by Dani Wyatt
In this moment, my thoughts are that at least if I do hurl, my head is out the window.
“Dang it.” I grimace, even in this situation finding it difficult to break Daddy’s rule about no cursing.
I’m twisting and flailing with the hand that’s out the window for something to give me leverage, but the side of the cabin is smooth worn wood with no handholds. “So perfect.”
It feels like a metaphor for my life. Can’t move forward and can’t go back. Stuck in discomfort but not enough to kill me. Unable to push through the barrier to get myself free.
The voices in the cabin go quiet and I know it’s a matter of moments before I’m found out.
This will be a story for the grandkids one day. If I live that long.
I point my toes and blow out all the air left in my lungs, thinking it may help make my chest just the bit smaller needed to retreat.
Because at this point, forward isn’t an option. Plan A has failed and I’m pretty foggy on what Plan B could be. But until I unravel the mess of Plan A, that’s a secondary concern at best.
“Come on.” I breathe in and do everything I can to shimmy and lift myself off the window frame, kicking my feet like a toddler having a fit as I hear footsteps moving outside the door.
In one huge exhale I collapse, falling the few inches it takes for my feet to touch the back of the toilet.
From there, I plop down, jerking down my pajama bottoms and taking a seat just as the door opens.
I’m out of breath as I glare at the madman looking in.
“Um, little privacy? I’m sort of having some digestive issues here.” I manage and I see the flicker of discomfort in his eyes. “You into some freaky shit, huh, watching me? No pun intended.” I add, poking at the flush of embarrassment I see, forgiving myself this time for the swear word, knowing Daddy would probably approve given the circumstances.
And the amazing pun.
With a muttered apology he shuts the door and I drop my forehead to my knees, fighting for breath.
I pull myself together and decide Plan B does not involve the bathroom. So reluctantly I put myself back together and move to the door, pulling it open an inch, when I hear Stas’s name.
“He’s giving me everything as it should be. He’s as dirty as the next one, his high and mighty act didn’t last. He gave her up easier than I expected. You don’t mingle in the mud and stay clean. He’s played his time in the sandbox with the little girl, he’s ready to go back to whatever his life was before. I did him a favor I think.”
“Will he come after her?” My grandmother asks.
I’m chilled to the bone when I hear what comes next.
“No. I left him with a clear understanding if he shows up, she doesn’t get to live. Seems he’s got half a heart, he doesn’t want her dead. That fits with the terms of the estate as well. As long as you have her back in the fold, you get your money. Win, win.”
“Stas will never stop looking for me.” I march out into the small room and place myself carefully in the chair next to the pipe. I hold out my hand for them to re-shackle me, spouting at them, “Well? Aren’t you going to put the handcuffs back on? Clearly I’m dangerous.”. My ploy works, they don’t move right away to replace my restraint.
“Really? Who do you think you are to him? Love of his life? Let me tell you something about your precious Stas. You’re a dalliance. He’s got women in every port. Tigers don’t change their stripes. He should be thanking me. You all should.” He looks at me and adds, “You know it’s true, don’t you? You know you don’t go together. He doesn’t just leave town for business, you know. Just like your father didn’t.” A grin spreads over his lips and I wonder how he knows anything about my father. “Stas and I are quite alike, actually. That’s how I knew how to play him. Let me kill you? He would never do that. He’d rather capitulate to all my demands than lose the bigger game. You get to live and he can always think that he won, that you’re alive because of his higher intellect when it’s a relief to him to be free of you as well. Feeds his hero complex.”
I don’t care to give him the satisfaction, but I’m dying inside. My body is numb. All the niggling doubts I had come to fruition. If he lied about what he did for a living, he’ll lie about everything else.
The guilt I had about lying to him doesn’t feel any better, but hearing this man’s words it feels like someone has taken a rusty razor blade to the most sensitive parts of me.
A new being comes alive in my core. I’m not Ginger anymore and I’m not Stephanie. I don’t know who I am.
An aching, wretched soul that grabs onto my heart and squeezes, laughing and saying every sort of I-told-you-so.
I’ll take whatever is next, as long as it takes me away from here. From Stas. From the painful entity that has sprung to life inside of me. As long as they don’t hurt him. I still don’t want that, ever. Or my donkeys.
T H I R T E E N
Stas
I’M READY TO TEAR INTO anything within reach.
The warehouse where we are gathered is filled with guys, but we still have zero idea where my girl’s being held and the deadline is looming. When George hands me an iPad with a video feed running, I’m ready to tear his fucking head off, but the look in his eyes tells me this is important.
On the video screen I see Hamish—one of the army of George’s less-than-sparkling-clean acquaintances—holding a man by the back of his jacket. Hamish is a local; he comes from near Herald, Virginia, where Ginger had said her family lived in that fucking cult.
I never could find any evidence or history of a cult near there but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist, so it was a long shot but we set up a bunch of guys in the area asking questions, flashing Ginger’s picture and trying to beat the bushes for anything about anything.
My thinking was maybe, just maybe, there was some bit of information Calfus knew about her or the cult or something. It didn’t make any logical sense, but you follow every lead and clue until it isn’t one anymore.
