by Nolon King
The man obviously wanted to tear Jasper to shreds, or at the very least curse him out, maybe tell him he was a dead motherfucker.
But Jasper tapped the phone’s screen, threatening to make good on his promise, and the man could only say, “No!”
“You’re going to help me find three people — Jessi Price, Mallory Black, and Paul Dodd. Do you understand?”
Anders nodded.
“Good. Then let’s get out of here.” Jasper handed Nastya’s another wad of cash. “Thank you.”
Saturday
Chapter 31 - Jessi Price
Jessi thought it was morning.
The clock read 7:00 a.m., but there were no windows, and she hadn’t been allowed outside her room since she got here. She felt closer to normal, at least not as groggy or sleepy as yesterday.
Jessi had a nightmare, but could only remember that it was terrifying and she woke up crying.
She still had no idea who had taken her. Didn’t remember much after the bus. They’d given her pills and made her swallow them. Next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes in this room.
The only person she’d seen was a young dark-haired Spanish girl named Lucia. She looked to be in her late teens, maybe early twenties. She told Jessi everything would be okay.
When Jessi asked where her mother was, Lucia said for now, she had to stay here, but she’d return home in time, after they got what they wanted from someone.
She didn’t clarify beyond that, other than to remind her, “Everything will be okay.”
Jessi’s door opened.
Lucia came in holding a tray. “I hope you’re hungry today.” She smiled and set it on the bed in front of Jessi. There was a bowl of oatmeal, toast, sausage, a cup of milk, and a container of sugar.
“Do you like oatmeal?” Lucia sat at the other end of the bed, like she usually did.
Jessi was confused by her kindness. The others were gruff, from the men who snatched her off the bus to the guy who came in on her first day when she cried out for help. He hit her across the face and said something in a language she didn’t understand. But Jessi got the message: Shut up.
“Yes, thank you, Miss Lucia.” Jessi dipped her spoon into the oatmeal and tasted it. Warm and creamy. Sweet, with a hint of cinnamon. She was either starving, or it was genuinely delicious. Either way, it hit the spot and she scarfed it.
“How are you feeling?” Lucia asked.
“Better. I think the medicine you gave me last night was better.”
“You slept through the night?”
“Yes, and I don’t feel nearly as groggy today. I can actually think in complete sentences.”
“Good.”
“I don’t want to take any more medicine.”
“I’m sorry. You have to … until you go home.”
“Why?”
“They want to make sure you don’t try to escape. The medicine calms you down.”
“When am I going home?”
“I’m not sure. Not too much longer. A few days, I think. But I can’t promise. I don’t make the decisions. I only work here.”
“Why do you work here with these bad people?”
Lucia smiled sadly. “I was born here.”
“What?”
“Yes. My mother works here. And I was born here. I grew up here and help out when I can. Especially when we have younger guests.”
“What is this place?”
“The less you know the better. Otherwise they might not let you go home.”
“Oh.” While Jessi wanted to know what and where this place was, she didn’t want to stay. If she had to choose between getting answers and going home, she’d pick going home twelve times out of ten.
“So, what’s it like living here?”
“I don’t know what it’s like to live anywhere else. I get to spend evenings and weekends with my mom.”
“What does she do?”
“She … um, she is like a hostess, I guess.”
“Do you have friends? Did you get to play with other kids growing up?”
“Not really. I have some friends, mostly the women who work with Mom. But nobody my age. Every now and then someone like you comes to stay here. So what’s it like … back home?”
“I lived in Florida. It’s hot. It rains every afternoon in the summer. But it’s near the ocean, and sometimes we go to the beach.”
“What’s the beach like?”
Jessi described the beach, her school, and a dozen other things Lucia had no experience with, including a slew of movies and shows.
“Do you have a lot of friends?”
“A few, though not as many as I had before—” Jessie didn’t want to talk about that man or what he’d done to her. She didn’t want Lucia looking at her like the kids at school — with either pity or judgment.
“Before what?” Lucia asked.
Jessi wasn’t going to say, but there was a look in Lucia’s big brown eyes that promised understanding. That she wouldn’t judge. So Jessi told her everything, from how she’d been taken, what Paul had done to her, then how she was saved by a detective and a man in a mask.
Lucia’s lips pursed, her eyes wet with tears. “Wow. They didn’t tell me.”
“Who didn’t tell you?”
“Don’t worry. Like I said, the less you know, the better.”
Lucia looked down at the quilt, her fingers tracing the patterns as if she’d said too much already.
Jessi regretted telling her. Lucia was no longer smiling.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“You sweet thing.” Lucia picked up the tray, put it on the dresser, then came over and hugged her tight. Maybe she was a prisoner, too.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You’re too young for this.”
“Too young for what?” Jessi whispered back.
Lucia pulled away from the embrace and met her eyes. “Listen. Just do whatever they tell you to do. No matter what happens, know that you will be okay. That when this is all over, I will help you get better. I promise.”
“When what’s all over?” Jessi asked, fear tightening like a band around her chest.
