Revenge at its Felinest

by Patricia Fry

  Mark, huh? Mark who? Who is he? She heard him groan. He must be hungover from drinking that beer last night, she thought. She continued to listen as he made his way clumsily into the room where she and Rochelle were being held prisoner—the living room, Savannah presumed. The lock disengaged and the door opened.

  “How’d you know I was here?” he hissed.

  Savannah heard her say, “I put two and two together.”

  “What are you doing here?” he insisted. “What do you want? Go home. Just go home, will you?”

  Then the door closed, and the voices became muffled. Savannah had to know what they were planning. It could mean life or death for her and Rochelle. She rubbed her face against the mattress and managed to lift the blindfold a little. This helped her to see as she hobbled toward the front door, where she stood and listened intently.

  She heard him say something about finally achieving success. When the woman mentioned suicide and said something about him being high, he broke up laughing, saying that he was high on victory. He adamantly denied that he had any suicidal thoughts. He seemed to think his life was just starting and that he was experiencing success at that very moment.

  Savannah strained to hear what the woman was saying, but couldn’t catch more than a few words. Her ears perked up when he said he had some important things to take care of that day—things that would seal his fate. First, he was going to send a message, then he planned to stop by a hotel. She was pretty sure he said he wanted to give two old friends something they’ve deserved for a very long time.

  When the woman began calling for him to come back and finish their conversation, Savannah quickly hobbled to the mattress, rubbed her face to replace the blindfold, and lay down as if she’d never left. She heard him open the door and shout at the woman, “Just go back to your stupid life and leave me the hell alone, will you?”

  Savannah heard the front door close and the lock engage. She listened as one person—presumably the man—walked past her toward the back of the house. In the meantime, she was pretty sure that the woman drove away.

  So he’s going to leave, is he? Gads, I hope he doesn’t take one or both of us with him. He said he’s going to send a message—probably to Peter—and visit a hotel—most likely to see Michael. She felt a pang of fear. What does he plan to do? I’m so scared I can hardly stand it. She felt her emotions come to the surface. I want to see my babies. If only I could break free and Rochelle and I could escape. God, I hope he leaves by himself. That might give us time to figure something out.

  Her thoughts were interrupted a few minutes later when the man approached her. She recoiled when he touched her.

  “Do you have to use the bathroom?” he asked.

  When she nodded, he removed the straps from her ankles, unlocked one handcuff, and walked with her into the bathroom. She was pretty sure that he watched, but she had to go so badly it didn’t matter.

  Upon returning her to the mattress, he secured her wrists and ankles once again. A few moments later, she heard him walking Rochelle down the short hallway. When they returned, he said to Rochelle, “I’m going to remove the cuffs and tie your hands behind your back.” He explained, “I don’t trust those cuffs. I saw a demonstration online once showing how women can wiggle out of them. I can’t take any chances of that happening.” He cackled evilly and added, “I’ve waited too miserably long for this.”

  Soon Savannah was aware that he was removing her cuffs. She could feel him tying a rope around her wrists. Oh brother, she thought. This could be a real challenge getting out of the rope, but maybe not as much as the handcuffs. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  “Behave yourselves, girls,” he said “When I come back, I might actually feed you something. I haven’t decided about that yet.” He began adjusting Savannah’s blindfold, saying, “You must be a restless sleeper. You have this thing all twisted up.”

  Water! Savannah wanted to shout. She felt her eyes filling with tears. If only he’d give us some water. Her next thought was about her next move. He’s gone now, she realized. I heard a car drive out of the driveway. Probably that van. This is our chance to save ourselves. First we have to get these gags and blindfolds off, then we can make a plan. We have to break free.

  It didn’t take the women long to wriggle out of their gags and blindfolds. “How are you doing?” Savannah asked, while trying to focus her eyes in the daylight.

  “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” Rochelle said with a sigh. “You?”

  “I’m motivated to get us the heck out of here,” she said.

