Flee From Evil (27 page)

“That sweet young thing? What for?”

“They think her mom has a lot of money, but she doesn’t. She’s been cut off by her late-husband’s family. The kidnappers want two million dollars.”

Eddie’s whistle mirrored the concern in his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know what I can pay you.” Was this useless? Vince had no choice but to find out.

“You think I’d take those prayed-over dollar bills collected in little baskets? They’d probably sizzle in my pocket.”

Vince’s facial muscles almost relaxed. “I need to find out who has the girl and figure out how to get her back.”

Eddie stared at his fingers as they tapped the bar. He pulled his lips in and out.

Vince waited, wondering what was going through the guy’s brain. “You can’t tell anyone, especially about the lack of funds. They’d kill Sophie for sure if they knew.”

Eddie’s eyes lifted to take Vince in. “You care about that little family, don’t you?”

Of course he did. “I care about all families.”

Eddie harrumphed, grin tilting. “I think there’s more to this one.”

Vince allowed the man to peruse him. “Well?”

Eddie stood and threw some bills on the bar. “Got some ideas.”

“You’ll help me?”

“Course I will.”

“Where’re you going?”

Eddie dropped a hand on Vince’s shoulder. “You let me worry ‘bout that. I’ll contact you soon as I know anything.”

Vince felt the air rush from him.

Eddie’s gaze ran straight through him. “Then we’ll find a way to get that girl back.”

~*~

The voices of Rosco and Boss Hogg echoed down the hall of Kat and Billy’s house as the front door opened before Vince.

Kat smirked at the noise. “Lew’s watchin’ his
Dukes of Hazzard
DVD collection—at full volume.” She rolled her eyes.

“Where’s Billy?” Vince didn’t have time to discuss Lew’s viewing habits.

Kat’s gaze shot back at the intensity of Vince’s question. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky he’s home at all after you cut outta clean-up duty at the picnic. What gives?”

“Get Billy. I’ll tell you everything.”

Her head swiveled toward the stairs. “Billy,” she called at a level competing with the Dukes.

A muffled voice replied, “What?”

“Vince needs to talk to you.” The woman had some strong lungs.

A door squeaked open. A toilet flushed. Billy emerged at the top of the steps still buckling his belt. “S’up, Vince?” He strutted the descent. “Come to make excuses?” His smirk protruded from his facial hair.

“Sophie’s been kidnapped.”

Kat’s head snapped back and Billy’s jaw dropped. “Who took her,” “What d’ya mean,” they said over each other.

“Can we sit down?” Vince’s legs felt like rubber.

They entered the living room to distance themselves from the roar of General Lee emanating from Lew’s television.

Vince perched on the edge of the couch and filled the two in on the note, and how it said not to involve the police.

“So what are you gonna do?” Vince had never seen Billy so serious.

Kat didn’t even speak.

“I’ve already talked to Eddie at The Dock and he’s going to see what he can find out.”

Kat rubbed her palms on her thighs. “You sure you can trust him? The man sells stolen goods.”

“Who better to get information about criminal activity than someone who associates with them?”

Kat shook her head.

“I’ve known Eddie a long time. He likes money, but he’d never take it at the risk of someone’s life. Besides, what other choice do we have? ” He closed his lids for a moment of pilfered peace. “We’ll see what he comes up with, and wait to hear from the kidnapper in the morning. I wanted you guys ready in case I need your help. And, of course, to pray.”

“Count me in too.” Lew’s voice caused all heads to turn. “Whatever you need,” he nodded, fire in his eyes, “just say the word.”

Vince almost broke down right there, but he forced himself to remain strong. He swallowed. “Thanks, Lew. I have a feeling I’m going to take you up on that.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sophie tried to open her eyes, but something held her lids in place. Her shoulders ached, probably from the awkward position she’d slept in all night.

“Mom?” She wriggled, wondering if she’d twisted her sheets too tight around herself. Boy, was she exhausted. She’d never felt so heavy, even after fitness testing in gym class. All those hours in the sun yesterday must have worn her out. The weird dreams didn’t help either.

“Mom?” It sort of reminded Sophie of the time she’d gotten her hand stuck in the railing of her headboard when she was little. She’d panicked in her sleepiness, and screamed bloody-murder that day. She wouldn’t do that today. Her mom would come in soon, or she’d wiggle out herself.

If only she could see.

Oh, her head felt woozy.

Sophie wanted to clear whatever it was from her face, but her hands were stuck behind her back—like handcuffs.

“Mom!” Now, she was panicking.

“Quiet.” The distorted electronic voice laughed. “So, little girl, you want your mom?”

Her heart sank. Her mom wasn’t here. This was not home. “Where am I?”

It laughed again, sending a thousand lightning bolts through Sophie’s spine. “You are my guest.” The voice was distant, giving the room a depth she hadn’t felt before. Like a chasm.

“Who are you?”

“Now, now, my friend, if you learn that, I’d have to kill you.” The voice oozed derision, as though spawned from loathing.

“Why am I here?” Sophie forced herself to calm. How did her mother do it when she had a panic attack? Her father would coach her. “Breathe in through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

“You will be here until your mother pays me two million dollars.”

“Two million dollars? She doesn’t have that kind of money.” Sophie gasped at her own slip. The idea her mother can’t pay might reduce the value of keeping her alive.

“You don’t have to tell me what your family is worth. I already know.”

Sophie pressed her lips together for fear she’d give too much away. What was she going to do? She couldn’t even move.

