by Lisa Bilbrey
Samuel urged her forward. The dining room and living room, which were just one big room, were filled with boxes of old newspapers and magazines.
“Do you think they kept the girls here?” he asked.
Elle opened her mouth to speak, but the words died in her throat, so she shook her head.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. They probably didn’t even have the girls. They were just saying they did to get us to obey.”
Elle wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince her, or himself. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right then.
“I don’t see a phone anywhere.” Samuel pried open the front door. Both of them shielded their eyes from the bright sun. “Where the hell did they bring us?”
Elle bit the inside of her lip as they stepped out into the small, rickety porch.
“We should look for a car. They have to have one, right?”
They didn’t find a car, though. Instead, they found two freshly dug holes that looked a lot like graves, which Elle suspected were for them. A shiver crept over her at the thought. No, they found nothing but wilderness in every direction.
“Well, if we head west, we’re bound to find a town, or the ocean, right?”
Samuel kept his hand on her back as they walked down the front steps and headed west. Or at least, they hoped they were heading west. The sun hadn’t been up for long, so they were banking on the hope that if they walked away from it, they would find someone who could help. Or they’d die. Either option was better than staying in that place.
They walked in silence. Neither of them seemed to mind that they weren’t wearing shoes, or that their shirts had been torn apart. It was the first time in six years that Elle had been able to walk more than few feet without the use of her cane. The pain in her leg didn’t seem to matter anymore. Not compared to the last few days. Somehow, they’d survived. Kind of, at least.
The sun had started to set when they stumbled upon a house. The lights were on inside and Elle could hear the television. She wrapped her arms around Samuel’s as they walked up the three front steps. But before they could knock, the door opened and they found themselves face to face with an elderly woman pointing a shotgun at them.
“What do you want?” she demanded, pointing the gun from Elle to Samuel.
“We . . . we . . . we need help,” Samuel croaked, dropping the knife as he put his hands up.
“Hazel, put that thing away.” From behind her, an even older man stepped up, slipping the shotgun from Hazel’s hands. “These are the people from the news. Don’t you recognize them?”
“Oh, my, no I did not.” Hazel reached out for Elle, who stumbled backward. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“We just need a phone,” Samuel told her, sliding his arm further around Elle. “Please.”
“We don’t have a phone, I’m afraid, but we’d be happy to give you a lift into town. It’s just a few minutes that way,” she explained, gesturing in the direction they’d been walking.
“That would be great.”
“Earl, get a couple of blankets from the closet. The heavy ones. These two look like they’re freezing to death.”
“Okay, Hazel.”
Hazel frowned. “Our truck only seats two, but you can ride in the back.”
Elle and Samuel waited on the porch while Hazel and Earl gathered their jackets. Once outside, they led them to an old pickup truck. Earl had been careful when picking up the knife and putting into a plastic bag, saying the police might need it.
Elle and Samuel climbed into the bed of the truck, wrapping themselves in the blankets Hazel offered while the two of them climbed into the truck’s cab. Elle leaned her head on Samuel’s shoulder as the truck rolled away from the house and onto the highway.
A few minutes later, the truck stopped outside of the police station. The town didn’t look much bigger than the one Elle had grown up in Texas. Hazel and Earl climbed out of the truck. Hazel waited with them while Earl rushed inside, coming out a few minutes later with two police officers. Neither looked old enough to be on the job.
“I’m Officer Brackens,” the first one said. He had dark hair and small eyes. “I understand you folks need some help.”
“A phone,” Samuel said. “We need a phone.”
“Why don’t you come on inside?” the other officer suggested, lowering the truck’s tailgate.
Samuel and Elle shared a look before sliding to the end of the truck bed and climbing off. Elle’s shirt opened and she heard a collective gasp from the Hazel, Earl, and the two officers when they saw the tears in her skin, the burn marks, and the cuts. She grabbed the sides of her shirt and pulled them together.
“The phone,” Samuel said, diverting the attention away from her. “We need the phone.”
“Okay, okay, there is a phone inside you can use,” Officer Brackens said again, this time reaching out and putting his hand on Samuel’s shoulder.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” Samuel yelled, pulling Elle behind him so he could shield her. “The phone. All I want is the phone!”
“Sir —”
“For crying out loud, Christian, give the man your cell phone and let him make his call,” Hazel scolded him. “You’ve seen the news. Their families are worried sick about them.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Christian Brackens said and dug his phone from his pocket.
He held it out to Samuel, who took it gingerly. When Samuel tried to press down on the buttons, Elle saw his fingers shaking. She covered his fingers with hers and took the phone, giving him a look. Her heart was racing as she dialed the first number that came to mind. The phone rang three times before it clicked and a deep, exhausted, “Hello,” trickled out.
Elle’s eyes filled with tears and she opened and closed her mouth a half dozen times before she was able to make a sound. “D . . . D . . . Derek?”
Eighteen
Derek’s eyes hurt. Hell, his head throbbed, his back ached, and more than once, he’d thought he was going to throw up. Three days. Three fucking days, and they still hadn’t heard even a whisper from Elle or Samuel. It was almost as if God had reached down and plucked them off the face of the Earth.
