Kidnapped at Christmas

by Maggie K. Black

  The snow had been so bad by the time they’d left the city limits they’d stopped at a rest stop after an hour to refill the windshield wiper fluid and grab greasy hamburgers for a quick dinner. And the whole time, Samantha’s tablet had barely left her hands.

  She looked up, as if sensing her eyes on him. The lights of the Christmas tree behind her seemed to illuminate the lines of her form like a hundred tiny spotlights. Her deep, dark gaze looked through him. Her lips parted. His heart struck a hard beat in his chest. For a moment he thought she was about to speak. But instead, she frowned and looked back down at the tablet. Within seconds the typing had started up again. He nearly laughed. Even scowling at the screen she was beautiful. It was almost unreal. Like she was an old-fashioned starlet who’d slipped off the silver screen somehow and into the quiet space where he sat. Someone Gramps might have admired. Or might have warned him about.

  What would Gramps have thought of Samantha, if he were still alive? More importantly, what would Dad now think if Joshua brought a woman like her home? The weirdest thing about the whole day was that normally he, Alex and Zoe were such a tight group that adding a new person into the mix was jarring. Even Theresa had always felt like an outsider. But there was something comforting about Samantha. She was quirky, for sure, but somehow she fit. He’d always taken it for granted that being in a relationship with a woman meant dealing with the never-ending chatter and demands of someone constantly needing his attention. Now, for the first time, he could imagine the comfortable, comforting silence of two hearts just beating side by side. He’d never expected to meet someone this captivating in real life. Somehow he suspected that no matter how old he lived to be, he never would again.

  Even if another man had told him today that he was going to marry Samantha. Joshua needed to come clean with her about that. And get more than a few questions answered. But it wasn’t like he’d been about to question her about Eric during the day she’d had.

  But now, what was his excuse? How focused she looked? Or how, even though he was nearly positive Eric was greatly exaggerating the nature of their relationship to the point of outright lying, he didn’t want to interrupt the most peaceful, comfortable moment she may have had in a long time?

  It wasn’t like he was in any position to pursue a relationship with her. If he reenlisted for another nine-year term of front-line service overseas, what kind of life would that be for her? Did he really want to repeat the same mistake Gramps had made? But if he turned down a good job with a pension just because he didn’t much like it, then he had no business trying to be the husband of a woman like her anyway.

  Samantha sighed loudly. Her hands shot up to the ceiling. Then she rolled her shoulders around in a circle.

  “You all right?” he asked. “Were you able to find anything?”

  She blinked as if the question had jolted her back from wherever her head had been. Her eyes met his. She smiled self-consciously. “Oh, I’ve found plenty. So very much, in fact. But nothing helpful. None of it makes any sense or seems to fit together in any logical way.”

  She shifted her legs and leaned forward, turning the tablet toward him. A chart of some sort filled the screen, with boxes of texts and pictures. It was like staring at the electronic version of a police crime board.

  “The first woman Roy mentioned, Jessica Wynne from Huntsville, died two years ago. She was hit by a car after leaving the gym where she worked as a boxing instructor. Holly Williams from Ottawa disappeared over a decade ago after going kayaking alone. Police assume she drowned. She was only sixteen. Both Jessica and Holly were athletic, and both deaths were declared accidents. But there’s almost eight years between their deaths and nothing obvious to connect them. Monique Nash was shot dead leaving the coffee shop where she worked, six years ago. I found police reports and news stories on all three. Monique’s death was already in ATHENA database because she was referenced in an article on gun crime. Usually if this was the work of a serial killer there’d be some kind of pattern. Here there’s no pattern.”

  He felt his jaw drop. She called this finding nothing helpful? He’d gone on missions with less information than that.

  “I can’t find anything on Isobel Joyner at all. No police report. No news stories. So, if she is dead too, from either an accident or murder, it never made the press. But, I did figure out a whole bunch about our new buddy, Detective Roy.” She tapped a square at the corner of the tablet’s screen, and a website opened up. “Private Detective Roy Davis. Based just outside Toronto. Fired from the police services years ago for aggressive tendencies. Fired from a private security job shortly afterwards for punching a coworker. Nasty piece of work and get this...” Her fingers moved again, and suddenly he was looking at some kind of social media page. “He’s been bragging online for weeks about being hired to track down a serial killer.”

  “What?” Somebody hired him to run around with his gun making wild threats and accusations? He groaned. People like that gave cops like his dad a bad name and caused more problems than they solved. “Well, considering he definitely wouldn’t even qualify for a Canadian permit to carry that handgun he threatened us with, it shouldn’t take much for police to arrest and charge this guy.”

  He ran his hand along his jaw.

  “What does this have to do with Magpie or anything that’s happened to you in the past twenty-four hours?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the whole point. I can’t see anything connecting any of this to anything else.” She picked the tablet up and opened it back up to the first screen she’d showed him. Then she zoomed out. He let out a long breath. The chart was at least three times larger than he’d seen at first, and it was all there: a complete step-by-step time line of everything that had happened since he’d first found her tied up on the front porch, every one of Magpie’s warnings, every person they’d run into, every incident, all laid out in one big, comprehensive fact tapestry.

