At one end of the large, rectangular room loomed a door with a table beside it. Bottles of water sat on the table. Another door was set into a wall close by. On the opposite end of the room, a door led to another room. That door was slightly ajar and allowed her to see two details: one leg of a tripod and a black flag with Arabic writing in white hanging on the wall.
The sight froze her blood.
The sound of Ihtisham opening the basement door dragged Lilly’s head around in his direction. At the last second, Ihtisham had decided to eschew Maleek’s indifference and had grabbed a ski mask hanging on a peg by the basement door. It did not matter if they were to all die, Lilly would let the other captives know she recognized Ihtisham.
Each woman would be dragged in front of the camera. Their deaths and pleas for continued life would be recorded and then broadcast to the world. Rashad and others wanted to do the beheadings live, but Maleek refused. Their blow against the infidels would not require martyrdom unless discovered. Discovery was to be avoided so they could strike again. If a captive were to shout out Ihtisham’s name while filming, it would delay everything.
Better to keep his own counsel and remain anonymous.
Ihtisham headed toward Lilly. As he passed the cell of the other woman captured the same night, she reached her hand through the bars toward him.
“Wait! Wait, I have to talk to you. I have to tell you something.”
Ihtisham snarled then grabbed the outstretched hand and bent the woman’s arm in the wrong direction. She screamed.
“Do not speak unless spoken to or questioned, imra.”
He gave the arm one last pull, then continued on to Lilly’s cell.
“Where am I? Why are you holding me, us?” asked Lilly. She tried to speak plainly, but the words came out as a plea. Ihtisham stared at her through his mask. The irresistible urge flitted through his mind again. What would she look like unclothed? What if things were different than they were for Ihtisham? The girl’s form was slim as a reed, but her voice . . .
Ihtisham squeezed his eyes to erase the sinful thoughts from his mind. He turned from her and stepped over to where Rashad had dropped the items she had carried with her. He took a minute to rummage through the girl’s purse. Rashad had been smart enough to ditch the cell phone, but they needed to see if there was any device she had that could help others track her whereabouts. A bunch of crumpled receipts were in the bag, but they were dated from a couple of weeks ago. Satisfied, Ihtisham walked to the end of the room, grabbed a bottled water, then returned to Lilly’s cell.
“Drink.”
She hesitated then took the water. She gulped it down, not stopping until the bottle was empty. Lilly rubbed her back hand across her mouth, where water had spilled along it. She glanced toward the room that was the cell’s makeshift video studio. Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re a terrorist, aren’t you? You’re going to kill us all?”
Ihtisham was not surprised by the questions. Many of the others had asked the same things. But Lilly’s voice was not trembling in fear.
When she got no answer, she continued. “Why? I thought Islam was a religion of peace.”
“What would a Western girl know about Islam?”
“Perhaps if you taught us, instead of trying to kill us all, we would know more.”
A grim smile formed under Ihtisham’s mask. “There is teaching aplenty on the web and in our holy mosques. You are too thick and insolent to believe. You Americans barely believe in your own Christian God.”
The remark struck home, causing an irrational flash of anger. The emotion overrode Lilly’s sense of self-preservation. “America is home to many religions. Someone without a thick skull would know that.”
A river canyon of anger flooded Ihtisham. He moved to grab a stick Lilly had not seen lying against a corner of the wall. It was a long piece of bamboo, one-inch round. Available at any big-box home improvement store, it was strong, flexible, and perfect for beating someone. Ihtisham extended the bamboo through the cell bars and swung it down at Lilly. She cried out when it struck her, then she tried to evade it. Her cell was small and did not give her a lot of room to elude the swinging stick. After getting hit several times, she crab walked back into a corner.
Ihtisham pulled the stick out of the cell, then disappeared around the corner. He was out of sight not even a minute when he moved to the cell door with a purpose. He unlocked it and entered. In one hand, he held a large serrated knife. “Get on your stomach! Now!”
