Burning Resolution

by T. M. Cromer

“You got it,” he told Charlie with a tight hug.

  When the older man would have stepped away, he called him back. “Charlie? You are the father I always wished I had.”

  Tears filled his shadowed eyes. “Thank you, son. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Grandpa!” Jacob came charging out. “Don’t forget tomorrow night is our school play. You were going to go with us.”

  Zack met his eyes over his son’s head. “I’d be grateful if you could take him. Until I find Erica…”

  Charlie squatted eye-level with Jacob. “You betcha, sport. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Off to bed, Jacob,” Zack said.

  “But I want to be here when they find Erica.”

  “It may be a while. I promise to wake you as soon as I have any news.”

  “But, Dad!”

  “Come on, fry guy,” Dane said. He scooped his nephew up and tossed him over his shoulder with ease. “Let’s go.”

  As consciousness came back to her, Erica tried to stay as still as possible. Really what she wanted to do was jump up and pound in the face of the dumb bitch who tased her. However, her bound hands and feet made it a little impossible at the moment.

  When she would have opened her eyes, she experienced a split second of panic that she couldn’t. Blindfolded. And because she was, her other senses started to detect various things. She was cold, but there was no breeze to indicate she was outside. Basement, warehouse, or garage, she deduced.

  Gasoline. It was close by. No one could mistake that smell. Tucking her head minutely, she took a whiff of her clothing. She wasn’t wet and couldn’t smell anything but the remnants of her earlier lovemaking with Zack. That meant Christie had practiced remarkable restraint in not dousing her and lighting her on fire, for which Erica was extremely grateful.

  “I know you’re awake.”

  Erica stayed silent and unmoving.

  “You might as well talk now while you can. Soon you won’t be saying anything ever again,” Christie said with a raucous laugh.

  Still, Erica remained quiet.

  She was rewarded with a solid kick to her ribs.

  “Jesusfuckingchrist!” was torn from her lips. The pain was excruciating.

  “I thought that would get your attention.”

  “Is that what you want? Attention?” Erica panted and gritted her teeth to stem off the nausea. Any type of serious physical discomfort tended to have that effect on her. “Well, I’d say you got it with the keying of my car. You don’t have to go to extremes, ya know.”

  A clicking started. She thought she heard a flare and snap. The sound repeated over and over. It sank in as to what the noise was. Christie was playing with the lighter. To Erica, it indicated agitation. While she wanted to cuss the Looney Tunes witch out, she remembered the saying “discretion was the better part of valor.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “What?”

  “When I stabbed you?”

  “What do you fucking think? It felt like a damn walk in the park?”

  Another kick to her abused ribs. A groan was wrenched from her.

  “Mind your tone, whore!”

  If she got up… no, when she got up, she was going to rip that twatwaffle’s face off. Admittedly, it was difficult to do when one was hog-tied, but her chance would come. She gulped. Dear God, please, please, let her chance come. To die this way would be horrific. To die without ever having another chance to tell Zack she loved him would be unthinkable.

  And how would he feel knowing his last words to her were in anger? Would he realize it was just the heat of the moment and throw away the regrets? Or would he beat himself up the rest of his life for those reckless words? Never quite understanding she knew he didn’t mean them? He didn’t mean them. She knew that. Still, she wanted to be able to live through this and tell him.

  “What’s your plan, Christie?”

  What the hell had she asked that for? Maybe because knowing was better than not? Doubtful. Either way, if Christie waited a long time before getting around to doing her in, the interim would be torture.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Odd how casual and warm her nemesis’s tone turned out to be. Surely, she should have a screechy voice and a high pitched giggle. The other woman came across as normal and borderline sweet. Her dulcet tones truly annoyed Erica. Hell, the probability was her own vocal cords emitted a more irritating quality of sound. If she ended up being a skinny blonde, Erica would take pleasure in hurting her when she got loose.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As the hours dragged on, Erica became colder and colder. At some point, her teeth started a never-ending chatter. Her jaw ached from trying to clench her teeth in an effort not to chip them due to their hard clashing.

