Heartwood

by L. G. Pace III

  After meticulously brushing my hair, he dressed me in one of his shirts and a pair of boxers and brought Logan and his diaper bag into my room. He locked us in together after informing me that he was going into town on a quest for supplies.

  That was when my plotting began. I allowed myself a small breakdown first. I sobbed with revulsion at myself and my humiliating weakness. Then I thought about Joe, and wept harder. He was the love of my life and I’d cheated on him, albeit only with my hand. We’d been married for less than two weeks and another man had already violated me. I loathed myself for getting into this situation in the first place, but I loathed Draven a whole lot more.

  I cried for a while with the ferocity of a petulant brat throwing a temper tantrum. After I was all cried out, I just wanted to close my eyes and fantasize that Joe would show up on his big white horse and carry us off into the sunset like he had in my girlhood fantasies. My ego just wouldn’t allow it. My baby boy stared up at me, no doubt wondering why water was streaming from my eyes. My heart broke all over again, and I stroked his silky cheek. I realized I hadn’t seen his sister in nearly nine days, and I ached to hold her. Oddly, I was glad it had been Logan that was with me. I sensed that Logan’s saving grace was how much he resembled me. Eva...she looked so much like Joe, Draven would have been way worse to her.

  Anger flared in me and made me grit my teeth. I wouldn’t let anything stop me from getting back to her, including silly pipe dreams. Joe couldn’t possibly know that Draven had us. He had his hands full with Eva and he wouldn’t have the faintest idea where to look.

  No one was coming for us.

  It was up to me to save myself.

  I wiped my tears away and paced the floor with Logan, constructing a list of necessities for my escape plan.

  First, I needed a weapon. Something that would incapacitate him quickly. I needed to take Drae down when I was either with Logan or both of our doors were open. That would probably be the trickiest part, because the thought of Logan being near the fray made me want to vomit. I’d have to be careful and concise. Lastly, I needed the car keys. We were out in the sticks, and I had no idea how far it was to the closest town.

  It wasn’t a very long list. I could do this.

  In the meantime, I just had to keep Draven fed, keep him happy, keep him from hurting Logan, and bide my time.

  When Draven unlocked the door sometime later, I practically sprang off the bed with Logan. I remembered how pissed he used to get when I stayed in bed after he was up and it was an automatic response. My face flushed hot, and I was ashamed that he’d already conditioned me to snap to. Thankfully, he was too excited to notice my reaction at all. He rushed in with his hands full of plastic bags.

  “Blankets.” He said, dropping the bags on the floor and reaching inside to pull out three down comforters.

  I smiled, mostly because I knew one of them was for Logan, and though I couldn’t protect him from my other concerns, at least he wouldn’t freeze to death. The smile must have pleased Draven, because he lit up like the sky on Chinese New Year. It was a predictable reaction. He’d always gotten off on splashing money around, and it seemed time and prison hadn’t changed that about him.

  “There’s more.” He announced and promptly left the room. The door was standing open just a sliver. I debated on following him out of the room while he was distracted, but I had Logan in my arms and I wasn’t sure what I’d use as a weapon.

  Moments later I was glad I hadn’t, because he popped his head back in the room. “Come see.”

  His hand was on the small of my back as we entered Logan’s room. Right in the center he’d set up a brand new Pack and Play for Logan to sleep in.

  “Do you like it?” He asked, sounding incredibly childlike. I covered my mouth and burst into tears. For the first time since he’d walked into my kitchen, I was completely honest with him.

  “Drae. I love it.”

  Later, when Logan was down for the night, Draven appeared in my doorway. His hands were behind his back. A feeling of dread came over me, but I mustered up a smile. It was weak, but he seemed satisfied by it.

  “I’ve got something else for you...since you’ve been such a good girl.” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief by the dim light of my lamp.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” My voice sounded husky, but only I knew it was because my heart was in my throat. I had no idea where he was going with this, but I knew it was nowhere good.

