Kidnapped!
Part 8
Sunday
8:30 a.m.
Tessa woke for the fourth time. Sleep had come swiftly but not uninterrupted. Three times she had awakened to strange noises: The rattling of pipes, the scritch-scratch of a...something...somewhere in or around the wall, the ragged startle of her own fearful dreams. She glanced at her wrist, confirming that it was indeed morning. Stiff and sore, her throat and nose still a little raw, she rolled out of her makeshift bed and started her morning, more determined than ever to find a way out. A breakfast of water and emergency bar later, she decided to try the window.
It was small and high up, out of reach even as she stood, perched precariously on the counter. She made the attempt but fell short. Frustrated, she groped her way back to the room beneath the stage, using up a little of her uncertain flashlight battery to search for something, anything she could use to either open the window or unblock the trap door. She located a bent pole used to open upper windows under an old roll of shag carpeting.
“Voila!” she said, startled by the echo of her own voice. Making her way back to the old dressing room, a thought occurred to her. “You’re an idiot!” she growled at herself. “Find the light switch. There’s obviously electricity, you lolo wahine.”
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. Surely, there were lights in this prison. No way would Dara stumble and grope her way through the cardboard walls. There must be a switch somewhere--probably near the doors. The light from her little safe room beckoned, and she left the pole there before continuing back toward the double doors.
She found them easily enough, pushing on the panic bar just in case a miracle had occurred and they were no longer locked tight. No such luck. Turning on her light, she swung the beam up and down the surrounding walls, searching.
“Where are you? Where are you?” she muttered, her eyes sweeping the walls. “A-ha!” she nearly shrieked as she spied the elusive metal plate. Fingers trembling with anticipation, she flipped the switch, holding her breath as florescent light flickered, dispelling the darkness. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she screamed, ignoring her inflamed throat. Hysterical laughter welled up, and she let it take her, sliding to the floor and laughing until she cried.
After she calmed herself and stopped shaking her head at her own foolishness, Tessa stood back up and headed back to her room, determined to open the window. Standing on the counter, she leaned out, extending the bent pole she had found until it touched the window latch. It was laborious and painstaking work trying to lace the pole hook into the latch opening.
Finally, she managed. Twisting it slightly, she was able to leverage her body in such a way that she could force the window to move outward just a bit. Holding her breath, she pushed harder, and the window groaned, moving out another two inches before slamming against an immovable object. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t force the window to open any further.
Narrowing her eyes, she climbed down and retrieved her flashlight. Climbing up again, she shined her light through the three-inch crack in the window. Wood. “Dang! Dang! Gollyknockers!” she swore aloud. The outside of the window had been covered with plywood. It would take more strength than she had to break through it.
Scowling, Tessa sat down to regroup. The doors had been a bust. The window was a no-go. The only thing she had left was the trapdoor in the stage floor.
1:48 p.m.
It was a lot easier finding her way back under the stage with the lights on. Once she had reached her tower of book boxes, however, the light was a lot dimmer. Tessa’s eyes adjusted slowly as she planned her course of action. She carefully scaled her tower, balancing herself as she used the bent pole to push at the blockage. It took a long time with very little results. Frustrated, she gave a furious jab, sending her metal pole straight through the bottom of the box.
Metal hit metal with a jarring clang, and the hook on the end of the window opener became hung up on the torn cardboard. Tessa wiggled it back and forth gently, but it didn’t loosen. She jerked at it, tugging, twisting and pulling. She felt something give, but didn’t have time to duck as the box above her gave way, sending a cascade of heavy debris down upon her. Something hard struck her left shoulder as she threw her arms up over her head in a vain attempt at protection, knocking her off balance. Her precarious tower wavered and collapsed, sending her tumbling to the ground. She didn’t even have time to scream. She felt metal slice into her body as she landed, pain stealing her breath and sending her hurtling back into darkness.
Pain. Once again, she woke to pain. This time, it came not from her head but from the entire left side of her body. With a whimper, Tessa struggled to sit up. Her hip ached, her shoulder throbbed, and something hot and liquid was trickling down the inside of her left arm. Cradling her arm, she followed the blood trail back up to a square of thin metal embedded three inches above her elbow. Taking a ragged breath, she wrenched the chunk of gel frame from her arm, unable to stop the small scream that escaped her as she flung it away from her body. The warped square landed next to the battered cylinder of a fire extinguisher, bouncing slightly as it spun to a stop.
The blood flowed more freely now, and Tessa pressed her hand against the wound, hoping the pressure would stop both the blood and the pain. She had to get back to her safe room, back to water and the possibility of something to bind her arm. Wincing, and trying not to moan, she began to crawl out of the debris.
It was an excruciatingly painful journey, but she made it. Ignoring her screaming muscles, she gritted her teeth as tepid water ran from the faucet and across the gash in her arm. She needed a bandage. A thought scurried across her mind, and she shimmied out of her slip, using it to wrap around her wound as tightly as she could stand. Sliding down onto the cushions of her makeshift bed, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the pain.
Obviously, escape through the stage was no longer an option. She doubted she had the energy and stamina to even try to build another tower. “Damn fire extinguisher,” she muttered to herself, cradling her injured arm. “Ruined everyth...” She stopped. “Fire!” she exclaimed. That’s it!”
