by J A Whiting
“You don’t think that Alexei guy called her again?” Joe asked.
“He has been trying to get in touch with her, but she never answers his calls. I don’t think she would. We talked about it recently and she said she would keep clear of him.”
Joe found the key and inserted it in the lock. They stepped in and flicked the light switch. The two of them peered around the shop for anything that might suggest Olivia’s whereabouts.
“Her phone,” Brad said, picking up Olivia’s phone from the work table. “Well, that’s why she’s not answering.” He returned it the table.
“But where the hell is she?” Joe said. “She never just disappears without telling me what’s up.”
“She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t have to keep us abreast of her comings and goings,” Brad said. “Maybe she… had a date or something.”
“Oh, come on,” Joe said.
“It’s not that farfetched, Joe.”
“She doesn’t do that. She tells me. Always.” Joe’s expression darkened. “Something’s wrong.”
“Maybe it was the spur of the moment. Someone came by…asked her to go for a drink,” Brad offered.
Joe shook his head. “No.”
“There has to be a simple explanation. We can’t assume the worst,” Brad tried to convince Joe and himself.
Joe shook his head again. “I can assume the worst. Something’s wrong. I’m calling the police.” He reached in his pocket for his cell and remembered he left it in his truck. He borrowed Brad’s phone. When the dispatcher answered, Joe expressed his concerns.
“I’ll pass the information on to the officers, but they usually won’t get involved for twenty-four hours. You said there isn’t any indication of a struggle either at her home or at her business. It’s impossible to immediately determine if someone is missing or just hasn’t kept in touch or they forget to call to say where they are. I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon,” the dispatcher said. “She probably just forgot to tell you. She’ll turn up, sir.” The dispatcher cleared his throat. “It happens all the time. She’s only been out of touch for a few hours. I wouldn’t worry.”
“Olivia doesn’t just disappear. That’s not her. She isn’t like that,” Joe said. “That’s what has us concerned. It would be completely out of her personality and character to just disappear like that. In fact, she doesn’t leave for even a few hours without telling me where she’s going.”
“Well, sir, I’m sorry, but the officers don’t get involved when an adult has only been out of contact for a few hours. You can go down to the station in the morning if you still have concerns.”
Joe ended the call by pushing a button on Brad’s cell. He was fuming. “Do you believe this?” He started pacing around the shop.
“Maybe she had another idea about the recent goings on and she’s checking it out,” Brad offered hopefully.
“Is her car at her house?” Joe asked.
“It wasn’t in the driveway.”
“Let’s go see if it’s in the garage.” They walked back up the hill to Olivia’s house. The garage had a keypad attached to the door frame and Joe punched in the code that raised the door. Olivia’s Jeep was sitting in the bay.
“Maybe she just got home,” Brad said. He knocked on the door leading from the garage to Olivia’s kitchen. No one answered. Joe removed his key chain from his pocket and unlocked the door.
“Liv?” he called as he entered. It was quiet in the house. Brad and Joe walked through the rooms, looking to be sure Olivia wasn’t inside hurt or sick.
“I feel like a peeping Tom,” Brad said.
“Her keys are missing. She always leaves them right here,” Joe said, indicating the small kitchen desk built into the wall. “So we know she probably was at the antique shop today because she left her phone there. And her keys are gone, which she would have needed to get into the store. But the keys weren’t left at the store and the place was in order and the door was locked.” Joe was pacing again. “So she probably left of her own accord.”
Joe stopped walking and stared at Brad.
“What?” Brad asked.
“I don’t know,” Joe answered.
They were both quiet for a minute.
“Maybe she tried to call you. You left your phone in your truck,” Brad offered.
Joe’s face brightened. They locked Olivia’s back door, lowered the garage door, and jogged across the grass to Joe’s truck, which was parked in his driveway. He flung open the driver side door and pulled his phone off the console. He looked at the phone’s face.