  “Chr-Christie,” she called out. Nothing had been said for the longest time. More than her fear of being with the crazy wench was her being left to die alone, tied up and freezing to death. “Are you st-still here?”

  “What do you want?”

  The other woman’s voice sounded cranky and tired. Erica hoped she was also frozen to the core. It would serve her insane ass right.

  “I’m c-cold. Can I g-get a blanket? Please?”

  It galled to have to ask her for anything, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “No.”

  “Is there n-not enough to go a-around or are you just b-being spiteful?” Erica tried to keep any judgement out of her tone. Tried to sound more curious than anything. Even conversation might help warm her.

  “I only have the one,” Christie grudgingly admitted.

  “Oh. Ok-kay. Thanks,” Erica said. “C-can I ask y-you a question?”

  She took the silence as agreement.

  “Why Z-Zack? Why are y-you so f-focused on him?”

  The lighter started opening and closing.

  When no answer was forthcoming, Erica continued. “I m-mean, how c-can you love s-someone who refuses t-to return your aff-affection?”

  She heard the whoosh of movement before she felt the slap. At least the burning in her cheek provided a little heat to her skin. Maybe she could provoke Christie into finishing her off here and now. A fire might be worth it.

  “He loves me! Soon, I’ll prove it,” Christie snarled, spittle hitting Erica in the face.

  Okay, ewww! Now that was just gross. What if she got rabies? People could contract the disease from animals, but could they be infected from another person? She added it to her list of things to do if she survived; google human to human rabies.

  “You w-want to know the iron-ny in all of this?” Erica asked, not expecting an affirmative answer. “I w-was leaving for F-Florida in the morning. Isn’t th-that hilarious?”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I-I’m not. Why d-do you think I was c-catching a car? I told Zack tonight I w-was done with th-the attempts on my l-life,” she said. “That’s w-what I find s-so fucking funny about all of th-this.”

  “I saw you kissing him!”

  Christie grabbed a fistful of her hair and gave it sharp jerk. Her skull came down on the hard cement. Tears of pain welled up. Dammit! Erica hated her hair pulled. Talk about instant headache. Add the concrete floor and she probably would be dealing with a concussion. Then and there, she decided to snatch the she-devil bald before ripping her face off. She gave her bonds a test, wishing she’d suddenly developed superhuman strength. They held tight. Fucking heavy-duty tie wraps.

  “That was his doing. But really, who wouldn’t give into someone who resembles a Greek God when he makes a move on you?” Erica responded, unable to shut up. Dear God, why couldn’t she shut up?

  On a positive note, her teeth appeared to be done with their chattering. She was either too numb or too pissed off. Perhaps it had been the memory of Zack’s kiss that heated up her blood. It didn’t matter, she was happy with the result. To not be convulsing due to the dropping temperature was a bonus.

  A palm conne
cted again. Erica should have expected the second hit, but really, couldn’t the woman develop a sense of humor and agree with her for a change?

  “If I cut your face, he won’t find you so attractive, will he?” Christie hissed.

  Erica felt something sharp against the side of her face. She swallowed hard.

  “Probably no one would,” she said, careful not to move her mouth much, cautious of the pointy object. “But you don’t have to go that far. I promise, you cut me loose, and I am on the first plane out of this hellhole.”

  “You had your chance to leave. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen,” she said, digging the blade a little deeper.

  The urge to scream in pain overwhelmed her, making it difficult to hold still. If she struggled, the torturing witch would slash her open. Erica felt blood trickle down her skin. She’d forgotten how much a knife could hurt when it pierced the flesh. Which was ridiculous when she thought about it, because she’d been stabbed fairly recently. Another thing to research; were there more nerve endings in the face?

  “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”

  The pressure eased off her cheekbone. The stinging didn’t stop. Her face was on fire. Erica felt hot and cold all at once. Sweat beaded across her lower lip.