She struggled to her feet and into the main room, eyes scanning the wall as she moved toward the locked doors. “Yes!” she shouted to the empty space, her voice swallowed up by the looming boxes. There, positioned almost directly between the two sets of doors, was a fire alarm.
Tessa reached for it, but her hand stopped inches short. It’s Sunday, she thought. What if no one hears it? What if no one comes? She dropped her hand back to her side. Twisting her wrist, she looked at her watch. It was nearly five. In less than fifteen hours the school would be crawling with people. She could wait that long. With all of the students and staff roaming the halls, surely someone would be able to find her.
Sleepyside Hospital ICU
Sunday, September 15
7:42 p.m.
Damien Prinze rubbed his hands over his face and tried to focus on the vending machine. He was sick of cafeteria coffee, but he definitely needed caffeine. Less than forty-eight hours earlier he had been on patrol in Albany with his partner of two years, Kyle Marx. They’d been checking the regulars, monitoring the streets, and drinking real cop coffee when the call had come in. Damien’s little sister had been in an accident, and he was needed in Sleepyside.
After that, everything was a blur of activity. Damien hadn’t even changed out of his uniform. He’d just clocked out, informed his sergeant that he needed emergency leave, and headed out. Since his arrival at the hospital, he’d mostly spent his time comforting his hysterical mother and watching machines breathe for his baby sister. He was hungry, worried, and walking around in a sleep-deprived haze. Focusing on the task at hand, Damien inserted coins into the machine and selected a Dr Pepper and a bag of pretzels. As he removed his selections from the bin, a hand fell on his shoulder. Startled, he turned to see a grim-faced Spider Webster.
“Officer Prinze, I need to ask you a few questions.” Spider stepped back, continuing, “I’d appreciate it if we could speak in the conference room.” In a bewildered daze, Damien nodded, following Spider down the hall.
Molinson was in the conference room, along with a strange woman. Damien extended his hand to his former mentor. “Sir, it’s good to see you. Congratulations on the promotion.”
Molinson shook Damien’s hand. “Thanks, son. I hear you’re doing well in Albany.” He gestured to a chair. “I’m sorry about your sister, but we need to ask you some questions. Have a seat.”
Damien sat down, somewhat perplexed. “I’m not sure what I can tell you sir. I wasn’t here when the accident happened, and I sure as hell don’t know what Dara was doing driving Mom’s car. She doesn’t even have her license yet.”
Molinson frowned. “I know.” He turned to the woman. “This is Special Agent Sharon Salinas from the FBI. We need to talk to you about some recent developments.”
Sharon Salinas stepped forward. “Officer Prinze, do you have a personal weapon?”
“Yes, ma’am. I have a Glock I use as backup. It’s fully registered.”
“Where is that weapon?”
Damien pulled himself up straight. “It’s in the lock-box in the trunk of my car. I don’t understand...”
Salinas ignored him. “Do you have extra cuffs as well?”
“Of course,” Damien answered. “I have a set at home, and another set, I carry in the glove box. Why are you asking me this?”
“Where do you keep the keys to your spare cuffs?”
Damien was feeling frustrated in addition to confused. “The key to my home set is in my nightstand drawer. The key to the ones I keep in the car is on a ring attached to a pink rabbit’s foot. I keep it in the ashtray.”
“Are these yours?” Salinas dropped a set of hinged nickel cuffs and a pink rabbit’s foot key ring onto the table.
“What the...?” Damien leaned forward to look at the cuffs. Gazing up at Salinas, he asked, “How...?”
“We found them in a cave just outside of town,” Salinas informed him, “along with some things belonging to your sister, and a purse belonging to a young woman who went missing the night of your sister’s accident.” She leaned in close. “Is there any way that your sister could have acquired your handcuffs, Officer Prinze?”
“I...I...” Damien struggled to compose himself. “I was home for Labor Day weekend. I suppose she could have taken them then…if they’re mine.”
“Did you drive to Sleepyside, Damien?” Molinson asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Spider?” Molinson directed, “Walk Damien down to his car and let him check for his cuffs.” As if an afterthought, he added, “Have him check his back-up weapon, too.”
“It’s in the box, sir!” Damien insisted. “When I got here, I locked away my duty weapon. They’re both in the box.”
“I’m sure they are, son, but we need to know for certain. Go check the cuffs.”
Dismissed, Damien led Spider out the door.
“What do you think, Wendell?” Salinas asked.
Molinson shrugged. “Damien’s a good kid. He used to intern for the cop shop during the summer. All he’s ever wanted to do is be a cop. I can’t see him as helping in a kidnapping.”
“If they’re his cuffs...?”
“I’d have to assume the girl took them without his knowledge,” Molinson said. “Look, the kid’s dad took off when he was still in elementary school. He’s worked hard to get where he is, and I can’t see him doing anything to jeopardize it.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the return of a grim-faced Spider and a pale and shaken Damien Prinze. The younger man stepped inside. “Those are my cuffs,” he admitted. Shaking his head in dismay, he asked, “What the hell was Dara up to?”