Lilly ignored the order. She just looked at Ihtisham and shook her head in the negative. “Please don’t. Don’t.”
Ihtisham’s foot shot out and struck her in the forehead. The blow left her dazed. No resistance could be mustered as Ihtisham manhandled her onto her stomach. When he felt she was under control, he ripped his mask off. He bent down to make sure she could see his face. Her eyes grew large as the moon.
“You?”
“Me.”
Then Ihtisham jammed a long needle into her neck. We’ll just have to kill her first and gag her.
He left her in place, plastered against the cold floor. It was time to turn his attention to the other newcomer. He walked over to her cell. She turned her face in Lilly’s direction, then slid her eyes over the rest of the women in the basement. None were speaking or reacting. They had learned it was best not to do so. When her eyes fell back on Ihtisham, desperation glowed in them.
“You don’t have to kill me. I can help you. I have information. Let me go. I can give you a better target.”
This comment drew hisses from some cells. Even in the midst of their own despair and hopelessness, the thought of turning on someone else angered them.
They truly are a repugnant and stupid people, thought Ihtisham. The idea that she would be able to live after seeing all their faces was beyond dumb. She probably thought they were going to martyr themselves.
She, of course, did not know that was not the plan. Ihtisham stopped the evil grin threatening to emerge on his face. He sculpted it into one of consideration.
“What information could you have that would gain you your life?”
“I, I do part-time work for the police departments in the area.”
Inwardly, Ihtisham groaned. She was a direct threat. They would have to kill her now. American cops were feverish in their desire to protect or avenge their own.
If the woman noticed a change in Ihtisham’s demeanor, she ignored it. She was focused on saving her own worthless and treacherous skin. “I saw something, something I wasn’t supposed to see. But I did.”
“Quit babbling and tell me.”
“Will you let me go?”
“Tell you what. I’m going to look through your things. If I don’t find anything that confirms what you just said, I’ll kill you now.”
Ihtisham did not wait for her reply. He walked over to a pile of belongings on the floor. Immediately, he saw the camera. Beside it was a bag that looked like one a photographer would carry. Sure enough, he found a wristlet inside that contained an identification card and some business cards. Ihtisham pulled the ID card out, then moved over to the cell door. He squatted in front of it.
“Rhea Tompkins. Crime Scene Photographer. OK, Rhea, you were not deceitful. I will promise you two things: One, if what you wish to tell me is interesting, I will let you go. Two, if it is not interesting, I will kill you after the men upstairs release some tension that has been building in them with all these women beneath their feet. Are you sure?”
The woman did not hesitate. “Do you remember The Christmas Day Massacre? The girl that got away—she lives in this area. I know her name.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Monday morning did not come fast enough. The school did not offer any chance of getting more information, but at least it was not home. Maddie would not be stuck in a three thousand square foot suburban prison with no form of communication. Her mother had not given what Maddie thought of as her spy phone back to her, though
she had told her she could carry her old-fashioned flip phone to school to use in case of an emergency—and that she would be monitoring her calls to ensure she used the phone only for its intended purpose. As for Rhee, if he had called her banned phone or responded in any way, her mother refused to say. And the computer in her room was now locked away in the gun vault.
Worse, the local news was saying little to nothing about the shooting. Maddie could only speculate as to the reason. Whatever the justification, it just added to the cloud of unknowingness she felt choking her.
The cherry on top was that her parents said little to her. Whether it was a form of parental silent treatment or ignorance about what to say, Maddie could not tell. The air in the house felt fragile, like eggshells.
By unspoken consent, everyone avoided each other. There were no arguments, no announced punishments, and no last-ditch efforts by Maddie’s parents to understand her.
It was not from anger. Instead, Maddie detected a sense of resignation.
By request of Principal Devin, Maddie arrived to school forty-five minutes early. That request had been made Saturday morning before the news about Lilly, Allie, and Zara broke. Now, Maddie was sure that her little fight with the football team was the last thing on the principal’s mind. Her feeling was right on target.
