Revenge at its Felinest

by Patricia Fry

  After considering this for a moment, Peter said, “Oh, that’s so Rags. Think about it—he broke away and found his way back to you. That’s classic Rags, isn’t it?”

  “No, Peter, I don’t think so. You see, I got this note…”

  Before he could finish, Peter said, “Hey wait, I think I hear Rochelle. I’ll be right back.”

  Michael stood up and began to pace again. “Well, I’m going to hang up. I want to call the police.”

  “The police?” Peter repeated loudly. “Wait. Please, Michael, would you wait? I’m so panicked about Rochelle. If she isn’t mad at me, it could be that she’s in danger. She’s not picking up her phone. Just wait, okay?”

  “Okay, buddy.”

  When Peter returned his voice was thick with emotion. “Michael, someone has her. Someone has Rochelle.”

  “Now calm down, Peter. What makes you think that?”

  “I found her phone and another one of those damn notes on the porch. It says…” his voice cracked. “It says I’ll never see her again. Man, this has just gone too far. Way too far.”

  Michael stood stunned, finally saying quietly, “Peter, I got a similar note. I think Savannah’s missing too.”

  “What? How can that be?”

  “Yeah, what are the odds of that?” Michael asked. “The women are four hundred miles apart.” He then suggested, “Peter, read that note to me, will you?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking, “‘This is payback, Peter Pretty Boy Whitcomb. You took something from me and now I’ve got my revenge. You’ll never see her again in this lifetime.’”

  Michael muttered. “It’s the same as the note I received. Peter, the same guy has them both. Or maybe it’s more than one person.”

  “A gang?” Peter said. “Oh my God, what if they’ve been kidnapped by a gang doing some sort of initiation or something?”

  “Now let’s don’t get too far off kilter here,” Michael said, as calmly as he could. “How did they get their hands on Rochelle, anyway? When did she go missing? She was doing some sort of jewelry show yesterday, right?”

  “Yes, south of here. She was going to spend the night with a friend who lives in that area and come home today. She was supposed to call before she headed home. When I didn’t hear from her by four this afternoon, I tried to call her and all I got was her voicemail.”

  “Wait,” Michael said. “Who delivered the note? Do you know?”

  “It could have been anyone. No. I didn’t see who it was.”

  Michael was quiet for a moment before saying, “Good Lord, Peter, what has happened?

  I’m going crazy here. Listen, I’m going to call the police and I think you should do the same.” He stood looking out through the window. “Then I’m going to call Craig. I’ll let you know what Craig says.” His voice softened. “In the meantime, are you okay?”

  “Hell no, I’m not okay!” Peter blurted.

  Michael choked up. “I know, buddy. Now let’s see what we can do to be proactive in this…this mess, shall we?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Peter said unconvincingly before ending the call.

  Michael studied the note again and thought for a few moments about what Peter had said. He picked up his cell phone and called the police. The dispatcher promised to send someone over to his hotel room. He then made another call. “Craig, I know it’s late. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “That’s okay, Michael. It’s only nine thirty or so. Iris and I are still up.” He hesitated, then asked, “Is something wrong? You haven’t been in an accident, have you?”

  “No. No accident. But there is something wrong—definitely something wrong. Craig, I’m out of my mind with worry and so is Peter. It seems that someone has taken the girls.”

  “Wait, Michael. Slow down. What are you telling me? What girls? What’s going on?”

  “Savannah is missing and so is Rochelle,” Michael explained.

  “Your friend Peter’s wife?”

  “Yes.”

  After pausing for a few moments, Craig asked, “Are you still in San Francisco?” He chuckled. “Hey, the girls are probably out seeing some of the night life in the big city. I wouldn’t worry about them, Michael.”

  “No, Craig. I’m in LA, Peter’s in Frisco. Rags brought me a note. Peter got one too.”

  “A note? How did Rags get involved? Wait, don’t answer that. I’m sure it’ll be too complicated anyway. Just tell me, Michael, what does this…um…note say?”