Maypenny’s Cabin
10:30 p.m.
“Maybe we could slip him a Mickey,” Mart suggested to Mr. Maypenny, only half kidding. “Do you have any of those pills left from last year?”
“I’m not drugging him, Martin,” Maypenny stated calmly, his eyes twinkling. “I could, but I’m not going to.”
“Can I?” Mart asked.
“Can you what?” The him in question asked as he entered the house absently rubbing his left arm. To Maypenny, he added, “The horses are fed and watered.” To Mart, he asked, “What do you want to do?”
“Uh...make us a snack before we go to bed,” Mart lied smoothly. “I thought some hot chocolate might be good.”
Pain flashed across Dan’s face. “You go ahead. I’m not hungry.”
“Bull.” Mart folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve hardly eaten anything all day. I’m not picking your butt up off the ground when you pass out from malnutrition.”
Dan mimicked the arm folding, his chin setting in a stubborn gesture. “I said I’m not hungry.”
“Eat anyway,” Mart insisted. “Toast, okay? Toast with peanut butter.”
Dan’s eyes narrowed, swinging between his father and his friend. “Fine,” he spat, “but I’ll make it. I don’t trust either of you not to slip me a sleeping pill.”
Maypenny choked back a chuckle, and Mart flushed. “Fine,” he told his friend. “Make me some, too.”
As Dan turned his attention to the breadbox, Mart shot a look at Maypenny, who simply shrugged. “I’m going to turn in, lads,” he announced. “It’s been a very long day. Daniel?”
Dan looked at him, and the man continued, “Please try to sleep.”
Dan nodded, reluctantly. “I will. ‘Night, Dad.”
Maypenny disappeared into his bedroom, leaving Mart to watch over Dan.
Crabapple Farm
Sunday
10:45 p.m.
“I could stay, you know,” Jim whispered as he sat on the steps with his arms around Trixie. “Classes have only just started, so I could miss without too much trouble.”
Trixie shook her head. “No, you and Brian need to go. School comes first.”
“Family comes first,” Jim disagreed, “then friends, then school. One or two days aren’t going to matter.”
“They’d matter to Tessa,” Trixie told him. “Besides, until the cops search all the properties Dara’s mother has in her real estate listings, there isn’t much they’re going to let us do.”
“I know you’re right,” Jim said, “I just feel kind of helpless and selfish, running back to college...”
“Stop.” Trixie twisted until she was facing him. “You searched the caves all day. You backed me up when I had that... feeling, and you kept Dan from having a complete meltdown. That’s a lot, Jim. If you weren’t so sure that Tessa wasn’t in the car with Dara, I think Dan would have lost it. Uncle Andrew, too.” Her eyes widened. “You meant that, didn’t you?”
“Completely.” Jim hugged her tight. “I’m positive that Dara was the only person in the car. I wouldn’t lie about that, Trix, not even to make Dan feel better.”
“I know,” Trixie said by way of apology. She shifted again, so her head was resting on his shoulder. “What did you think about Dan’s dream?”
“The cardboard castle one?” Jim asked.
“There was a different one?” Trixie countered.
“Several,” Jim admitted, “but the castle one was the only one he shared with everyone.” He shrugged. “It was a little spooky, considering the pictures they found in the cave.”
Trixie heaved a sigh. “It’s so frustrating,” she complained, “I feel as if I’m looking at one of those jumble puzzles--the kind where the letters are all mixed up. I know that the pieces are there, but I can’t arrange them to get the answer. It’s...frustrating,” she finished weakly, knowing she was repeating herself.
“I know.” Jim kissed her forehead. “But, on the bright side, you certainly impressed the FBI today.”
That drew a grin and a small giggle. “That was ten percent instinct, five percent thinking, and eighty-five percent luck.” Her brow wrinkled. “That equals one hundred percent, doesn’t it?”
“Your math tutor is proud,” Jim teased, kissing her lips this time.
“My math tutor needs to collect my brother and go home,” Trixie told him when they came up for air. “I don’t want either of them falling asleep in class tomorrow.”
“True.” Jim sighed and snuck another kiss. “The same goes for you, shamus. Get some sleep.”
“I will--as soon as you call me and let me know you and Brian got home safely.” Trixie rose to her feet, pulling Jim with her.
“You’ll keep us updated, right?” Jim asked. “You can page me anytime, even if I’m in the middle of class.”
“I will,” Trixie promised. “Just keep praying it will be good news and really soon.”
“I am.” Jim bent to give her one last, lingering kiss. “Sleep well, special girl.” He waited until Trixie closed the door behind her, before starting up the hill to the Manor House to gather his roommate and bid goodnight to his family.
Author Notes
Thank you to my beloved editors, and to all of you faithful readers. The end is near, I promise. {insert evil laugh}
The pills to which Mart refers are the pain pills Dan was on after being shot the previous summer. Dan doesn’t like the pills much, so there were a bunch left over.
Jim tutored Trixie in math over Christmas break in Arizona. Tenny did a better job, but she seems to have forgotten about that.
Damien is a good guy. I like him almost as much as I dislike his crazy sister. I might need to use him more in the future.