  He pulled a box out from behind his back. It was black with a familiar logo on it. Victoria’s Secret. I reached out to take it from his outstretched hand on reflex. Just before my hand closed on it he pulled it back, an irritated expression appearing on his face.

  “Take them off first.” He demanded.

  I stared at him blankly and then looked down at his shirt and boxers. I made to take off the shirt and it seemed to enrage him. “The wedding ring and engagement ring. Take them off.”

  I should have said yes. Logic dictated that I should have done it without hesitation. I had been ready to strip for him just moments before. But the rings were different. They still symbolized that there was more to life than this rat maze Draven held me captive in. The clearest image of Joe’s mossy green eyes came abruptly to the forefront of my mind. His hands cupping my face, the way he felt inside me, his mouth on mine, his infectious smile when he held the twins.

  My hesitation...that fraction of a second that I stopped to think about it, sent Draven over the edge. My vision exploded into a million colors and agonizing pain radiated from my temple. I cried out, and tried to blink to clear my vision. When I could finally see again, I was no longer on the bed. I was lying on the floor with Draven standing over me.

  “You stupid little quim. Are you trying to play me? Is this some sort of fucking game to you?” He didn’t shout. He didn’t raise his voice. He sounded clipped and articulate.

  The way he loomed above me was terrifying and I shielded my face on instinct. It did no good. He slapped me again, and caught me on the same side. Only this time was far worse. I blinked but I couldn’t see out of my right eye, and I wondered if he’d permanently damaged it.

  Wheeling, he walked to the far side of the room and opened the door. He paused, and I was sure he was coming back for more. Clawing myself upright, I pressed my back against the wall for support. If this was it, if this was where I would die, I wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Looking over at me he sneered and flipped the door shut. It clicked with an ominous finality.

  “Do you know what this is?” He waved his hand in front of it like he was a model on a game show. “This is a Franklin Mayers lock system. Impervious to weapon fire short of a very large handgun. If I gave you a sledgehammer, you could beat on this for days and never break it.

  Each lock has its own unique code. I originally installed them for my protection. If anyone got into the house I could escape into any room and they wouldn’t be able to follow me. Now? These locks are for you. They’ll keep you in your place. You think you can fool me? Think again, bitch. By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to fuck you. My every need will be your greatest desire. But not until you know your place.”

  The way he said it turned my blood to ice. I opened my mouth to speak and he waved his hand at me dismissively.

  “I’m done listening to your lies, cunt. What’s next? That you really do love me? You want to fall on your knees and please me? Save your fucking breath. How could I ever have believed a lying little whore like you?”

  “Drae...please...”

  He turned his back on me and clicked open the door. Then he walked out. Pivoting on his heel he stood and mocked me from right outside.

  “Fuck you, Molly. You almost had me going with all of your fawning and bullshit. Well played, Doll.”

  “Draven,” I tried to be firm, hoping to get some control back.

  “Shut your mouth.” The dangerous edge his voice took snapped my teeth together just as if he had
smacked it shut. “Let me lay this out in a way that even your half-wit mind will understand. The boy stays locked up at night. The only time you get to see him is before we eat. If you disobey me in any way...if I get so much as an upset stomach from your cooking...it will be the boy that suffers. Test me and I will lock you both in your rooms and leave you to die of thirst.”

  He clicked the door shut and I slid down the wall until my behind was on the floor. The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright slipped away and I collapsed. My uninjured face lay against the cold hardwood planks just inches from a large metal vent grate. Twisted stabs of agony settled into a dull throb as I struggled to pull breath in as sobs racked my body. The shadow in my vision scared the hell out of me. Something was really wrong this time.

  I heard voices echoing up through the grate and sucked in a gasp. I felt my lip tremble, and opened my mouth to cry out for help but something made me hesitate. The other voice sounded familiar but the pain was making it hard for me to focus on identifying it. Using all my remaining strength, I scooted myself closer to the grate and listened carefully.

