Foxy Roxy

by Nancy Martin

  Roxy turned to Nooch. “Okay, listen. I’m going to drop you off at Loretta’s house for a couple of hours.”

  Nooch was startled. “Huh? Why?”

  “I need to do something on my own.”

  “Why can’t I come?”

  “Because I have to go alone. It’s important.”

  Nooch looked curiously into her face. “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t tell you. Believe me, I wish I could. But, look, I might need your help later. I want you to stay by the phone, okay? I’m going to call, one way or another.”

  “One way or another?”

  “Never mind. Just don’t let me down.”

  He looked wounded. “Have I ever let you down?”

  Roxy couldn’t help smiling. She patted his shoulder. “No, I guess you haven’t. I need you to keep Rooney for me, too, okay? I can’t take him with me tonight. Watch TV until Loretta gets home.”

  “He doesn’t like me,” Nooch said. “Loretta doesn’t, either.”

  “Just don’t put your feet on her furniture, and maybe she’ll feed you dinner when she gets home.”

  “Okay. Rox? Is this about my hearing?”

  His probation hearing. It was scheduled for tomorrow. Roxy slammed her hand against the steering wheel.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I—I’ll take care of that, too.”

  “I know you will,” Nooch said, trusting her.

  Making her feel like a heel.

  When they reached Loretta’s house, Nooch went happily inside. Rooney stood on the porch for a second, casting a puzzled look at Roxy. He’d be more help than Nooch in a crisis, but Henry had specifically told Roxy not to bring her dog. Or the police. Or anybody else who didn’t want to get killed. With regret, she drove away.

  An hour later, her cell phone rang.

  In her ear, Henry Paxton said, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes. Where do you want me?”

  He gave her an address and hung up.

  29

  It was nighttime by the time Roxy reached the deserted steel mill. Years ago, it would have been the lifeblood of the neighborhood, but tonight even the nearby traffic had thinned out. She drove down a deserted industrial block to the entrance of the mill.

  Across the street sat Bradshaw’s—a bar that had once catered to steelworkers who stopped for boilermakers after their shift. Now it attracted a rough crowd. Neon signs glowed in windows that hadn’t been washed in years. A couple of tough-looking patrons hung outside the front door, smoking. Nobody waved at Roxy.

  A substantial chain-link fence—probably twenty feet high and topped with razor wire—surrounded the old steel mill. But, as promised, the rear gate was unlocked. Someone had snapped the chain with bolt cutters. Roxy had to get out of the truck to open it, then drove through and went back to close the gate again. Slowly, she drove around to the back of the main building, over the old railroad tracks used to haul steel long ago. The grit of many years of abandonment crunched under her tires. In the distance, she could make out the shapes of the powerhouse and other, low-roofed outbuildings.

  Out back behind the mill, it was very dark and the loading docks were empty. When she climbed down from the driver’s seat, Roxy could smell the river close by. A cold breeze hissed in the bushes that grew up the fence. Two long concrete ramps slanted down to the docks where raw materials had once come by barge up the river.

  Across the river, a locomotive hurtled by, pulling a long train of coal cars northward toward power plants that still burned coal. Closer on the water, the lights of a small craft motored up the river in the direction of the lock and dam. When the train had passed, the night was quiet. Only the thin strains of jukebox music from Bradshaw’s broke the stillness.

  Roxy put the prybar on the floor of the front seat where she could grab it in a heartbeat, then locked the truck and left it. She vaulted onto the concrete ramp and walked up to the loading dock. One of the four big garage doors stood open. She went under it and into the long, yawning space of the old mill. The place was dark, mostly in shadow. The equipment and machinery had long since been removed. The blast furnace had been disassembled and probably shipped to Korea. Long ago, someone had carefully swept up the giant factory, perhaps hoping it would someday open again and put a thousand men back to work.

  But before her tonight, the cold building stood empty. It ran longer than several football fields, with not a single electrical light to illuminate the space. High above, the roof opened to the sky.