Of course, it hadn’t been God who had taken them. No, it had been Trixie Maxwell and her partner. That much Derek was sure about.
“Benson and O’Reilly are here again,” Sadie said, drawing his attention to the doorway of their bedroom, where he’d been hiding. He couldn’t handle sitting in the living room with everyone else.
His parents arrived the morning after Elle and Samuel were taken. Nick, Lucia, and Aaron were there by that evening. Thomas, Leigh, and Tyson offered to fly out, but Thomas hadn’t been ready to make the trip. He was still dealing with the ordeal he’d gone through. But he offered, all-the-same. That meant something, right?
“Okay,” he said and stood up with a sigh.
“Mom and Dad took the girls and Elliot out for ice cream. They think it will be easier, or something. I don’t know.”
Derek snorted. “Easier.”
“I know. It’s stupid, but they’re trying to help distract them,” Sadie murmured, bringing her hand up to the back of her neck. “They asked me again when Elle was coming home. I don’t know what to tell them, Derek. I just don’t know.”
“Me, either.” He walked over to her, pulling her into his arms. “I thought I could protect her. I really did, but I couldn’t. None of us could. We failed her.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Sadie pulled away and led him downstairs, where Detectives O’Reilly and Benson were seated once again on their couch. They’d been there every day, spending hours trying to keep them updated, but they never had anything new to tell them. It was always the same bullshit: Trixie couldn’t be found, Elle couldn’t be found, and Samuel couldn’t be found.
Whatever.
O’Reilly cleared her throat before saying, “Andrew Flynn was found this morning.”
“Where?” Callum asked, interrupting her.
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br /> “A maintenance w orker for Grover Hills Elementary found him in the boiler room this morning. His body had been stashed behind a pile of boxes.”
Sadie gasped. “He’s dead?”
“No,” Benson said, shifting his position on the sofa. “He’d been stabbed a dozen times and hit on the back of the head, but he’s still alive. For now at least. The doctors aren’t sure he’ll recover, though. The trauma was fairly severe. He’s in a coma at the moment.”
“But he managed to write the letters ‘T’ and ‘M’ on the wall, which just solidifies our theory that Trixie Maxwell is the woman who abducted Elle and Samuel,” O’Reilly added.
“No shit,” Derek scoffed, drawing everyone’s attention to him.
“We understand—”
“You don’t understand shit,” Lydia cried, ignoring Callum when he tried to keep her from standing. “My husband and my daughter-in-law, whom I love as my own, have been missing for three days, and instead of finding them, you’re sitting here telling us what we already know!”
“Ma’am,” Benson started, but clamped his mouth shut when Lydia stormed out of the room and into the kitchen.
Felicia and Carlos quickly followed. Helina and James looked grief stricken, as did Ivy. Nick, Lucia, and Aaron had done everything they could to help, but it was useless. They needed Elle and Samuel back.
Derek sighed. “So you still don’t have any idea where they are?”
“No,” Benson admitted, looking sheepish.
“We think it may be time for you, as a family, to address the press.” The minute the words left O’Reilly’s mouth, she seemed to know she’d said the wrong thing.
“Are you fucking kidding us?”
“No way. Not in a million years.”
“With the way the press has been trampling over their reputations?”
That was just a few of the comments Derek heard from Callum, Sadie, and Helina. He laughed and stood up, dragging his hand along the back of his neck.
“Do you think we’re stupid?” he asked, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “We’ve watched the news, read the paper, and seen all the shit on Facebook. People have flat out said that it’s Elle’s fault for getting taken, that if she hadn’t been so immoral, for the lack of a better word, that she wouldn’t have been a target. Paying for her sins against God Almighty!” He snorted. “It’s victim shaming at its finest. Now you think we should what? Stand in front of a camera and cry about how much we miss her? What will that do? It’s not going to bring her home. Trixie Maxwell wants only one thing: to take her revenge out on Elle for something she never even did. So why don’t you get off your asses and go find her before Trixie gets tired of her little game and kills her?” Derek paused. “If she hasn’t already.”
Fed up with their bullshit, Derek left them sitting there with their mouths open and went back upstairs, laying on the bed. He rolled onto his side and pulled Elle’s pillow against him. He could smell her. The sweetness of the lotion she always used before she went to bed.
If he closed his eyes, he could imagine her lying next to him, a wry smile on her lips. Teasing him with her blush, making him want her. He always wanted her. Every second of the day. She thought of herself as ordinary, bland, but truth be told, Elle was exquisite, beautiful, and damn sexy.
A sob bubbled to the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t lose her like this. Without Elle, they didn’t work. They’d overcome so much over the last six years that they had been together. Self-doubt, family drama, Trixie’s first attack on her. Elle had suffered the brunt of all of it. Why? Because she dared to love him, love Callum and Sadie.
“Hey.”
Derek opened his eyes and looked over, finding his father leaning against the doorframe. “Hey, Pop.”
“Can I come in?” Carlos asked, his accent as thick as ever.