  “Christie, I don’t know what your plan is, but in another few hours, it won’t matter. Hypothermia is going to set in. Can’t you feel the temperature dropping? It’s getting down in the forties tonight.”

  Why she was trying to reason with a crazy person, she didn’t quite know. Perhaps it was her optimistic nature. Who knew she even had one? She did know she wanted to live, if for no other reason than to obliterate Christie from the planet. Being a writer, she was sure she could come up with something creative and justified.

  Once again, the lighter started opening and closing. The fucking sound was getting on her last nerve.

  “Lay there and be still,” she was ordered.

  She did as she was told and heard the soft click of a camera shutter on a cell phone. So, part of the plan was to taunt Zack with pictures of her bound and bleeding? Her heart wept for him. To receive pictures and be helpless to find her would drive him mad.

  A beep indicated he’d received a text. Zack feared what the screen would contain at four in the morning. Heart hammering, he pulled up the message. His body went instantly cold seeing Erica tied hand and foot, blindfold on, a cut and blood on her pale face. No words accompanied the picture. Was she dead? He couldn’t tell. Other than the mark on her cheek, he didn’t see any stab wounds.

  “Bucky!” he croaked.

  Dane and Bucky were the first to their feet. Mason was delayed a few seconds longer in order to shift a dozing Shonda from where her head rested on his lap.

  “Jesus!” his brothers swore in unison.

  Bucky, on the other hand, said not a word as he studied the picture. After another minute, he asked Zack to forward the message to him, which he in turn forwarded to someone else.

  “I’ve sent it to the lead detective on the case,” Bucky told him. “If I had to guess, I’d say she’s being held in a garage. See here? That’s some type of floor coating.”

  Zack was able to tear his gaze off Erica long enough to study what was visible of her surroundings. “You’re right! Look at the back wall. I can’t be positive, but doesn’t it look like it might be pretty dark? Like maybe the wall was burned?”

  Abruptly, he ran to the dining room to grab Erica’s laptop. He opened it, entered her passcode, and searched for the photos she’d taken for the insurance company.

  “Here! Right here. Same coating on the floor. That’s Erica’s garage!” Excitement curled in his belly, sending his pulse into overdrive.

  He shoved the laptop into Bucky’s hands and hurried to grab his keys and coat.

  “Zack, wait! You can’t rush in there. She might have a weapon and could hurt Erica if she feels threatened.”

  Seeing his friend was in full officer mode, Zack paused. He let the warning sink in. Dammit, Bucky was correct. The inactivity had him reckless.

  “Right. What’s our next step?” he asked. “And don’t say ‘we wait’ because I can’t.”

  It chapped his ass to be inactive. Every cell in his body screamed at him to go find his woman and save her.

  “Why would she send this?” Dane asked. “She had to know you might recognize the place.”

  “Maybe she didn’t think that far ahead. Maybe she just wanted to torment me so bad, she didn’t consider it,” Zack suggested.

  “I’m not buying that,” Mason spoke up. “She’s been extremely careful not to get caught up until now.”

  “Fuck! You’re right.”

  Zack dragged his hands down his face, halting to steeple them over the lower half of his face. Erica liked to joke that was his thinking pose when she caught him struggling through a problem. She’d only been gone five and a half hours, but it felt like forever. Like he’d lost part of his soul along with his mind.

  “What do we do?” It cost him to ask instead of taking action.

  “You do nothing. Let us handle it,” Bucky said. A protest had formed on his lips when his friend continued. “I’m serious about this, Zack. We are trained for situations of this nature. You’re not. I’ll call it in that Christie might be holed up there. But if you go charging over, half-cocked, you could get Erica killed.”

  “Dammit, Buck! I’m dying over here,” he protested.

  “I could always arrest you for obstruction of this investigation and throw you in a cell to cool off, I suppose.”

  “Are you trying to get me back for suspecting you earlier?” Zack asked, half jokingly.