  With a nearly silent flutter of wings, a flock of bats suddenly whirred across the open air and disappeared into darkness.

  About fifty feet ahead, a gleaming white cargo van sat in the middle of the concrete floor. On top of it was a small torpedo-shaped luggage container.

  “Paxton?” Roxy called. Her voice echoed back at her, sending a shiver up the back of her neck.

  No answer.

  She began walking cautiously toward the van. One door hung open. Then, with a sudden burst of hope, she quickened her pace—then sprinted toward the vehicle.

  “Sage!”

  But the van was empty. Roxy caught her balance on the door and choked back the lump in her throat. The smell of gasoline was strong around the vehicle. It had been gassed up for a trip, she guessed. Maybe he’d spilled some of the fuel down the side of the van, too.

  A long way down the floor, a dark figure suddenly moved out of shadow and into Roxy’s peripheral view. She spun sideways.

  “Paxton,” she said, her voice carrying easily. “Where’s my daughter?”

  Henry was leading a large dog on a leash. A Great Dane with ludicrous black and white spots. The dog pranced happily alongside Henry, as if on parade at Madison Square Garden.

  “Hello, Roxy.” Henry sounded pleasant. “Thanks for coming. You followed all my rules?”

  “I’m alone.”

  “And the Achilles?”

  She shook her head. “First I want to see my daughter.”

  “She’s fine. Trust me.”

  Roxy let that absurd remark hang in the cold air as Henry walked closer with the Great Dane.

  She said, “I didn’t take you for a dog person.”

  “He’s not mine,” Henry assured her. “I was going to return him to his rightful owner this evening and reap my reward, but things seem to have gotten out of hand. Maybe I’ll just turn him loose on a highway and hope he has the brains to get himself home. Dogs can do that, right?”

  He stopped about ten feet away. The Great Dane strained forward on his leash to sniff Roxy. His tail was high and wagging. His tongue hung out, giving his face a goofy smile.

  Roxy must have tightened her hands into fists, because Henry said, “Now, now. Do I have to show you this?”

  He lifted the edge of his sweatshirt to show the butt of a handgun. The revolver was tucked into his belt.

  Roxy forced herself to relax her hands. “Where’s my daughter?”

  “You’ll see her in good time. First we have business to transact.”

  “Forget that. I know what you’re capable of, Paxton. So I want to see Sage, or you won’t get the statue.”

  He shook his head, smiling a little. “It doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid.”

  “Okay, then, where’s your crew?”

  “My crew?”

  “You can’t move this thing by yourself. It’s very heavy. It probably weighs at least a ton. You’ll need help.”

  “I very much doubt that.”

  Roxy shrugged. “See for yourself. It’s outside.”

  Henry considered her information for a moment, as if finally realizing she might be speaking the truth. Then he said, “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

  Roxy led the way, listening to Henry and the dog behind her. The dog leaped around on the ramp, happy to be outside. When they reached the back of the truck, Roxy tugged aside one edge of the tarp to show the large sandaled foot of the statue.

  “See? He’s seven
feet tall, made of solid marble. The two of us couldn’t get him into your van if we worked all night.”

  Henry began to frown. He reached up and put one hand on the statue’s foot. He gave it a shove, but the dead weight didn’t budge. “How did you get it up there?”

  “The winch.” She pointed. “Plus I had help. I can winch it down to the ground, but after that, we’re on our own.”

  Henry contemplated the problem. Finally, he said, “You planned this, didn’t you?”

  “I did what you told me to do. I can’t help it if you’re unprepared.”

  “I’m not leaving without the Achilles.”

  “And I’m not leaving without my daughter.”

  “So,” Henry said at last, “what do you suggest?”

  “We need help. If you don’t have a weightlifter on speed dial, I could call the guy who works for me.”

  Music from the bar across the street wailed while Henry considered her proposition. “Can he keep his mouth shut?”

  “He’s trustworthy.”

  Henry made his decision. “Okay, call him. But the same rules apply.”

