Run, River, Run

by C. F. Francis

  She never completed her turn. Instead, River hit the ground hard. The impact was broken only slightly by her purse which landed between her and the solid walkway. One arm was trapped beneath her. Her attacker wasted no time grabbing her free arm, twisting it behind her back until it felt like it was going to pop from its socket. Her face was pressed deeper into the rough, woven surface of the doormat. The doorsill was the only thing she could see. Instinctively, she blindly kicked out with her feet. Sweeping her legs from side to side, she tried to make contact, but her flailing limbs found nothing but air. Her effort was rewarded by a knee pressed deep into her back below her weapon.

  Her gun. If he found it, he could use her own weapon against her. With a new burst of energy, she wriggled and writhed beneath him. “What do you want?” she grunted. He answered by grabbing a fistful of hair then slamming her head against the door, stunning her.

  “Move,” he ordered, his voice laced with anger. He removed his knee from her back and pulled her arm straight up in the air, lifting her upper body off the concrete. He reached for her purse. Her right arm, now free, snapped out to meet his. Her fingernails raked down his exposed arm.

  He snatched it out of her range at the same time pressing his booted foot against her hip, shoving her against the concrete walk.

  “Bitch,” he swore, grabbing her hair again. Too late, she started to scream. He viciously smacked her head against her unit’s door. Blinking, River tried to clear her vision, but lights danced in front of her eyes then dimmed as she fell into darkness.

  7

  Kevin was still with Steve when Rick called to tell him they may have found Kevin’s vanishing victim. There had been an assault on a woman whose first name was River. A neighbor had called it in. Rick refused to give him the address, stating it was a police scene. He’d call Kevin when it was clear. Fuck that.

  Heading south on Periwinkle Way, he kept an eye open for flashing lights of first responders. Kevin was going on the assumption that River lived on the southern end of Sanibel near the causeway due to the fact that she’d left the beach on foot. Because it was getting late, Kevin didn’t have any problem spotting the strobing lights of the police vehicles against the darkening sky. He followed them to their source. The parking lot of the condo complex was full, so he was forced to pull into another building’s guest parking area.

  He headed directly to the EMS vehicle, hoping he wouldn’t find River on a gurney inside. His momentum was stopped when a police officer stepped in front of him. “You need to get back, sir,” the young woman said, stretching her neck to look him in the eye.

  “Detective Wilcowski called me,” Kevin told her. It wasn’t a complete lie. Rick had called him.

  The officer walked out of ear shot then spoke into her radio. Kevin moved to side-step her, but she took up her position in front of Kevin again. “You’re to wait here,” she said.

  “Why? Is there a victim?”

  “Just wait here, sir.”

  Kevin was mentally debating how hard he wanted to push the issue when a door shut on the second floor. Rick exited the last unit near the landing and headed for the stairs.

  “I told you to stay put,” Rick grumbled, as he approached. “How the hell did you find this place?”

  “How many crime scenes could this island have? She’d headed in this direction when she walked away. The flashing lights were a give-away. How is she? Is she okay?” His eyes flicked to the EMS van.

  “She’s upstairs. She has some scrapes, contusions, and a possible concussion. The medics are finishing up with her now.”

  “I want to see her.”

  Rick’s eyebrows rose. “What’s with you? You’re not related to her. You didn’t witness this attack.”

  “If I’d caught the asshole this morning, he may not have gotten a second shot at her. I’m responsible for this.”

  “That’s a stretch,” Rick huffed. “We don’t even know if this is the woman who was attacked or if it was the same guy from the beach.”

  “Seriously, Rick? What are the chances a person with the same name was attacked twice on the same day by two different people?”

  “Come with me,” Rick gave in, “but if she doesn’t want you here, you leave. And if you stay, you keep out of our way. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  Kevin matched Rick’s long stride. He noted the police tape across the landing to the second set of stairs as they approached the door at the end of the walkway.

  “Is this where she was attacked?” Kevin asked.

  “A neighbor below heard the scuffle. He didn’t realize what was going on at first. He came out to check and spotted a man running out of the stairwell and take off toward the back of the building. He found Ms. Chandler—that’s her last name—out cold. He ran back to his place to get his phone, then called us. He waited with her until we arrived.”

  “Thank God, there are decent people in this world,” Kevin commented. He saw the spot of blood on the doorsill. “How bad is she hurt?”

  “As I said, unless they say her head injury is more serious than it appears, she’ll live—but she’ll be sore as hell in the morning.” Rick rested his hand on the doorknob but didn’t open the door. “There’s something else going on with her,” Rick added.

  “Like what?”

  “Don’t know. I went through her unit. Each room has a disposable cell phone, which leads me to believe she’s running. She hasn’t shared any details yet. There wasn’t much time to question her before the medics arrived.”

  While he wished it hadn’t, Kevin’s gut had been right. There was more going on here than the assault this morning.

  River was seated at a glass top dining room table when they entered the condo. Two paramedics bracketed her. One of them was carefully manipulating her right arm, checking its mobility. The other paramedic was applying an ointment to her right cheek. Her left cheek was already sporting a bandage. Eyes flicked in their direction then back to the medic who had a light grip on her chin to keep her from moving.

