by Emily Bishop
Please let there be nothing wrong. I’ll never forgive myself if there is.
I leap up her front porch steps until I’ve reached her door. I contemplate knocking, but I can’t help myself. I’m too worried to delay a moment longer. I reach for the knob and turn it. The door presses inward, unlocked.
I thought Ben told Katie to lock her door when she got home last night. Did she forget? I push the door inward, and I’m about to call out Katie’s name when my voice catches in my throat.
Katie’s living room is a cozy little parlor right in front of me. Also right in front of me is Katie, tied to a chair and gagged. Her hair is in complete disarray, and she’s wearing the same outfit she was last night. How long has she been tied up like this?
“Katie,” I breathe. I rush to her side and immediately begin working on the knot tying the fabric around her mouth. It’s tight, and my fingers ache as I fight to free my friend. She mumbles something through the fabric, and I lean back to look at her.
“What?” I ask.
Her eyes dart to the side, and I follow her gaze.
Skippy walks in from the hallway. When he sees me, his eyes narrow.
“What are you doing here? This is a romantic morning for me and my woman. You shouldn’t be here.”
I glare at him and step in front of my friend. It’s not like I can protect her well, being a small woman myself, but I have to try. What is the saying? She may be little, but she is fierce? I have to find a way to keep this guy occupied until I can come up with a plan.
“If this is how you do romance, your love life could use a bit of work,” I say.
Keep him distracted. That’s the name of the game. Behind me, Katie’s terror radiates outward. Guilt stabs at my heart. This is all my fault. If I’d been more transparent with Ben, maybe we could have found a solution sooner.
Maybe we could have put Skippy and Jordan behind bars together. This whole scene could have been avoided.
Skippy takes another step forward, but he stops at the edge of the living room. “You were warned about this. You should have backed off and let things take their natural course, but you didn’t, and now I get Katie as a consolation prize for your failure to cooperate.”
“Those are a lot of big words. You learn those from Sesame Street?”
Skippy snarls, and his crooked teeth are a dull yellow. I hope to god that he didn’t touch Katie with that disgusting mouth. I can only hope at this point, because I don’t know.
Oh god, I don’t know.
“You think being witty is going to get you out of this situation? You’ve got another thing coming. You should have listened to Jordan and joined us. It’s too late for you now.”
“You know, this reminds me of another time when you told me that Katie was none of my business,” I say, dragging out the conversation. I don’t know why. It’s not like there isn’t an inevitable ending to this situation. I glance down at Skippy’s hip and realize that his hunting knife is no longer there.
What is he using as a weapon then? Is there a gun in his back pocket, maybe beneath his shirt somewhere? I have to keep a wary eye out. Perhaps I have caught him unarmed, and that gives me some kind of advantage.
Who am I kidding? I have no advantage but time. And that’s running out fast.
“I was right. It’s even truer now because we’re not at your restaurant. You have no power here.”
“You might be right. But I am still Katie’s friend, and she doesn’t look too thrilled about this situation, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave, since she’s not exactly able to at the moment.”
“I can kick your ass, you know. I’m not afraid to beat a woman who deserves it.”
I hold my stance steady, and I keep my eyes on him. I will not let him see my terror. I will not. “Oh, I don’t think you want to do that. What will Jordan say when I run to him and tell him that his piece-of-shit lackey beat up the woman he loves?”
Skippy scoffs, but I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. A bead of sweat develops on his brow at the mention of Jordan’s wrath. “You’re not his girlfriend. You want nothing to do with him, dumbass bitch.”
“That’s what you think,” I say, thinking fast. “Jordan and I have been a thing for a long, long time. I don’t think he would be too thrilled with anything that displeases me. And this? This displeases me a lot.”
The drop of sweat travels down the side of his cheek, and he swipes it away as he continues to glare at me. I’m confusing him, muddling his mind. If I don’t have brute force, I do have one excellent tool in my belt.
Skippy is an idiot.
“That’s not true. I saw you the other day. You told him to leave you alone.”
I shrug. “We fight. Don’t all couples? I can tell you that we did make up fairly recently though, and that I’ve got a bit more say than you do when it comes to Jordan.”
For the first time since I arrived, doubt colors his eyes. His gaze darts from side to side as he considers what to do, and I get my first rational idea since walking in.
My cell phone. It’s in my back pocket. If I can keep him distracted enough, I can reach back and try to dial for help. It’s going to be tricky, but Skippy is really, really dumb. If I can get him worked up enough, there’s a chance I can get a call out and keep both of us safe until help arrives.
It’s the only chance I have.
“When did you make up?” he asks.
I reach my hand around my back and look up at the ceiling, like I’m contemplating the question. My mind is in two places at once. My fingertips grasp the edge of my phone as my mind whirrs with some kind of backstory to feed Skippy.
“Last night. He came to my place late and we had a good talk. I realized that I was being an idiot running around with that stupid cop. Jordan has always been the love of my life. I’m glad to have him back with me.”
I tug the phone out from my pocket and unlock it with my thumbprint. Now comes the hard part. I have to figure out a way to navigate the screen without being obvious about looking at it.
