Bedrock (20 page)

Searching high and low desperately, she tried to come up with a
solution. There was no way to get the cuffs off of her wrists. Her ankles had a
little more give but not much. She’d have to buy time and earn Scott Hammons’
trust. Other than that, there was no way out. The only problem was Addie didn’t
have time. She’d seen enough movies to know that the longer she was held
captive the less likely she was to get out alive.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. What if she were being watched? Scott
would see that she had stretched her chains, trying to escape. Fear overtook
her and she began shaking badly. She scooted inch-by-inch back to the center of
the cage, each inch excruciatingly painful as her wounds brushed against the
cold hard concrete. Addie quietly sobbed as she thought of her boys and the
last time she saw their faces, laughing on the kitchen floor as she tickled
them silly.
They had to know by now that something was wrong.
She
imagined them crying, worried about her, alone, their mother and father both
gone. Surely, Patrick would come home once he’d heard.
God, she hoped
someone was searching for her. They had to be.

Once back in her rightful spot in the middle of the cage, Addie lay
there, the last few weeks replaying in her mind. So much had happened. She
thought of William and the time they’d spent together. She wondered why it had
taken so long for her to admit that she had feelings for him. Partly, it was
because she was married and had a family, but there was something more too. She
had been scared—scared of getting hurt. Scared of putting it all on the line.
It wasn’t until she found herself in this situation—naked, shackled, bleeding,
and lying to save his life—that she realized that she would’ve gotten hurt
either way. She should have just admitted that she loved him and spent their
final days together, happy and oblivious. Now, she was in a race against time,
knowing that William loved her enough to fall in to the madman’s trap, knowing
that he would come to find her and that it would be her fault when he was
murdered. Worst of all, he would die, never knowing what he meant to her. Addie
knew she couldn’t let that happen.

Right then and there, she devised a plan to break free, realizing
that if she didn’t die at the hands of Scott Hammons, she’d die of dehydration,
starvation, or infection. Her time was up.

Addie lay as still as she could, waiting for the
footsteps on the stairs. When they came, she inhaled once more, knowing what
she had to do. Slowly, Scott Hammons descended. Addie heard him stop, likely
glancing her way. She could smell the whiskey on his breath from across the
room. He walked over to the table, picking up his tools of the trade: Tools of
domination. Tools that made him superior. He wasn’t looking to become allies.
He planned to beat her into submission. As a Dominatrix who had studied psychology
and human behavior, she knew his techniques all too well.

“So you’re sleeping again. What did I tell you about sleeping?

Addie inhaled quietly but ignored his question. He asked again,
demanding that she wake up. She could tell by the way he slurred his words that
he was drunk. Addie prayed that this would give her a slight advantage.

Scott walked over to the cage. He paused, noticing it wasn’t
locked. Addie could feel him standing there, thinking. She heard the whip rise
and fall and felt it slash her skin. She didn’t budge.

“Goddammit.” Addie felt him kneel beside her. He was watching her
to see if she was breathing. She held her breath, trying her best to appear
dead. But there was one problem. She didn’t hear the keys rattling. If he
didn’t have the keys, she didn’t have a chance.

“Motherfucker.” He spat.

Addie was close to passing out. Maybe close to death, she wasn’t
sure. Her life was flashing before her when finally she heard him stand and
leave the cage. Addie gasped quietly once she was pretty sure his back was
turned. A small amount of air filled her lungs. It wasn’t enough. She gasped
again, forcing more air in just as she heard him walking back toward her along
with the beautiful sound of keys clanging together.

Scott Hammons kneeled down beside her, searching for the pulse on
her wrist. She had mere seconds. Addie sprung up, grabbing for his eyeballs,
clawing, digging as hard as she could. He let out a scream as Addie wrapped the
chains around his neck, twisting and squeezing as hard as she could. The keys
hit the floor with a thud. Scott struggled against the chains, fighting back,
until Addie was almost sure he’d break free. She pulled harder, watching his
face turn blue. Finally, when he stopped struggling, she let go and frantically
grabbed the set of keys lying at his feet. Shaking heavily, she unlocked her
ankles first and then freed her wrists. Once free, she bolted for the door.

Once she’d reached the top of the stairs, Addie paused. Shit. The
door was locked. She didn’t remember hearing him lock the door. Addie hurriedly
tried each of the keys one by one until finally the third key worked. She
looked around what appeared to be an old rickety farmhouse searching for the
door. Finding it, she noticed it was dark outside. Naked, she realized there
wasn’t time. She had to get out. Now. As she turned the handle, she heard a
familiar voice call from behind. “Open it and you’re dead.”

