“As you know we have two witnesses that have recently come forward. Even though the circumstances of what they did and did not see are unfortunate, we believe that there is a possibility to form some kind of sketch of the kidnapper. They met with our sketch artist along with a couple of specialists who are trained to help them open their minds to what they actually saw that night. Mr. Davis, do you happen to have any information for us regarding someone who might have been involved in this or someone who would have wanted to cause harm to you and your family? Whether it is an ex-boyfriend, a friend she fell out with, someone who has a grudge against you and your practice—anything. Because right now anyone could have done this and the smallest piece of information could end up being vital to the case.”
“Since the last time we spoke I have gone around and around, wracking my brain for people who could have a grudge against me and my family, but I have come up short for the most part. Going back through papers I ran across something that brought someone from our past to my attention. When Hannah was little we lived just outside Santa Monica. I had a smaller practice there. Our neighbors had a son that was around Hannah’s age. Matthew, I believe, was his name. The two of them became very close during the few years that they lived beside us, but I soon began to notice certain things about this boy. He was different than your average five-or six-year-old would be. He showed signs of having a personality disorder, of sorts.” Elliot paused as he reached for his brief case on the floor beside him.
“Interesting…can you tell me a little more about the situation between this boy, Matthew, and your daughter?” Detective Cooper asked while taking notes.
Handing Detective Cooper a stack of letters, Elliot continued on.
“Yes. For example, I would find Hannah and him playing outside one minute and the next he would be very angry, yelling at her or pushing her down for no apparent reason. For the longest time I assumed they were being typical kids, until I saw him have—sort of an—internal struggle with himself over getting so upset at Hannah. Going into their early teen years he became more and more aggressive during certain situations. So I decided to approach his parents as a concerned friend and tell them that he needed some help. They ended up enrolling him into counseling a couple times a week and moved away shortly after. We kept in touch off and on until we moved here a couple years later. Hannah, I believe, was just starting the eighth grade and I began the route of opening my current practice. A year or so had passed when I started receiving letters with only our address on them, no “to” name, and no return address. Hannah was just starting high school around this time. As I began reading the first letter I realized it was from him—Matthew. His words were slightly angry but not towards Hannah. Even though the letters were written to Hannah, his anger was aimed at me. He obviously knew I had spoken with his parents and that I had influenced them in placing him in counseling, but he didn’t understand why. Three more letters came over the next few weeks. His anger became more apparent and even more aggressive. He had now turned his anger towards Hannah. He was enraged because she wouldn’t respond to him, even though I never spoke of the letters to her. He was such a torn young man and by his writing it was devastatingly obvious. After the third letter I reached out to his parents again. Luckily I had a friend back in Santa Monica that helped me contact them. Matthews’s father, Joseph, informed me that a few days prior to my call they had Matthew placed within the care of a psychiatric ward located near Santa Rosa. He was also not allowed contact to anyone outside the facility besides his parents. The letters ceased and I never heard a thing again from him or his family.”
As Elliot finished talking my mouth began moving before I could stop myself. I was furious that he hadn’t thought of this guy sooner and I was even more furious that Hannah had ever mentioned him to me. Yes, it had been well over six years ago. But that is a crazy as hell situation that you would most likely share with the people close to you. Elliot wasn’t surprised by my reaction; instead he let out a sigh before running his hand through his raven hair. Before he could respond to me, Detective Cooper spoke up again.
“Well…There is no use in dwelling on the time that has passed. Instead we need to get some information on where Matthew is located now. Do you recall his last name Mr. Davis?”
“Matthew Jones is his name. I tried to locate his parents last week but I found nothing on him or them. Don’t get me wrong, he was a very haunted boy, but I am not saying for sure that he did this. He is the only person I could think of that has had any form of issue with my daughter over the years.”
“I completely understand. Let me see what I can find out about him and his family. I will give you a call as soon as I have something.”
Detective Cooper stood and we followed suit. He shook Elliot’s hand and then mine before we left his office. The drive back to the Davis’ was a quiet one to say the least.
Chapter 17
Hannah
“Matthew….Why are you being so mean to me?! I yelled at him.
“Because… I can’t handle when you ignore me, Hannah. You aren’t supposed to ignore me!” he spoke through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry for not answering your phone calls, but my parents took my phone away last night while I did my homework. Let go of my arm, Matthew, you’re hurting me.”
“S—sorry Hannah… I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just—your dad talked to my parents about me and now they want to send me to some kind of specialist.” The sadness in his voice killed me. He kept running his hands through his shaggy hair.
“What kind of specialist?”I asked softly, taking his hand.
“Somebody who can tell me what is wrong with me, supposedly. They are going to lock me away, Hannah… I don’t want to be locked away.”
The look in his eyes changed from pained to excite. I knew something had changed.
“Run away with me…” he spoke softly.
“What!? Matthew, I can’t run away with you! We are only thirteen, we have no car, no money, nothing—plus our parents would find us.”
“I have money—my parents have a bank account set up for me. All I have to do is get a hold of the checkbook, write out a check, and go cash it. We would have plenty of money! Please, Hannah…Please! Go with me…I can’t let them take me away from you.” He was frantic and I knew an episode was about to happen if I didn’t calm him down.
