The River Valley Series

by Tess Thompson

  “Annie, there’s something wrong with my car. We stalled at the end of my driveway. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.” His voice sounded frightened.

  The fear came swift. Marco.

  “I called Tommy to pick me up but there was no answer,” continued Drake.

  “They had to take Ellie to the doctor.”

  “Can you get someone to take you home? Alder and I can walk back up to the house.”

  “Cindi’s gone already. Billy cut his finger and had to go to the ER. But Amanda’s still here. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking me.”

  “Okay, well, that’s good. Although I don’t like the idea of the two of you walking out to the parking lot by yourselves.”

  “It’ll be fine. We’ll just hustle fast.”

  “All right. Come home now. Otherwise I might lose my mind.”

  “I will.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you.” She hung up the phone. Smiling, thinking of how safe he made her feel, she looked up from the sink. And there he was. Marco. Grinning. Holding a gun to Amanda’s head.

  Chapter 30

  She froze, staring at his face. The ten years since they last saw one another had not been kind to him. His face was deeply creased, much more so than a man of thirty-five should be, but his eyes remained as they had always been, sharp and mean. He was wearing a tank top. Both his arms were covered with tattoos. Next to the cross was a dragon that ran the length of his arm. On his other arm was an intricate tattoo of a cobra, starting at the shoulder and weaving in and around his arm. He wore a large pewter cross around his neck.

  Amanda’s eyes were glued to Annie’s face. “He grabbed me when I went to take the open sign inside,” she whispered. “I couldn’t stop him.”

  Without moving her body, Annie slid her thumb over the bar on her phone, waking it, hoping to dial Drake’s number, but Marco was too quick for her. He kicked the phone out of her hand. It crashed to the ground, breaking the glass.

  “Long time, no see,” he said, softly.

  “What do you want?”

  “You know what I want. I’ve been waiting ten years to pay you back for what you did to me.”

  Her phone rang. Despite the broken glass, she could see it was Drake. Perhaps he would know she was in trouble if he called and called and she didn’t answer. Surely he would come. Linus. Linus was next door at the inn.

  Marco, still holding tight to Amanda, scooped up the phone and turned off the ringer. He pushed Amanda into a chair, putting his foot between her legs. He pointed the gun at Annie. “Get some rope. Now.”

  Rope. Where was there rope? Lee’s office. Her eyes fluttered to the office door. A phone was in there, too. Could she possibly dial 911 fast enough? “It’s in the office.”

  But he was too smart for her. He grabbed Amanda by the arm and with the gun still pointed at Annie, shoved her towards the office. “I’ll go with you to get it.”

  Annie scooted past him into Lee’s office and rummaged through the junk drawer, finding some rope in the very back.

  “Now come out and tie her up,” said Marco to Annie. “Then you and me are taking a little trip down memory lane.”

  Amanda was crying silently. Marco thrust her onto the chair once more, yanking the poor girl’s arms behind the chair. “Tie up her hands and feet.”

  “I don’t know how to make a proper knot,” said Annie.

  “They didn’t teach that to you at fancy chef school, huh?” He stood, pushing into Annie’s chest with the barrel of his pistol. “Do it. Double knot. Like it’s a whole chicken. I saw you do that enough times.”

  Annie went behind the chair and wrapped the rope around Amanda’s wrists. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She tied one knot, leaving it somewhat loose. Perhaps Amanda could wriggle free.

  Marco kicked her in the side with the tip of his boot. “Tighter.”

  She yelped in pain and touched her side. A little harder and he would have broken the same rib he broke all those years ago.

  “Now,” he said, bringing the gun up as if he might hit her with it.

  She cringed, and she moved her gaze back to the rope and tied it tighter, careful not to press it into the girl’s skin. Then she looped it over again, securing it with a tug.

  After Amanda was tied, Marco grabbed hold of Annie’s hair and pulled her to her feet, shoving her towards the back door. “I’ve been watching you for weeks now. I know your routine and that your fancy rich boyfriend drops you off in his Mercedes every afternoon at three. Seen my boy in the car with him.”