Addie turned to see Scott pointing a gun at her. Turning the
handle, she heard the first shot right before it grazed her shoulder. Addie
fled as she heard the shots ring out behind her. She ran as fast as her bare
feet would take her, making sure to zigzag the way she’d once seen on TV,
adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was pitch black out, making it
impossible to see anything in front of her. Finally, she heard the shots stop
ringing out. She continued running, hearing the footsteps closing in behind
her. Addie ran and ran until she felt water beneath her feet. She could barely
make out what looked like bushes up ahead, and unable to go any further, unable
to breathe, she decided to stop. She burrowed herself, trying to become invisible
as the branches pierced her skin.

She waited, listening to Scott call out for her. He screamed
profanities, telling her she was going to die. Addie could tell that he was
close, that he was closing in. She just couldn’t gauge how close. She ducked
down further, trying to stay hidden when she felt the fire ants begin to bite.
Her skin stung as she held her breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible.
After what felt like hours, the pain began to subside and she felt numb. She
listened as it sounded as if Scott Hammons was walking away from her. She
couldn’t be sure, so she stayed put. She was scared to stay where she knew it
was just a matter of time before the sun came up and she’d be found. At the
same time she was paralyzed by fear, knowing that she’d have to move soon.
Addie knew he’d be waiting for her when she did. He was watching and waiting;
she could feel it.

William went against what everyone had told him to do
and got in the car parked at the intersection of Monarch and Middle Creek Roads.
In the middle of nowhere, he drove until he heard the phone ring. He answered
and waited for further instructions. “Turn right onto Mayfield in half a mile.
Park a quarter of a mile down on the right hand side.”

William felt the sweat drip from his brow as he made the turn. He
knew his team would be close behind, that they were tracking his every move via
a device planted in his shoe. He only had to stay alive long enough to close
the ten-minute gap. William did as he was instructed and pulled onto Mayfield Road.
There was nothing around but trees. He prayed that he was close to Addison and
that she could somehow feel it. That’s if she were still alive. William
suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Pulling off a quarter mile down, he stopped,
and opening the car door, he hurled on the gravel road. After a few minutes, he
watched a silver car come into view up ahead. The car slowed, pulling over. In
the driver’s seat sat his old friend, Scott Hammons.

Well, I’ll be damned
was the last thought William remembered
before the stun gun pierced his skin. As he lay there, face down in the gravel,
he was grateful, certain he could hear the familiar sound of a helicopter
closing in overhead.

William’s security team was on the scene within a
matter of minutes as he turned onto Mayfield Road, making sure to stay far
enough behind so as not to be seen. They closed in as Scott Hammons was
attempting but failing to load William into the trunk of his car. The FBI
arrived on scene moments after Carl planted Scott Hammons face into the pavement.
“Where is she, Scott?” When there was no answer, Carl landed a crushing blow to
Scott’s right temple.

An hour later, the FBI raided the old hellhole of a farmhouse
only to find Addie not there. “She’s not there,” Carl explained to William, who
after refusing medical treatment was recovering in a makeshift trailer that had
been set up by the FBI. “They’re searching the place now, pretty certain that’s
where he’s been holding her.

William jumped up. “Where is the bastard? Let me interrogate
him.”

“I didn’t mess him up too bad, so he should be able to answer
questions. They’re doing everything they can to get answers, William.” Carl
lowered his voice as he put his hand on William’s shoulder.

“How far is the house?”

“About two miles.”

William stood. “Good. Then let’s go.”

Carl sighed, stepping in front of the trailer door. “I’m afraid we
can’t. The Feds have the place sealed off. It’s a crime scene, William.”

William sat back down and placed his head in his hands, his
shoulders shaking as he began to sob. It was something that he hadn’t done in a
very long time—not since he was a little boy, the last time he’d found his life
at the mercy of a madman.

Patrick Greyer was holding his boys, anxiously waiting
on word on his missing wife. It all seemed so surreal.
How could this be
happening? If anything happened to her, he didn’t know what he would do.

Luckily for Patrick, he hadn’t received the papers his wife had
sent asking that the two be legally separated. If he had, he would’ve started
asking questions a lot sooner. Questions like why in the world William Hartman
seemed so interested in his wife’s case or why he was throwing so much money
towards the investigation. These were questions that would come eventually, in
time, but, for now, Patrick was consumed with getting his wife home safely. He
swore to God that if she returned home alive he would see to it that nothing,
neither jobs nor people, ever separated the two of them again.