  The amiable dog came over and nuzzled Roxy’s hand. She patted his neck without thinking. But she shook her head. “I’m not going to help you, Paxton. Not until you show me Sage. I want to know she’s all right.”

  “She’s fine.”

  “No. I’ll make a trade with you now. Show me Sage, and I’ll get you some muscle.”

  Henry walked away from the truck to think. The big dog resisted going with him—he wanted to stay with Roxy—but Henry yanked the leash. The dog dug his forepaws into the gravel. Henry stopped short, his arm pulled tight. He let fly a curse and dropped the leash. Startled to find himself free, the dog shook his entire body as if shaking off bathwater and then galumphed around in a circle.

  Roxy ignored the dog and trained her gaze on Henry. “I’ll keep my side of this bargain, Paxton. You can have the statue. It’s brought me nothing but bad luck since I first put my hands on it. But I want Sage. I want to see her now, and then I’ll call my guy to help load.”

  Henry said, “If you think you can double-cross me, you’d better think again. I’ve got years of strategizing under my belt, you know.”

  Through gritted teeth, Roxy said, “I believe you. I don’t care about the statue now. Just give me my kid.”

  Henry shrugged. “Okay. This way.”

  He led her back into the cavernous mill, and they walked past the cargo van, across the vast floor. The place was very cold—somehow colder than outside. The air of abandonment made Roxy’s teeth chatter. She clamped her jaw tight, though, determined not to let Henry guess how truly terrified she was.

  Henry led the way to the farthest corner of the building, where some office space had been created with corrugated walls and heavy glass windows. Someone had tried to smash one window, but it hadn’t shattered. A starburst of cracks emanated from a center. When Roxy looked closer, she saw it was a bullet hole in the glass.

  Henry pushed the unlocked door open and stopped. “Watch your step. There’s some junk on the floor.”

  It was very dark. Underfoot, Roxy accidentally kicked a clutter of scattered textbooks, open pages fluttering. Pencils and a torn notebook lay in a circle, as if Sage’s backpack had been upended and shaken out. The sight of it brought a hot rush up from Roxy’s heart.

  They were in some kind of supervisor’s office with a set of iron spiral stairs that led upward. Henry went over to the stairs, bowed slightly, and said, “After you.”

  Roxy grabbed the hand railing and started up. She itched to kick Henry’s head. Maybe knock him to the floor below. Maybe she could overpower him, she thought. She longed to beat the shit out of him.

  But there was Sage still to consider. Roxy felt her way up the stairs, straining to see in the darkness.

  On the second floor she found herself in a kind of viewing room with a huge plate-glass window that overlooked the mill floor.

  She glanced around the small space. “Where is she?”

  Henry pointed. “Bathroom.”

  Roxy darted forward, pushing her way through a narrow door. On the floor, huddled in darkness, lay a lumpy shape.

  “Sage,” Roxy whispered, and she flung herself down next to her daughter.

  Sage struggled up, and the gleam in her eyes was fierce. She made an awful noise in her throat, and Roxy reached to remove the tape from her mouth.

  But Sage yanked her face away and shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. The tape had been partially torn from her cheek already, and Roxy could see her skin had torn with it.

  “Oh, baby.” Roxy cupped Sage’s cheek. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  Sage nodded fiercely, then shook her head, then tried to laugh. But she began to choke, too, and Roxy calmed her with hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “Don’t try to talk. We’ll be out of here in a minute, I promise.”

  Sage nodded, but her gaze left Roxy’s face to look over her shoulder, and her eyes hardened.

  Still on her knees on the cold concrete, Roxy turned to Henry. “Honest to God, Paxton, if you’ve hurt her, I’m going to kill you dead.”

  He smiled. “No need for that. You can see she’s perfectly fine.”

  “I’m taking her out of here now.”

  “Let’s wait until—”

  “No, we’re going now.”

  “Make your call first. Do you have your phone?”

  Roxy whipped her phone from her jeans and punched Loretta’s number.