  That’s what was wrong with Drake’s car. Drake, Drake, Drake. Come find me.

  They were in the parking lot now, headed towards a truck parked on the side street adjacent to the restaurant. The truck had Oregon plates. Where had he gotten it? Was it stolen? She looked around wildly, hoping someone—anyone—was out tonight. But it was no use. On a weeknight in this town everyone was either home and in bed or half-cocked at the rundown bar at the end of town where they served dollar beers on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

  Marco shoved her into the cab of his truck. It smelled of stale cigarettes and perspiration. Where did he plan on taking her? What was he going to do to her? Beat her to death or shoot her? She shivered, fighting tears, thinking of her boy and her man that waited. Would they have to wait forever? Would Drake lose another love? Would Alder lose his mother?

  Marco hit the gas pedal hard and they lurched forward before he took a sharp turn, making the tires squeal. They were headed south, out of town to somewhere isolated where he would kill her and leave the body. No one would find her for days. The lights of town faded in the side mirror.

  Marco began to rant then, just as he had all those years ago right before a beating. “You ruined my life, the minute I set eyes on your fat ass in that wop’s diner. You know how long I’ve wanted this? I sat in that prison rotting away while you were out here playing fancy and keeping the fact that I had a boy from me. I deserved to know him. He should know who his father is.”

  “He knows who you are,” she said. “And it makes him sick.”

  His hand came from nowhere, smacking her head with the palm of his hand so hard her head slammed into the passenger door window. She cried out, touching her fingers to the wound. There was blood. Her left ear was ringing.

  He was quiet after that. She used every ounce of concentration to keep from crying. She would not let him see her cry again if it was the last thing she ever did. And it might just be, she thought. Alder. Drake would take care of Alder for her. And Lee and Tommy. And Linus. Her heart hurt thinking of them all, how worried they would be when they discovered her missing.

  They drove for ten minutes before turning down a dirt road. He parked the car and came around to the passenger side to yank her out, shoving her in front of him with the gun in her back. “Walk,” he said. The air smelled of the river. They were somewhere near the river. Someplace outside of town she’d never been.

  It was dark, nothing but the stars above to light their path, and she stumbled on pebbles and rocks. The unique scents of the river, rocks dried in the sun and fish and grasses, were stronger now. Did he plan on drowning her? Or just shooting her and putting her body in the river currents?

  They came upon a shack or shed of some kind. There was a faint yellow light hanging over the doorway. Marco opened the door and pushed her inside, switching on a light so that the room became dimly lit. There was a small table and one chair, a hot plate on a rough, wooden counter, and a small refrigerator and a cot in the corner. A half bottle of cheap tequila and beer cans piled up in a pyramid were next to the hot plate.

  “Had to kill that homeless fool you fed all the time outside the restaurant. I followed him one night and decided this would be a great place to hide out. And when I pulled my gun out, he started in babbling about you. Said he knew I was a bad man after you, that he’d been watching me. So I had to kill him.”

  Otis. Poor, harmless Otis. He killed Otis. I�
�m next.

  Marco pointed at the cot with his gun. “Sit down there.” He went to the small refrigerator and pulled out a beer, opening it with one hand and tilting it back, drinking what she supposed was the entire beer in one swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his bare arm.

  “What I want to know is why you did it,” he said, his cruel eyes fixed on her face.

  “Why I did what?” She tried to sound brave but her voice shook.

  “Why did you set me up? I loved you. And you sent me to prison.”

  “I was pregnant. I thought you’d eventually kill me.” She cleared her throat. “Have you forgotten how many times you came close?”

  “That’s just some bullshit you made up in your mind. I may have roughed you up a bit from time to time but that was only because you always had such a big mouth.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “And I had to learn how to take care of myself in prison. It’s rough in there. Had to kill a man who tried to kill me. This is the life you sent me to.”