I wasn’t going to dismiss the possibility there was some thread that may tie some clues together. Guess it paid off.
We had Hamish running surveillance around Herald at bars and questioning some informants around the area that were friendly to our sort.
When I told George to set me up with an army, he took it very seriously with more scouts than I could count.
“Look who I found.” Hamish’s voice crackles on the microphone setup he’s using. He is standing in a parking lot that looks to be in the middle of nowhere, outside a dive bar.
Hamish is practically dangling the portly man on is tiptoes and his glazed eyes tell me he’s not an amateur drunk.
“Who is he?” I snap, my patience long gone. I don’t have time for guessing games and sleep has been non-existent, so my temper is raw. “Who are you?” I blast at the video screen, knowing he must have something to do with the hurricane that’s become my life, or Hamish wouldn’t have brought him to me.
“Nobody you want to know.” The man slurs. “Nobody anyone wants to know.”
His uncooperative tone pushes me over the edge. “I don’t have fucking time for this shit.”
“Oh, you’re so tough...” He smacks back.
“Shut the fuck up.” Hamish shakes him and his eyes roll back, but he shuts up. “He’s Ginger’s father.”
A chill takes me by surprise at his words. “What?”
“Tanner Lukus. Father of Stephanie Lukus, who you know as Ginger Murphy.” He sees the look on my face and nods, his expression grave. “Yeah. One of our people called me and said there was a guy running his mouth. Telling anyone who’d listen all about his daughter, how they were going to get her back and things would go back to the way they were. Showed him her picture and he couldn’t hold a poker face for nothing. Didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. I beat the extra details out of him once I got here, and you are not going to believe those.” Hamish shakes his head.
“Hamish, now is
not the time for dramatic pauses. I want everything he told you and I want it in a single paragraph without pauses. Go.” I bark into the video feed.
“Okay, so this guy here raised Ginger. Or Stephanie. But he’s not her real father. Not biologically. But fuck man...get this, that guy? The one who took her, your last trick? He’s her real father. He had an affair with this charmer’s wife, she got pregnant. The family paid him off but then Calfus took up with the mother. Seems he has a thing for mother/daughter. And winning. Calfus felt like they played him off. He wanted to marry Ginger’s—I mean Stephanie’s—mother, but the family wouldn’t have it. Too embarrassing since she was already married. The grandmother took a fancy to him, but he didn’t feel the same. About tore the family apart, but like all good nightmares, money held them all together in the end.”
My head is spinning. Leonard Calfus is Ginger’s biological father? And he just happens to engage my services? That’s one huge coincidence. Real life is better than fiction, I guess, but Jesus Christ...
Tanner Lukus is mumbling about how Leonard Calfus can go to hell, fucking his wife and thinking he can just waltz back into their lives after all these years. I have to admit, I agree with the destination for our mutual acquaintance, but there’s only one thing I want to know. “Where are they?”
“Answer him.” Hamish growls, giving the guy a shake. When Tanner doesn’t answer, Hamish doesn’t miss a beat. I see a nine-millimeter appear out of nowhere, the barrel pressed under his chin. He’ll use it, too. Like I said, these guys of George’s aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty.
I address Tanner while Hamish holds the gun firmly in place. “You have exactly five seconds, Mr. Lukus. I don’t give a shit about your life, I don’t give a shit about the body or the bloodstain we’re about to leave in that parking lot. You will be a distant memory and I will find my girl. That you can be sure of. The only difference is this: will you be alive when I do? One, two...”
He grunts, his eyes shifting as Hamish stretches his arm wide to get out of the way of the impending spatter.
“Three...”
“Wait, if you take her we—”
“I. Don’t. Care.” I meet Hamish’s eyes and he nods. He’s ready. “Four...”
“Okay! Wait! They’re out on Route Five, pass Cedar and the 110. There’s a road with a green marker at the mailbox. It’s an old cabin. They’re there. Or they should still be there.”
I nod at Hamish and he lowers the gun. “Keep an eye on him. We have to get to Calfus before I’m expected at the drop. We have to hurry.”
“Will do, boss.”
As I hand the iPad back to George, he clicks his fingers at the guys all around. In an instant, they’re preparing to ship out. “That’s not far,” he says. “She is right under our noses.”
“We still would never have found her. Let’s get this thing done.”
F O U R T E E N
Ginger
THE CABIN FEELS SMALLER with every passing minute. It’s been a while since I heard him on the phone, but without a clock I can’t be sure how much time has passed.
The sun has moved high in the sky and is now lowering so it’s been hours since we arrived I do know that.
The guy paces from window to window, turning to smile at me now and then as if he wants to say something but is enjoying his little drama.
Grandmother took a call outside, coming back in to whisper again to him as he nodded then shook his head. She takes a seat at the same place across from me. At the moment they’ve left me unshackled, which is an improvement of sorts.
The silence only makes things worse, and I come to realize my smart mouth isn’t getting me into any more trouble than sitting here mute, so I decide to see what truth I can pull out of them.