  “You weren’t kidding about those eyes. They’d be hard to forget,” Rick said in a tone only Kevin could hear, a skill necessary on the front lines.

  “Was River able to identify the guy? Did the neighbor get a description? Do we know what the asshole wanted?” Kevin asked, glancing at River. She appeared tiny compared to the two men attending her and neither were as big as Rick or Kevin. Tiny didn’t mean weak. She sat as if she had a metal rod for a spine. Her jaw was set.

  “The contents of her purse were dumped on the ground next to her. We need her to go through the items to see if anything is missing,” Rick said. “As for a description, she says she didn’t see anything but his shoes. He came at her from behind. The neighbor claims he only saw him for a second. His description was minimal—white male, dark hair, middle aged. Similar to your man on the beach.”

  “Damn it,” Kevin raked his hand through his hair. “You know this has to be the same person. First someone tries to rip her backpack from her shoulders, and now her purse. What the hell do they want so badly?”

  “I’ve hardly begun to question her. The paramedics took precedent.”

  “Well, I’m not stopping you and it looks like the EMTs are packing it up,” Kevin said as the men next to River snapped off their latex gloves. One of them slipped a paper in front of her which she signed then slid it back toward him. She was refusing further treatment. He’d already determined she was stubborn from their short meeting on the beach. Her current actions confirmed his impression.

  Rick joined the group, thanking the first responders as they picked up their gear. As much as Kevin wanted to check on River, he lagged behind. This was Rick’s territory, and he’d agreed to his terms.

  His friend sat on his haunches, so he was eye level with River. He spoke to her softly. Kevin couldn’t make out every word they were saying, but when River’s eyes darted to him and then back to Rick, it wasn’t hard to piece the words together. When sh
e nodded, Kevin took it as an invitation. He circled the table so her back was never to him. She’d been hit from behind twice today.

  He turned the dining room chair next to River around and straddled it. The cheek on the right side of her face showed shallow cuts. None of them were bleeding. Those beautiful eyes reflected pain and exhaustion. He noted her right arm laid in her lap, unmoving.

  “Remember me?” he asked. “Sorry I didn’t get the bastard on the beach this morning.”

  “I don’t know if this was the same man,” River said.

  “What did the EMTs say?” Kevin asked, ignoring her comment. “They wanted to take you to the hospital, didn’t they?”

  “ERs are full of sick people. I passed.”

  She wasn’t hurting so bad that she couldn’t attempt a joke.

  “I know you have questions for her, but I’d like to check her out while you talk,” he said to Rick.

  “The paramedics just finished with her.”

  “I know, but a second opinion never hurt. Is that okay with you, River?” For some damn reason he felt the need to check their work—make sure they hadn’t missed anything.

  “I’m too tired and sore to argue, so knock yourself out,” she said. “I take that back. Getting knocked out isn’t recommended.” She massaged the side of her head.

  “You blacked out completely?”

  “The first time my head hit the door I saw stars. I didn’t know people actually did that. I always thought it was a metaphor. The second time he used me as a battering ram, everything went dark.”

  “And you won’t go to the hospital?” Kevin asked, raising her eyelids and staring into those intense pupils.

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Stubborn.”

  “Is that your prognosis or an opinion?”

  “Fact. Did you get that cut on your cheek looked at?”

  “I was coming back from the pharmacy when I was bushwhacked,” she said. “The doctor gave me prescriptions for antibiotics plus a shot in my ass.” She rubbed the injection area then grimaced, reaching for her shoulder with her other hand.

  “Let me see your arm.” Kevin’s broad hand covered her shoulder blade. He lifted her elbow and carefully manipulated her arm.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “Yeah, but I can move it. It’ll heal. Don’t you have some questions?” she turned to Rick.

  When Kevin finished his cursory exam, he made his way to River’s small kitchen. She looked away from the broad-shouldered man with the smooth tone and faced the detective, Rick Wilcowski. He’d given her his name, but she was glad it had been embroidered over the police department logo on his polo shirt. She was having trouble connecting her thoughts, let alone remembering names.

  “I gave a statement to the uniformed officer,” she said to him.

  “I bet you didn’t tell them you were assaulted this morning.”

  She hadn’t. Things were getting complicated. She wanted to sort them out before getting in any deeper with the locals.

  “It would appear your friend already did that,” she said.

  “Kevin mentioned it to me, but there was no official report filed. No victim and a partial name make it difficult to write up.”

  The refrigerator door opened. River glanced back toward the kitchen. Kevin was looking for something in her fridge. He was certainly making himself at home.

  “Where do you want to start?” she asked the detective. “This morning or afternoon?”

  “Let’s start with fourteen years ago,” Rick said.

  All the blood drained from River’s face as darkness threatened to engulf her again.

  “Whoa,” Kevin said, suddenly appearing at her side. He pressed her head between her knees.

  “What the hell did you say to her?”

  “I was asking about her history. It could have something to do with today’s events. I didn’t expect that kind of reaction.”

  River pushed up against the strong hand pressing across her shoulders. “But you expected a reaction,” she insisted. “I’m okay. I should have seen that coming.”

