by Amy Isaman
I sat on the bed and brushed the hair from her face. “Baby girl? You in there? I found you sweetheart, but we gotta get you out of here. I need you to wake up.”
Laurel didn’t move. A glass of water sat on the bedside table. I shoved a corner of the sheet in it and began wiping down her face though the water did nothing to awaken her. My own tears flowed, streaming down my face as I leaned over and whispered in Laurel’s ear, “Wake up, baby girl. I need you. I need you to hear me. I can’t carry you, sweetheart. Come back to your mama. I love you.” I rubbed her arms and face willing her to wake up. Nothing.
The murmur of voices continued downstairs as the terror of the past day overwhelmed me. I sobbed silently into my daughter’s chest. Would she ever wake up? I could hear my galloping heartbeat. Collin and Lucy were in some financial difficulty since David’s accident, but they knew what it was like to almost lose a child.
I took a deep breath and sat up. Enough of this. I didn’t have time to feel sorry for either of us. I wiped away my tears, trying to focus on what I needed to do. Get my daughter out of here. I focused on that. On her. The fear of losing her when I was this close to retrieving her. I’d never felt a fury like this, and I needed it to fuel me. It was the only way I’d find the strength to get Laurel up and out of here. I couldn’t carry her. I couldn’t ask my cabbie to come get her either. Instead of waiting and staring at Laurel, I got her ready to go. Her shoes were under the bed. I slipped them on her feet and realized that she had restraints on her wrists. Oh, Lucy was a bitch. I unhooked them and slid her wrists out, rubbing them softly.
Laurel whimpered, a soft, sound, like a baby. I swallowed holding back the tears that wanted to start again.
I needed to get her out of here before I saw Lucy because if I did, I didn’t know what I’d do to her.
The voices downstairs got louder, and I could hear David thumping around in the room next door. I couldn’t tell if he was in bed banging on the floor or wall or in his wheelchair.
I ran to the large window, but there was nothing below it other than concrete. No porch roof or anything to lower ourselves to. The window was not an option. We had to go through the house. Which meant Laurel needed to wake up. I hurried back to her side and began vigorously rubbing her arms and her face. She murmured some more, and her eyes fluttered open, but they were unfocused and shut again almost immediately. I sat on the bed next to her and leaned into her ear, “Laurel, sweetie, wake up. It’s your mama. I need you to wake up.”
I continued rubbing her arms as her eyes fluttered and finally opened completely. She stared at me. “Mom? S’that you?” she slurred.
I nodded and leaned over to embrace her. “Do you think you can walk? We need to get out of here.”
Laurel shook her head. “No,” her voice was wispy and breathy with weakness.
“Have you eaten anything? Can you eat?”
She stared at me, mutely.
“You need to sit up.” She lifted her hand an inch or two off the bed and tried to reach for my arm.
I pulled her to a sitting position and held her there. I could tell she was dizzy, out of it. I handed her the glass of water. “Can you drink this?”
She pushed it away.
The voices downstairs got louder. Who could be fighting with Lucy like this? I needed at least an hour or two for Laurel to wake up, but I didn’t have an hour. I had a few minutes. Another thump came from David’s room, and it occurred to me that there was a wheelchair and an elevator in this house. If David was still in bed…
I let go of Laurel who instantly wobbled and began to tip. Gently, I laid her back on the bed, hurried to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. I could hear the voices more clearly now, but I still couldn’t understand what they were saying, or what they were arguing about. I shut the door behind me and locked it again. At least that might keep Lucy out for a bit longer since I had the key, and Laurel could wake up and protect herself if I wasn’t able to return. I crept across the hall and opened David’s door. He lay in bed and his eyes widened when he saw me. I put my finger to my lips signaling him to be quiet. Confusion flitted across his face.
Walking toward David, I spoke as calmly and softly as I could. “David, sweetheart, Laurel spent the night last night, did you know that?”
