Burning Resolution

by T. M. Cromer

  “No… maybe… I don’t know. I did love your father and tried to be a good wife. He, on the other hand, was too busy being a husband to another family who I had no idea existed.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, hurting for her bad luck with relationships.

  “For what? That I have crappy luck with men? It’s not your fault,” she said, reaching over to pat his knee. “But it’s sweet of you to say.”

  Dane and Mason walked through the door with breakfast for everyone and much needed coffee for Zack. He couldn’t remember when he’d slept last. The thought brought him full circle to Erica and Jacob. Where the hell were they?

  “Did either of you check in at Workout World?” While business was the last thing he cared about, it was still a necessity and paid the bills.

  “I did,” Dane said. “Lacey has everything handled. We really should think about making her a manager.”

  Zack sipped his coffee and thought about what his brother had said. “I’m fine with it. Todd will have a meltdown that we offered her the position first.”

  “We could always make him co-manager of another branch. I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to separate them anyway. He can’t get any work done when she’s around. Can’t keep his eyes off her chest,” Mason spoke up. “I’m worried we are going to have a sexual harassment suit on our hands before long.”

  “I’ve been worried about the same thing. Dane?”

  “Yeah, I think we are all in agreement. He’s a good enough worker when she’s not around,” Dane said around a mouthful of food.

  “Okay. Can one of you handle the promotion paperwork and talking with Todd about his behavior? It’s a condition of his continued employment. He’s lucky he’s a good employee in every other way and that we’ve never heard even a hint of complaint from our members.”

  Mason lifted his plastic utensil, a gesture of his volunteering. Zack glanced at Dane, who answered with a silent nod, agreeing he was fine with Mason taking the lead in this instance.

  “It’s settled then.”

  “You should try to eat something, Zack,” Dane said. He shoved a container closer.

  A study of the food in front of him made Zack’s stomach roll over. “Yeah, I’m not sure I can eat anything.”

  “What was the last thing you ate and when?”

  “A donut about eight hours ago,” he admitted.

  “A donut? Since when do you eat donuts?” Mason laughed, spork paused mid-shovel.

  “Fuck off, asshat.”

  “Dickhead.”

  A reprimand from their mother had the three brothers chuckling before they all sobered, realizing it wasn’t the time or the place.

  The beep of his cell drew his attention to an incoming text.

  “I have them both. You really should be more careful about letting your whore and our son wander the streets.”

  “That fucking bitch!” he swore and flung his phone. Dane, in a move that would do pro athletes everywhere proud, snatched the device before it crashed against the wall.

  “Zack!” his mother gasped.

  “Mom,” Mason said in an undertone, with a shake of his head. An indication it wasn’t the time to reprimand him. “What did she say this time?”

  “She confirmed she has Jacob.”

  “Why the hell can’t they use the GPS on her phone?” Dane asked.

  “Apparently, she’ll send the text and then turn it off according to Bucky.”

  “I thought they could tell which tower they pinged off of,” Connie said.

  “Mom, we are a small town. All cell phones ping off the same tower here. It won’t pinpoint her location. You have to stop watching so many crime dramas,” Mason said with a half grin.

  “Okay, smarty pants, but can’t they still track it even if it is off? I thought I saw that somewhere.”

  “Again, with the crime shows,” Mason teased her. “Seriously, I don’t know. Maybe she’s taking the battery out?”

  “Erica would know,” Zack said absently. “It’s something she would have researched for her novels.”

  “She writes the best books,” Connie said. “I’ve read every one. Some of those sex scenes? Wow!”

  “Mom!” Three male voices groaned in unison.

  “Oh, I forgot. All mothers are saints,” she chuckled.

  “That’s right. And don’t forget it again,” Mason said. “How do I scrub this conversation from my mind?”

  “Back to the subject at hand, you need to report that to the PD, Zack,” Dane said, handing him back his phone. “Maybe there is something they can do. Now that a child is involved, they might bring in the FBI.”

