Carol's Image (33 page)

Once again, Carol slowly returned to consciousness, eyes blurry, eyelids heavy, a strange taste in her mouth, and limbs that did not want to work. It took every effort to chase the fog away, not knowing where she was or how she got there. She had no idea how much time passed as she crept toward awareness. She finally realized that her eyes were opened but that the room she was in was very dark. She was no longer in the car, but did not recognize the room that she was in. Minutes ticked by as she tried to raise herself up on wobbly limbs. A sense of déjà vu washed over her as she remembered the same feelings in the car.

Cal! He left Bert behind. Where did he bring me?

As her vision became more focused, she tried to look around. For what, she didn’t know, but she had to do something. Tom would have no idea that she was missing. And when he did, he’d have no idea where she was.
Oh, Jesus. I’ve got to get out of this myself.

She was lying on a bed in a small room. There were no windows. There was a chair in one corner. That was it. One bed. One chair. Carol pondered this in confusion. This isn’t someone’s bedroom and it’s not a hotel room. She stood on shaky legs and made her way over to the door. Locked. Not wanting to fall down, she made her way back to the bed, sitting on the edge as she took deep breaths to try to clear her head.

She heard the door knob jiggle before a young woman entered, carrying a tray of food. Carol stared at the girl, noting her unkempt appearance, sloppy clothes, but it was her face that grabbed her attention. Pale, dark circles under vacant eyes.

“Here’s some food and a bottle of water,” the girl said, setting the tray down on the bed. She looked up at Carol, rubbed her nose, and turned to move back toward the door. It was when she brought her arm up to rub her nose that Carol caught the signs.
Track marks on her arm. Jesus, she’s high.

Carol stood as quickly as she could, calling out, “Who are you? Where are we?”

The girl turned around, looking at Carol with a confused look on her face, answering, “Me? Why do you wanna know?”

Wanting to gain the girl’s trust, Carol quickly answered, “So I will know who to thank for the food.”

The girl’s gaze fell to the tray still sitting on the bed, and she looked back up at Carol, confusion changing to boredom. “Name’s Sylvie. Not my real name, but ’round here, they call me Sylvie.”

“Where’s here? Where are we?” Carol asked cautiously.

Sylvie looked around the room for a moment, as though trying to come up with an answer. Her glazed, vacant eyes made their way back to Carol. “Huh?” was all she answered.

Oh my god, she is wasted.
Carol’s ER training in dealing with intoxicated people kicked in, and she attempted to make her comfortable. “Here, you need to sit. How about we share the water?” Handing Sylvie the water bottle, she continued to slowly speak to her. “Sylvie, I don’t know where we are. What city are we in?”

Sylvie, taking a pull on the cool water as though she were thirsty, looked up and said, “Richland. We’re in Richland.”

Carol pulled the sandwich apart, offering Sylvie half while continuing to speak. “What building are we in?”

Sylvie, taking the sandwich and greedily stuffing it into her mouth, said, “How come you don’t know where we are?” Stopping and looking around again, she snorted. “Hell, all these rooms look the same at the Pussy Club. I guess one room for fuckin’ is as good as another. Thought your room would be nicer, you being his woman an’ all.”

Fucking? Oh, Jesus, is this a whorehouse? His? Who is she talking about? Shit, don’t let her be talking about Cal.

As if on cue, Cal came strolling into the room, eyes immediately falling to Sylvie holding the water bottle in one hand and the sandwich in the other. His eyes narrowed in anger as he stalked over, grabbing Sylvie by the arm and slapping her hard across the face. “I give you one simple job, you stupid cunt and you can’t even do that?”

Blood spurted from Sylvie’s nose and dripped onto the floor.

Carol’s protective instinct reared as she tried to stop him from shaking Sylvie. “No, no. It isn’t her fault. I gave it to her.”

Cal stopped shaking Sylvie, but his eyes cut over to Carol’s. “What’d you do that for?”

Calm. Stay calm.

“I thought she looked hungry, and I just wanted to do something nice,” Carol said quietly. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have.” Licking her dry lips, she looked him in the eyes.

Cal’s face softened, and he let go of Sylvie’s arm as he gave a head jerk toward the door. Sylvie stumbled out of the room. He turned to Carol, a smile replacing the anger from earlier. “You’re as nice as I remember. That day in the hospital. You were nice. Spoke nice. Looked pretty. Fuckin’ cops wanted to turn you against me, but you were still nice. I knew then I wanted you,” he said, lifting his hand and running his finger down her cheek.

Fighting the revulsion, she continued to speak softly. “What happened to Bert?”

Cal choked out a guttural laugh. “My brother, Bert. What a waste! I was gonna take care of him, let him be part of my organization, but he wanted to stay with ma. First time I go to prison, ma turns me out, and he sided with that ole’ bitch.” Running his fingers back up her cheek to her hair, he continued. “Bert’s been watchin’ you for me. I had him think you’d be interested, so it was easy to get him to watch you, follow you, give you gifts. Even had one a’ my men follow your when you were runnin’. But gorgeous,” he said, stepping closer as though to kiss her, “I was savin’ you all for me. I’ll get you outta here in a bit, but I gotta take care of business first.”

“It was you. Doing all that stuff to me? The gifts, the runner?”
He’s crazy. Oh my god, he’s crazy.

Cal smirked as though to pat himself on the back. “You were so easy, doll-face. I sent one of my men down there to keep an eye on you. You ran the same path every day, so it was easy to have him scare the shit outta you. And he had the perfect viewpoint watchin’ you and that policeman fuckin’ by the door.” Laughing, he just shook his head as he stepped back. “Who knows? I might just pay that asshole back by filming you and me fuckin’ and send it to him.”