  Michael wiped at his eyes, then picked up the note and read it. “‘This is payback, Michael Pretty Boy Ivey. You took something from me and now I’ve got my revenge. You’ll never see her again in this lifetime.’”

  Craig heard Michael’s voice waver as he read the last few words. He remained quiet for only a few moments, then he asked, “So who do you think it is? You must have an idea. I’m sure not many people have ever called you ‘pretty boy,’ right?”

  “No. No one that I’m aware of. I don’t know of anyone who would write such a thing or do such a thing. No one. And Peter feels the same. He got a similar note.”

  “Have you heard from Savannah at all?”

  “Yes, she called, but we were cut off before she could say much. Then Rags showed up at the door with this note.”

  “Rags? How’s that?”

  “She’d taken him with her to the grocery store while I stayed with the kids here at the hotel.”

  “Holy crap,” Craig said. “And Rochelle is missing too? Now, let me get this straight: Rochelle was in San Francisco and you’re in LA? It doesn’t sound like the same guy has them both. How could that be?” Craig then said under his breath, “Unless it’s some sort of conspiracy and more than one person’s involved.”

  “Oh, God, Craig. That sounds awful.”

  “I’m sorry Michael. Just thinking out loud. Bad habit of mine. So where was Rochelle?”

  “Peter said she was south of Frisco at a jewelry show. She was supposed to spend the night there with a friend and drive home today.”

  “When did she go missing, do you know?”

  Michael paced and ran one hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Craig,” he complained, then said, “Wait, I guess Peter hasn’t heard from her since yesterday. He can’t get her on her phone, either.”

  “Did he talk to her friend?” Craig asked. “The one she stayed with?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael said.

  Craig muttered, “Hmmm. It’s just too weird to be a coincidence. On the other hand, it’s too weird not to be.”

  “Huh?”

  Craig coughed and cleared his throat. “What did Peter tell you? You say you spoke with him this evening?”

  “Yes, just now, before I called you. I told him to call the police.”

  “Good advice. What did he tell you?”

  Michael sighed impatiently. “That he believes Rochelle’s missing. She hasn’t come home

  and he can’t get her on her cell. Well, someone left her cell on his porch just now with a note—a note with the same message.”

  “The same message as the note Rags brought you?”

  “Yes, pretty much. Why, Craig? What does this mean? Who could it be?”

  “You don’t have any idea, huh?” Craig asked.

  “No. When we were in Frisco with Peter and Rochelle, he told us that he thought someone was trying to ruin his business, but he didn’t actually say what they were doing. Rags found a note in their house and Peter tried to hide it from us. I just glanced at it briefly.”

  “Was it a threat?” Craig asked.

  “I guess it was. But Peter didn’t want to talk about it. He seemed to sort of slough off the notes he’s been getting.” After thinking about it for a moment, Michael said, “I suppose maybe whoever is after Peter saw us there and decided to terrorize him by taking both Rochelle and Savannah.” He spoke more loudly, “Why would someone do that?”

  “Yeah,” Craig said, “and how? Those two gals were in two differen
t cities hundreds of miles apart. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Craig, what shall I do? I’m going out of my mind here.”

  “First, you’re going to call the local police.”

  “I did that. They’re sending someone over.”

  “Okay. Tell them everything you know and show them the note. I’ll jump on the first plane I can get out of here. Tell me where you are.”

  After Michael had given Craig the name of the hotel, he looked around the room for the address and Craig said, “I’ll get the address. You just try to stay calm. Where’s Gladys? Is she with you and the kids?”

  “No. She’s at a friend’s place.”

  “Call her,” Craig suggested. “See if you can get her to come there.” When Michael started to protest, he insisted, “I don’t think you should be alone and she needs to know what’s going on.”

  Michael was quiet for a moment before saying, “I really don’t want to tell her. It’ll just make this nightmare all the more real—like it really is happening.”

  In a more soothing tone, Craig said, “I know. I know. Let me get my flight arranged. Call Gladys—go pick her up. Better yet, send a cab for her, okay?”