He shook his head. Under his blankets, his legs looked thin and weak, but his shoulders were strong. I still imagined him as the twelve-year-old he’d been when I last saw him, but now he’d become a man, though he could no longer walk. I knew he was undergoing all kinds of state-of-the-art treatments and apparently, some had worked. He’d gotten some movement and mobility back. High-tech looking leg braces and crutches leaned against the wall next to his bed.
“Laurel’s really ill. I need to take her to the hospital. Can I wheel her to my car with your chair? Your mother will bring it right back.”
“My mum is downstairs. I’ve been thumping, but she didn’t come up. Who’s down there with her?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I’ll go get her for you. You just rest easy.” I smiled at David, “I’ll have this right back to you.” And I pushed it across the hall to my daughter as fast as I could.
I fumbled with the key as I unlocked the door, pushed it open with my butt, and pulled the chair in behind me. Again, I locked the door. Laurel had fallen back asleep. I didn’t wake her gently this time. I grabbed her underneath her arms and told her to help me get her moved. Her eyes fluttered, but she was pure dead weight.
The wheelchair sat as close to the bed as I could get it. I pulled her legs off the bed, so she was sort of sideways. Her legs thumped loudly onto the floor and I froze, but I didn’t hear any steps coming upstairs. Yet.
I lifted her as best I could and sort of dragged her into the chair. She woke up slightly but couldn’t do much more than hold her head up. She couldn’t grip the chair, and she had zero strength to pull herself up to sitting. I hoped she would be able to at least stay in the chair once we started moving.
I felt like I’d run a marathon getting Laurel situated. I wiped my hands across my face to get the sweat before it dripped into my eyes when I heard Lucy’s hurried footsteps come up the stairs.
“David! I’m coming. What are you doing?”
Her footsteps went to David’s room, but I didn’t hear them talking. And then she hurried to Laurel’s door. I stood frozen behind the wheelchair. There was absolutely nowhere to hide or go.
Lucy rattled the doorknob and slid a key in the lock. Dammit. She had another one? I grabbed the cane off the bed and positioned myself between my daughter and the door. The second it swung open, I whirled the cane straight at her. I didn’t wait for Lucy to see me. The crack as it hit her on the head was one of the most horrible sounds I’ve ever heard in my life. She dropped like a bag of wet cement.
“Mum? Mum?” David yelled.
I didn’t answer him. Nor did I check to see if she was alive. I didn’t care. I wanted to get Laurel to hospital, and on an airplane, and back to California.
I grasped Lucy’s feet and dragged her into the bedroom, out of my pathway. She moaned softly, but I didn’t stop. I grabbed the wheelchair and pushed Laurel as fast as I could to the elevator at the back of the hall. The whole time David kept yelling, “Mum!”
I shoved Laurel into the elevator and pressed the button. Surprisingly, the elevator swooshed smoothly and quietly to the ground floor, but I still protected Laurel when the door opened. Somebody else was here, and I didn’t know if they’d head upstairs when they heard the yelling or back to the office when they heard the elevator. I heard more sounds from upstairs, thumps and thuds from David’s room, but I waited until I heard the heavy tread of someone’s footsteps going upstairs before I made my escape.
Chapter 32
THE COLLIN’S HOUSE LOOKED exactly as it did when Darius and Tricia first visited it, small and slightly run-down with a wooden ramp leading to the front door for their son’s wheelchair.
Darius pulled off his
helmet and strode to the front. He’d been rehearsing what he’d say the entire ride. He kept his helmet tucked under his arm. He had no qualms about bashing either Collin or his wife over the head with it if he needed to. Nor did he care if they got the card despite Susan’s protests about criminals “winning.” He’d get it back if he did actually have to give it to them. The police would take care of that once they got Laurel back and could actually involve the police without fearing for her safety.
Darius rang the doorbell before rapping firmly on the front door.
“Who’s there?” a female voice hollered.
“I’ve got a delivery for you.”