“Don’t worry, little girl, you will be taken care of. Food will be brought to you shortly. But don’t try to escape. There is nowhere for you to go. And …” the voice raised at this, “you will be watched twenty-four hours a day.”

Sophie didn’t respond. She didn’t move. The long silence was broken by the sound of footsteps ascending what must have been a wooden staircase. A door closed. And locked.

“Are you there?” She didn’t think so, but needed to ask just the same. What did he mean she’d be watched? He obviously wasn’t watching now.

Please, God, tell me what to do.

Her father’s voice played in her head. “Sometimes the best moments are when God takes everything from you, and all you have is Him.” She could see his smile that reminded her she was one loved little girl. “Then you have no choice but to rely on Him alone.”

But hadn’t God already taken her father?

Her tears were trapped in the sticky film. Sophie guessed it was duct tape that wrapped around her head and secured her ankles. Handcuffs bound her wrists behind her back.

Control the panic. Give it to God.

Breathe in through the nose. Out through the mouth.

The air was thick with dust, mold, and a dank moisture that coated her lungs with a slimy film. The bedspread under her was worn and rough in spots as bare skin from her legs, shoulders, and cheek rubbed against it.

Sophie wriggled on the mattress, feeling for the edges with her bound feet. She needed to get her bearings. Sitting up would be the best way to do that. She stretched out, then scooted, stretched, scooted, till her heel slipped at the end. She latched the edge, pulling herself to lower her legs, and maneuver to an upright position.

“Where are you going?”

The electronic voice may as well have tazed her, the way it shot through and immobilized her at the same time. Only it was lower and lacked the derision of before. Just business.

“I wanted to sit up so I could breathe easier.”

“Lie down.”

“Could I just—”

“Lie down.” It was like talking to a computer.

She obeyed its command. “What if I have to go to the bathroom?” She really didn’t want to know, but needed to.

The release of breath was not electrified, like the voice. Then it said, “Do you need to go?”

Fear ripped through her for where this could lead, but she knew it was inevitable. She whispered, “Yes.”

The squeak of a chair was followed by footsteps. Latex-covered hands wrapped around her arm, and pulled her to stand. Sophie sensed a large body. Must be a man. He nudged her forward, prompting her to hop with her bound feet.

He pushed from behind, holding both arms, then stopped, squeezing tighter as he did. The squeak of a door hinge. The smell of urine and bleach. Cold tile under her bare feet.

Her lungs constricted as the rubber hands unfastened the buttons at the front of her shorts. His body heat moved away. A door closed.

Sophie stood, no idea what to do. She inched back till her legs hit the porcelain, then wriggled and pulled till her shorts topped her knees. When she was done, she didn’t worry about hygiene in the face of all the other evils. She now needed to figure out how to put her shorts on again.

Sophie slid off the toilet, landing hard on her knees and fell sideways onto the tile, worked her shorts from the back, pulling and wriggling some more until she was covered.

“What are you doing?” The electronic voice droned from behind the door.

“I’m trying to dress.” She couldn’t help the screech in her cry.

The door squeaked open. Heat fell over her. Too close. Breathing heavy. Tears formed as she braced herself for her fate.

Hands pulled at the front of her shorts.

“No. No. Please.” Wet collected inside the duct tape, drowning her eye sockets. “Please.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

The hands stopped, and Sophie noticed her shorts felt more secure. Latex grasped her arm and pulled her off the ground. Pain lanced through her joints as she staggered to her bound feet and cried out.

She was led back to the bed then pushed hard onto its lumpy springs.

~*~

Cassandra spilled the coffee she poured as the knock on the door jerked her from her lethargy. Her lids hung like sandbags over her eyes. Her nose continued to burn and the lump in her throat refused to go down. She’d showered and readied for the day, feeling the need to be prepared for anything, knowing there was nothing she could do—but pray. Could that be enough?

The next knock shook her from that hope.

Cassandra shuffled across the floor, barely able to lift her feet even after swallowing two burning gulps of coffee. She swung the door open to Vince’s haggard expression. His hair stuck out all over, and he wore rumpled clothing that looked like the ones he had on at the picnic yesterday. “You look awful.”

He pushed past her. “Slept on the couch. Just woke up.” He blew out anguished air. “Sorry I’m late. I was hoping to get here early to prepare for the call.”

She pointed to the dining table set with phone, pads, and pencils for the notes she’d take about the ransom demands. “I’m as ready as I can be. What else can I do but go through the motions, and hope God drops a miracle in my lap?”

Vince stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the carpet.

She closed the door. “Where were you last night? I tried to call, but you didn’t pick up.”

His whole body spoke fatigue as his attention seemed weighted to the floor. “Putting things together.”

“You didn’t call the police?”

“No.” Was he hiding something? “I wouldn’t do that.” He scanned the room. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s packing Tibo’s stuff to take him to her sister’s. I hope he’ll be safe …” The burning filled her nose, “ … until it’s …” She couldn’t make herself say the word.

Over
.

What would that look like? Another funeral? Her eyes began to well. How would Tibo ever understand another loved one no longer in his life? She could never explain it to her language-less little boy.

Her legs wilted beneath her. The room faded. She was falling and couldn’t do anything about it until the strong arms wrapped around her and held her up. Safe … for the moment. She buried her face in Vince’s broad chest, the scent of chlorine from the dunk tank still lingering around him. Was it only last night they celebrated the birth of the special needs program with such fun?

Vince’s strong fingers spread over her shoulder blades, warm hands pulled her tighter into him.

She pushed his chest. “I’m sorry.”