  “Good. I’m kind of groggy and feel weak.” Rochelle fought back tears. “I guess I’m not a very good victim.”

  Both of them laughed a little hysterically.

  “Okay,” Savannah said, “let’s concentrate on getting out of these ropes, shall we? What time is it, anyway?” She looked at Rochelle’s watch. “Eight forty-five.”

  ****

  At the same time, back at the hotel, Craig knocked on Michael’s door.

  Michael opened it and eagerly asked, “Anything new?”

  Craig shook his head. “No. I booked a room and made a few calls.” He looked around. “Where are Gladys and the kids?”

  “Teddy’s taking a nap. We took them for a walk and he fell asleep.” Michael nodded toward the second bedroom. “Gladys is in there with him and Lily.” He looked at Rags. “I was just going to take him out. Want to walk with me?”

  “Yes,” Craig said. “We need to brainstorm.” He asked, “Is Peter coming down?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s afraid to leave, in case the creep shows up there. He wants the opportunity to confront him.”

  The two men and Rags rode the elevator down, then walked through the hotel lobby and out the back door to the parking lot, where Michael led Rags to a grassy area.

  “Okay, the common denominator seems to be you and Peter,” Craig said. “What are your connections? What connects you two?”

  “We’ve been friends for a long time, but we just got back in touch with each other a few years ago when he called out of the blue and offered us his beach house for a couple of weeks. At that time, he was having problems with his business manager, who was trying to undermine his career. Savannah and I kind of got involved.” He chuckled. “And Rags. You remember, Craig; you were in on some of that mess.”

  “That business manager was a woman, right?” Craig asked.

  “Yes, Dawna.”

  “Does Peter think she’s still holding a grudge?”

  “I don’t believe so. He seems to think she’s doing okay for herself. If anyone was going to hold a grudge in that situation, it would be Peter.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Craig said. “So how do you know Peter Whitcomb? How’d you meet?”

  “In veterinary school. Peter was going to be a veterinarian too, but he went in a totally different direction with his art, as you know.”

  Craig thought about what Michael had said, then something caught his attention. Lowering his voice, he said, “Look at your cat. Don’t react or anything, just watch him casual-like.”

  Both men watched as Rags sniffed the air. His ears turned from side to side.

  “He seems to be eying that white van that’s pulling in,” Craig said, leaning against a parked car and crossing his ankles. He pulled out his phone, looked down at it, and suggested, “Without being obvious, take a look at that guy. Do you know him?”

  Before Michael could respond, Rags began pulling on the leash.

  “He wants to go in that direction,” Michael said.

  “Hold onto the cat. Maybe the guy will get out of the van. I don’t want him driving off.” Craig put his phone on mirror and held it up as if he were talking into it, but he was actually keeping an eye on the van behind him. When the man opened his door and started to step out of the van, Craig noticed how antsy Rags was getting and he said to Michael, “Give the cat to me, will you? If that’s our man, he probably knows who you are.” Once
Michael had turned him over, Craig gave Rags his head and he followed the cat toward the van.

  However, as Rags and Craig gathered speed, the man scurried into the driver’s seat and quickly backed out of the parking spot, careened out onto the street, and roared away. Craig ran after him, trying to get a look at the license plate.

  “What’s going on?” Michael asked, catching up to Craig.

  “That might have been our perp right there,” he said. “Your cat sure had him in his sights. There was something ugly going on in Rags’s head. He wanted a piece of that guy.”

  “Really? Who was he, do you know? Did you get a look at him?’

  “No. And his license plate is behind a dirty plastic cover, so I couldn’t make out the whole number. Dang it!”

  “What was he doing back here, if that was him?” Michael asked, his adrenalin flowing like crazy.

  “Probably came to leave his next message. I told you he wants something, and I guess we thwarted his attempt to deliver his request. Hey, call Peter and see if he’s received anything.”