“Matthew, maybe you should try the specialist. They will probably help you—and I don’t see your parents letting them lock you away.” Holding both his hands in mine I spoke softly.
My touch always calmed him. Sighing loudly in defeat he placed his forehead against mine.
“Hannah…I don’t think I could stay sane without you. Thank you for everything…” he pulled me tightly to his chest.
“I wouldn’t be any other way with you, Matthew. You don’t deserve to be treated different than anyone else.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to run away with me…” he smiled down at me.
“I’m sure. Now let’s head back to our houses before our parents figure out that we are together.”
“Okay…I don’t want any more mess between our families. I think your parents are afraid I’m going to hurt you. I would never hurt you, Hannah…As long as I am in my right mind. Please understand that.” He placed a kiss on my cheek as we walked hand in hand back up the field to our houses.
Chapter 18
Hannah
Drip… Drip… Drip…
Drip… Drip… Drip…
Something cool kept hitting my face and began running down my cheeks, causing me to stir. I knew where I was and I didn’t want to face the reality of who my captor was.
I had finally realized that the guy in the ball cap that had seemed vaguely familiar was Matthew—the boy I shared numerous childhood memories with, the boy I first “loved”, the boy who was taken out of my life way too soon. As soon as I saw his haunted hazel eyes I knew it was him. I had spent many days staring into those s
ame haunted eyes, trying to bring him back to me and out of the darkness. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would see him again after all these years—especially not like this.
I had been lying on the mattress for a good thirty minutes with my eyes shut. I could hear him moving around frantically throughout the warehouse, but I was too afraid to face him now.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
What the hell is that dripping?!
Forcing myself to open my eyes, I tried not to move a muscle. He couldn’t know I was awake yet. Facing him was going to be heartbreaking and I wasn’t ready for that. I stared up into the darkness and a drop of water splashed me in the face again. Slowly turning my head to the side I noticed numerous buckets placed randomly throughout the floor. A loud boom rang out that made me want to jump out of my skin. Thunder—it was storming and the roof was slightly leaking.
The spotlight was turned off as the softer glow of lanterns lit the place and silence filled the room. Matthew must have left.
I slowly sat upright on the mattress my body felt stiff. There was no telling how long I was out this time, but my clothes had been changed again. Pulling up my pant leg I noticed the cut was covered by a thick bandage and I wasn’t covered in dried blood anymore. He must have bathed me. My heart clenched. I didn’t know if I wanted to cry because of who he was or because of him touching me like that. Tears filled my eyes before I could stop them as a sob escaped my throat. Soon I became a ball of emotions, so I let them flow freely.
Matthew and I grew up next door to each other, and our families were good friends, so we spent a lot of time together even though he was a year older than me. Throughout the years Matthew began to change. He couldn’t fully control his anger. Sometimes he would jump back and forth from being very aggressive, to being apologetic. The changes in Matthew’s behavior were a red flag to a psychologist like my father, and he took it upon himself to inform Matthew’s parent that he needed help. I remember the night like it was yesterday; Matthew was throwing rocks at my window until he got my attention. We snuck down to the field behind our houses and he told me about my father and how his parents were sending him to a specialist. I loved Matthew so much, we were best friends, but I knew he needed help. He would flip out during school and end up in detention or suspended for a few days. When we were little he would get so angry that he would break my dolls. That same night he asked me numerous times to run away with him and I found myself, at times, actually thinking about doing it. I knew my father would find us if we did though.
Not long after his parents sent him to a specialist, they moved away. I saw Matthew a total of four times after that night in the field and then he was gone. No phone calls came, no letters, no word—period. My father kept in touch with his parents so every now and then I would hear him and my mother talking about Matthew and how he was doing. But they wouldn’t allow us any contact. I was too young to understand why and honestly I still don’t fully understand. For weeks I cried myself to sleep at night until my parents decided it was best to move away ourselves. They felt a change in scenery would help me let go of Matthew, even though I didn’t want to let go of him. So midway through my eighth grade year, we moved to San Diego, and the rest is history.
∙∞∙
I sat there crying for god knows how long, while the storm ripped through the outside sky, until I found that I had cried all the tears I could cry. Being alone during the storm was fine by me; at least I didn’t have to come face-to-face with Matthew yet. My stomach was growling and I wasn’t sure when I last ate or what day it was. But there were marks on my hands where it looked like I had some form of needle stuck in them so I assumed he had put IV’s through me to keep me nourished. What am I going to do…Why couldn’t it be some freak I didn’t know…Why does it have to Matthew?! All I wanted to do was hold him and try to bring him back from the darkness, even after everything he had done. Matthew…My poor haunted first love was also my vicious twisted kidnapper. My heart was shattered.
