And Then There Was One

by Patricia Gussin

  “She’s got kids?” Streeter asked. “Babies? But keeps the Monroe girls in the basement? Can somebody tell me what’s going on?”

  Scott heard a soft knock on the door of Jackie’s room. He jumped up, hoping not to awaken Katie. At a quarter to one in the morning, he did not expect good news. In his sweats, he eased out the door, closing it quietly behind him. Streeter stood facing him, his expression grim.

  Scott’s jaw dropped and his chest constricted. “What?” he whispered.

  “We found the place where Sammie and Alex were taken.”

  “You —” Scott slumped against the door. His bowels felt loose and his heart started to race out of control.

  Stepping forward, Streeter grabbed Scott’s arm.

  “Are they okay?” Scott knew they were not by the contortion of Streeter’s face.

  “We don’t know. They’ve been moved from a house in Holly.”

  Scott’s brain did not register the location.

  “Holly’s about fifteen miles from the Auburn Hills Mall. But we know who has them.”

  “Come in. I’ll get Katie,” Scott said. As reluctant as he was to wake her, she needed to hear this. Would either of them know the person that Streeter was about to divulge? Was it the kidnapper who’d sent the ransom note? Is that why Alex and Sammie had been moved? To exchange them for the money in the morning?

  Streeter followed Scott into Jackie’s small hospital room where Katie stirred on her cot.

  Scott gently tapped her exposed shoulder. “Katie, you have to wake up.”

  “What?” She opened her eyes, focused on the two men, and bolted upright. “What happened ?” She groped for the switch on the bedside lamp. “Scott, what is it?”

  “Agent Streeter has something to tell us, babe.” Scott put a finger to his mouth and cast a glance at Jackie’s sleeping form.

  Throwing off the sheets, Katie leapt out of bed and pulled a robe over her floor-length nightgown.

  Scott took her hand. “Let’s just step outside,” he said, drawing her toward the door.

  Streeter wasted no time. He spoke as they stood in the hall outside Jackie’s room. “Tonight we got a tip that led us to the woman who took your daughters. We went to her place. Sammie and Alex had probably been there, but they were not there when we got there.”

  “Then they’re alive?” Katie slumped backward, against the wall.

  Scott stared at Streeter, not daring to look at Katie lest his terror accelerate hers. “Who was the woman?” he asked. “We must know her since they got into the car with her. She must be related somehow to someone we know?”

  Both listened silently as Streeter explained how they’d found the Spansky home. When he finished, each answered his anticipated question with a shake of their heads. The names meant nothing to either Scott or Katie.

  “Margaret Spansky? Samuel Spansky?” Katie kept repeating, her eyes blinking as the looked back and forth from Scott to Streeter. “That name does not ring a bell. Scott, are you sure?”

  “No, it does not.” He was sure of that. Scott never forgot a name. “Is there any tie to Norman Watkins’s sister and mother?”

  “Or to Ken Franklin?” Katie added. “Why would Alex and Sammie willingly get into this Spansky woman’s car?”

  “We’ll run down any connection. We have the car ID. We don’t have them yet, but this is a big break. I have to get back now, but I’ll be in touch the instant I hear anything. Think hard about any connection.”

  Streeter turned to leave, and asked, “How’s Jackie?”

  “About the same,” Scott said. Maybe Jackie was responding just a tiny bit, or maybe it was his imagination.

  During the drive, Spanky tried to figure something out. To get the reward money outright, he’d have to rat out his own ma. She might be loony, but she’d always stuck by him. She knew stuff about him and she never said nothing to nobody. And the more he thought about having Precious for himself, the more sure he was that he could pull this off. So he worked out a ransom plan. The singer-aunt had offered up a hundred grand, but she’d probably go for more so he’d already decided to double it. That sounded like enough. Where he was headed he wouldn’t need that much.

  His next decision was where to send the note and how to send it. The Monroe family address in Florida? That didn’t make sense because they were staying with relatives in Auburn Hills. If only he’d paid more attention to the missing girls’ story when he’d been driving his rig, innocent as a lamb.