  ****

  Meanwhile, Savannah and Rochelle remained focused on trying to remove the ropes from around their wrists. Savannah said, “Turn around and let me see how he has that rope tied, will you?” After studying the knot, she sighed deeply, then looked around the room. I wonder if he has a knife of some sort in here.”

  “How would we manage a knife without cutting ourselves?” Rochelle asked.

  “I’m not sure.” She chuckled nervously. “I’ve never had experience with anything like this before. Have you?”

  Rochelle shook her head and said facetiously, “Not lately.” She watched as Savannah hopped into the small kitchen and looked around. Rochelle winced when she saw Savannah turn and pull out a drawer with her hands, then hop back around to see what was in there. “I don’t know about this, Savannah. Even if we find a knife, how are we going to see to cut the ropes?”

  Savannah stared across the room at her. “I think you’re right. Maybe our best bet is to get out of these leg shackles and run for it. We don’t know how long he’ll be gone, but I’d guess at least forty minutes.” When Rochelle gave her a questioning look, she said, “I paid attention to the time it took him to drive out here from our hotel. It was about twenty minutes, and from what I heard, he plans to leave something there for Michael and send something to Peter this morning. Probably asking for money.”

  “Who do you suppose he is, anyway?” Rochelle asked. “Do you know?”

  Savannah shook her head and stared at her leather shackles. “No. And I really don’t want to find out. I just want to go home,” she whined.

  “I know,” Rochelle said tenderly. “I know.”

  Savannah sniffled, then took a deep breath. “Put your feet up here on the bed where I can reach them. I’ll see if I can loosen your hobbles.”

  “Hobbles?”

  “That’s what you call them when you put them on a horse’s legs.” She studied the fastener for a moment, then turned and began working with it from behind her back. “Guide me,” she suggested to Rochelle. “You can see the fastener. Tell me where to put my hands. Am I loosening it any?”

  “Well,” Rochelle said, “that’s it! You have your hands on the buckle. Just try to work that loose. Gads, it looks so awkward, but I think if you keep working it, you’ll get someplace.”

  “Let me take another look at it,” Savannah said, facing her. “Okay, I think I’ve got it.” She turned backward again. “Is this it? Am I on the right track?”

  “Yes!” Rochelle said excitedly. “Yes, it’s coming loose. Oh, thank heavens, Savannah. Maybe we could use the same technique to untie our hands.”

  Savannah considered Rochelle’s idea, then shook her head. “I think we’d better get out of here first. We can find someplace safe to hide, then work on the ropes. What do you say?”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She looked down at her feet. “My shoes. Savannah, I don’t know where my shoes are!”

  Savannah glanced around. “Look under that cot.”

  “Damn,” Rochelle said, “I think they’re in his van. I remember being pushed and pulled in here barefoot. That was hard. I’m a terrible tenderfoot.”

  “My shoes are here,” Savannah said. She looked at Rochelle’s feet and suggested, “Go see if you can find some of his shoes. He’s not a very big man; you might be able to wear his shoes.”

  “Good idea. Let me unbuckle your ankles first, in case we have to make a run for it.”

  Once Savannah’s legs were free, she slipped into her shoes, then joined Rochelle in a search for another pair. “Here are some flip-flops on the service porch,” she announced. “Can you manage in flip-flops?”

  “I guess I’ll have to,” Rochelle said. She looked around the room. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Savannah nodded. “Out the backdoor. Come on.” She opened the door clumsily with her hands still tied behind her, and held it open for Rochelle. Then she followed her out.

  “Which way?” Rochelle asked.

  “Away from the road.” Savannah nodded to the right. “I think he comes from that direction, so let’s go the opposite way. We sure don’t want to run into him.”

  “It’s kind of remote,” Rochelle observed.

  “Yes. But if we’re lucky, we’ll run into someone who can help us. Let’s go.” Suddenly, Savannah stopped. “I hear a car coming. It could be him. Come on,” she said, leading the way rather awkwardly into a stand of trees.