  He was impressed.

  “You made this?” He didn’t even try to conceal the awe in his voice.

  “Yes, and it makes no sense,” she said. “If this story landed on my desk as some big investigative piece I’d bounce it back to the reporter in an instant for not making his case.”

  Her voice rose.

  “There should be connections!” Her finger slid through the air above the screen. “Ways in which A connects to B connects to C. One central story. A big picture. Like, ‘Torchlight News fact-checker Samantha Colt was kidnapped and threatened by so-and-so, because of such-and-such, which could be linked to the death and disappearance of four other Canadian women by XYZ.’ There’s nothing here to imply these four women are even connected, let alone to explain why Roy’s investigation led to him skulking both around my apartment and my work, and why something called Magpie keeps threatening my life. This is wild-goose-hunt journalism at its worst, trying to tenuously tie a bunch of random, disconnected terrible things together, with nothing connecting them other than the fact that I’m somehow caught in the middle of it.”

  “Maybe Roy Davis is unhinged and it’s just a coincidence he showed up,” Joshua said. “Maybe Roy and these women have nothing to do with Magpie. If I’ve learned anything on the battlefield, it’s that sometimes very bad things just happen and we’ll never find out why.”

  “Or maybe there is a connection but it’s locked in my head and I can’t remember it.” She pressed her hands against her eyes. “I feel so useless.”

  “Are you kidding me?” He crossed the space between them in two steps and picked up the tablet. “Look at everything you’ve done. None of this is anything you should feel the slightest bit sorry for.”

  “Yes, it kind of is.” Her hands dropped into her lap and he could see the shine of tears in the corners of her eyes. “Because if I could remember how I got from the alley to the van then maybe we’d know something. Maybe we’d have some answers and my editor—who’s just had a baby—and the rest of the senior staff wouldn’t be having an emergency mee
ting about the fact some maniac is demanding we delete our whole news database. But we still don’t have any idea who this Magpie is or what game they’re playing, because of me.”

  “Don’t say that.” Joshua dropped down to his knees in front of her chair. He set the tablet down carefully on the table, then took both her hands in his. “None of this is your fault. None.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “Yeah, and I’m going to keep saying it until you start to hear me and believe it.” He squeezed her hands tightly. “Not only are none of the crimes you’ve lived through in the past twenty-four hours your fault, but you’ve handled them with so much courage and so bravely that it impressed me. I’m a soldier. I’ve seen countless people fall apart in the battlefield because they didn’t have half your brains and guts under fire. The fact you don’t remember the details of how you were kidnapped doesn’t weaken you. In fact, it’s very normal.”

  Her head was still shaking. “But what if I never remember anything helpful? Ever? What if Magpie keeps threatening people and my newspaper is forced out of business? When I could’ve stopped that from happening if I’d just figured out the final piece of the puzzle. What if I sit down to talk to Theresa tomorrow and completely fail to remember anything more than what I already know?”

  “I get that figuring out facts is your job,” he said. Just like protecting people is mine. “But even if you don’t remember any new facts that will help the police and your employers sort out this mess, that doesn’t mean you’ve failed.” He pulled one of his hands away from hers. He wiped the back of his fingers across her cheek, feeling the wetness of her tears. “Tomorrow’s appointment is about helping you, giving you peace of mind and helping you heal. I promise you that no matter what happens, no matter what you do or don’t remember, I’ll still be proud of you.”

  “Thank you.” Tears danced on her lashes. She leaned toward him. Her face fell into the cup of his hand and he felt the delicate curve of her cheek against his fingers. “You’re a good friend and a wonderful bodyguard.”

  His fingers brushed the soft hair beside her cheek. His rib cage tightened around his heart.

  He felt like a fraud. Because all he wanted to do now was to kiss her. To pull her into his arms and hold her close to his chest so she could feel his heart against hers. To utterly destroy everyone who had ever tried to hurt her. To throw his own life between hers and danger.

  And I can’t trust a single thing I’m feeling right now is real or going to last. Because my heart’s never beat this way before.

  “Thank you.” His words sounded awkward to his own ears, as if something was pressing up against his lungs. He pulled away, stood up quickly and picked up the tablet again. “Is your friend Eric Gibson on this chart?”

  “No.” She stood slowly, managing to slide her body off the chair without sending Oz tumbling to the floor. “But I did put his ex-girlfriend Bella on the chart. He was pretty panicked about her today, wondering why Bella had moved out without saying goodbye in person and hoping she wasn’t in trouble. He gets that way sometimes and it takes a while to talk him down. I think he takes some kind of caffeine stimulant to get through the morning show and it’s not good for his brain and his emotions. Also, I don’t think he’s very good at rejections.” She ran both hands through her hair. “Bella sent him a break-up letter. She told me she was moving out and she asked me about hiring a moving company. Then, a few days later, a moving van shows up and moves all her stuff out. Yvonne complained that she ran out on her rent and her security deposit won’t cover the damage. But considering how Yvonne can be I can’t exactly fault Bella for breaking her lease. It’s wrong, but understandable, and it doesn’t sound anything like foul play to me. But Eric was worried about it, plus Roy was snooping around the building, so I added it. Just in case it has anything to do with anything. Not that I can tell what actually has anything to do with anything anymore. And Eric’s been acting...odd.”