The lock slid back and the door opened slightly. Not much but it was enough. Darius put his booted foot into the slot, so she couldn’t slam it shut.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, glaring at him. “I’ve got my phone right here. I’ll call the police.”
“You don’t want to do that, do you? Really? When you’ve got a young woman somewhere in this house held captive?”
Lucy paused and her face whitened. Not much, but enough that Darius knew he was right.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you daft? Who are you anyway?” Lucy sneered.
“You know exactly who I am. We met yesterday. And you’re going to open this door all the way. Then, you’re going to invite me in. I’ll wait while you go get Laurel for me. When I see her, I’ll give you these.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled the leather portfolio out. He opened it just enough for her to see the corner of the card, but no more. He needed into the house first before she called his bluff on only having the one card. He didn’t really have any intention of giving it to her anyway, especially if she was alone, and Darius got the sense that she was.
Lucy pulled the door open and waved him in, her mouth pressed together in a terse line. She wore an apron with ruffles on the shoulders and around the hem, a look that belied the actions this woman had taken over the past day.
He stepped into the parlor and sat in the seat where he sat earlier with Tricia, but today he could feel the nervous sweat dripping down his back and his stomach-churning. His gaze darted around the room, but it looked identical.
“What do you have, now?” she asked with feigned innocence.
“Lucy, enough of this charade. Go get Laurel.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Darius rubbed his face and eyed the stairs. He could run up there and find her himself. Lucy was a small woman, but what if Laurel wasn’t up there? Was there a cellar in this house? He was sure there was. He supposed he could search the whole thing, and she couldn’t stop him unless she had a gun or something. Or she locked him away with Laurel.
“Lucy, don’t play this game.” He pulled the leather portfolio from his coat and opened it. “You want this. I want Laurel. Go get her.”
She laughed, “You’ve got one card in there. I believe there are four.”
“Yes, there are, but Tricia has the others. Isn’t she with your husband?”
“You don’t even have the fourth card,” she laughed. “The deal was four cards for one girl.”
“Good luck. It’ll take one call to the police to have them here. You’ll spend the rest of your life in jail.”
“Will I?” she asked. “I have an entire recording of Tricia talking about you breaking and entering into an old man’s house late last night where you stole a signed copy of one of Yeats’ early books of poetry. You also stole a priceless tarot card from him. Aren’t you a collector? And she works in art insurance? Her career will be ruined. She’ll never work again. Go ahead. Call the police.”
“Goddammit,” Darius said, standing, and then he stopped. A thump sounded from upstairs. He and Lucy both froze staring at the ceiling. “Is that her?”
“No, I’m sure it’s David. He gets frustrated when our schedule gets disrupted and he’ll thump the floor. I’ll be right back,” Lucy snapped, heading toward the stairs. “It sounds as if he fell since I didn’t get up there. Wait here.”
“You have five minutes. Then, I’m coming up. And I’m not leaving without Laurel.”
Chapter 33
I PEEKED OUT THE ELEVATOR DOOR as soon as it slid open. David started yelling and something hit the floor above my head, making a huge thud. I flinched back into the elevator as Laurel’s head lolled to one side. She still hadn’t woken up any more, I needed to get her out of this damn house. Grasping the wheelchair’s plastic handles with my sweaty palms I pushed her as fast as I could toward the back door.
Right when I got there, a thick silence enveloped the house until a loud yell from David pierced the air a moment later. My heart raced, nearly exploding, but his hollers for his mother covered the noise of the backdoor opening. There was no ramp for the chair back here, so I grasped Laurel around the chest as we thudded down the two back steps, and I left whatever happened there behind us.
Careening down the back alley, Laurel slumped and slipped lower in the chair. I grabbed at her arm, but couldn’t steer with one hand. Instead, I continued my prayers which turned into “Please God, Please God, Please God” like a mantra that kept time with my pace. I glanced over my shoulder. Nobody followed.