He sat behind his desk a full minute before speaking. “I’m not unaware of the friendship you’ve formed with . . .” To Maddie’s surprise, his voice choked with emotion the moment he needed to say their names. She expected any teacher or adult to be saddened by an event like the death of three students, but she still expected distance. Principal Devin had none. The pain he felt could not be masked beneath an air of professional restraint.
Maddie looked away, allowing the adult to gather himself before he continued.
“I know you were friends with Lilly, Allie, and Zara. So, I expect you are aware of what occurred on Friday night.”
“I am aware.”
Principal Devin nodded. “Given . . . well the debacle at the game seems trivial now.”
“Seems?” said Maddie, sarcasm dripping strong and heavy.
“Right,” he said, conceding the point. “I still have to say something. And I’m only singling you out because of earlier events. Madison, you have not shown the degree of self-control we expect here. You seem to operate impulsively from a place of anger. I’m sure you are angry now.”
The man was right, of course, but Maddie just shrugged. “No one to hit over this. If there was . . .”
There was no need to complete the sentence. Her narrowing eyes told the story.
“Listen, Madison. I’ve been a principal for a long time. I’ve been in education even longer. The nickname the kids love to bandy about here—‘Old Goat Devin’—yes, I know the name . . . it’s not a lie.”
“The point please,” said Maddie, sensing a long-winded rant she had no patience to hear.
“Right. I’ve seen the best and worst of your age group. There may be those that make inappropriate comments about the girls. I doubt it will happen in this instance, since those three girls were well liked and sang beautifully at the game; but someone could still make an ill-advised joke—gallows humor is what I think the military calls it. If they do, do not respond physically. I will expel you if you do. Are we clear?”
Maddie gritted her teeth. “Yes, sir,” she finally spit out.
“You can go. There will be an announcement this morning. Please refrain from discussing this situation until I have made it.”
“Yeah. OK.” Maddie grabbed her bag, then lumbered from the office. When she hit the hallway, Aden was waiting for her. He was leaning against the front glass window of the school, blond hair tousled recklessly across his forehead, eyes dark and brooding. The sight brought Maddie up short. For the first time, she saw what Tiffani meant about him. More importantly, she saw traces of herself in the smoldering of his eyes. In that moment, she felt that maybe they had more in common than she had thought. The feeling was confirmed when he noticed her but did not smile. There was nothing to smile about.
“Hey,” he said in simple greeting. “I thought I’d find you here.”
Maddie shrugged. “Here I am, fresh after being warned not to hit anyone who makes a joke about Lilly, Allie, and Zara.”
“They won’t. I can promise you that.”
The hard glint in Aden’s eye told her what would happen if someone did. They headed down the hallway, neither sure of where the other wanted to go. They were well ahead of the rest of the students arriving at the school and had time to kill. No words were spoken. Maddie did not feel like talking, and Aden did not know what to say.
Both teens were so caught up in their own thoughts that they both walked directly into Coach Branford as he rounded the corner of one of the intersecting halls.
“Save that for the field, Maier,” he boomed after getting hit on either side by the teens.
“Hey, Coach,” Aden responded morosely.
Coach Branford beamed like sunshine, his chalk-white teeth glowing in the daylight. He reminded Maddie of a drill sergeant happy to be awake in the five o’clock hour and giddy for another chance at PT. She wanted to hit him.
“There’s my boy,” he said, unaware he was a feather’s touch away from causing Maddie to be expelled. “How are you feeling? Any lingering headaches, sleepiness, anything?”
“I feel the same as when you asked me via text last night at ten, Coach,” said Aden. His voice contained an undercurrent of annoyance. The large man was acting like a mother hen who knows their chick will lay golden eggs one day. It would be amusing if not for the issue of a couple of dead friends.
“You can’t be too careful with head injuries, son,” said Coach Branford. Then he turned his smile on Maddie. Somehow, it managed to grow bigger. She felt like a deer looking at a big rig barreling down on her. “And how’s Galvin High’s own spitfire doing?”