  “Here,” Kevin said, shoving a soda into her hand. Pulling his chair closer, he put one arm across her shoulder, then guided the shaking can to her lips. It irritated her.

  “I’ve got it,” she said.

  “What happened fourteen years ago?” The medic narrowed his eyes at the detective.

  Rick placed his phone face down on the glass tabletop and shoved it across the surface. Kevin reached for it, giving his friend a questioning look. River didn’t need an explanation. “Which news service?” she asked.

  “Time magazine,” Rick answered.

  “You couldn’t have given him one of the abridged versions?”

  Kevin flipped the phone so he could read the screen. She found herself leaning into him. The subject never got easier. She’d take her support where she could get it.

  “Do you remember the Engleharts?” she asked. “The family that kills together, stays together?”

  The comment clicked. His grip tightened on her shoulder. “Husband, wife and adult son, right? Fifteen dead over a span of several weeks. They were captured in North Carolina. What do they have to do with you?”

  “My mother, father and younger brother were their last victims.”

  8

  Rick’s expression didn’t reflect the anxious curiosity or pity she’d come to expect. Instead, his blue green eyes reflected sadness. He hadn’t brought up the subject because of his eagerness to hear the gory details of her grisly past. He simply wanted information. Her history was full of law enforcement professionals who relished the idea of rehashing the sensational and gory events surrounding the slaughter of her family. After the stalking began last year, she’d once again become an oddity and a source for those interested in the macabre. The issues at the cabin had brought in a new crop of officers pushing her for graphic details. One positive thing that had come from her move to Sanibel was that she wasn’t known here.

  She cocked her head to look at Kevin. His face held little expression except for the grim, fine line of his lips. His hand continued to stroke her arm. Neither man appeared anxious to hear a retelling of the gruesome story. Perhaps it was their experiences with war. They’d most likely seen worse.

  “I find it hard to believe today’s events had anything to do with the murder of my family. Those monsters are in prison and won’t be getting out.” They’d been convicted of her parents’ and brother’s murders, due mostly to her testimony. They were never extradited to any other jurisdiction because the number of years that had been added to their life sentences were so excessive, they would never be free to kill again.

  “How can you be certain? Serial killers have fans,” Rick commented.

  “I can’t, but the authorities did a thorough investigation last year. No link was found—at least none that I was made aware of.”

  “What happened last year to bring the authorities back into your life?” Rick, already laser focused, eyed her closely.

  “You didn’t dig very deep into my background, did you?”

  “I haven’t had the time to dig into any police reports. If it was mentioned in any of the online stories that I pulled up, I missed it. What happened?” Rick repeated.

  River pinched the bridge of her nose. Her head hurt.

  “I’d prefer to skip over the details of the day the Engleharts showed up unless it’s absolutely necessary,” she said. She would never be able to remove those memories from her mind. Walking through them was always difficult and painful. Neither man objected.

  “Nothing unexpected happened before, during or after the trial. The case was an easy one for the prosecutors since they had a witness—me. They also had enough physical evidence since they were caught in my dad’s car along with personal items they’d taken from my parents. It was pretty much a slam dunk. The news hounds, mostly tabloids, were my biggest problems. Eventually my life normalized—or should I say, as much as poss
ible under the circumstances. I graduated from college and moved into the cabin.”

  “The cabin where your family was killed?” Rick asked.

  “Why?” Kevin asked. Incredulity laced the single word.

  River gave him the coldest stare she could muster. It wasn’t the first time someone had wondered if she was crazy for moving into the place where her family had been butchered. She’d ceased arguing with them. Admittedly, she was a bit off. She suspected anyone who’d gone through what she had, earned the right to be a little crazy. Maybe that’s what it took to survive.

  “Because I wanted to,” she snapped back. “Do you plan on continually interrupting or can I get on with this?”

  Doing her best to ignore the striking man looming next to her, she continued. “The cabin is tucked into a quiet, secluded part of the North Carolina mountains. I lived and worked there in peace for seven years without any issues.”

  “What sort of work?” Kevin asked.

  River’s shoulder’s slumped. Apparently, the man wasn’t trainable. “A graphic design business.”

  “Go on,” Rick prompted.

  “Over a year ago, I started receiving unexpected gifts.”

  “What sort of gifts?” Rick asked.

  “The first one was a beheaded snake left on my back porch.”

  “You said your cabin was isolated,” Kevin pointed out.

  River huffed, tired and frustrated. In spite of her request, they’d be asking questions. The sooner she got the tale out, the better.

  “It is, but it backs up to a national preserve. Hikers sometimes explore the area near the cabin. I figured some kids were just getting their kicks.”

  “But that wasn’t it,” Rick prompted.

  “No, it wasn’t. I found the head a few days later in my kitchen, staring up at me from the drain, it’s mouth propped open with a toothpick.” It was an image she’d have with her for a long time to come.

  “Someone got into your place?” Kevin’s eyes rounded. “How?”

  Pushing back her chair, River stood. “Any chance we can finish this later?” she asked, changing her previous decision to push through the questioning. She pressed her thumbs into her temples as she massaged her forehead with the remaining fingers. “I’d like to go lie down.”