I tripped as we took the corner toward the cab on two wheels. The wheelchair continued moving, as I crashed to the ground, my chin hitting hard and my teeth slamming together as Laurel’s chair bounced off the curb and launched her into the street. The impact knocked the wind out of me. I lay frozen with no breath in my body, watching my daughter tumble into the street and open her eyes, confused and disoriented.
It seemed an eternity until I could pull air into my lungs. I rolled to my side and watched Sean grab the chair and drag it to the curb. He put his arms in Laurel’s armpits and pulled her up into the chair where she sat moaning and shaking her head, looking much like the tweaker Sean thought she was. I sucked deep breaths into my lungs and sat up.
He stood above us and shook his head. “Somebody after you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Can you lift her into your cab? We need to go.”
“What the hell’s she on? You went ass over tits, sent her on a ride, but she didn’t seem to notice much.”
“I know. Get her in the car. Please,” I urged him. “Now.” I finally managed to stand, but pain radiated from my chest outward, my chin numb from the hit. I pressed my hand over the pain and felt the wet stickiness of blood covering my face.
Sean shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a kerchief which I pressed to my chin. “Can you gimme a hand or is that too bad?” he asked. “I’m not sure I can get her up by myself and I don’t wanna drag her all the way to the cab.”
“Can you walk?” I asked Laurel as gently as I could.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“You gotta try, sweetheart.”
She nodded weakly, but it was enough.
Sean leaned down and reached his arm into her left armpit and waited until I tucked my arms under her right. Together we hoisted her up and to her feet. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Whatever she was on was wearing off. Thank God.
We didn’t move fast, but it only took four steps to get her into the back seat where she collapsed with a moan and grabbed at her head.
I climbed in after her.
“To the hospital?” He asked, watching me in the rear-view mirror.
“Please.”
We made a U-turn in the street and left the way we came. I’d never have to see that damn house again.
I laid Laurel’s head in my lap and brushed her hair back from her face as I did when she was sick as a child. She looked pale and clammy. “Baby girl,” I whispered, leaning over her. “Can you hear me?”
She nodded.
I sat up and tapped Sean on the shoulder. “Do you know what Diprivan is?”
“No idea. Look it up.”
“Oh. Right.” My brain felt like it was functioning at half capacity. I reached for Collin’s phone, turned it on, and Googled it. They gave her an anesthesia med that they use for surgery which means it would wear off which was good news. I could tell Laurel was waking up, but as I kept reading, I realized this was the same drug that killed Michael Jackson, and it should only be administered in a hospital setting.
I cradled Laurel’s head in my lap and kept whispering to her, telling her everything would be okay, she was with me now. I hoped the sound of my voice would help her to wake up and come back to me. As I softly caressed her cheeks, so incredibly grateful to have her with me, the impact of what happened at Lucy and Collin’s house hit me. The cane landed on Lucy’s head. Hard. I hadn’t aimed for her head, but she ducked and that’s where it landed. She moaned when I dragged her out of the way, but the blow could have killed her. Nausea roiled in my stomach, and I swallowed it back. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be in a situation like this. If she didn’t survive, I’d never see my kids again. I’d be in some horrible prison half a world away from them.
The only way to prove that it was self-defense would be to have evidence. And the evidence would have to come from the hospital who needed to take Laurel’s blood to prove she’d been drugged. The last place I wanted to go was the hospital, but we didn’t have a choice.
The mantra began in my head again. “Please God, Please God…”
I hadn’t thought I’d ever want to pray for the life of Laurel’s kidnappers, but getting back home to be with both of my children depended on Lucy living.
Sean tore through the London streets, cursing the traffic that seemed to multiply during the time I was in Collin’s house.
Ten minutes later, we pulled up to the hospital. Sean got out and sprinted toward the ER entrance. I opened my wallet and tossed more money into the front seat. When he returned, he was accompanied by a nurse with a wheelchair. Laurel seemed to be waking up a bit more with each passing moment, but we still weren’t sure if she could walk.