  “I can’t believe it.” Draven whined. “She refused to take his rings off.”

  “If you recall, I said you should have just killed her. You should have snapped her neck and left the carved up baby as a present for that fucking new husband of hers.”

  The second voice was cold and clinical. Sudden, horrifying clarity came over me. I slapped my hand over my mouth, afraid my labored breathing would draw his attention to me. I silently rejoiced that I hadn’t screamed for help from whoever had produced that voice. Because it was Draven. Both of the voices were coming from the same man.

  “He’s not her husband. I am. I love her, goddammit.” Draven sniveled, authentic anguish in his voice.

  “She loves him.” The other said derisively. “That is, if she’s capable of love at all.”

  “But I want her.” Draven sounded petulant. Like a toddler being told that the toy he wanted was too expensive.

  “Then have her. Stop being a pussy and just take her. Then get rid of her so we can catch our plane and close on the beach house. We’ll hire a cook and a maid. Maybe we’ll acquire a half dozen peasant girls who like shiny things. With all that to keep you occupied, you won’t need her anymore. You’ll forget all about her in no time.”

  “I don’t want to rape her.” Petulant Draven sounded incensed. “I want her to want to be with me.”

  An exasperated sigh carried up through the vent.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake. This is just ridiculous. All of my planning, crafting the timetable, setting up the shell companies and the new identity will be wasted if you keep thinking with your dick. Our flight is in three days. You have until then to amuse yourself with her. If she doesn’t bend to your will before then, indulge your carnal desires by force. Then we leave and burn the house down. By the time they sift through the ashes, we will be in a non-extradition country.”

  My heart hammered in my chest at the casual way the monster below me discussed burning me and my child alive. I glanced up at the window and my mind stalled as I raced to formulate a contingency plan. Even if I somehow managed to get to Logan there was almost no chance of us being able to get to the ground safely. Not with the house burning around us. Below, the volume of the voices lowered in discussion and I focused to hear what they were saying.

  “Or...I suppose we could take her onto the jet. It’s a private charter. If we keep her separated from the boy, it should encourage her to behave.” Cold Draven suggested. He seemed to be bored by the conversation.

  “I like that idea. I’ll get her trained before then. But I might need your help.” Petulant Draven said.

  “Fine,” Cold Draven replied. “If we groom her, she could be an enjoyable servant. But if she isn’t moldable, we take care of it my way. No arguments. Agreed?”

  “Alright.” Petulant Draven said. “But the boy goes with me regardless. She cost me my child. She owes me a son. Even if Molly’s a dead end, I want him.”

  “Seems fair. Then at least this whole clusterfuck won’t be a waste of time.” Cold Draven’s tone was conciliatory. “I’m going to sleep. Keep an eye on her.”

  I started shivering uncontrollably and I wracked my addled brain for options. Draven was a ticking psychotic time bomb and I only had three days to find a way to defuse him and save my baby.

  Tick tock.

  THE SINGLE MOST annoying thing, in my experience, is the look of pity on another person’s face. I know why people do it. When faced with overwhelming pain, people tend to fall back into the familiar. The thing is sympathy makes the person giving it feel better. Half the time the person they are giving it to is too out of it to even notice. The other half of the time they want to punch you in the face.

  I thought I was familiar with pain. Foolishly, I thought I had taken the worst life could dish out and survived. Losing a wife and child was brutal. The only thing that was worse than that was facing the possibly that it was all happening again.

  The media circus didn’t help matters. Several news vans were parked up and down my street. The authorities made them stay on the sidewalk, but my entire neighborhood was in an uproar. At first, I thought the attention was a good thing; maybe the publicity would drum up a lead. Or maybe the pressure would cattle prod the investigators in the ass.