“No missed calls, except one from you,” he told Brad. His arm dropped to his side. “I’m worried, Brad,” Joe’s voice quavered. His face looked all rubbery, like he was about to lose it.
“It’s okay.” Brad was worried too, but he was desperate to reassure Joe. “I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she went shopping.”
Joe gave Brad a look. Olivia hated shopping.
“Well, maybe she went for a swim,” Brad said.
“It’s late…it’s dark,” Joe said. “She’d be home by now if she went for a swim. She wouldn’t swim alone in the dark.” Joe sat down on the truck’s runner. He put his head in his hands. “What are we going to do?”
Brad walked the length of the truck and back up again. Back and forth several times. He stopped in front of Joe. “Maybe Alexei called her and she went out with him. She wanted to, so that she could try to find out if he or his father was hiding something.”
Joe lifted his head.
Brad continued, “I told her not to. But who knows; maybe he called and…”
“Did you take her phone from the shop?” Joe asked. “Can you look at her calls and texts?”
“I left the phone on the work table. Wait. Maybe she’s on another stakeout at Martin Andersen’s house.”
Joe looked hopeful.
“We decided not to go there tonight because I had the event at the bookstore…we were going to wait until tomorrow night. You know how she is…maybe she couldn’t wait.”
Joe stood. “Let’s go see. Oh, but your event. I’ll go see. You go back to the store.”
Brad ran his hand through his hair. “I want to go with you, but I don’t have anyone at the store who knows what to do. Maybe I could cancel it.”
“You know you can’t. It’s too late for that.”
Brad looked at his phone to check the time. “Oh no, I should be there right now. I’m late already.” He made a call to the bookstore to tell his employees what to do until he arrived. “Joe, call me as soon as you get to Andersen’s house.”
“I will,” Joe told him.
“I’m going to run back to the bookstore,” Brad said.
“I can drive you,” Joe offered.
“Too much traffic. It will be quicker to run.” The traffic at night on Shore Road was often bumper to bumper with people arriving for vacations or coming into town for the restaurants and shops.
“I have a bike. Take that,” Joe said.
“Yeah, okay. A bike would work,” Brad said.
They went into Joe’s garage.
“What the hell is this?” Brad asked.
“It’s an adult tricycle,” Joe told him. “It’s brand new. I never use it.”
“I can see why,” Brad said. “Why don’t you take the bike to Andersen’s instead of the truck? You can bypass the traffic and get there faster. I’ll just run to the bookstore. It won’t take me long.”
Brad started down the driveway and looked back. “Call me. Let me know if she’s there.”
Joe nodded and wheeled the bike into the driveway.
Chapter 26
Olivia woke up with a start. She had dozed off leaning against the back wall. She heard men’s voices. A sudden bang and hum from above her head jolted her to instinctively stand up. A metal door was rolling down in front of the bars of her cell. She ran to the bars, trying to see out before the door completely cut her off from being able to view anything beyond h
er own four walls. She couldn’t see anyone but she could make out the sound of men talking from somewhere in the large room. The door reached the floor with a shudder and slam. Olivia stepped back. She hated enclosed spaces and she started to hyperventilate. She crouched down and put her hands on the floor to steady herself. She tried to slow her breathing. With a bang above her, the lights of her hold switched off and she was plunged into total darkness.
“No!” she screamed. She could not see her own hand in front of her face. She stood, panicked, and rushed to touch the wall. She was disoriented and felt along the walls until she found the bars. Reaching through them, she pounded against the outer door.
“Open this door!” she shrieked. She was nearly hysterical from the fear of being enclosed alone. She started to sob, and reached down to pull her shoe off so she could use it to pound against the metal door. She fell to the floor as she tried to yank off the shoe. Olivia sat in the blackness, panting. Get hold of yourself. Don’t lose control. Calm down, calm down.
