Danger Comes Home (Kelly O'Connell Mystery) (19 page)

“Sure, Mr. Mike.”

The girls came in, and both Maggie and Em went straight for Joe to give him wordless hugs. Jenny just stared at him, uncertain what to say, but I could see a world of fear in her eyes. I thought on some level she knew everything was connected.

We busied ourselves with breakfast preparation and, knowing Joe hadn’t fixed himself anything to eat, gave him a bowl of oatmeal. He toyed with it, ate a little. If this kept up, he’d be in terrible shape.

“I don’t like oatmeal as well as eggs and bacon,” Em announced.

Mike looked at her and said, “Em, today what you do and don’t like isn’t important. Theresa is.”

She looked crestfallen that he would talk to her that way, but after a minute she recovered and said, “Sorry.”

Mona called just as I was beginning to wonder if she’d come get Jenny. “I don’t think I’ll be able to take Jenny to and from school for a few days. Do you mind?”

I assured her it wasn’t a problem, though I longed to ask a thousand questions. Why not? was on the top of my list.

“Give Jenny an extra hug and tell her I’ll see her soon and I love her very much.”

I did all that, but my mind was on Mona. What was behind her call? Jenny was upset but she tried not to show it, and we soldiered off to school.

That evening, I was watching the news on TV and the girls were at the kitchen table doing something—homework was done. Jenny had wandered off, but I didn’t think much about that. The poor child was so lonely for her mom, so worried and unhappy that she often needed solitude and would slink away to the bedroom.

Mike called to say not to hold dinner—he didn’t know what time he’d be home. I finished the chicken casserole—covered with a crunchy topping of potato chips and grated cheese that I ran under the broiler until the cheese had just melted, and asked Maggie to go call Jenny to dinner.

She was back in a flash. “Jenny’s not there.”

Feeling panic begin to rise, I said, “Look in your room, my room, everywhere. Did she take Gus for a walk?”

With a look that plainly said, “Please, Mom,” Maggie pointed to Gus, sleeping peacefully under the kitchen table.

“Maybe she’s out with Joe,” Em said, and I reminded her that Joe was at work.

“But go check the apartment anyway, Em.” I was really beginning to panic—this was a child, not my own, for whom I’d accepted responsibility. Without thinking about how futile it was, I raised my voice and called, “Jenny! Jenny!”

Maggie gave me another disparaging look and then ran back through all the rooms, only to report nothing. Em came in to say that the apartment was locked and no one answered when she knocked.

“Maybe she’s in the schoolyard again,” Maggie suggested.

I knew better, and I knew what I had to do. “I know where she is, girls. I’ll go get her. You stay here, and if you need anything, call Keisha.” Keisha was on speed dial on our landline as well as my cell phone. Hastily I remembered to pull the casserole from under the broiler—a few of the potato chip pieces were black around the edges but it was okay. “Not that you’ll need anything,” I added as I grabbed keys, leaving my purse behind.

As I flew out the front door, I heard Em begin to wail and Maggie comforting her. Keisha’s sixth sense would make her tell me not to do this, and Mike would forbid me—he might just kill me himself when he found out, but I wouldn’t stop until I found Jenny. Maybe I should have called Mike, but I remembered all his talk about official capacity the morning we took Jenny home after finding her in the guest apartment. He couldn’t do what I could—and what had to be done.

I jumped in the car and gunned it to Alston Avenue and the Wilson house, driving with fists clenched on the steering wheel. It was too early for Mona’s evening business to have begun, but I knew there was probably someone staking it out—maybe both a good guy and a bad guy. I thought only about the bad guy. I’d had the feeling that there was a bull’s eye painted on my back before, and that’s exactly how I felt as I climbed those rickety stairs, heart pounding, expecting a bullet to come zinging my way any minute. Mona, I thought, would see that I came to no harm.

I banged on the door and called Mona’s name as loudly as I could. She opened the door quickly, her look once again that of a frightened deer. But unlike the first time I’d ever seen her, this time she clutched Jenny.

“Here,” she said, quickly kissing Jenny, “go with Kelly, darling. Please. For my sake.”