Groaning started coming from the farthest part of the warehouse causing me to almost jump out of my skin. It was too dark to tell what was happening or where exactly it was coming from. A loud growling sound that turned into a shriek followed the groaning. Tears stung at my eyes with the realization of what was happening. It was Matthew. He used to have horrible night terrors if he wasn’t on his medications. This was not a good sign. I used to struggle with him the most when he wasn’t. He’s sleeping! It dawned on me that I could reach him if I woke him; when he is first jarred awake after having these night spells he is usually his normal self, the Matthew I cared about. Not the monster kidnapper his disease has made him out to be. The noises became even more terrifying and I knew if they stopped I would lose my chance of reaching him. Moving towards the door of the cage I heard the hum of the electricity. Shit… No shaking the cage was going to happen. The only thing I could do now was yell and hope that it would wake him.
“MATTHEW!!!! WAKE UP!!!!” I yelled as my voice broke slightly.
Nothing.
No response.
“DAMN YOU, MATTHEW, WAKE UP!!!!!!!” I yelled louder as I sat down on the floor in defeat.
The noises stopped.
A few moments passed before I spoke again.
“Matthew?! Are you awake?” I asked sincerely as I began to stand back up.
“Hannah…” my name came in a whisper.
“Yes—yes. It’s me, Matthew.”
He began moving around in a hurry as he made his way over to the cage.
“Hannah…It’s been a week and a half since you were last awake. Are you okay?” he asked with true concern.
“I’m fine, just a little hungry.” I replied as he unlocked the door and I stepped back towards the mattress.
He walked into the cage with no weapon, no syringe, nothing. I didn’t know whether to run up and hug him or try and knock him down to escape. Unsure which Matthew I was dealing with, I sat down on the mattress with my back against the wall and my hands clasped together in my lap. He continued to walk towards me when I saw his eyes. The love in his eyes let me know it was my Matthew, the one I lost many years ago.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Hannah…I—I promise.” He continued to speak in a whisper as he reached out for me, causing me to lean into the wall even more.
“Matthew, why are you keeping me here?
“Because they wouldn’t let me see you, Hannah…and—and you wouldn’t respond to me.” His emotions were pouring out now as he dug his fists into his eyes.
He was leaning down right in front of me, close enough to touch. My heart wanted me to grab him and hold onto him until this wicked boy was brought back to sanity but I knew it wasn’t an option. I had to get out of here and I had to get Matthew some help.
“What are you talking about? I never heard from you after you moved or I would have responded. You know that, Matthew! I would never have cut you out of my life.” My words were laced with such care for him as I reached forward to hold his hand, staring directly into his eyes.
“Don’t. You don’t want me anymore Hannah. I know you don’t…I’m broken goods—I always have been! But now I’m worse than ever,” he trailed off before he turned his head away from my stare.
I knew right in that moment that I could possibly reach him. If I could make him believe that I still cared for him then there was hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could get him to take me back home and allow me to get him the help he needed and deserved. Guilt washed over me because I knew I didn’t love Matthew anymore. It was a young addiction, more along the lines of me trying to fix him because no one else would. I cared deeply for him and seeing him now brought those feelings back, but my heart was in the hands of another…Jason.
“I sent you letters Hannah…” he began to speak again through gritted teeth, “You never wrote back…I thought you let me go because you never wrote back! My parents sent me away for years—did you know that!? They said they couldn’t deal
with me…only you could ever deal with me.” The tears were pouring down his face at this point as the gaping hole in his heart was wide open. I tried to speak, but instead of words a sob escaped me as my own tears poured out.
“I’m so sorry, Matthew…I would have never given up on you! They should have never given up on you…What can I do?! What can we do to change things?! I’m still here—I can help you…But first you have to stop this…You have to let me out of here and take me home…”
Our faces were so close at this point that our noses slightly brushing against one another when either of us moved. Matthew slowly raised his hand and brushed the back of it across my cheek as we stared into each other’s eyes. Closing my eyes I let out a long, slow sigh. This was my Matthew…the loving boy I used to know. If only time could be rewound and things could take place differently. I was lost in thought when I felt Matthew’s damp lips press against mine. Shock raced through my mind as I let out a gasp. My eyes flew open in response as I found myself slightly pushing back from him. Then I watched Matthew shut down. Hurt followed by anger flashed across his face faster than I could count to three. He was back on his feet shaking his head violently back and forth.
“No…No … NO!!!! I KNEW IT!!!” he yelled louder and louder.
“Matthew, wait…” I reached for him as I tried to stand but the coldness in his eyes froze me where I sat.
“You don’t love me, Hannah… You never did!” his words started pouring out like venom. “All I have done is think about you since we’ve been apart—each and every minute of the day…then my parents sent me off to that GOD FORSAKEN place and they “helped” me. Did you know my parents died Hannah? Did you know?! Yeah, I never saw them before they died, never went to their funeral, nothing. I was stuck in that institution on their behalf! But after I got out I was fine… I stopped taking my meds, started online classes. I was making a life for myself, Hannah… I NEVER thought of you… I WAS COMEPLETELY FINE! Then I saw you a few years later. The fucking newspaper article about you and your father working together at his practice…GOD! I was doing fine, Hannah… I was doing fine…” he became more and more frantic as he spoke. “Everything from the past…the way you touched my face, the way you smelled, your laugh—EVERYTHING rushed back into my life and I’ve been FUCKED UP ever since…” the sadness in his eyes consumed me.
Moments of Reckoning Page 10