Why are you being nice to me? thought Maddie. “Um, OK, considering everything.”
“Don’t you worry about it, young lady. I’m still a little miffed about Andre. That could have had more serious consequences after all, but I misjudged you. A little hot under the collar you are, but you’re just someone who takes care of her own. If you were a boy, I’d have you on the team. Hell, these days you could pretend to be one, and I’d have to let you.”
He bellowed at his own sociopolitical joke. Maddie glanced at Aden before responding. “Um, thanks, I guess. Hey, Coach, did we slow you down from going someplace? You know, before we tackled you in the hallway?”
“Aah, just a stupid staff meeting. I love being up early, but I got better things to do than stand around in the office with coffee drinkers.”
Maddie had no idea what that meant. “OK, well, we don’t want to make you late. See ya at practice, Coach.” Maddie did not wait for a response. She walked away quickly, pulling Aden with her. For once, he was up to speed.
“He doesn’t know. How can he not know?” said Maddie.
“How much coverage on television did it get? I kept the television off.”
“Nothing—or at least no names and no mention of high school kids. I checked. I thought it was your typical wait for the parents to be informed.”
“But they had to be told. So—”
“I don’t know, Aden. But I don’t like it.”
Forty minutes later, Maddie sat in homeroom, her stomach a swirling mass of baby snakes. She had not seen Tommy yet. Nor had she seen Lilly’s younger brother, Steve. The students surrounding her were, for the most part, treating the morning like any other start to the school week. They chatted endlessly over the subjects they had texted, Instagrammed, or tweeted about over the weekend.
More than a few stares were directed toward her in the hallways. She even got a few high-fives. What she did not get was a sense that the student body was aware it had lost four of its own. No, not four. Three. Lilly is still alive, Maddie chided herself. She had no idea why she thought it, but
she did. She knew it in her bones.
Maddie turned her attention to her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Anderson. She kept adjusting her hair, twirling it into a bun and letting it loose. She looked like a college co-ed preening herself for an incoming freshman class of boys. The males in the room alternated between staring and whispering to each other. They, for sure, thought her actions were hot because they were too hormone stupid to recognize the pinched look in her eyes.
Finally, the school bell sounded. Mrs. Anderson rose from her desk like a ninety-year-old stricken with arthritis and adjusted the position of the television at the front of the classroom. Normally, the media geeks made their school announcements on it like a mini CNN newsroom, minus the suits, ties, and arguing. This morning, Principal Devin appeared on screen, his face pinched and somber.
The nest of snakes in Maddie’s stomach clenched.
“Good Morning, Galvin High . . .” Principal Devin’s words faded, no doubt over the irony of wishing a good morning, given what he was about to say.
“Actually no, it is not a good morning. Today is a sad morning. A tragic morning.” The words shut off the class chatter like a light switch. “I’m sorry to announce that Zara Wilson, Allie Jacobs, and senior Sean Anderson . . . were killed late Friday night after the game.”
Pandemonium.
Cries of shock and anguish ripped through the class. The sounds spilled into the empty halls, joining the echoes of reaction from every classroom in the school. Mrs. Anderson was openly weeping. Before more words from the principal could come, a voice behind Maddie shrieked a question.
“Madison, what about Lilly?”
Maddie did not answer. She just bowed her head and let wetness drop from her eyes down to the desk.
“Lilly Senft,” Principal Devin, now continued, “as I know many of you have surmised, was with her two best friends. As of right now, there is no information the police have or are releasing. She is missing, and may still be . . . with us. Police are doing everything they can and will tell us what they can when they can. We have grief counselors available in the library and assigned classrooms for any who need to speak with one. Please use them. If anyone feels the need to leave school early, you will be excused if your parents pick you up. An announcement regarding the rest of the week’s schedule will be forthcoming. The rest of the morning’s announcements are canceled. Instead, let us take a moment of silence to wish, pray, or hope for the safe return of Lilly Senft.”
The Madison Jennings Series Box Set Page 41