“So,” I start, glaring with a smile at both of them as they stare back. “How is it again you two know each other? I’d just love some more family history, Granny.”
They keep their eyes on me for a moment, then Grandmother looks at the floor and the man smiles at me.
“You really want to know, huh?”
My grandmother jerks her head up. “No, don’t you tell her.” Her voice cracks.
“Why not? What on earth could it matter now?” His smile broadens. “You have beautiful eyes, Stephanie. Has anyone ever told you that? Beautiful, brown eyes. So unique with those blue flecks. Rare, I would think.”
Confusion courses through me as he steps forward.
“Thanks?” I reply as he brings his face to within inches of mine and I meet his eyes
My stomach churns and the sick feeling returns in spades.
“They remind me of my own. Anyone else in your family have eyes like yours? No, they don’t do they. Oh, and it’s funny.” He chuckles, reaching down and taking my hand, turning it over and holding his other one up, palm turned toward my face. “We also seem to have the same curve in our little fingers. What do you think the genetic likelihood is of two complete strangers with the same rare eye feature as well as that?”
I stare at my hand and at his. I’d never even noticed it before. On my hand it’s not as pronounced as his, but he’s right.
The room starts to spin and it feels like my head is disconnected from my body. It’s too much.
First my lies. Then whatever they were saying about Stas.
Now this.
Whatever this is.
“Get away from me!” I scream, right in his stupid face. The vitriol in my outburst surprises even me, but I need space. I can’t breathe with him standing right there. “I want to go home. Let me go. You can’t keep me here!”
“Oh, I definitely can, little girl. And, just in case you think of running, now or in the future, Stas will die along with your precious donkeys. As a matter of fact, look.” He pulls out his phone and faces it toward me and my throat closes.
There’s a picture of a pick-up truck with a cage in the bed. Inside are two miniature donkeys. In the background an enormous building with a sign on the outside, ‘Harrison Rendering’.
A slaughterhouse.
I have to fight the wail building in my throat. What if they’re already...
“Don’t look so worried, sweet Stephanie. Do as you’re told and I’ll return them to you at your new home. I promise. And unlike Stas, I don’t lie.”
“Those animals are not coming with her.” Grandmother spits.
It’s all too much.
Even if what he says about Stas is true, and his actions have me leaning toward believing everything, I still don’t want him to die. I still, even in the worst hurt, would want him to live.
Would want him to be happy.
I guess that’s the true definition of love. When you want the other person to be happy, no matter if you get to be with them or not. Whether or not you even forgive them for betraying you.
My grandmother turns her back as he drops my hand.
Tears flow from my eyes and I don’t care anymore. “Tell me how you know each other.” I dart my eyes from one to the other. “Why are you doing this?” It’s not a ploy anymore to set them off their game, I need to know. This is too much.
I watch my Grandmother drop her head as the man walks toward the window, turning on one foot and holding his arms outstretched wide.
Her eyes dart to him. “Don’t you dare tell her!”
“Why not? After all, it’s all about family now, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?” I interject, the feeling of tension rising to a level that has every muscle in my body twitching. I need this to be over.
The man smiles, his arms still outstretched in a welcoming gesture.
“Daddy wants a hug, babygirl.”
I go numb.
He’s laughing as dry heaves tear at my gut. Before I can catch my breath there’s a sound like thunder striking right inside the cabin, my hands fly to my ears as a scream rips from my throat and everything goes black.
F I F T E E N
Stas
THE LAST HOUR FEELS like a year.
But it’s time, we’re here and my future hinges on what happens in the next minute.
My fingers twitch as I focus on the strike point, raise my boot and kick the door open. In one quick movement, I toss the explosive into the small cabin.
As the flash bang goes off, I cover my own ears and barrel through the door.
Inside the cabin, tunnel vision takes over in the fog.
I see her in a heap on the floor to my left, the lavender fabric of her pajamas signaling me through the smoke.
In one motion, I’m next to her, crouched down.
She’s on the floor because the flash has stunned everyone as intended. It was the only way to put him to the ground and not give him a chance to do anything stupid before I could get her out of harm’s way.
The explosive stuns, it shouldn’t have harmed her in any way, but seeing her helpless laying there has me questioning every decision I made on how to strike, strike hard and get her out.
In a matter of seconds, I’m at a dead run, back out the door with her in my arms, not looking back as ten other guys descend on the cabin to finish what we started.
By the time I get her to the car she’s coming around. Dazed eyes look up at the sky first as I brush her hair from her face and adjust her crooked glasses back onto her face.
She’s so white. Too white. And there’s a strap tightening around my chest.
“Babybear.” There’s a crack in my voice I’ve never heard before. “It’s Daddy. Can you hear me, sweetheart?”
“Daddy?” Her voice squeaks and her lips look dry.
She’s wearing the donkey pajamas I had made for her and my heart breaks for my little girl as her hands come up and wrap around the back of my neck.
I lean down and kiss her lips, holding us together for a long moment, just needing to feel her breath against me. I suck inward, drawing her life into me and breathing mine back into hers.