“Sure, why not.” Derek shifted on the bed so that he was sitting on the side.
His father walked over and sat next to him, looking around the room. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever been in here. It’s not what I expected.”
“What were you expecting?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow.
Carlos shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. One of those sex chairs.”
“Sex chairs?” Derek laughed for the first time in three days. “What the hell is a sex chair?”
“You know what I’m talking about. They’re in that book that shows all the kinky positions you can have sex in.”
Derek’s eyes widen. “Are you talking about the Kama Sutra?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s it.” Carlos sighed. “Your mom has that book. Freaky stuff in there.”
“Ew, Pop, no! I don’t want to hear stuff like that about you and Ma!”
Carlos laughed. “Sorry, son.”
“Whatever,” Derek muttered, picking at a spot on his jeans. “Ma sent you up here, didn’t she?”
“She worries.”
“Too much.”
“Or not enough,” Carlos countered. “Do you ever stop worrying about Flora and Willow?”
“Never, but they’re little girls, not grown adults.”
“You think that matters? A parent never stops worrying about their kids, even if they think they’re grown adults.”
“I don’t know how to do this, Pop,” Derek whispered, almost sounding ashamed for admitting his feelings. “Elle is . . . Well, she’s everything to us. If we don’t find her . . .”
He couldn’t even vocalize that thought. A world without Elle would be a world of nothing but pain and heartache. They had come so close to losing her the first time Trixie tried to kill her. Losing her now, after working so hard to prove to society that their love was real and true, would tear all of them apart.
“I wish I could promise you that Elle will be okay, but I cannot. I read news stories all the time about women who go missing and are found dead, or not found at all.”
“Can’t you lie to me?” Derek asked.
“Would it help?”
“No.”
“Listen to me, Derek. I cannot promise that Elle will survive whatever she’s going through. That loco perra has proven time and again that she will do anything and everything to take Elle out, but you know what?”
“What?”
“Elle can be a loco perra, too,” Carlos said with a smile. “And she’s strong and willful, and she will not go out without a fight. She will not give up on you, so don’t you dare give up on her.”
“Never,” Derek whimpered. “I love her, Pop. Love her so damn much.”
“I know you do.” Carlos stood up and placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Your mother has made some sandwiches. Make her happy and come eat one. Feeding you is the only thing keeping that woman sane at the moment.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.”
Derek waited until Carlos left the room before he laid back on the bed, pulling Elle’s pillow against his chest once more. He hoped his father was right about her, that she would fight until they found her. But how much fight could one woman have left after everything she had been through?
With a groan, Derek sat up and tossed Elle’s pillow back where it belonged. He had just stood up when his cell rang. Tempted to ignore it, he found himself picking it up from on top of the dresser. He didn’t recognize the number, and once again considered letting it go to voice mail, but he didn’t. Angry, he slid his finger across the green talk arrow and brought the device up to his ear.
“Hello.”
Nobody said anything. All he could hear was heavy breathing. Frustrated, he was about to end the call when the sweetest voice he’d ever heard whispered, “D . . . D . . . Derek?”
“Elle, beautiful, is that you?”
“Yes,” she cried.
“Oh, my God,” he wept. His heart started to race as he ran out of the room and down stairs, where everyone, including Detectives O’Reilly and Benson, were still gathered. “Elle, where are you?”
“I don’t . . . I don�
��t know,” she murmured. “I don’t know where we are. We walked west for a long time. I think we did, anyway. I don’t know, Derek.”
“Is Samuel with you?” he asked, meeting Lydia’s eyes.
“Yeah,” Elle breathed, softly, and he nodded at Lydia, trying to let her know that her husband, too, was okay. “Come get us. Please, come get us. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“I will come get you right now, beautiful, but you have to tell me where you are.”
“I don’t know where we are. We just walked away from the sun,” she cried. From the background noise, Derek could hear people talking, asking questions. “Just come get us!”
Sadie had scrambled across the room and dug in a drawer, pulling out a notepad and pen. She walked back to him, holding it out to Derek, who braced his phone o his shoulder while preparing to write down any information she could give him.
“I need you to give the phone to someone who can tell me where you’re at,” he said, trying to keep her calm.
“Okay.”
The sound of the phone being shuffled filled the air and a moment later, someone — a male from the tenor of their voice — said, “Uh, hello?”
“Hey, hi, who is this?” Derek asked.
“My name is Christian Brackens. I’m a police officer in Briones. We’re about an hour and twenty minutes east of San Francisco, toward Concord.”
“Okay, I know where you are. Let me talk to her again,” Derek said, motioning for Sadie, Callum, and Lydia to get ready to leave.
“Sir, I don’t think—”
“Did I ask what you think?” Derek snarled. “Let me talk to her!”
Once more the phone was shuffled away and a moment later, he heard a breathless sigh. “Are you coming to get me?”
“We will be there just as fast we can, beautiful” he told her. “I promise.”
“Hurry,” was all she said before ending the call.
Derek shoved the phone into his pocket and blew out a heavy breath. She sounded broken and lost, but she was alive. And for now, that was all Derek cared about. Elle was alive.