  An understatement. Given his conversation with Eric earlier, Joshua still had his reservations.

  She yawned deeply, then turned to the study door by the Christmas tree. “I think I’m going to go lie down. I know it’s only eight. But my head’s swimming. Maybe if I close my eyes for fifteen minutes this will all make more sense.”

  “You’re welcome to rest in my room upstairs. I’ll take the study.”

  “No, thank you, but it’s fine. My suitcase is in there already.”

  She reached up. Her hand brushed his shoulder and for a moment it seemed like she was about to pull him in for a hug.

  “Eric told me he’s planning on marrying you,” he said.

  “Really? He did?” She let go and blinked. “He did warn me he’d said something outrageous to you that he regretted. But I’d never realized it was that. I’m guessing he lied to make you think I had someone looking out for me. Believe me, I don’t have any intention of marrying him.”

  She turned and started for the office.

  “But that’s quite a statement, isn’t it? You’ve never been romantically involved with him?”

  He winced as the awkward words left his lips. He must sound ridiculous, like some crush-struck youth inquiring whether he had a rival.

  “No, of course not.” She stopped and turned back. “Eric is emotionally clingy and very protective. He tries too hard to be my friend. Maybe he has a crush on me. I think he’s still in love with Bella, but he does seem like the kind of man to have feelings for two women at once. But that doesn’t justify him saying something so completely untrue. Even though he’ll probably apologize for it again later by saying that he was only trying to protect me. He seems determined to stick around in my life for the long term.”

  She stood there for a long moment, her hand on the door to the study. Silence crackled between them like kindling in the fire, filled with words neither of them were willing to say. Then a sigh left her lips. “See you in a bit.”

  The door closed firmly behind her.

  * * *

  Night fell deeper. The snow grew heavier, until it was coming down so thick and fast that he worried about how long it was going to take to dig out the car in the morning. He had cocoa in the kitchen with his friends. Then Alex and Zoe went upstairs to bed. Joshua stretched out on the full length of the couch in the living room, not quite ready to go upstairs to bed yet. His eyes ran toward the closed study door. Samantha still hadn’t stirred. Hopefully that meant she was getting the sleep she needed. His watch beeped midnight.

  Christmas Eve had arrived.

  He pulled off his watch, dropped it on the table, and draped the blankets over his body. He took a deep breath and felt his racing heart slow in his chest.

  Thank You, God, for bringing us all again safely through to the end of the day. Please guide and equip us for whatever the next day brings when the sun rises again.

  Joshua didn’t remember falling asleep or even saying Amen. But suddenly he was awake. The clock read four thirty in the morning.

  And Samantha was screaming in terror.

  ELEVEN

  She was back in her college dorm room. She was nineteen. She was terrified. There was someone there, pushing her down. His hand clamped to her mouth. The other hand was clamped on her throat. And all Samantha could hear was the echo of her own panicked screams filling her ears, somehow screaming with no voice. As she kicked and hit and thrashed out against her attacker.

  “Samantha! Are you all right? Open the door!”

  Someone was shouting her name. She sat up. The room was dark. The springs were firm beneath her. She was on a sofa bed. Cushions cascaded down off the back around her. She had no idea where she was.

  All she knew was he was going to hurt her unless she found a way to stop him.

  A door flew open ahead of her. A man stood there. He was nothing but a silhouette, dark and huge in the night. He was blocking the doorway, blocking her way to freedom. Not this time. He wouldn’t hurt her this time. This time she would fight. She would
run.

  Her hand slid down feeling for the heavy flashlight she’d kept beside her bed. Instead, the handle of her hard suitcase touched her fingers. She clenched it hard. The man stepped into the room. She leaped up and swung, striking him hard in the chest with the case, using it to battle her way to freedom.

  She could still hear her voice. Filling the night. Filling the air. Screaming and screaming and screaming and she couldn’t stop.

  “Samantha! It’s okay. It’s me. Stop!”

  He yanked the suitcase from her hand. She shoved past him and ran out into the living room. Fumbling in the dark she found a door. Her fingers struggled with the door locks. She yanked back the bolt.

  “Josh!” a second male voice shouted. “Everything all right?”

  “Alex! Josh! What’s going on?” A female voice joined in.

  “I don’t know. I just woke up and she was screaming. Alex, check the perimeter and make sure we don’t have a break-in. Zoe, check the inside of the house—”

  The last latch flew back. Samantha threw herself out into the night. She tumbled across rough, uneven boards on the front porch then pitched forward down a flight of stairs. She landed on her hands and knees, crawled forward. Cold stung her bare hands and seeped through her socks. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t feel anything but the cold and dark and freezing cold seeping into her limbs. Then fresh snow was falling on her head. She stumbled to her feet and started running. Cold air stole her breath from her lungs. Her voice felt hoarse.

  “Samantha!” A man was shouting her name now. It was a strong voice, a sturdy voice. A voice that spoke of safety and home. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  She woke up as the nightmare fled from her mind.