  He opened another beer, continuing to point the gun at her. “Take off your clothes.”

  She shook her head. “Please, Marco, don’t do this. Just let me go. Think of our son.”

  “Shut up. You think I’m that stupid? That you could manipulate me with that shit after you kept him from me all this time?”

  He walked over to her, with the gun pointing at her head, speaking slowly, emphasizing every word. “Take… off… your… clothes… now.”

  Crying silently, despite her vow to the contrary, she pulled her blouse over her head and wriggled out of her jeans. The ring was still inside her jeans, safely tucked inside the pocket. How she wished she was back in the moment Drake had given it to her. The ring. Drake. Think of the ring. Let it give me strength.

  “Bra and panties, too.”

  She removed them, wiping her nose with the back of her arm after she was done, pulling her knees up to her chest to try and hide her bare breasts.

  “What the hell happened to you? You’re so skinny. You look like shit.”

  She looked up at him, suddenly defiant. “You used to tell me that every single day we were together. Remember that?”

  He shrugged. “You were a fat cow back then.”

  “It took me a long time not to hear your voice in my head. Years. You gave me a kind of prison, too.”

  “Don’t you ever try and compare what you did to me with any of your made up lies about how awful I was to you.” He smacked her on the side of the head with his gun. She yelped and fell from the cot onto the dirty floor, seeing spots.

  “You know what they did to me in prison? How close I came to being killed in there until I learned to fight back? I’m going to do everything to you they did to me and see how you like it.”

  “They’ll know who did this. And you’ll be back in prison.”

  “Nah. I got it all worked out. All these weeks I’ve been watching you, I’ve been making a plan. A plan to disappear. Off the grid’s what they call it. And that’s where your rich boyfriend comes in.”

  “What?”

  “He’s gonna want to get you back safe and sound and I know he’s willing to pay for it.”

  Ransom money?

  Holding her head, she climbed back onto the cot. The wound from earlier was bleeding again.

  He downed the rest of his second beer, tossing the empty can into the pile on the counter. The pyramid collapsed. The cans rolled off the table and clattered to the floor. He put his gun into his pants pocket before taking her cell phone from his pocket. “Let me see here. Ten calls from Drake Webber. These smart phones came out during the time I was in prison. Think about that, bitch. Ten years of my life. Wasted. Because of you. Let’s turn the ringer back on and answer next time he calls. I can share my demands with him.” Marco poured himself a shot of tequila, downed it, and poured another. Then he opened another beer and drank it, pacing back and forth in front of the door. “You want to know all the things I learned in prison while you were out here living the high life?”

  He ambled over to her, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, and sat on the cot next to her. His face was close to her; his breath smelled of beer and his teeth were stained brown. Tobacco? Or something else?

  He tossed the phone onto the floor and, kneeling on the floor, pushed her down onto the cot. He shoved into her pubic bone with the hard part of his hand. She cried out from the pain, shutting her eyes against the meanness on his face. She whispered, “Please, Marco, don’t do this.”

  “Shut up, you stupid cow.” His mouth was next to her ear, his breath hot and stale. “I’ll take what’s mine before I kill you.” He cupped her breasts. “Jesus, there’s nothing left of you.”

  She felt his erection against her thigh. She gagged, feeling as if she might vomit. No, no, no, she chanted silently in her head. I will not let you do this. You will not win now, not after all the years it took to build my life.

  Suddenly, she twisted onto her side and using all the power in her legs, from all the hours and hours she’d spent making them strong and agile, she shoved her feet into his chest. He fell back onto the floor. She jumped from the bed and onto him, straddling him, and reached for the gun in his pocket. But as strong as she was, she was no match for a man twice her size. He twisted her arm behind her back until she cried out in pain. Then, as if she were no heavier than a rag doll, he tossed her onto the cot while still sitting on the floor.

  He scrambled up from the floor, lurching towards her while unbuttoning his pants. “Don’t try that again, you little bitch. Kind of a turn-on, though, I gotta say.”