She looked at the door. She had a flash of him walking through it. Looking at her, reaching out and touching her face. “He’s here, isn’t he? Paul Dodd is here!”
Lucia blinked back tears. “It’ll be okay.”
Jessi couldn’t breathe. Her heart jackhammered. She felt dizzy.
How did he get out of jail? Why was he here? Was he the reason she was here?
Oh, God, what is he going to do to me?
She tried to ask her questions, but Jessi couldn’t catch her breath long enough to form words. Her heart galloped so fast. Surely she’d pass out or drop dead.
“You need to calm down. Everything will be okay.”
And then Jessi found her voice in a scream.
The door burst open.
Two men in white outfits stormed inside, pushing right past Lucia.
Who are they?
She panicked, crawling backward in her bed, trying to flee, but Jessi was cornered.
They were on her, holding her down.
She couldn’t breathe. Or move. She struggled, but they were too strong.
“Be gentle, she’s not a threat!” Lucia shouted.
What was she talking about, not a threat?
One of the men was holding a needle like they had at the doctor’s office. And he was about to inject it into Jessi’s her arm. She cried out but couldn’t stop him.
And then it was in her.
Chapter 32 - Mallory Black
Mal woke with a splitting headache, dizzy and cuffed to a bedpost in a dark room.
And she wasn’t alone.
She could hear breathing. Mal thought about pretending she was still gassed, but she’d moved enough to surrender that ruse. “Hello?”
No answer.
She strained to see through the darkness, but the room was pitch black.
And incredibly cold.
“Hello?”
She wondered if she’d imagined the breathing. But the movement came from up ahead and to the right. Mal braced at the sound of someone approaching.
“Ah, you’re up,” said a man with a Mexican accent. Based on the sound, he was just inches away.
She flinched, expecting him to touch or hurt her.
A sudden light blinded her, the man shining a flashlight right into her eyes.
It raked her body, up and down, revealing the fancy blue dress that did not belong to her.
“What the hell is going on?” she yelled, not caring if anyone heard her or got pissed off by her outburst.
Her heart pounded as she struggled against the cuffs pinching her wrists.
The light was back in her face. She stared straight at it, even though it hurt her eyes. She refused to flinch from whomever was holding her captive.
The man laughed. “Ah, you are feisty. I can see why he wanted you.”
“Who wanted me?” she asked, damned sure she knew the answer already.
“You’ll see.”
The light died and cast them both into darkness.
Mal braced for something horrible, not knowing what it would be or from where it might come.
A grope? A slap? A punch? A stab?
Adrenaline coursed through her body as she struggled against the cuffs. She could smell blood on her wrists as the metal dug deeper.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Ah, you have a visitor,” said the man with the light.
Oh, God. He’s here. He’s coming to finish what he started!
Footsteps, moving away.
The door opened.
Two figures stood in silhouette against a brighter hall outside the room, both of them blurs.
Movement as the figures congregated near the door.
She kept pulling at the cuffs. Her arms were spread apart to opposite bedposts, so she couldn’t reach over and dislocate her thumb to squeeze free. Mal was trapped, at the mercy of these shadowy figures.
The door closed. Silence, except the steady thrum of her heart. She froze, listening, working to determine if she were alone or if there were others in the room with her.
Others about to attack.
A light went on. She wasn’t in some dungeon-like prison. The place was posh, not unlike her usual hotel room, and she wasn’t alone.
A man in black was wearing a white plastic mask. He had dark skin and curly black hair. He stepped aside to reveal Jessi standing behind him, staring blankly ahead with glassy eyes. A moment of recognition, then her eyes widened.
“Detective Mallory?”
“Jessi! Oh my God, I’m so glad to see you.”
She started to approach Mal, but the man beside her put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her cold.
Mal wanted to cleave that hand from his wrist.
“I’m going to uncuff you, Ms. Black. Try anything, and we’ll be forced to hurt you both. Understand?”
Mal nodded, eager to say whatever might free her from the cuffs or help her to feel less vulnerable than she was when splayed on a bed.
But that wasn’t the only reason. She was also looking for any chance to escape. This might be her best shot, so if an opportunity presented itself, Mal would have to act.
The man in black walked toward her.
The door eased open and a second man appeared, also in black with a white mask, He carried a pistol with a suppressor.
He raised the weapon, aiming it at the back of Jessi’s head, then he leaned in, smelling strongly of a musky citrus cologne. He freed her hands, then Mal massaged throbbing red marks the metal had bitten into her wrists.
The man stepped back. “We’ll bring you dinner later. We’re monitoring you at all times, so don’t get any ideas. Understand?”
Mal nodded.
He turned to Jessi, who also nodded.
Without another word, he left them alone. The door clicked behind him.
Jessi ran to Mal.
She took the girl into her arms, hugging her hard as they cried. “I’m soooo sorry, baby. Did they hurt you?”
“No,” Jessi said, still hugging her. “But he’s here.”
“Who?”
“Paul Dodd.”
“Did you see him?”