Jenny stalled, clutching her mother, tears streaming down her face. If my heart was breaking looking at her, I could only imagine how Mona felt.

I reached out a hand to take Jenny’s hand, but then I froze because I heard a muffled cry of “Help, Miss Kelly, help me!” Theresa was here! Why wasn’t I more surprised? I looked at Mona, but her frightened-deer look had turned to terror.

She shoved Jenny at me, but I wasn’t about to leave, although I had no idea on God’s green earth what I would do. I didn’t have to wonder long.

A man’s deep voice said, “Invite your friend in, Mona. We’ll have a party.” I would have refused of course but he was waving a gun ever so casually in my direction. Mona pulled Jenny aside and stood back, and the man with a gun—that’s how I would always hereafter think of him—motioned me into the living room. He was not young, not old, not tall, not short—”nondescript” fit. But there was something menacing about him, even beyond the gun. Maybe it was the look in his eye, but he made my skin crawl. I saw Jenny look at him and then bury her face in her mother’s side.

“Come on in, pretty lady,” he said, waving the gun. He grabbed my arm and in one swift moment, before I could cry out, he twisted my arm behind my back and pulled it up until then I did cry out—in pain, which made him chuckle. I had a name for men like him. With my arm in his grasp, he propelled me through a living area that I barely glimpsed. I just knew it was plain, sparsely furnished, with heavy drapes over the windows and a ceiling fixture casting a dim light. He shoved me into a short hall and stopped by a door, which he unlocked with great show. Then he shoved me into the room so hard that I sprawled on the floor. Theresa rushed toward me, “Oh, Miss Kelly, I am so sorry.” Over her, I heard the door shut and the lock click and beyond that, dimly, I was aware of Jenny sobbing. What kind of a mess had I gotten us all into now?

Theresa was leaning over me, sobbing. “Oh, Miss Kelly. I should never have called out. I didn’t mean to get you into this mess. I am sorry. Are you hurt?”

My head began to clear, fuzzy not from the fall but from all that happened. “No,” I sat up and started to stand but one knee was painful, really painful. I guess I landed on it on the hardwood floor. Theresa put one arm around me and held out the other to help me, and I stood shakily, stunned by what just had happened and where I was.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, feeling my strength come back.

“Joe?” she whispered. “Is he okay? He won’t do anything crazy, will he? Like try to get me out of here?”

I shook my head. “None of us knew you were here. I came because Jenny ran away, and I knew she’d come to her mom.”

“Theresa, why are you here?” I whispered, knowing I didn’t want eavesdropping.

“Little Ben and Nathan brought me here. They told me they were teaching Joe a lesson and showing him he had to work with them. I’m afraid he’ll do it, just to save me. He must not,” she added in a fierce tone. “Mr. Mike will save us.”

Of course he will, but when?
I tried not to think about that, tried to think back instead of forward. “Did they grab you out of the shop?”

She nodded. “And cleaned out the cash register. I told them that was beneath them, and Little Ben slapped me—hard.” She pointed to a bruise on her cheek that I hadn’t noticed before.

“Have they hurt you otherwise?” I did not want to hear the worst, but when I looked at her, she didn’t look as if she’d been assaulted. Her makeup was gone after more than twenty-four hours, her clothes wrinkled, and her hair tangled, although she tried, even then, to finger-comb it.

“No,” she shook her head. “And Jenny’s mother feeds me. The food is good.”

Food. Dinner. The girls! “Omigosh! I left dinner half cooked and the girls home alone. Mike’s working late.”

“Do you have your cell phone?” she asked in a whisper. “You can call Mike.”

As if I hadn’t already thought of that a thousand times. “I left it at home, left my whole purse.”

She sighed. “That man took my phone.”

We sat in silence, holding hands for comfort, for a bit though it seemed like half the evening to me. Then the lock clicked, and the man with the gun appeared. “Not sure what to do with you two, but we’re about to open for business, so you got to disappear. Go into the dining room.”

We obeyed. There was no choice, but my heart began to pound again, and I clutched Theresa’s hand tightly. I knew only too well that this goon could kill us and dispose of our bodies in such a way that we’d never be found.

