while since she’d had anyone to lean on, and over the past few weeks, the rookie had proved himself.
“And the dead in Christ will rise first,” the pastor said, crossing himself. “Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air and so we will always be with him.” He bowed his head and tossed dirt onto the casket.
Tim led the girls to the casket, and each of them placed a rose on top, though Mary had to give hers to Tim because she couldn’t reach over far enough on the casket to get the rose to stick. The seats emptied, and the line started for each person to throw in a handful of dirt. But while the sea of black hurried into line, Cooper remained frozen.
Hart nudged her arm, keeping his voice low. “Hey, you all right?”
But Cooper was transfixed on the casket and the lifeless body inside. She would never hear Beth’s voice again, never have the opportunity to right all of the past mistakes. Their mother had died nearly a year ago, and their father had left before she was old enough to remember him. With Beth in the ground, she knew Tim wouldn’t allow her to see the girls anymore. She was alone.
“Cooper,” Hart said, nudging her arm again.
“We should head back to the precinct.” Cooper watched the dirt sprinkle onto the curved top of the casket and roll down the sides. “We need to find out what Hemsworth knows.”
“The case is the last thing you should be thinking about,” Hart replied. “You need time to mourn. Let Hemsworth and the FBI take it for now. You have a lot on your plate.”
The casket was lowered into the ground, and Cooper felt her heart sink with it. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t feel anything except the warm slime of blood on my hands. I need to wash it off. I have to get rid of it.” The casket dipped from view, and Cooper turned, heading toward the car.
Hart followed, sticking close to her side as they weaved through the silent, fleeing masses. “Look, I don’t know what you’re going through. I can’t even imagine how you feel, but I do know that there isn’t any way Hemsworth is going to keep you on the investigation. Not now.” He grabbed her by the arm, stopping both of them. “The man who killed your sister is still out there, and the last thing you need right now is to struggle between justice and vengeance.”
Cooper yanked her arm free. “Trust me. It won’t be a struggle.” But before she turned around, she felt another hand grab her shoulder from behind.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Tim tightened his grip like a vise. He gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw. His face was beet red from sun and rage.
Cooper shoved him in the chest, pulling herself free and fighting the desire to reach for her pistol. “She’s my sister—” But before she could finish, Hart stepped between them and pushed her back. She struggled against his size and strength, screaming at Tim. “You’re a fucking coward!” With a quick shove and a side step, she darted around Hart and sprinted back toward Tim.
“You’re never going to get anywhere near my girls. You understand me? Nowhere!”
A crowd had gathered around their argument. Shocked faces and disgusted looks were cast in both directions at the abhorrent scene. Drunk on a cocktail of grief and rage, Cooper swung her right fist, connecting with Tim’s jaw.
Gasps and shouts erupted from the circle of spectators, and it was Hart who pulled her back, while two other men grabbed hold of Tim. “You fucking cunt!” Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, a
nd his lip puffed out, already swelling. The two men eventually let him go, and Tim stormed back to the car, where Mary and Sarah gawked from the backseat window.
Cooper wiggled free from Hart’s grip and pushed her way through the stunned crowd. She locked eyes with the girls as the black sedan drove off, leaving a trail of exhaust in its wake. As the adrenaline from the moment subsided, the ache in her right hand surfaced from the punch she had landed on Tim’s cheek. When she looked down, the scabs had broken, and her knuckles were covered in blood.
“C’mon,” Hart said. “We need to get back to the precinct.”
“Yeah,” Cooper replied, though her words were like the whisper of a ghost long forgotten by the world. Her sister was dead. Her mother was dead. And now the last pair of her remaining bloodline would be kept from her.
Cooper rested her head against the window while Hart drove, and she devoted her time to watching the buildings and pedestrians. The glass was warm from the afternoon sun, and her skull rattled from the vibrations of the road. “We drifted apart. Beth and I.”
Hart glanced sideways but kept his main focus on the road. “What happened?”
“I used to think it was after our mother died last year.” Cooper frowned. “But the truth was it happened long before then.” She lifted her head from the window and reclined in her seat. “I’ve watched people die before. I’ve seen the light in their eyes go out more times than I care to count. It’s something you expect in our line of work. It’s something that you have to prepare to handle.” She nodded. “And I’ve done that. I’ve handled it. I’ve never let it affect me before. But this…” She rubbed her forehead, unsure of where her thoughts were taking her and slightly afraid of what she’d find when she arrived.