She put her shoe back on and tied the laces. They want me to freak out. I won’t play into their hands. I won’t. Olivia thought she heard something outside the door. She crawled closer and put her ear as near to the door as she could. She heard voices but could not make out what they were saying. She heard a noise like metal sliding along metal. She heard a woman speak. Then she heard her screaming. The screams faded as if the woman was being taken away. Oh no. Oh no.
***
Joe rode the bike down along Shore Road, staying as close to the shoulder as he could so that he was able to pass by the cars which were bumper to bumper in a line on the street. The bike didn’t have a headlight on it, so Joe balanced a flashlight in his hand while also holding onto the handle bar so that he could see the road better and so he was visible to others in the darkness. The bike didn’t have anything on the back except a small reflector and Joe worried that a car might bash into him from behind if the traffic started to flow.
He turned down the road that led to the cove and followed past the restaurants and stores until the road curved again to the right, leading to the section of private homes.
When Joe arrived at Andersen’s house, he rode the bike down the driveway and pulled it onto the grass next to some bushes. He turned off the flashlight and stepped quietly along the walkway leading to the left of the house. He stopped and listened. He gazed up to the three levels of decks above him but could see nothing. The house was dark from Joe’s angle. He moved further up the walkway. Now he could see a light in a room off the first deck. He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs that led to the first level. He knew Olivia didn’t have a key to the house, but maybe she met Mr. Hannigan and was inside the house with him. Or maybe the lights were on a timer. Maybe Olivia was on the deck doing her surveillance.
Joe called softly, “Liv?”
Nothing. For a minute, he wrestled with whether or not he should go and knock at the door. He put his foot on the stair and started up. When he reached the deck and saw that it was empty, he sidled up to the glass door and peeked into the expansive living room. Something caught his eye. Joe squinted and moved his head up close to the glass. On the far sofa was Olivia’s backpack. But where’s Liv?
Joe raised his hand to knock on the glass just as a man entered the living room from inside the house. The man halted abruptly when he saw Joe’s face at the door.
***
Olivia sat on the floor, having pushed herself into a black corner of her lockup. Being in the corner made her feel more secure because she had the two walls close to her shoulders. She wished she could sleep but rest evaded her. She rubbed her forehead and thought about Joe and Brad. They must be worried. They must wonder where I am. She stretched her legs in front of her to get the kinks out of them. She was sore and achy and her head pounded from what she thought must be after-effects of whatever was in the syringe.
The metal door boomed and a motor whirred. The door lifted slowly, allowing light to enter the cell a bit at a time, as if it was dawn and the sun was inching over the horizon. Olivia stood, grateful for the light but fearful of what would come next. When the door was fully retracted, two men appeared from the right: the short, stocky man with the scar and the greasy-haired man. The scar-face made a motion with his hand and the bars slid back. They both scrutinized her. The one who gestured for the bars to open signaled for Olivia to come forward. She stayed where she was.
After a moment he said firmly, “Come.”
Olivia moved forward. The greasy-haired man showed handcuffs to her but she did not extend her arms.
“I don’t need handcuffs,” she said.
“Come, come,” the scarred-faced man said and waved his hand slightly. “We’ll decide that.”
The greasy-haired man took hold of her arms and twisted them behind her, forcing the handcuffs on. The scar-faced man wheeled to the left and strode to a door at the far end of the bunker room. The greasy-haired man gestured for Olivia to follow the first man. He gave her a push and walked behind her. Olivia glanced at the floor and wall as she walked stiff-legged and was thankful there didn’t appear to be any fresh stains on them.
***
Brad stood behind the counter of his bookstore, listening to the bluegrass band play. There was a large crowd that showed up for the event and all the tables were full and people were standing around the edges of the room, enjoying the music and drinking coffees. Brad wished that it was over and that he could talk to Joe. He checked his phone again, which he had been doing every few minutes for the past forty-five. Where the hell is Joe? Why doesn’t he call?
