by Marie James
“My baby!” she screams at me. “My baby’s not breathing! Please help me!”
I follow her pointing finger and see the open side door of a beat-up minivan deeper in the parking lot. I pull from her grasp and run over to the car. The car seat is rear facing in the center seat of the van. The baby has to be less than two years old if it’s in a rear-facing seat, completely helpless. I know instinctively that she’s left the baby in the heat of the car, smothering in the heat of the day.
I pat my pockets, and I’m once again angry at myself when I realize again that I don’t have my phone.
“Have you called the police?” I ask as I climb into the van and pull the dingy blanket from over the baby.
Realization blooms when the removal of the blanket reveals an empty car seat.
“The police won’t be able to help you,” I hear the now calm woman say just before blinding pain ripples from the back of my head and I collapse on the filthy floor. My eyes stay open long enough to watch the door slide shut, locking me into hell.
***
Consciousness comes in waves for what seems like days. The horrendous smell of ammonia tells me I’ve wet myself. The knowledge makes me sob into the fabric of my shirt at my shoulder. My head is throbbing, and my mouth and throat are so dry I’m certain I’m near death. Shifting my weight, I come to the realization that my hands are tied behind my back, and my thighs and ankles are repeatedly wrapped with thick, coarse rope. I’m thankful I opted for slacks at work for more than one reason.
Each time I wake, I’m only able to make a quick inventory of the situation before the darkness tugs me down again. Periods of wakefulness are getting longer, and the pain from lying on the cold, hard floor with my arms behind my back is excruciating. I have no clue where I am, but I’m guessing from the tight fit I’m in a closet of some kind since I’m unable to fully stretch my legs out.
Murmuring brings me to, and I can register at least three different voices, two female and one male. The idea that I’m tied up and at their mercy sends uncontrollable tremors through my entire body. I stupidly wish I’d watched more shows on the ID channel and maybe I’d be more prepared for a situation like this one.
I watch shadows move around under the door and I’m doing my best to keep quiet, but I can only control the shaking and whimpering so much.
“I bet she’s dead, Trina.” The nervousness of the one male voice I’ve heard terrifies me. Instantly I’m grateful for having lost my bladder in this tiny closet, hoping it will be a deterrent if he decides he wants to rape me.
“She’s not dead you fucking idiot.” A woman who I assume is Trina responds.
“She’s been in there for two days and hasn’t moved or made a sound! She can’t die! I didn’t sign up for the goddamned death penalty!”
“Calm down, Gary! Colorado hardly ever puts people on death row.” The voice comes from the second woman. I hear the old floorboard creek at erratic intervals from Gary’s nervous pacing.
“Even so, Shelly,” Gary spits out. “This will make strike number three for me!”
“Both of you shut the fuck up and let me think!” Trina’s voice is even less sure than the other two, the tremble evident when she gets upset. “I can’t take you arguing!”
“Why the fuck did you grab her in the first place!” Gary shouts. “It wasn’t part of the plan.”
“They raided the kitchen, Gary!” Trina yells back at him. “She didn’t take the death threats seriously. Your plan,” she pauses, “didn’t work!” She releases a sob on the last word. “Now,” she weeps, “now he’s gone, and I’ll never get him back.”
I hear crying from one of the women and the other one trying to soothe her. I’d actually feel bad if it wasn’t so ironic that they’re upset about not knowing what to do with a woman they’d abducted.
Before long the horrendous odor of burning plastic fills my nostrils and before I can wrap my head around the fact that they’ve set the house on fire and I’m going to die before I get the chance to tell Kaleb that I love him I grow dizzy and fall into the darkness once again.
***
The sound of the door opening to my prison wakes me, and I can’t decide if I’m relieved that I’m still alive or if I’m about to regret not having died in a fire. My eyes have a hard time adjusting, but I’m shocked when they focus on a tiny little angel in a dirty nightgown.
“Help me, please,” I beg the little girl when she crouches down near my head.
Without saying a word, she cups my face, and I feel heavenly liquid pour across my lips. I open my mouth wide to take a drink of the water she’s offering from a little plastic cup, and I wince when my lips crack from dryness. She slowly gives me small sips of the water, and I drink every drop, doing my best to ignore the horrible pain in both my mouth and my gut as the water hits the emptiness.
I close my eyes tightly and breathe through the sudden rush of nausea. The little girl remains silent, never saying a word and ignoring my pleas for help. I feel something brush my lips and I pull my head back and look down, but I’m unable to see what she’s holding in her hand.
“It’s a cracker,” she whispers softly.
I open my mouth and allow her to place the small, square cracker on my tongue. I chew it gingerly. I know immediately that it is an outdated cheez-it type cracker and although it is way past its best-used-by date, it is as good as a gourmet meal at this point. She feeds me several more crackers and provides many more sips of water before she stands to leave.
"Please don’t leave me,” I’m near sobs again, but doing my best to not be too loud. I have no idea where the adults are.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night with more. Just be quiet, and they won’t even remember you’re in here.” She closes the door softly, and I hear the light patter of her feet as she leaves me alone in the darkness.