Carol swayed, throwing her hand over her mouth, “I need a bathroom.” Cal jumped back and yelled for Sylvie. She stumbled in looking at Cal in confusion.

“Get her to the bathroom down the hall and try not to fuck up that simple job,” he ordered. “Must be the goddamn drugs makin’ her sick.”

Carol allowed Sylvie to take her arm and lead her out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom.

Cal followed them out, telling Sylvie, “I got shit to do. Make sure she gets back in that room and get her more food that you don’t eat. Gonna send someone up to check on you in a bit.” With that, Cal headed down the stairs at the end of the hall.

Walking into the bathroom, Carol continued to pretend to be sick, so she headed into the first stall. As she passed the sinks, she noticed a small window on the side of the room that appeared to be just wide enough for her to fit through.
Oh, thank Jesus.
Now to get rid of Sylvie.

Making gagging noises in the stall, she then came out and walked to the sink. “Sylvie, can you get some more water and food for me?”

Sylvie, standing at the sinks, had washed some blood off of her face but left the bloody paper towels in the sink. Sylvie, in her drugged state, just shrugged and sauntered out of the bathroom. Carol felt a quick pang of guilt, knowing that Sylvie would suffer the consequences for leaving her alone, but she had to think of herself first.
As soon as I can get out of here, I’m getting help for these girls. Jesus, he must keep them all drugged to stay in this dump.

Running to the window, she found that it was the old fashioned type that opened from the top and the glass pane leaned back toward the room. She eyed the opening, then looked down at her body.
God, let me fit. Please, let me fit.

*

Tom and Jake rendezvoused with Shane and the others from the Richland Police Department in a run-down, industrial area of Richland that had seen better days. A few bars, liquor stores, and stripper joints were mixed among the other shops trying to eke out a business with the economy down. By now, the evening was descending and the few street lights that were working gave off very little illumination for the rescuers.

Shane strolled over to Jake’s truck as soon as they pulled into an empty parking lot down the street from the Pussy Club. Just at six feet tall, Shane was a large man, barreled chested with his Kevlar vest in place. His short dark hair was tipped in blond spikes and with his plain clothes on, he looked like he belonged in one of the seedier bars along the strip. Quickly shaking hands, Shane got down to business.

“We’ve been watching the building since you contacted us. We haven’t seen the car that Cal was described as coming in, but he could have changed vehicles again. It has a garage in back with a metal gated door. Several vehicles have gone in or out, so he could have been in one of those.”

Another officer came jogging over with a piece of paper in his hand. “Got the search warrant.”

The group gathered around, reviewing the plan for surrounding and entering the building. The police had a picture of Carol from her hospital ID that had been faxed over, but Tom had a more recent one on his phone. Shane glanced at Tom’s phone, then looked back up at his friend’s face.

“We’ll get her, Tom,” Shane said.

Tom found that once again, he couldn’t speak. Anxious to get inside, he saw a look pass between Shane and Jake. Instantly, he knew that look. “Oh no. You are not leavin’ me outta this. I’m cool. I got this.”

Shane looked him over. “Puttin’ my job on the line lettin’ you go in. You stay focused. You look for your girl and leave Cal to us.”

“Got it. All the fuck I want is Carol,” Tom answered.

“All right. Let’s do it.” And with that, Shane led the others toward the club.

P
utting one foot up on the sink to gain height, Carol pulled her head up to the window and pushed the top half of her body through the narrow opening. Looking around quickly, she could see that she was on the third level of a four-story, brick building in what looked like a run-down industrial area. An old, rusty fire escape ladder ran down the side of the building, just a few feet from where she was. Using her hands, she grasped the outer edge of the window to continue to pull her hips as far as she could.
Goddamn it.
The metal sides of the window panes dug into her hips as she wiggled back and forth. The thin material of her hospital scrubs ripped on the sides as she continued to force her body through the opening.

Looking to the right, she realized the ladder was not as close as she thought. She was just going to be able to grasp it with her hands, but that was going to take a lot of strength to keep her from plunging down to the concrete below.

“Why the fuck did you leave her alone?” Cal’s voice rang out from a distance.

Shit! He’s coming back.

With her legs still dangling inside the bathroom, she stretched as far as she could, managing to grab hold of the ladder with her right hand. Just then she felt someone grab her foot.

“You fuckin’ bitch, get back in here,” Cal barked out, grabbing at her feet.

Carol kicked out as hard as she could, feeling her shoe come off in the process. Hanging on to the ladder with just her hands, she swung her body toward it, scraping her front across the brick wall. She felt her fingers slipping just as her feet found their way to one of the ladder rungs.

Catching her leg on a long metal spike that formerly helped anchor the ladder to the brick wall, Carol felt the stabbing pain as her leg was sliced.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re goin’,” Cal yelled, as he stuck his head through the window. “I’m just gonna get you on the ground, you stupid cunt, and then you’ll wish you hadn’t caused me this much trouble.”

Carol looked at him, and his eyes locked onto hers. Cold. Dead. Serious. No sympathy. Killer.

Oh, Jesus, help me.
Her limbs still shaky with the effects of the drugs in her system, she began to descend. The metal was cold and rusty in places. She couldn’t go as fast as she wanted…it was as though her hands and feet could not answer the call of her brain to hurry.
He’s going to go down there. He’s going to be there when I land. He’s going to get me again.
She turned her eyes upward.
The roof.

*