“That’s impossible. Jordan was with me last night.”
Fuck.
“He may have been with you, but he finished the night with me. Unless you’re suggesting that you were the one in bed with him last night?”
That works. I glance down as though I’m embarrassed to have admitted to sleeping with Jordan. I tap the phone icon on my screen, but if I look down for too long he’ll get suspicious, so I look back up. I can’t rush this. I can’t afford to make a mistake.
“I don’t believe you. Maybe we should call Jordan and ask him.”
Panic fills my lungs, but I force out a breath that comes out as a giggle. “Go ahead, but I doubt he’s going to be thrilled to be woken up for such a bullshit question. We were up until the wee hours of the morning, after all.”
I maintain eye contact with him so that he thinks I’m telling the truth. Everything in me wants to glance back down at my phone, to scroll the small distance to Ben’s name, or even get the keypad option up to dial 911.
At this point, anyone else walking by will help. Maybe screaming will be a good option if I can’t get a call through in time. Or maybe I can manipulate him out of this. I have to try. I can tell the thought of displeasing a grumpy Jordan is less than appealing to Skippy.
“Let’s say I believe you. That doesn’t take away the fact that Katie is mine. If you’re loyal to Jordan, you’ll respect his wishes. He promised her to me!”
“Mm, well, why don’t we ask Katie what she thinks,” I say, and I kneel down by my friend. I glance down and paw through my phone. There’s Ben’s name...
“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?”
He steps closer and sees the phone in my hand. His expression crumples into rage. “You tricky bitch! Drop that phone right now or you’re dead!”
“I’m calling Jordan!”
“Fuck you! Drop the phone, or I’ll shoot!”
He pulls a gun out from behind his back, and my whole
body goes cold with fear. I stare up into the barrel of the weapon, and I know one thing for certain.
I’m going to die.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ben
James and I arrive at Skippy’s trailer. The building is long and dilapidated, made entirely of silver metal. I turn off the engine and walk up to the front door. I bang on it with my fist as loud as I can, and a dog barks in the distance.
This isn’t exactly the best part of town. There are two sides to every village, and this one happens to be on the other side of the tracks.
When no one opens the door, I slam my knuckles against the plastic front screen another time, and the dog from another trailer goes ballistic.
“Skippy, this is Ben Warburton. I have a warrant to search the property. If you do not open this door, I will take it down by force.”
Silence echoes around us. Even the dog backs down from the authority in my voice. When more silence ensues, I have no choice but to make good on my threat. I step back and kick my foot into the door. The feeble material bends against my strength, and the door tumbles inward.
The stench that comes out of that room is enough to send bile up my throat.
It’s a combination of spoiled milk, weed, unwashed clothing, and general… stink. I step on the flattened door and enter, and it takes everything in me not to cover my nose and mouth. There is garbage everywhere, and the place looks like the inside of a sardine can.
How can anyone live like this?
My eyes scour the perimeter. There’s no sign of Skippy hiding anywhere, though it’s entirely possible that he could be tucked beneath any of the massive piles of discarded beer bottles or laundry. I kick at each of them with my boot as I look for some kind of evidence.
It’s clear that Skippy uses this place for sleeping, drinking, and drugs. I pull open a few drawers, but they are empty save a few plastic spoons and knives.
Yep. This place screams Skippy.
I step out to find James staring up at the place, his hand shielding his eyes from the morning sun.
“Find anything?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. If there’s anything in there, we’ll need the man himself to tell us where it is. I’m not going back in there without a hazmat suit.”
James smirks up at me as I make my way down the stairs. “That bad, huh?”
“Let’s just say I’ll need a good shower after this to get the stink of being inside off my clothing. Let’s go find this dirty bastard.”
James makes no protest as we slide back into the cruiser and take off toward town. My eyes are peeled for anything suspicious, and I get the sudden sensation that I should visit Naomi.
Something’s not right. My instincts have helped me save my men time and time again, so I listen to them. I turn the cruiser in the direction of Naomi’s place.
Flashes in my mind. Skippy threatening Naomi. Katie. And now he’s not home on the day we find evidence that links him directly to the threat. Unquestionable events which place him on the boat, at the scene of the crime.
A theft that had to have taken place in the past week, after he first harassed the girls in the restaurant. My heart thuds.
Does that even make sense?
I haven’t had another report of theft since the first where I cuffed my girl.
“Where are we headed?”
“Naomi’s restaurant. Maybe she might have information.”
“You think she’ll talk?”
“I do,” I say.
I understand where his doubt is coming from, but it doesn’t block my irritation at his statement. I say nothing else as a feeling of dread settles in my belly, and I press my foot on the gas, speeding up. When I park in the lot by her place, the tires screech.
“Ben, what’s going on? Do you have a lead you’re not telling me about?”
He can sense my urgency, which isn’t hard to do given the speed I used to get us here.
“Maybe. Let’s find out.”