Apparently that wasn’t his plan right now. In the dining room, he shoved the table aside and then the rug that had been under it. There was a trap door under the rug, and I remembered Mike mentioning it after they raided this house. Man-with-a-gun raised the trap door, pointed to a steep but short ladder, and said, “Go. And if either of you make a peep, I’ll kill you without a second thought.” He meant it. As I started backing down the ladder, I looked around for Mona and Jenny but they were nowhere to be seen. Just as my head reached the level of the floor, the man handed me a flashlight.

“See how generous I am? Remember, not a peep!”

Theresa followed me down the ladder, and we found ourselves in a sort of cave, what I always imagined a tornado shelter looked like. There were actually a couple of chairs, but the whole place—floor and walls—was dirt. Hard packed so I didn’t think it would crumble on us, but dirt. Above us was the wood of a subfloor.

“I bet there’re spiders down here,” Theresa whispered, clutching me “I hate bugs!”

I prayed there were not also rats and who knew what else. It smelled musty and then I caught a faint, lingering odor. Marijuana had been stored here. I shined the flashlight all around and whispered “No spiders. We must be very quiet. Our lives depend on it, at least for now.”

“They’ll probably kill us anyway” she whispered, “and then Joe will kill Little Ben and end up in prison. It’s like the beginning of an awful story.”

“Or the end of one that isn’t quite that bad,” I said.

We pulled the chairs close together and held hands. It was dark, so very dark, but we turned the flashlight off to conserve the battery. I began to long for something to drink—white wine would have been preferable of course, but I’d have settled for water…and a chance to use the restroom. The stuffiness of our prison was getting to me, making my head stop up so that I thought my thinking was fuzzy.
Will I end up hallucinating? I’ve got to stay strong for Theresa…and Jenny….and Mike and my girls. Nothing bad could happen to me with so many people depending on me.

Upstairs people began to arrive, talk, and leave. We could hear the door open and shut, muttered voices, sometimes a voice raised in anger. I was wondering how long the girls would wait to call Keisha. Surely they must have called by now. And would Keisha call Mike right away? Surely she would not try to cowboy all by herself, as I had foolishly done. On the other hand, she could just alert José and then go finish the supper at my house and feed the girls. Truth was I didn’t know what was happening, what would happen.

“Miss Kelly, I think we are going to die.” Her hand in mine was cold, clammy with fear.

That thought had crossed my mind too, but I wouldn’t let Theresa know that. “No. The girls will call Keisha when I don’t come home. I’m sure they’ve already called.” Little white lies don’t hurt if they’re told for good reasons. “And Keisha will call Mike. You’ll see….he’ll save us, just like you said.”
My own private knight on his white horse—or unmarked squad car.

“How can he save us? The man has a gun. Who knows who else is up there now?” I thought she pointed upward, but in the dark I couldn’t tell for sure.

The thought occurred to me that Mike would have to get a judge to okay a search—at least I thought he would. And that would take hours. Theresa was right—what would happen then? Would the man-with-a-gun open the trap door and just fire into our cave randomly. Could we survive such an assault? Was I brave enough to throw myself over Theresa to protect her? My thoughts turned into those scary ones you have at three o’clock in the morning. I had no idea how long we’d been down there. Another thing to wish for: a wristwatch with a luminous dial. I almost never wore my watch anymore—my computer or the car or the cell phone told me what time it was. But now I had none of those.

Theresa was softly reciting the prayers of her Catholic faith, and I wondered if the Lord would think I was a hypocrite if I prayed now in the hour of my need.

Suddenly she stopped prayer and sat up, alert. After a short period of time that seemed like eternity, she said, “Little Ben is upstairs. I recognize his voice.” And now the voices were raised in such anger we could just barely make out what was being said. I detected it had something to do with us and Little Ben—that must be the new voice, though unfamiliar to me—was shouting at the man-with-a-gun.

“No!” That much of his argument was clear to me.
No to what?
If Mona was speaking, I couldn’t hear her softer voice.