  Back then in Spanky’s wildest dreams, he never could have imagined that Ma had those girls. That Scott Monroe’s daughters, the ones the whole world was looking for and praying for, were locked up in Ma’s basement? What a fucking piece of work. Now all he had to do was take advantage of her fucking craziness.

  When they’d taken off with the remaining kid, he figured it’d be easy, but he still didn’t have a good plan. With Ma snoring on the opposite side of the house with Precious tied in beside her, he could finally think. In the car she’d been yapping the whole way about the kid suffocating. And once he decided where to send the note — or should it be a phone call — where would he tell them to put the money? Of course, it had to be cash. He had his stash with him: $34,350. Money that he’d skimmed off the top of his trucking contracts. More money than he knew what to do with even without the two hundred grand.

  Before the Monroe kid popped onto his radar screen, Spanky had developed his own long-term plan. He was sick and tired of running his rig up and down I-75, that ribbon of concrete, crowded with asshole drivers. Once he had enough money, his plan had been to cross the border into Canada by way of the Upper Peninsula, somewhere near Sault Ste. Marie. From there, he’d make his way north and west to Alaska. He’d head to the rough, remote territory north of Fairbanks, where nobody could find him. He’d pay cash for his patch of wilderness and live off the land, hunting his meat, fishing in the pristine streams. He couldn’t stifle a chuckle. Add the ransom money to his stash, he’d be comfortable for life. Wouldn’t have to take no shit from no one. And even better, just the thought of Precious made his blood tingle with anticipation.

  When Spanky first came up with his Alaska plan, he hadn’t been sure whether Ma would go with him. He’d figured that when she heard she’d have to live in a cabin in the wilderness, maybe she’d decide to keep on working in the assembly plant. But now, with the kid, Ma was in like Flynn.

  Spanky had no one he could trust as an accomplice. Should he get Ma and Precious to Canada first, and then come back and arrange the ransom drop somewhere? How best to do that with the cops looking for him once they found the other triplet? Not daring to risk crossing the Mackinac Bridge, he decided to steal a boat, cross Lake Michigan, and hang out at a campsite he knew.

  The way things were working out, he’d have his dream life in Alaska, be able to take care of Ma, have Precious for himself, and more money than he ever dreamed. But first, he had to figure a way to get the money.

  Unable to sleep, he got up, deciding to ditch the car in that swamp Ma pointed out. He couldn’t be too careful. He had to be crafty. He thumped his head with his fists. He had to figure out a plan.

  CHAPTER 48

  Monroe Girls Spirited Out of House in Holly, Michigan.

  — National News, Saturday morning, June 20

  Sammie woke up to her own screams. She was trapped in a dark, stinky hole, things crawling on her skin, in her hair. “Mom,” she screamed, “get me out of here!”

  She was afraid to open her eyes. But if she didn’t, how could she make the dream go away, get out of bed, go down the hall, and crawl in bed next to Mom. Then she remembered. She and Alex were still locked up in Maggie’s basement. Okay, she would just go lay down next to Alex, not wanting to wake up her sister or to let Alex know how scared she was.

  Sammie opened her eyes slowly and moved her hand to brush aside a stray lock of hair. But it wasn’t hair, it was a soft spongy thing stuck to her face. She yanked it off in the dark. She tried
to swing her legs out of bed. They met immediate resistance, and in a flash, she remembered running from the big scary man, hiding in somebody’s garage, and jumping into a dirty trash can. Propped up in a sitting position, her legs crossed beneath her, she realized that this was not a dream. She was still in the smelly trash can. She was sitting in garbage and in her own vomit. Her legs were covered in it, her jeans soaked to her underpants. Something squished between her toes when she tried to move. The stench turned her stomach and she gagged, then retched, but nothing came up. Thirsty, she was so thirsty.