I step out of the car and approach Naomi’s place. I tug on the glass door, but it’s locked. I look at my watch and realize that it’s lunch time. The place should be open. I bang my fist against the door, and Paul walks out from the kitchen. When he sees me, he picks up his pace as he meets us at the front door. He unlocks it and opens it, but I don’t step inside.
“Paul. Where’s Naomi? Why are you guys closed?”
Paul shrugs, but his eyes are dark with worry. “She left a little bit ago to find Katie. Katie never showed up for her shift, so I’m holding court until they get back. Naomi told me to keep the place closed until they do.”
It’s enough to get my heart pumping hard. I could feel that something wasn’t right, but now I know it in my bones.
“James, follow me,” I say, and then I bolt down the sidewalk. The sound of blood rushes in my ears, and I focus on each step as I tear down the street toward Katie’s cottage. I have to do a little calculation in my mind. I watched her walk home last night, but I wasn’t focusing on specifics.
I was only thinking about Naomi at the time.
A little white cottage stands a few houses down from the restaurant. I notice that the front door is slightly ajar—I’ve found my place.
I don’t bother to be subtle. If something has happened to Naomi…
I kick the front door open, and it splinters beneath my foot. In the space of an instant, I register the entire scene, and it’s not a good one.
Katie is tied to a chair and gagged. Before her, trying to protect her, is Naomi. Her eyes are wide with fear as she stares into the open mouth of a handgun, held by Skippy.
Found you, you son of a bitch.
My animal instinct takes over, and the soldier inside me springs into action. I jump over the couch and tackle Skippy. He’s so stunned he doesn’t fight back as I wrap my hand over the gun and tear it from his grasp. His finger rips out of the trigger hole, and he howls.
I toss the gun aside and fling Skippy onto his stomach. I pull his arms behind his back and shove his wrists together, and I look up at Naomi. She’s blinking back tears as she watches me, and I’m instantly concerned for her safety.
“You all right?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “Thank you.”
James runs up the steps at that moment and enters, taking in the scene. His eyes land on Katie, then me. “Good call, Sheriff,” he says.
It might be the first compliment he’s ever paid me. I remind myself to celebrate later. There is work still to be done here. I pull out a pair of handcuffs and slap them against Skippy’s wrists. I don’t bother being gentle.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
“Fuck you, pig! I’ll be out by the end of the day.”
“No, you won’t. James, can you take care of him while I question the witnesses?”
“Happy to,” he says, and his eyes gleam as I heft Skippy from the ground and shove him into James’s grasp.
“You couldn’t hold me before, and you can’t hold me now. Katie and I are kinky like that. Stay out of our bedroom life!”
I ignore that little comment as James drags him away. I don’t have time to bother with that asshole anyway. I turn to look at Naomi, and all I want to do is hold her close to me until I’m convinced she’s OK. Her eyes are glassy and red, and she looks at me with a haunted expression.
Katie shouts through her gag, and the spell is broken.
I pull a Swiss army knife from my pocket. It’s heavy and thick, and it’s one of the most useful tools I own. I swipe open a blade and approach her. “I’m going to cut this from the back, OK? Can you lean forward a bit?”
She nods once and presses against the sheets tying her to the chair. Cotton can be a durable fabric, when twisted in the right w
ay. The fact that Skippy knows that only incriminates him more. I pull the cloth as far from Katie’s head as I can without hurting her and saw through the fabric. With a snap, it breaks apart, and Katie spits it onto the floor.
She releases a sob as Naomi rushes to her and tries to hug her. Since she’s still tied to the chair, that’s a little difficult to do. I step behind them and see that Naomi already tried to tug at the knot holding Katie down, but those attempts only served to tighten it.
Quite the sailor, our Skippy.
My knife still in hand, I slice through the twisted sheet until it comes apart, and Katie throws it to the ground. She falls into her friend’s arms and cries as Naomi strokes her hair and whispers comforting words. I wait for her to calm down, and when the two of them are seated on her couch, I crouch in front of her, careful not to touch her.
“Katie. Skippy’s no longer a threat to you. He won’t be. I’ll make sure of it.”
My eyes dart to Naomi, then back to Katie. I want her to know that applies to her, too. Katie sniffs and rubs her red nose with a sleeve. Even in this condition, she’s lovely, and I find myself pissed that a man like Skippy was able to get his hands on her. How far did he go?
“Are you injured? Did he do anything to hurt you beyond tying you up?”
She shakes her head, and her body trembles. Naomi wraps a supportive arm around her shoulders.
“No. He… he showed up in the early hours of the morning and pulled me out of bed. He tied me up so I wouldn’t run away, but it’s like he was waiting for something, or maybe someone else to show up. I don’t know!”
Tears streak down her rosy cheeks again, and I give her a moment to cry it out. I’m hopeful that now that we have our man in the bag, this nightmare can come to an end. We can finally move on with our lives and return to the peace everyone was so accustomed to. I wish I could rest easier knowing that he didn’t harm her outside of scaring her, but I won’t.
This shouldn’t have happened in the first place.
“Is there anyone you can call and stay with for a while?”
She nods. “My mom. I can stay with her. God, she’s going to freak!”