“They had me taking pills. I don’t remember too much.”
She finally pulled away, looking Mal up and down, wiping at the her falling tears. “Ms. Mallory, do you know if Destinee is okay?”
“Destinee?” It took Mal a moment to place the name. “Oh, your friend on the bus?”
“Yes. The man shot her. Is she okay?”
“She’s in the hospital, but she’ll be okay.”
“Thank God,” Jessie said, sobbing harder. “I thought she was dead.”
Mal hugged her again, impressed that despite Jessi’s dire circumstances, her friend was top of mind.
Mal whispered, “We’re going to get out of this. I promise.”
“How?” she whispered back.
Mal had no idea. But she would find a way, somehow. Or perhaps Jasper would find her. “Do you know where we are?”
“Nobody’s told me. I could ask someone, though.”
“Who?”
“There’s a girl here who has been nice. Her name is Lucia.”
“She works here?”
“Yes, but I don’t think she wants to.”
Mal wanted to warn her not to trust other people, that not everybody is as they seem. But why rob the girl of what little innocence or hope she might have left?
Chapter 33 - Paul Dodd
“Are you ready?” Madam asked as Paul was ushered into her room.
“Ready for what?”
“To open the safety deposit box.”
“That depends. Where are you on my request?”
She stared at him hard, then turned on her iPad, clicked a few on-screen buttons, and turned it toward him. He saw Mallory and Jessi together on-screen, hugging and crying.
“Is everything to your satisfaction?”
Paul nodded. He wasn’t sure how the hell they got Jessi, let alone Jessi and Mal, but they’d done it. He was impressed by their resources, and more than a little afraid. Why on earth would they keep him alive once he delivered what they wanted?
He had to secure his life. And play along until he thought of something.
“So, what happens after I get you what you want? I can’t exactly go home.”
“We go our separate ways. You can stay here in Mexico, or you can go anywhere in the world. We have people to help you transition.”
Paul pointed to the screen. “What about them?”
“I’m afraid they’ll have to stay here in Mexico. But, if you choose to stay as well, we have a house set up, a place we use to … well, film certain movies. It has a soundproof basement. You could keep them there until you tire of them. When that happens, call me, and we’ll dispose of the problem.”
Just like that, dispose of the problem.
How long until they saw him as a problem? Paul was screwed. He could only smile, until he figured out a way to save himself.
“You will need this.” She opened a desk drawer and retrieved a necklace with a key. “This is yours. The bank president will have the other one. And you’ll need to provide the code word Wes gave you. You remember it, correct?”
“Yes,” Paul lied.
Chapter 34 - Paul Dodd
The drive from Paradise to the bank was roughly twenty minutes, though it was hard to gauge time when Paul’s eyes were blindfolded throughout the trip.
There were three men in the car with him, all armed, and none especially friendly.
They were his escorts. Paul couldn’t stop thinking about how quickly they would put a bullet in his head the moment he recovered the drive.
The car stopped, and the man in the back with him pulled his blindfold off to reveal Banco Montaña BPI, a huge four-story building with classic Spani
sh architecture that made it look more like an art museum than a bank.
A man in a light blue suit approached them, smiling. He was thin, good-looking, and well dressed. “Hello, friend.” He embraced Paul. “My name is Dom Diaz, and I’ll be helping you navigate the language barrier with the bankers. Here is your ID.” He handed Paul a wallet that was surely stuffed with copies of his documents. Why hadn’t they just faked an ID and matched it to someone else’s face?
“Thank you.” Paul wondered how this man knew Madam Pandora.
Dom nodded to the three escorts, then they got in their car and moved it to the opposite side of the street, parking beneath a bright green awning, in a row dappled with blue, orange, and yellow buildings. People were gathered — kids hung out old men played dominoes and chess.
Paul was led into the bank, which looked surprisingly utilitarian inside compared to its impressive facade. The air was musty, like an old library or church.
Dom did most of the talking in Spanish, moving from one man to another, who looked like a manager.
He stood quietly until the manager requested his ID. He did it in English, making Paul wonder why he needed a translator. Maybe Dom wasn’t a translator so much as a facilitator to ensure sure that Paul followed orders.
The man looked over his ID, then went to a computer, tapped a few keys, and invited Paul to his desk. Paul followed. He pulled out a glass pad connected to the computer and asked Paul to place his thumb on it and press.
He followed orders while the man watched his monitor, showing a thumbprint and little lines and squares superimposed as the computer attempted to match his print to the one on file.
Paul was going to ask how they had his prints, but Wes must’ve set it up. How he had the print, Paul had no idea.
The man handed him a key, then nodded, “This way, Mr. Dodd.”
Dom followed as they headed toward a stairway.
The man stopped Dom and said something in Spanish.
Dom smiled, said something back in Spanish. They went back and forth until Dom nodded and offered Paul an artificial smile. He leaned over and whispered, “They won’t let me down there with you. So get the whole box and come up.” Dom handed him a black cloth sack. “Drop the contents in here.”