  Nobody had found her. Was it morning? She attempted to stand in the big plastic container and struggled as she reached upward, lifting the plastic cover over her head. When she dislodged it, she saw daylight. Everything was quiet. The rain had stopped. The man must not have followed her in here. She needed to get out. Find help. That big horrible man and that crazy lady still had Alex, and Sammie just knew he would hurt her. Trying to forget her own terror, Sammie struggled to think, to do the right thing to help find her sister.

  She stood upright in the garbage can and began thrusting her weight from side to side, hoping to topple it over. After only a few tries, the plastic container fell with a thud. Sammie hit the ground and as she did, she felt a terrible pain in her right shoulder. Ignoring it, she scrambled to her feet. She glanced at the inside of the container and froze. Fat white maggots were everywhere. Most of the garbage was semisolid or liquefying. As her eyes moved from the disgusting slop in the can to her own body, she started screaming. The maggots were all over her. She could feel those horrifying white things crawling on her. With her good arm, she tried to swat them off. Underneath she could see the scratches and dried blood from running through the woods last night.

  She finally stopped screaming and started groaning with disgust. She stank so badly and those horrible things wouldn’t brush off and she was covered with puke. Would anyone help her looking and smelling like this? She wished it was still raining. Slumped against the house, she decided she had to try to go for help. No one had been home last night and there was no car in the driveway.

  Shivering and wet, she clutched her hurt arm more tightly against her and took off down the muddy driveway leading to the dirt road. Running faster now, she searched for a house, a house with people who would get help for Alex.

  Sammie had always hated trips to the countryside. It was Jackie and Alex who begged to go hiking in the woods to pick wildflowers. Not Sammie, give her the city. Baseball fields and people living in houses close together. Once she reached the road, she saw a house a ways down on the other side. Her shoulder hurt so bad that she had to slow down. And for the first time it hit: her right arm was injured. And she was the Condor’s pitcher. She stopped and kicked the ground as the tears came. Tears of anger and defeat. Dad would have to bench her.

  A car slowed, and Sammie cringed. She didn’t want anyone to see her crying. Still hugging her arm close to her chest, she started out again. Wiping her eyes with the back of her filthy hand, she noticed that the car was backing up. Panic made her jump into a clump of bushes. Her eyes stinging again with tears as sharp thistles tore into her legs. Was that bald man driving the car? Had he recognized her?

  She’d give away her position if she moved, so she held perfectly still, not even breathing. When she dared to peek out, she saw two men walking toward her hiding place. They were ordinary looking men, not giants like Maggie’s son. They were dressed in suits like men wore to work or to cocktail parties. She looked down at herself and sniffed the air in disgust. Would they help her?

  The thought of Alex made up her mind. “Could you help me?” she asked, stepping out of the clump. “I need to find my sister. She’s in a house back —”

  She didn’t finish. One of the men had scooped her up while the other talked into a radio like the police do on TV.

  “Honey, what’s your name?” the man who held her asked.

  Sammie didn’t know whether they were good or bad. “Ouch, my shoulder,” she said as the man shifted her in his arms. He didn’t seem to care that she was so smelly and dirty.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, loosening his hold.

  His kind tone reassured Sammie. “I’m Samantha Monroe. Can you help me find my sister?”

  She didn’t think he meant to do it, but he squeezed her and she gave a yelp of pain.

  “Oh, didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. Grimacing, he turned to his partner, “Patch me through to Agent Streeter.”

  “Shit,” the other man mumbled, “we almost passed her up. Wait’ll Streeter hears we have her.”

  Sammie was about to ask the man to put her down when he spoke, “Agent Streeter. We have the one named Samantha. She’s okay, but there’s something wrong with her shoulder.”

  Sammie heard a voice come on, “Get her to Children’s Hospital quickest way possible.”

  “That’d be in our car, sir.”

  “The other sister?”

  “Negative. Haven’t questioned the child yet.”

  “Priorities: make sure she’s safe, then find the other one.”

  One guy was talking and the other holding Sammie in his arms. She figured that they were policemen.

  “Will you put me down?” she asked. “I can walk.”

  “Who are you?” she asked once the man lowered her gently to the ground.