A customer approached and ordered an espresso. Brad put his phone down and tended to the request. He felt both exhausted and agitated. He wanted nothing more than for everything to be all right. Why doesn’t Joe call?
Chapter 27
Olivia followed the man into a room about the size of a two-car garage. It too was bare walled and had no windows. There were two straight back chairs in the middle of the room. Four beat-up, cushioned chairs were along the far wall. Olivia’s heart beat fast and her hands felt clammy.
The scar-faced man spoke. “Sit,” he said, indicating the hard chairs.
Olivia sat down in the closest one.
The greasy-haired man stood at attention in front of the door where they had entered. Scar-face knocked on a heavy door near the cushioned chairs.
A tall, slender man with eyes like a dead shark entered the room. Olivia’s eyes widened. Her pulse beat like a drum. It was the man from the accident scene, and he was followed by Dmitri Siderov. Siderov sat in one of the chairs by the wall and crossed his legs. His eyes fixed on Olivia for several minutes, his face blank.
He sighed and said, “I believe you have something of mine, Ms. Miller. Two things, actually.”
Olivia knew he must be referring to the necklace, but what was the second thing? She had no idea what he was talking about.
Siderov glanced down and picked at one of his fingernails. “And you won’t leave here until I know where they are.” He looked up at her. “We can make things quite unpleasant for you.” His voice was matter-of-fact. He stood and moved quickly for the door, which the sentry opened for him. “I’ll be back.”
Scar-face and Dead Eyes took positions on either side of the door through which Siderov left. No one spoke and they did not make eye contact with Olivia. Olivia wondered what the hell Siderov thought she had of his.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said. No one looked at her. “I don’t feel well.” The scar-faced man glanced at her.
“Should I just throw up on the floor then?” She coughed.
“Take her.” Dead Eyes indicated to Scar-face.
Scar-face’s eyes narrowed into slits. He waved for Olivia to come to him. He opened the door and pushed her out into the bunker room. He grabbed her arm and moved her along one of the walls until they came to a door. He took hold of the handle and flung it open to reveal a small bathroom. Olivia stepped over th
e threshold and held her handcuffed hands out from behind her back.
“Just go,” he muttered.
“I need these off to go,” she said.
At first he didn’t move, but then he reached into his pocket and took out the key. He released the handcuffs.
Olivia bent down by the toilet clutching her head. She looked up and said, “Can I have some privacy?”
The guy just stared at her.
She pretended to have dry heaves into the toilet and turned her head to him. “What am I going to do? Walk through a concrete wall to escape?” She stood up and walked over to the door. “Shut it…or I’ll puke on your fancy shoes.”
The guy pushed her back and slammed the bathroom door.
Olivia pretended to have dry heaves again while she looked around the bathroom. No window. No tub. Just a small medicine cabinet with a mirror attached to it and a dirty towel on a towel rack. Olivia pulled the towel off the rack. She coughed and heaved some more for the guy’s benefit. She positioned the towel over the mirror and while she wrenched it off the cabinet she used her foot to push on the handle that flushed the toilet, the flushing noise masking the removal of the mirror.
Part of the mirror came off in her hands and she immediately smashed it on the porcelain sink, shattering the mirror into pieces. She slipped a piece of it into the back pocket of her jeans.
The door of the bathroom flew open. Olivia held out a piece of the mirror wrapped in the towel like a knife in front of her.
The guy halted when he saw the sharp glass of the mirror pointing at him.
“Stupid bitch,” he yelled as Olivia ran at him with the glass, slashing at him like a wild woman.
Olivia managed to cut his hands and face before he had her in a lock hold. He threw her onto the floor outside the bathroom. He swatted the glass out of Olivia’s grasp and he wrapped his massive hands around her throat and choked the air out of her. Olivia’s eyes bulged and she kicked and bucked off the floor, desperate to suck in precious oxygen. As she started to lose her vision, the door to the other room flung open and Shark Eyes shouted, “Enough!” He kicked the strangler in the back.