  Henry said, “Put it on speaker, so we can all hear what you’re saying.”

  Holding Sage upright with one arm, Roxy put the phone to her ear with the other hand. She prayed Nooch would answer.

  It was Loretta who picked up right away.

  “Lo,” Roxy said, “I need to speak to Nooch.”

  “He’s eating me out of house and home!” Loretta cried. “The sooner you get him out of here, the less chance I’ll kill him.”

  “I need to talk to him right away, Loretta. It’s important.”

  “All right, all right. But you owe me for an entire pan of stuffed shells.”

  Nooch’s voice came next. Amiable, as always. “Hi, Rox.”

  “I need you to borrow Loretta’s car.”

  “Huh?”

  “Tell Loretta you need to borrow her car,” Roxy said curtly. She kept her eyes on Henry’s face as she spoke. She gave the rest of her orders directly, listing Henry’s rules. “Do you understand, Nooch?”

  “Yeah,” he said, but he still sounded confused. “You want me to come tonight?”

  “Right now,” Roxy said. “Right away.”

  Henry put his hand on the handle of the gun in his belt. “Hang up.”

  Roxy obeyed, praying that Nooch had got the message straight. She pocketed her phone and helped Sage to her feet.

  Henry didn’t protest. But he didn’t make any move to assist, either. Roxy hoisted Sage upright before she realized the teenager’s ankles were taped together. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, too. It was a struggle for Sage to move at all—she could hardly shuffle her feet—but she was determined.

  Roxy could feel her daughter shuddering with cold, too, so she buffed her arms and roughly rubbed her back as they stumbled toward the spiral stairs. Roxy went first, essentially dragging Sage downward.

  On the main floor of the mill, the Great Dane came loping out of the darkness, delighted to see Sage. He jumped up on her, and all of them nearly fell to the concrete floor. Roxy shoved the clumsy dog away and headed for the cargo van, half dragging Sage with her.

  When they reached the van, Sage was breathing heavily through her nose. Frightened by how labored her daughter sounded, Roxy sat her down in the open door and tried to loosen the tape around her mouth. Sage cried out, but held still so Roxy could continue. Roxy winced each time a tiny bit of tape came free. But for Sage, the pain must have been intense. Tears rolled down her cheek and she kept
her eyes squeezed tightly shut, but she didn’t protest.

  Behind them, Henry said, “How long will it take for your associate to arrive?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Roxy guessed. “Maybe half an hour.”

  “And you guarantee he won’t be bringing the police?”

  She shook her head. “You heard everything. He’s on probation, see. If he gets caught committing any kind of crime, he’ll go to jail. I’m trying to keep him out of trouble. We don’t want the cops involved.”

  “Convenient for me,” Henry remarked. “What’s he on probation for?”

  “Assault. But it was a long time ago.”

  Roxy had worked half of the tape free and then slipped her finger into Sage’s mouth. Out came a sodden hunk of cloth. Sage sucked air gratefully and leaned against the open door of the van as if exhausted. She pulled a grimace at the stench of gasoline still hanging around the vehicle.

  A heavy quilted blanket lay on the floor of the van—the kind of blanket movers used to wrap furniture. Roxy grabbed it and bundled it around Sage as best she could manage. Then she set to work on freeing Sage’s ankles.

  Sage’s voice was barely a croak. “Good news, Mom.”

  Roxy’s heart nearly overflowed. Trust Sage to find the silver lining in the middle of a kidnapping. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  “I got my period.”

  Roxy’s first reaction, oddly enough, was disappointment. Then, seeing the relief in Sage’s battered face, she hugged her daughter.

  “That’s enough of that,” Henry said. “She’s comfortable enough for the moment. Let’s you and me start to get the Achilles off your truck. I want to get out of here.”

  Roxy hardened her heart and stood back from Sage. “In a rush all of a sudden?”

  “Things haven’t exactly gone according to plan,” Henry conceded.

  “Ever since you killed Kaylee, you mean?”