***
The little girl who’s told me her name is Gracie comes every evening to give me a drink and feed me a meager snack. I’m almost certain she’s giving me the food my captors have allotted for her, but I’m too hungry to turn her away. She assures me she gets plenty to eat at school. I cry when I’m alone, knowing that once school is out, she’ll no longer be able to share her snacks with me because she’ll need them for herself. I’m grateful she’s willing to help me and pray every waking second that I’ll be rescued before that happens.
Although I’ve heard numerous conversations between Gary, Trina, and Shelly, they’ve left me alone for the most part. Aside from periodically opening the door and shoving me with a foot to make sure I’m alive they leave me be.
I’ve discovered through their muted conversations that some house in the country was raided and they were grateful for the tip from Marco, some guy who works at the police department because they were able to escape. I also learned that Blake Evans was murdered in jail by a fellow inmate once word got around that he was bragging about Marco being dirty and helping them out.
Each time Gracie comes to me in the night, I beg her to untie me and let me leave, but she tells me she can’t because they’ll hurt her. I plead with her to tell someone or call the police, but she refuses. Every day the putrid smell of burning plastic waifs under the door. Gracie has informed me that the smell comes from the drugs they smoke in a metal pipe, so I know it has to be either meth or crack. Since Blake Evans was arrested after shooting Alexa and scoring meth, I’m certain that’s what they’re smoking.
Each time the smell wanders in I shift my weight from my left shoulder facing the door and turn over to my right side with back to the door. I don’t like the more vulnerable position it puts me in, but they’ve never opened the door after they’ve started using drugs for the day.
Although bodily functions have begun to slow down due to the feeble intake of water and food, they have continued. I’m grateful Gracie is willing to stomach the odor and filth enough to continue to come to me each night. My stomach roils from the smells, and I can tell I’m getting sores on my hips,
arms, and the sides of my torso from the pressure and constant contact with my own filth.
The smell has become so bad my captors have started tucking a towel under the door to keep the smell from drifting further into the house, leaving me in complete and utter darkness. Sleep is coming easier, and some days I almost refuse the snacks and water that Gracie brings. I know I’m only postponing the inevitable and I’m at my breaking point. Death would be better than prolonging what is sure to come eventually.
It isn’t until I hear Trina and Gary talking about what they’re going to do with me. I hear them discussing how they need to get out of Denver, but they can’t leave me in the closet to die because the house is in Shelly’s name and they don’t need a murder charge following them to Utah.
They make the decision to leave me in the nearby forest once night falls tomorrow and then they plan to take off, sure that I’m too weak to seek help, certain that the local wildlife will take care of all the evidence of my body. For meth heads, they’re pretty astute in that area. Animals are coming out of hibernation, and it’s an eating frenzy in the forests that surround Denver leading into the mountains. I know once they leave me, I’ll be dead by morning.
Rather than giving up and accepting my fate knowing what they plan to do has me wanting to live my life even more. I criticize myself incessantly for even thinking for a minute about giving up.
When Gracie shakes me awake, I do more than plead with her this time. I lay my life at her feet. As much as I don’t want to burden a child any more than I already have I tell her that she will be responsible for my death. I tell her she has the opportunity to be a hero. I tell her all she has to do is go to school and tell a teacher or principal that I’m here. Even though I have no idea what the outcome will actually be I promise her that the state will take her away from these horrible people and she will be safe and happy, clean and well loved.
We’re both crying in minutes. She closes the door without a word, taking her snack and the full cup of water with her and I don’t know if I’ve scared her into action or silence.
Chapter 32
Kaleb
My text to Josie has gone unanswered all day. I know she’s at work, but we’ve always texted back and forth during the day. Her silence has left an uneasy feeling on my shoulders.
The farmhouse has kept my hands busy all day long, but my mind is elsewhere. Thankfully the work is mundane and consists of nothing more than collecting prints and sorting things into separate evidence bags.
I’m able to get everything I need done by four-thirty. Leaving the collected evidence with crime scene techs, I catch a ride back to the station with one of the other SWAT guys. I send another text to Josie and call her five minutes later when I get no response. The call goes straight to voicemail.
Once we pull up outside of the station, I don’t even bother to go inside. Instead, I jump in my squad car, get Mia situated in the back and head to her job. She didn’t say anything about having to stay late today, but she’s mentioned being involved in different groups and clubs that meet after school. I pray she just forgot to tell me and her phone battery has gone dead.
My stomach sinks when I pull into the parking lot of the school. Her car sits alone, abandoned in the lot. I drive closer and get out of my car and notice a shoe I’m certain was on her tiny foot this morning lying upside down twenty yards from her car.
With trembling hands, I dial dispatch, hoping they aren’t going to give me shit about calling in a missing person’s report without the mandatory twenty-four wait period.
I’m not so lucky. I hang up on dispatch when it’s clear that even my status in the department does not allow for the rules to be broken. Apparently, a single shoe left in a parking lot that I’m not without a doubt positive is hers qualifies as evidence of an abduction.
I call Holt instead, and within minutes I hear the APB crackle over the radio in the car just as squad cars and Holt’s unmarked pulls up in the lot behind me.