  “Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you, Craig.”

  Michael checked on the kids, then made the dreaded call to Savannah’s mother. “Gladys, I’m sorry to call you so late.”

  “No problem, Michael,” she responded. “I’m just sitting here with some of my former neighbors having popcorn and cocoa. Can you imagine? I feel like a teenager hanging out with my girlfriends.” She giggled. “We’re having the best time.” When Michael didn’t speak, she asked, “What are you guys doing? Do you need me to sing a lullaby to Lily?” She chuckled. “Does she miss me?”

  “Gladys, something has happened.”

  She hesitated, then blurted, “Oh no. Are the children okay?”

  “The children are fine. They’re sleeping peacefully. Gladys, Savannah is missing. I’ve called the police. Craig is flying down here tonight.” He paused. “He asked me to call you—said he thought you’d want to be here.”

  “Oh my gosh, Michael, are you sure? How do you know she’s missing? How can that be? Did she go off on her own? Why would she do that? Maybe she ran out of gas or something.”

  Michael’s heart was breaking as he told her, “Gladys, I got a note and so did Peter. Rochelle’s missing too.”

  “What? Oh, Michael, what do you think has happened?”

  “I can’t make any sense of it and neither can Peter. Gladys, I’ll send a cab for you if you want to be here when the police come. I may need you to help out with the children.”

  “Of course, Michael. Are you going out looking for her?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But if we get any leads at all, you can be sure I’ll do just that. We have to find her.”

  “Michael, try to relax. I’ll get one of my friends to drive me over. It’s not that far. I’ll be there just as soon as I can.” She started to end the call when she said, “Thank you for calling me. It was the right thing to do.”

  “Thank you, Gladys. See you soon.”

  ****

  Savannah couldn’t see where she was being taken, so she focused on the sounds around her. Hey, maybe I can cause him to crash this thing and I can get away, she thought. But how? I’m handcuffed and blindfolded. Even if I could make my way to the driver’s seat, how would I overtake him and where would I go? I might actually put myself in more danger. She let out a sigh, telling herself, But I’m not defeated. Not as long as I have some of my faculties left.

  She concentrated on the sequence in which she heard car horns echoing among tall buildings, a train whistle in the distance, and then only an occasional car passing. She paid attention to the sensation of hitting potholes, driving across railroad tracks, and the frequency of stopping at intersections. After she’d clocked what she thought was about twenty minutes, she became aware that the van was slowing. He’s driving on a dirt or gravel road or driveway, she thought. Yes, bumpy dirt with a shallow layer of gravel. Well, that sure isn’t a very good clue. Wait, she thought, what’s that? Sounds like a gate unlatching. I think the car’s idling. He got out and he’s opening some sort of metal gate. She shook her head, thinking, Yeah, that’s a big help. Even if I ever get the chance to tell someone about it, how will they find this specific gate? There must be tens of thousands of them in rural areas of Los Angeles County. She felt her heart pounding in her chest. Her body trembled with fear.

  The next significant thing Savannah heard was the driver’s door slamming shut, then a man’s voice. “Honey, we’re home!” He laughed loudly. After driving what seemed to be another city block, he parked and shut off the engine. He stepped into the back of the van, then opened the sliding door and pulled Savannah to her feet.

  “Big step,” he cautioned, clumsily helping her to the ground.

  Damn it, she thought, I wish he’d take this blindfold off. He’s not a very good guide. I’ll be lucky if I don’t fall. He’s moving too fast and the ground’s uneven.

  “You’re a tall one, aren’t you?” the man said as he continued pushing and pulling her along. When she stumbled, he dug his fingers deeper into her arm. “Pick up your feet. We’re almost there.”

  I’d like to tell the jerk where to put his feet, she thought. I can’t talk, I can’t see, I can’t use my arms for balance, and he expects me to be sure-footed?

  “There are three steps,” he said, leading her up them.

  Wooden, she thought. Squeaky wood. It’s a rickety old wooden porch. She heard him use a key to unlock a door. He then ushered her into a room. Perfume. I smell some sort of cologne. No, maybe it’s body lotion. The scent is familiar. Do I know who lives here?