  “Partly.” His friend shot him a teasing smile before turning serious again.

  “I’m going to check on Jacob.”

  He walked into his son’s room only to find it empty. It wasn’t unusual for Jacob to hit the head in the middle of the night, but the light was off in the adjoining bathroom. Still, he double checked it to be sure. Nothing. He hustled to his bedroom, finding it empty also.

  He tore through the house, screaming his son’s name. His brothers followed suit, with Bucky heading outside to check the grounds.

  “What the fuck?!” Zack shouted. “How the hell does an eight-year-old boy just disappear from a house with a half-dozen cops surrounding the outside and five adults on the inside?”

  “Stay calm,” one of his brothers ordered. He couldn’t be sure which since he was in the middle of a melt-down.

  “Do you think he might have gone to Charlie’s?” Mason asked.

  Zack grabbed his cell and pulled up the number for Charlie.

  “No answer.”

  He tried the number a second, then a third time, as he headed out the door in the direction of their home. The pounding on Charlie’s door brought no one. Zack tried the knob only to find it unlocked. He shoved it open and halted in his tracks. There, on the floor mere feet from the entryway, was Charlie, blood pooled around him, soaking into the floorboards.

  “Get an ambulance,” he hollered over his shoulder and knelt beside the older man. He held his breath as he searched for a pulse. Faint but still there. “Hang in there, Charlie. Please, hold on. Dane?”

  The negative shake of his brother’s head indicated Jacob wasn’t in the house. Fear uncoiled in him like a snake, striking at his heart and mind. Paralyzing him.

  “That unbalanced bitch has my son,” he whispered. “She has them both.”

  “We’ll get them back,” Dane tried to reassure him.

  He prayed Dane spoke the truth.

  “I’m sorry, Zack. There were signs someone had been there, but when we got to Erica’s house, they were already gone.”

  Zack could tell Bucky had a difficult time delivering that bit of bad news.

  “Anything on Jacob?”

  “No. Again, I’m sorry.”

  This time he didn’t make false promises. They all knew how dire the situation was. They’d g
otten nothing out of Judith but a laugh and a big “fuck you.” Now, they all sat around at the hospital waiting on further news on Charlie’s condition. The CT scan had shown bleeding on the brain. It would be a wait and see game from here on out.

  Shonda waited at the house with a plain clothes officer in case Jacob made his way home. But the three men who’d viewed Charlie as an honorary father felt the need to be here for him, whatever the outcome.

  What surprised Zack was their mother now sat in the visitor area, as if she had a stake in Charlie’s recovery. He’d never seen her look so haggard.

  “Mom?” His inquiry pulled her out of her inner reflection. “What’s going on? I thought you barely knew Charlie. I mean, except for greeting him with coffee and muffins every time he brought one of us home, you never acted as if… Oh!”

  Wry humor twisted her mouth. “We were childhood sweethearts.”

  “You never said a word,” he said somewhat accusingly.

  “Do you tell me about all of your romantic interludes?”

  “Um, no. That would be pretty gross wouldn’t you think?”

  She lifted a brow waiting for him to get the point.

  “Oh. Ewww. Yeah. Okay,” he stumbled for things to say. The idea of his mother getting it on with anyone was destroying brain cells at a rapid rate.

  “Besides, it wasn’t like that. We only dated a few times in high school,” she said. Her face twisted into a mask of dislike. “I really thought we had something starting. That was until Judith stole him by claiming she was pregnant.”

  “But Christie was younger than us,” he said, confused.

  “Yes, Judith lied about her pregnancy. She’d never been pregnant. She blamed it on a miscarriage. But the truth finally came out a few years after they were married.” She paused to take a deep breath and exhale. Shaking her head, she continued, “When I think of her lies, I want to smash in her face.”

  “When did you become so violent?” he laughed.

  “When she and that lying clone of a daughter set out to hurt you,” she stated fiercely.

  “Is Charlie the reason why you and dad never worked out?”