  “I don’t think she’ll hurt him. At least not yet. She isn’t through toying with me,” Zack replied. “Erica, on the other hand…”

  If he made it through this without losing his mind, it would be a miracle.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Erica heard weeping in another room. She had no idea where they were since Christie had hauled her off the frigid cement floor and thrown her into the trunk. The only good thing had been when her legs had been freed. However, it had been impossible to run with the pins and needles it caused when she straightened her legs for the first time in hours. Good Christ, that hurt! But at least her new prison was in a warmer room with carpeting to protect her from the bare flooring.

  While Christie had been gone, she’d tried to work her bonds loose to no avail. She’d felt behind her, hoping to find something, anything, sharp enough to saw through the tie wraps. Nothing. She’d screamed her frustration. All she’d gotten for it was a raw throat and aching shoulders. What she wouldn’t give for a throat lozenge.

  Christie had brought a child back with her. A sick feeling told her it was Jacob. Who else could it be? How the hell she managed to nab him was beyond even Erica’s deductive thought process. She couldn’t imagine Zack letting his son out of his sight. But maybe Charlie and Judith had something to do with it. If Zack hadn’t known they were involved, he would still think he could trust them.

  There had been plenty of time to think over the last eight hours. The only people who could be helping Christie had to be her parents. No one else could have covered up that she hadn’t died in the hospital fire. Surely the body count would have been off. All patients and staff would have been accounted for. But if that was the case, how had there not been a statewide manhunt for an escaped patient? The only answer was she’d been checked out sometime in the days before it happened. And the only people who had the ability to do so had been her mother or father. Zack wasn’t family so he wouldn’t have been able to do it. Besides, he firmly believed she’d perished in the tragic accident.

  Although, now Erica had time to consider, knowing Christie’s penchant for fire starting, it stood to reason she’d had something to do with the blaze also. It also brought to mind what she might be planning. Christie had transported the container of gasoline with them when she’d moved Erica a few hours ago. Did she plan to set this house on fire with her and Jacob in two separate rooms and make Zack chose? Did she plan to burn them both alive while Zack remained helplessly by? If so, she didn’t know him very well. There was no way he wouldn’t risk his life to save them.

  “Hello?” she called out. “Christie? Psycho?”

  No one answered, but the crying stopped.

  “Erica?”

  Erica fought back tears. Jacob’s fate was now tied with her own. If she’d never appeared on the scene, would Christie have ever stooped to terrorizing her own child?

  “I’m here, sweetie,” she rasped, voice hoarse from her earlier rage.

  “Are you okay?” his tentative voice asked.

  Her heart melted. There he was, a young kid, asking about her welfare. The tears could no longer be held back. “Y-yes. I’m okay. How about you? Are you hurt?”

  “Not really. My mom smacked me when I tried to help Grandpa. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  “Do you know where she is now? I didn’t hear
her leave.”

  “She left after she tied me up,” he said. “Erica? I have to pee real bad.”

  “Hold it as long as you can, sweetie. But if you can’t, that’s okay, too.” She didn’t want him to feel shame. She also had to go. It was doubtful she could hold out much longer herself. Humiliation of being rescued in wet pants was the only thing keeping her from christening the carpet beneath her with urine.

  “Dad was worried about you. He yelled at Grandma. Then the cops took her to jail.”

  So, Judith had been involved. His words came back to her. “You said you tried to help your grandfather. What happened?”

  “I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about you. But Dad said I had to go to bed. Grandpa sent me a text. He wanted me to come keep him company because he couldn’t sleep either,” he said. “But my mom was there and Grandpa was on the ground. He was bleeding.”

  Erica was helpless when he broke down crying again.

  “I think my Grandpa’s dead. I think my mom killed him.”

  “Maybe he was just knocked out,” Erica tried to sound positive for his sake. But he wasn’t buying it.

  “He wasn’t moving, Erica. I think it was really her who texted me.”