  “Sit down,” the man instructed, pushing her onto some sort of bed.

  A cot, she thought. She waited for him to say something else and maybe take off the blindfold or gag or cuffs. But he didn’t say anything and he didn’t do anything. All she heard were footsteps fading away as he left the room. Now what? she wondered. I’m cold. I hope he’s going to bring me a blanket. Glad I still have my jacket on. She listened. What is he doing? Where did he go? Where am I? It’s so quiet. I don’t hear any automobile traffic, animals, children… Please God, get me out of this mess. My children need me. I need them. And Michael…I want to go home. She started to choke up.

  Just then she heard footsteps, seemingly returning to the room. Savannah wanted to scream, “Where’s my cat?” Where’s Rags? Did he turn him loose someplace? She suddenly felt sad. Poor Rags. I hope he’s okay. She created a mental picture of him finding his way back to the hotel where Michael and the children are.Rags, I hope you can see my mind picture, she thought. Please be safe.

  “I’ve run out of beer,” the man announced. He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

  Savannah was aware that he checked her cuffs. Maybe he’ll adjust them. They’re starting to dig into my wrists. But no. Instead, she felt him wrapping something around her lower legs.Oh great, she thought. Now I’m being hobbled like a horse. She heard him open and close a door. The front door, I presume. It sounded to her as if he used a key to lock it. The next thing she heard was the sound of tires on dirt and then gravel as he drove away.

  She was suddenly overcome by emotions and she began to cry. She was not only sad and frightened, she was angry. She attempted to vent some of that anger by trying to yell through the gag. Heck, maybe there’s someone else around—a neighbor—and I can get their attention. “Arrrrghh!” she shouted. “Arrrrghh!” It didn’t take her long to exhaust herself and she laid her head down and tried to catch her breath.

  Suddenly she heard something. What was that? she wondered. She lay still and listened. When she heard it again, she thought, Oh, my gosh. Someone’s in the room with me. Who is that—an accomplice? Or did that guy double back? Is he still here?

  “Mmmph,” came a muffled sound from across the room.

  Savannah lay still
for what seemed like several minutes. Then she made another attempt to speak through the gag. “Arrrghh!”

  “Mmmph.”

  What is going on? Is there another prisoner in here? That’s what I am, a prisoner. I’ve been kidnapped. Has that creep kidnapped others? Am I being held with other victims? What is he going to do with us? Does he plan to use us for some evil purpose? I have to find a way out of here. With others in the same fix as me, maybe it will be easier to break free. I must find a way to communicate with them.

  Savannah thought about what to do. If only I could see, then I’d have a better idea of what my options are. I’m pretty sure I could find a way out if only I could see the layout and the surrounding areas. I have to remove this blindfold. She felt around, in search of a way to slip the blindfold off. Hey, maybe I can just rub my face against the mattress, I’ll be able to lift the blindfold enough so that I can see. But I’d better hurry. She laid down and began rubbing her face against the mattress. Ick, I hope this thing isn’t too gross and filthy, she thought. I guess I can’t be a germ-a-phobe at this point. I need to find a way out of here, no matter what. I just have to! She continued to rub the side of her face until finally she had one eye uncovered, then the other.

  It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. It’s dark, she thought. However, the dim glow from a small porch light aided in her ability to see the outline of furniture in the room. Looks like an old farmhouse or cabin. It’s sparsely furnished. Maybe a hunting shack or a caretaker’s house. She looked across the room and tried to focus. Oh, my gosh, she thought. There is someone else in here. I can see a body lying facedown on a mattress. Is he dead? She stared for a few moments, then decided to approach him. I wonder if that’s who I heard a while ago. She made her way across the room slowly, because of the leather hobbles, and stared down at the lifeless body, finally realizing, It’s a woman! Savannah nudged her with a knee and made a muffled sound. She watched as the woman rolled over. She could hardly believe her eyes when the light caught the woman’s face and hair.