  The public outcry might have been touching if I wasn’t teetering on the precipice of a nervous breakdown. According to Stacy, the food trucks were inundated with customers asking how they could help, and both trucks were having a hard time keeping up with business. Stacy had put a picture of Molly and Logan from the Heartwood event on Wrapgasmic’s web page and social media sites. Several search parties were organized for areas near our house; when I heard that news, I locked myself in the bathroom for a couple of hours.

  All of Austin seemed eager to help out. Citizens kept coming into Good Wood to ask Francis about donating money. We finally had to issue a statement asking people to donate to Molly’s favorite charity instead.

  “Feeding people is what Molly does. It’s her calling. She believes in paying it forward.” The press release that my mother had crafted read. “We ask that you keep your eyes peeled and your hearts open. If anyone has any leads, please call the number below.”

  After 48 hours, the story must have gotten a little too dusty. They paraded out Molly’s picture from the photo spread for the Chronicle way back when Wrapgasmic was featured. She hated that picture, and when David had used it as a mural in his Galveston location it had nearly broken down negotiations. Molly had finally decided to just go along with the photo, which had been reproduced into t-shirts and beer coozies. It made her look like a campy pin up and though it showcased her spunky good looks, in this context it gave off a seedy vibe, casting her in a poor light. Tamryn said that the use of it had a “blame the victim” feel.

  Most recently, a local station had somehow gotten their hands on a picture of Molly holding Logan at our wedding. I wondered which one of our so-called friends or family had leaked that to them, but before I could get too excited about it, Tamryn pointed out that it was the most current picture of Logan we had and it might help find him.

  All this and no leads. Not even a hint of where she was. That’s when the media turned on me. It shouldn’t have really taken me by surprise. I’d seen enough cop dramas to know the drill.

  When Dr. Greene insisted on going along with my father and me, I refused. After a couple of minutes of arguing, I had to usher him to his car. I thanked him for his concern, but told him that he needed to just go home. There was nothing for him to do and I had no desire for him to see whatever activity my father was engaging in. Dad had always operated in the gray areas of the government, and it was one of the reasons I wanted no part of his legacy. Funny how I was willing to shed my principles—as easily as a sweater on a sweltering day—when Molly’s safety was at stake. The doctor left, and as I started to follow my father out of the house, I
noticed Mason had arrived. He was standing in the entryway holding Eva, and she reached out her chubby little arms out for me.

  “I think someone wants her daddy.” Mason’s even tone was refreshing. He looked more well rested then the rest of us, but I understood that he was distracting himself with his own kids. I knew his togetherness was an act, but I appreciated the performance. It was a relief not to have to take on the load of his grief in addition to my own.

  “I’m on my way out.” I replied, but Eva started to cry alligator tears and I was powerless against her woeful expression. I took her from him, but motioned for him to follow me.

  “I gotta go, baby girl.” I whispered to her. “Daddy’s going to go find mama.”

  She gave a shuddering sigh and burrowed into me. I felt a squeeze to my already aching heart. I knew exactly how she felt.

  The moment we stepped out onto the front stoop, cameras flashed everywhere like a lightning storm and people were yelling my name.

  “Joe!” A woman yelled. “Any new leads?”

  I put a protective hand on Eva’s ear to block her from the assault of noise. My father, who was already in his car, motioned for me to hurry.

  Another reporter called. “Can we get a statement, Joe?”

  “No comment.” Mason’s voice was authoritative and firm.

  “Funny how bad things keep happening to your wives and children.” A man’s voice rang out over the crowd. Outraged, I froze in my tracks and scanned the crowd. I spotted the slimeball by his sneering grin. “Where are they, Joe?”

  Mason tore off after him, and the sneer instantly transformed into abject terror as the reporter took off running with his camera guy right on his heels. A policeman climbed out of his car and stepped between Mason and them. Mason bellowed over the cop, who looked very much like he wished he could let him loose. “Get the hell out of here before I stick my boot up your ass!”

  I was still reeling from his callous accusations. Eva looked up at me with wide, scared eyes and furiously sucked her thumb.