  “We’re the FBI, little lady. We’ve been looking high and low for you and —” Sammie didn’t like the way he stopped talking.

  “Did you find Alex?” she interrupted. She didn’t like the way he avoided her question. “She’s in a house. I don’t know exactly the street. It’s on a dirt road. We have to go get her out of there.”

  “Right now we’re getting you to a hospital. Take a look at that arm and all those cuts. Okay?”

  “No!” Sammie stomped her foot, her good arm flailing in the general direction of the woods. “You have to find my sister. A bad man is hurting her. Back there. I know he is.” And Sammie did know. At times, not always, the triplets had a sixth sense, a sense of the emotional status of one or both of the others. With Sammie, the sense was very strong about Alex. But all of a sudden, she felt sickened by a horrible sensation. It had nothing to do with Alex. It was about her other sister. Tears filled her eyes. “Jackie?” she asked. “Is Jackie dead?”

  Both the FBI men looked at her funny. Then they turned to each other. Sammie knew that look. They were afraid to tell her the truth. Jackie must have been so sick that she died. She’d left Jackie at the movies and now she’d left Alex alone with a horrible man. Everything was all her fault. She was the bad one, just like everybody always said. She had to get back to that basement to find Alex.

  Sammie took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, lurched forward with all her strength, and started to run. The FBI man talking into his radio put his arm out to stop her, but it was too late.

  “Shit,” she heard him say into the handset, “the girl got away. We’ll get her.”

  Sammie got a few feet before tripping over an exposed pipe. She fell hard on her knees, scraping them on gravel. Before she could get back up, both FBI men tried to pull her up and she had to yank her hurt arm away. Before she could say anything, the one who was already grimy and stinky picked her up again.

  “No! “Sammie scrunched up her face and yelled as loud as she could. “Find Alex! I think the house is that way.”

  As she pointed, an EMT van appeared in the distance, lights flashing but no siren.

  “There will be lots of police here to look for your sister, Samantha. Right now you’re on your way to the hospital.”

  Sammie wriggled, but couldn’t get loose again. The ambulance had stopped and she could see more cars coming toward them. As the FBI man carried her to the big square van, a voice came out of his radio. “Streeter here. Do you or do you not have the child?”

  The man walking beside them answered. “Affirmative. Just getting her inside the EMT van. She’s a handful. Keeps trying to
tell us where she left her sister.”

  “If she’s physically okay, drive by the place now. I’ll meet you there. Maybe if we let her walk though, something will pop up that we missed.”

  “Yes sir,” the man said. Turning to Sammie he said, “We’re going to take a ride up the street. Check out the house where they kept you two.”

  Sammie couldn’t see out of the windows of the van. But when the back doors opened at Maggie’s house, she stiffened.

  A tall man with short brown hair in a really nice suit greeted her. “I’m Agent Streeter,” he said, taking her filthy hand in his. “I’ve gotten to know your parents pretty well the last few days. Man, are they going to be glad to see you!”

  “What about Alex and Jackie?” Sammie asked, tilting her grimy face to study his. “Nobody will tell me.”

  “Sammie, we haven’t found Alex yet,” Streeter said. “So we want you to take a look around this house. She’s not here, but maybe you’ll find a clue. Is that okay with you? Then we’ll take you to your parents. Okay?”

  Sammie nodded. She’d to do anything to help them find her sister.

  “This is where they had you and Alex?” Agent Streeter asked. He seemed friendly and Sammie immediately trusted him.

  “Yes, we got here at night and went straight inside. That lady — Maggie — made us stay in the basement. Then when that big man came, I ran out that door.” Sammie pointed to the side door.

  “Can you come down there with us and show us?” Streeter asked, as another agent held back a strip of crime-scene tape.

  Sammie took the lead and descended the steps. Agent Streeter kept his hand on her good shoulder. When she reached the bottom step, she could smell the mildew. She hesitated, not wanting to step into that basement ever again. But she had to. She stepped forward and showed the FBI agents where she had last seen her sister. She showed them the twin beds where they’d slept, the small refrigerator, and a scattering of toys.