  “I think you’re right. She’s sneaky that way. But, your dad will make sure Charlie will get help. I know it. When he found you missing, he would check with your grandfather first.”

  “You think so? Maybe he isn’t dead? Maybe Dad helped him?”

  “I’m sure of it,” she lied, sending up a silent prayer it had happened just like that.

  “Erica?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad you are okay.”

  “I’m glad you are okay, too. We’ll get out of this. I’ve been working on some ideas.” All of which included cutting through these damn wraps. As of yet she’d failed, but she refused to go out like this.

  “You have? Like what?”

  Crap! Leave it to a kid to ask a million questions.

  “It’s a surprise.” Lame, even to her own ears.

  “Um, Erica?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You don’t have a plan, do you?”

  She snorted her laugh. Yeah, he was Zack’s kid. She should have remembered how freaking smart he was. “A tentative one. Like I said, I’m working on it.”

  “Okay.” He still sounded unconvinced.

  “Jacob?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Everything will be okay. We’re going to look back on this as a strange adventure one day.” She hoped he would believe her.

  “Okay,” he said, sounding weepy again.

  She feared her words had the opposite effect of reassuring him.

  “I mean it, sweetie. Your dad won’t let anything happen to you. Between him and the police, they are going to find us soon. I’m sure of it.”

  “I don’t know. He called them Barney’s Wife Mother Fuckers.”

  “Fife. Barney Fife,” she sniggered.

  “What’s a Barney Fife Mother Fucker?”

  Erica tried to contain her amusement enough to answer him. It didn’t say much for her state of mind that she was reduced to hysterical laughter. The one great thing was hers triggered his own. Listening to him giggle warmed her heart, providing a sense of rightness in all this insanity.

  “Barney Fife was a silly cop from a TV show when your grandparents were young,” she managed a short while later. “He was always accidentally causing problems for Sheriff Andy in the town of Mayberry.”

  “Ah.”

  “Ah? Why ah?”

  “He said Stonebrooke was as backward as Fucking Mayberry.”

  Erica broke down giggling again. “Hey, sweetie? Um, you might not want to repeat any of that to anyone, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said cheerfully.

  “Are you somewhat comfortable, Jacob?”

  “I guess.”

  “Can you close your eyes and try to sleep? It might help us if you are rested later when we get out of here. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  A few minutes passed and she missed the conversation.

  “Erica?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you,” his wobbly voice said.

  It hurt her to see he was back to being scared. “I love you, too, sweet boy. How about when we get back home, you teach me how to play Minecraft?”

  Hope ruled. “Really?”

  “Really. It’s past time I learned to kick your dad’s butt at the game, don’t you think? I’ll never surpass your skill but I can probably whoop him.”

  Again, he giggled. Then he proceeded to tell her all about the game. She inserted the proper responses here and there to keep him occupied. She’d rather have him concentrating on a video game then on being held hostage.

  Eventually, his voice grew sleepy, and he wished her goodnight.

  “Goodnight, sweetie.”

  Then Erica was alone. Periodically she dozed off, then she’d snap back to attention, listening and planning for the right time to escape.

  A slamming of a car door, had her stomach churning with nausea. She’d been hoping to execute an escape plan before Christie returned. It wasn’t to be. She could see sunlight on the bottom side of the blindfold. Along the way, she’d lost track of time.

  “Hello, whore,” Christie said by way of greeting.

  “Hello, psycho. I see you’ve kidnapped an innocent child. How very enterprising of you,” Erica said, careful to keep her tone light and pleasant. “Did you not think about bringing the FBI down on your head, genius?”

  The fist to the side of her head wasn’t as light or as pleasant. Jesus, she really needed to curb her tongue. But she was getting hangry, and her inner demon was about to make itself known.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you it isn’t nice to strike out at the other kids on the playground?” Erica taunted. “Oh, that’s right. She encouraged your fucking crazy-ass behavior.”