  “Is it him?” Rochelle asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Don’t look back. We need to get as far away as we can before he starts looking for us. Run, Rochelle! Run!”

  After falling numerous times, the two women made their way into a thicket of trees.

  “It’s getting dark,” Rochelle noticed.

  “Yeah, this is a dense forest.” Savannah looked around. “Should we try to find a way out of these trees or continue among them?”

  “Either way, I’m sure we’ll find our way out at some point,” Rochelle said.

  “How’re you doing with those flip-flops?”

  Rochelle winced. “It’s a struggle, but each step with your hands tied behind your back is a struggle.”

  “Yeah.” Savannah looked around. “You know, I think we’re hidden well enough that we can stop and try to get these ropes off. What do you say?”

  Rochelle nodded. “I think that would be a good use of our time right now. How long have we been running—an hour?”

  “Yeah, about that. Okay, let’s work on these ropes.”

  Before the women could get into position to untie the ropes, they heard barking.

  “Dogs,” Savannah said. “Sounds like those yelping bloodhound kind of dogs.”

  Rochelle’s eyes grew wide. “What does that mean?”

  “Well, it could mean that he has bloodhounds and he’s after us, or that someone’s out hunting for grouse or something. They’re pretty far off. Come on,” Savannah urged, “let’s get untied. If those dogs find us, we’ll need all of our faculties.”

  ****

  “I’m flying down,” Peter said when he spoke to Michael later that morning. “I think Craig’s right. Rochelle’s probably being held with Savannah down there. Isn’t that what you got from the latest message from that jerk?”

  “You got another message?” Michael asked anxiously. “I didn’t get anything.” After thinking about it for a moment, Michael said, “I’ll bet Rags kept that from happening.”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, some dude pulled into the parking lot here at the hotel while Craig and I were walking with the cat. When the guy saw Rags, he took off like a scared rabbit. Peter, I think he could have been the kidnapper. He probably came to leave me something and Rags scared him off. So what does the note say?”

  “It says, ‘I’m finally the winner pretty boy and you’re the big time loser. I have both trophies and you have nothing.’ Michael, what does it mean? Who c
ould possibly be so angry with me—with us—to do such a thing and then flaunt it?”

  “So did he ask for anything—like money?” Michael asked.

  “No. Hey listen, I think you and Craig are right; that creep is there in LA. I saw a homeless-looking guy ride away from our house on a bicycle just before I discovered the note on my windshield. He was probably paid to deliver it. I’m beginning to believe that Rochelle is down there someplace with Savannah. I’m actually at the airport now. I’m flying down.”

  “Okay. Do you have the name of our hotel?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there in a few hours. I lucked out and got a standby seat.” He then asked. “Michael, how are the children?”

  “Doing okay. Gladys is here with us. She’s awfully worried, as we all are.”

  “Of course, she is. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Well, maybe it’s all because of me and my art.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, buddy. It might have nothing to do with your art at all. Hey, get on that flight. See you soon. I have another call coming in. “Hi, Rob.”

  “Anything, Michael?”

  “No. Well, Peter got another note and he’s flying down here. We think they’re both being held here somewhere. Rags went kind of ballistic when he saw a guy pull into the parking lot here at the hotel a while ago and Craig’s checking that out. He called in a partial license plate number and a description of the guy.”

  “Wow.”

  “How are you?” Michael asked.

  “Worried like you are. I’m just furious that someone would do this to you and Savannah and your friends.”

  “I know. We appreciate your concern.” Michael decided to change the subject in order to maintain his composure. “How’s Cheryl? Did she confront her brother?”

  “Yes, and that’s not being resolved either. Is Mercury in Retrograde?”

  “Huh?” Michael asked.

  “Oh, it’s a metaphysical thing. No, she went out and tried to talk to her brother earlier and he wouldn’t even let her into the place where he’s staying. She’s crushed that he’s shutting her out like he is. She’s pretty worried about him.”