I can hear him talking to me and trying to pry her shoe from my hands, but my mind doesn’t register anything. I know this has to do with Blake Evans and that bitch girlfriend of his, I’d bet my badge on it.
“I promised her,” I mutter to no one in particular. “I told her I’d keep her safe.”
Holt turns me around to face him and snaps his fingers in my face several times before I snap out of my trance. “Kaleb! We need to know what she’s wearing.”
“White sleeveless blouse, dark navy slacks. She wore her hair up in a ponytail this morning. She complained she didn’t have time to do anything else with it since we were so late getting in this morning.” I feel like I’m rambling, wasting their time giving them information they don’t need.
“Late getting in?” Holt tilts his head to the side as a way to get me to keep talking.
“We stayed at her sister’s place last night. We each had one too many drinks and knew it wasn’t safe to drive,” I explain.
I look around, and even more officers have arrived. The parking lot is being cordoned off with police tape. A uniformed officer is dusting her car for prints, and a group of uniforms are lined up behind Holt waiting for direction. He turns from me and begins barking orders.
“Give tech a call and trace her cell phone!” I rattle off the number for them. “Someone contact the staff of the school and start interviewing. We need to know if anyone saw anything out of the norm. I want every available officer canvassing the area around the school and working patrol around town looking for her. This is our number one priority. I want each and every one of you to treat this like your wife or your sister is the one missing.”
“I need to call her sister,” I say absently in response to Holt’s direction.
He continues. “This more than likely has to do with Blake Evans and the death threats Joselyne Bennett got last week. Scour every meth house, dealer, and user we know! School let out over an hour and a half ago, the trail is still hot people.” They turn in unison to go back to their squad cars. “MOVE!” He yells not satisfied with their sense of urgency.
I sit in the passenger seat of Holt’s Police Issued Tahoe and place a call to Ian.
“Hey, Kaleb. What’s up?” His voice is cheerful and doesn’t fit the tragedy of the situation he’s about to be dragged into at all.
“Have you heard from Josie?” I silently pray she’s with Lorali, picking dresses or something for the wedding.
“Not since you guys left the house this morning.”
“Could she be with Lorali?” My hope is dying with every answer he gives.
“I doubt it, Lorali is at work. What’s going on, Kaleb?” His voice has lost its jovial nature, and his last question is more of a demand.
“Fuck! Ian.” I swallow the growing lump in my throat. “I haven’t heard from her all day. I came to her school as soon as I got off work. Her car is here, and one of her shoes is in the parking lot.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!?” He yells before I can finish what I was planning on saying.
I know exactly how he feels and I would have a violent reaction also if I weren’t so numb with failure.
“We have an APB out on her. I need you to get Alexa and Lorali together and make sure to answer the phone every time it rings. We’re sending a team to your house to set up tracking devices in case someone calls for ransom.”
“I’ll go get Lorali know and call Garrett and have him bring Alexa to the house,” he assures me. “You think whoever took her will call with a ransom?”
I scrub my eyes roughly with my fingers. “I don’t know, but we have to prepare for everything. I’m sure this has to do with Alexa’s shooter. We confirmed his girlfriend’s prints on the death threats this morning. We raided a house in the country, but they had already deserted. Obviously tipped off by God knows who.”
“What else do you know?” Ian’s voice is calm with an edge of violence to it. I don’t envy him having to tell his fiancée that her sister has been abducted and w
e have less than nothing to go on at this point. I know he wants to be able to assure her some way.
“We haven’t been able to make contact with staff at the school. I don’t know if she was taken from the parking lot when she got to work or after school got out. We have every available on-duty officer scouring the area and doing patrols to find her.” I know it’s little assurance, but it’s all I have right now.
“I’ll pay the overtime for any officer that wants to come in on their days off to help find her. Have your HR department send me the bill. I’ll fund it all!” He offers.
“I’ll let them know, man. Thanks, it will help tremendously. Let me get off here so you can collect Lorali. The digital tracking team should be at your house within the hour.” I press the end button on my phone and slide out of the Tahoe and meet back up with Holt, who continues to bark orders.
“What do we know?” I’m sure they’ve found nothing out during the five-minute phone call with Ian.
“Her cell phone was pinging off of a tower near the residential area near your address. The last hit was at ten this morning, and then they stopped.” He’s barely able to get the thought out before I’m back in my squad car and peeling out of the parking lot, heading home.
Pulling up to the house I know exactly what I’m going to find. The house is locked up tight. I unlock the door, turn off the security system, and let Mia into the house. I rush to the bedroom and flip the light on searching for her phone. I find it completely powered down and dead on the vanity counter in the en-suite bathroom. It takes everything I have not to smash it against the wall. Knowing she will need it when she gets back home is the only thing that saved her stupid useless phone.
I want to collapse on the floor and sob, but I don’t have time to feel sorry for my situation, and I refuse to even let the thought that she may never come home to me creep into my head. I leave Mia a bowl of food and keep the back door cracked. I could care less at this point if someone breaks into my house, but I know Mia will tear someone to shreds if they even try.