  She took great delight in imagining how beet red the other woman’s face must be in her rage. A kick to the ribs had her bending double, or as far double as her bound wrists would allow, and losing the vision which had caused her such pleasure.

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  Because she had surpassed pissed and was heading for the Incredible Hulk on the anger scale, Erica found it difficult to comply.

  “Go fuck yourself!” Admittedly, it lost something through the pain-filled panted breaths, but she felt the point came across well enough.

  Another blow landed in the vicinity of the first. “Godfuckingdammityoucrazybitch!”

  “Erica? Erica?” came the frightened cry of Jacob.

  She summoned every ounce of strength to make her voice as normal as possible. “I’m okay, Jacob. Just having a bit of a dis…” She paused to catch her breath. “Disagreement with your mom. It’s all good.”

  “Don’t you talk to him or I’ll slit your flabby throat,” Christie threatened, tone low and fierce.

  “Flabby? Who are you calling flabby, you…” She stopped when the blade met the skin on the other side of her carotid artery.

  “Not another word.”

  How was she supposed to respond to that? If she agreed, she would get her throat slit for speaking, but if she said nothing, it might provoke Christie into slitting her throat thinking she was being obstinate. When the knife no longer laid alongside her neck, Erica held her breath for an additional ten seconds in case her nemesis decided to plunge it in to the hilt.

  When a brutal stabbing no longer seemed imminent, she breathed an abbreviated sigh of relief. She was pretty sure she now had a few cracked ribs, since taking a full inhale was impossible.

  Erica had been hoping Christie might burst a blood vessel or suffer a seizure that paralyzed her until help could arrive, but no such luck. Instead, she had hulked out herself. One more thing to google; had there ever been a second hulk, and if so, had there been an epic battle?

  “Erica?” Jacob’s concerned call carried to her.<
br />
  “Shut up, you little brat!” Christie yelled.

  “No! I want my dad!”

  Hearing his mother start to charge out of the room, Erica thought to draw her wrath from the boy. “Hey, psycho? Did you bring me any food, or was your grand plan to starve me to death? Order a damn pizza or something, will ya?”

  Without warning, Christie laughed. Not maniacal, but more of the actual amused type when someone tickled a proverbial funny bone.

  “I’ll say one thing for you, whore, you’ve got balls. I might miss our little interactions after you’re gone.”

  “Yeah, me not so much. By the way, the kid probably has to go to the bathroom.”

  When the slap came, there wasn’t as much force behind it, for which Erica was eternally grateful. Losing teeth was a bit of a stupid thing to worry about at this point, but the vain part of her didn’t want to have a gaping smile. If she lived, of course. Surely, they wouldn’t have an open casket at this point, would they? Her face had to be bruised black and blue. The undertaker would have to cake the foundation on to cover the marks. That wouldn’t be pretty.

  Realizing her thoughts were becoming maudlin, Erica retreated into her mind to plot out the next section of her current novel. One in which she killed a crazy stalker bent on destroying her life.

  Bucky had changed into civilian clothes after his shift had ended, and arrived back at the hospital to sit with the Sharp family. The show of support humbled Zack. Twelve hours ago, he’d been ready to accuse the man of being an accomplice to Christie.

  Over the last few hours, he’d met with another officer to provide details on the few texts he’d received and to call off the officer who’d been sitting with Shonda at his house. Now they knew Jacob was not likely to turn up unexpectedly, there was no point in anyone being there. Mason encouraged Shonda to go home to rest, but she refused and claimed rank as Erica was her bestie. She, too, took up residence in the hospital waiting room.

  An Amber Alert had gone out over all the media outlets. The idea was to saturate the news stations with images of Jacob, Christie, and Erica, in hopes someone would’ve seen something. Zack didn’t think it was likely Erica would be so easy to move without raising a ruckus. To that degree, she was expendable. He just hoped she would keep her head and not antagonize his ex-girlfriend in any way.