  Just then, her phone rang. Drake’s ring: soft guitar chords.

  “Ah, here’s your boyfriend. Now’s as good a time as any to tell him what I want. Let’s put him on speaker phone.” He took his gun out of his pocket, cocked it, and pointed it at her. “You keep quiet or I’ll kill you right here and now.” He answered the phone. “Drake Webber. How nice of you to call.”

  “Where is she?” Drake’s voice was angry but she could tell he was frightened, too. Annie scooted as far back on the cot as she could, pressing into the wall, crying silently.

  “You won’t find us unless I want you to.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What do you think?”

  “How much?”

  “A million dollars.”

  “When and where?” said Drake, without hesitation, as if he were talking to a colleague about a legitimate business deal.

  “In the morning. Eight o’clock in back of the Dairy Queen.”

  “I want proof she’s still alive,” said Drake.

  “Say something,” Marco said to her.

  “Drake, don’t give it to him. He’s going to kill me anyway.” She screamed this, sobbing.

  “Shut up,” yelled Marco, smacking her face with the back of his hand. She cried out once again, despite her efforts to remain stoic.

  “I want her with you tomorrow or I won’t give you a dime,” shouted Drake through the phone, his voice cracking.

  “No. I’ll tell you where to find her.”

  “Absolutely not. No Annie, no money.”

  “Then it’s off,” said Marco, hanging up the phone and turning off the ringer. “Let’s shut this off for a few minutes. Let him sweat it while we get down to business. I need a drink first, though.” He stood, somewhat unsteadily, and poured himself another shot of tequila.

  She covered herself in a ratty blanket as her mind turned over and over, grasping for some answer out of this. What could she say or do to keep him from raping her? How could she buy a little time, hoping that the gang would somehow figure out where they were?

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said.

  “You have to squat outside if you need to go.” He tossed her a roll of toilet paper. “I’ll go with you. Make sure you don’t think it’s a good idea to try and run off.”

  Once outside, shivering, her eyes adjusting slowly to the
dark, she looked up to the stars. And there, shooting across the sky, was a falling star. Tears came to her eyes, remembering her little son, probably terrified as they waited for news. Stay strong, she told herself. Think. There had to be some way to escape. Could she dive in the water and follow the current into town? But how could she get away from him? Wait for him to fall asleep?

  She squatted near a bush and urinated, humiliated as he watched her while he smoked a cigarette, the red butt glowing in the dark night. The sound of the river, a trickle of gushing water, water over rocks, nature’s current, always a source of comfort to her, was useless against the terror that wrapped around her like an icy cloak.

  Then, in the relative quiet, came the sound of a coyote, howling ominously. And then another, as if answering his call. She stood, wrapping the blanket tighter around her torso, watching Marco. He’d gone still and in the glow of his cigarette she saw his face change. He was afraid. Was it of the coyotes? The howling penetrated the darkness once again, only this time the sound felt closer. But instead of it making her afraid, it comforted her. She was not alone in this wilderness with a madman. The beasts were there, howling in the night.

  “Let’s get inside,” he said. And yes, there it was—in his voice—fear.

  And then, the howling came again, one after the other, varying slightly in pitch, like they were in conversation. There were more than two, she realized. Perhaps four different pitches? Maybe more. With each howl, the sound grew nearer.

  Marco raised his pistol into the air and fired a shot, then another. The sound was deafening. Her ear, injured earlier by Marco’s gun, throbbed. The howls ceased for a moment, the sound of the gun reverberating in the still summer night. But after a moment, they erupted once again in cascading tones, drawing nearer and nearer. Marco seemed frozen, holding his gun out in front of him, his eyes scanning the dark. The howls were close now. And then, six sets of yellow glowing eyes in the dark, low to the ground. Marco, breathing heavily, grabbed her and shoved her inside the shack and slammed the door, leaning against it with his body. The howling stopped.