Nothing Is Negotiable (10 page)

Bonnie dropped into the corner and pulled her knees up to her chest. Trails from her tears streaked her face. Across the room light reflected off tiny pieces of glass scattered across the floor from the broken picture frames. The man’s violent performance left her more terrified than she had ever been in her life.

From where she sat, she saw the notes on the floor. If she didn’t do what he said, he’d kill her. But what would she have to do? She could only imagine the worst. Why else would he lock her away and terrorize her?

Regardless of what he said, somehow, some way, she had to escape.

From the violent attack she just witnessed, she knew there was no way she could break down the door, so her only escape was through the window. She went over and looked out. The ground seemed too far but in old movies she had seen people escaping through windows by tying bed sheets together. On the shelf in the closet, she pulled out the extra set of sheets, there were two. Including the ones on the bed, that made four. If she tied them all together, she’d have about twenty feet of rope. But that would leave her dangling at least fifty feet above the ground. There were some rocky ledges on the way down and if she swung she might be able to land on one. But if she missed, she’d fall to her death. No way would that work.

Bonnie threw the sheets back in the closet and went back to the window. Maybe she could go up. If she stood in the window, she could reach the top of the outside wall, but there was nothing to hold onto to pull herself up on the roof. So, that wouldn’t work. And moving along the side of the building was not an option either because there was nowhere to stand and nothing to hold on to.

That meant there was only one way out—the door. She had to pick the lock.

Off and on for the rest of the afternoon she worked with the clothes hanger, but had no luck. As darkness fell, she stood at the window and listened to the mournful howl of the wind. When the cool air started to flow into the room Bonnie regretted breaking the window. She curled up under the blanket on the bed and tried to sleep, but the wind made the darkness come alive. Desperate to feel safe, she grabbed the blankets, sheets and pillows and retreated into the closet where she shut the door on the cold and wind and the mountain sounds.

***

In the morning she woke and stepped into the cool bedroom, bright from the morning sun. She felt better, much closer to normal that she did the day before. The alarm clock said it was almost nine. The curtains swayed in the gentle breeze and she parted them to see the blue, clear sky.

After a long night her bladder was full. She glanced over at the bucket and thought about her experience using the bucket the day before. It wasn’t all that bad, but she decided she’d hold out as long as she could.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sound of a truck engine in the distance.

Oh, no
, she thought. He’s coming back. A chill ran down her back when she thought about what was about to happen. Quickly, she put on her hiking boots, and when she bent to tie the laces, she noticed the broken glass from the day before.

Bonnie noticed a long pointed piece. It was at least eight inches long and looked sharp enough to pierce a hole in a tire. She pulled an old t-shirt out of the dresser and wrapped it around the wider part for a handle. Now she had a formidable weapon.

Creeping back to the window, she heard the truck getting closer. A minute later it was so close she could hear music. There hadn’t been music the day before. And this had the recurring beat of rap music. Not at all what she expected.

The sound got louder until she heard gravel crunched under the tires on the other side of the cabin as it came to a stop. Then the engine and the music fell silent. At once the truck door opened and closed, but it sounded different than the day before. Footsteps came quickly to the front door where she heard the mechanism in the door lock tumble. The door opened, and this time, closed gently.

Bonnie wiped her sweaty hand and gripped the crudely made knife. She turned it from side to side, wondering if she had the courage to use it at all. Her thoughts went to the last time she used a weapon. It was the first and last time she went deer hunting with Luke. She shot at a deer, but the animal moved just when she pulled the trigger and she hit it in the throat, only wounding it. The suffering animal thrashed about, making a god awful bleating sound, and blood spurted everywhere. The animal was suffering and its obvious pain was too much. She couldn’t handle it. Luke sent her to the truck while he finished the job.

But this was different. It was her life and she had no choice. She would thrust the crudely crafted knife into the human being who said he’d kill her if she didn’t do as he said.

Focusing her attention on her visitor, she positioned herself behind the door, ready to attack, and tried to calm her shaking hands.

Beyond the door, she heard shoes squeak as they moved about in the room beyond her prison. A chair some distance away scooted across the floor. A few seconds later, squeaky shoes came to her door and a piece of yellow lined paper slid into view. Leaning closer she read:

– Are you okay?

This note was written neatly with nice penmanship, all on one line. Yesterday it was scribbled in huge, crudely printed letters that filled the entire page.

She spoke to the door. “Yes.”

On the other side of the door, it was silent. No movement, nothing. She took a chance. “I really need to go the bathroom.”

On the other side of the door, she could hear scribbling, and a few seconds later the next note slid under the door:

– There is a bucket in the closet you have to use.

“I’ve done that once. Please don’t make me do that again.”

No answer.

She waited about half a minute before asking again. “Please, I just need to go to the bathroom. I won’t try to run away.”

No answer.

“How long am I going to be in here?”

No answer.

Begging, she asked, “Can you tell me why I’m here?”

No answer.

As the weight of her situation came crashing down on her, she began to whimper. She glanced at her glass knife and knew she couldn’t use it. Quietly she put it in a dresser drawer. “Please, I don’t want to die?”

From the light that shined under the door she could tell he was still standing just outside. Another note:

– Nobody’s going to kill you.

Still crying, “Why am I here?” There was no answer and Bonnie could hear him shuffling around outside the door.

She waited, and again begged. “Could I please go to the bathroom? Please. I won’t try anything. I promise. I just want to go to the bathroom. That’s all.”

No answer. She heard him walk away, which made her cry more.

He came back to the door. In a soft voice, he said, “Okay, here’s the deal: I’ll let you go to the bathroom, but you have to do what I say. Take a pillowcase off of one of the pillows and put it over your head and I’ll take you to the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

His voice was quiet, but firm. He sounded younger than she expected.

“But, if you try anything, I’ll beat the crap out of you, gag you, and tie you up with duct tape. Do you want me to do that?”

“No. I promise I’ll do exactly what you tell me to do.”

She got one of pillowcases and put it over her head. After a quick prayer she stood in the middle of the room with her hands to her side, and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Bonnie heard the key unlock the door and a faint squeak when it opened. Cool air rushed past her from the broken window.

She held her breath while she waited for him to come to her. Suddenly, he loudly blurted out, “Holy shit, lady. You busted out the window.”

She cowed as he yelled at her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Expecting to be slapped or hit, she pulled her arms up in front of her face.

“Man, when he sees this he’s going to blow a gasket.”

It was obvious he was referring to the animal who had been there the day before. “I was scared and I didn’t know what to do,” she explained. “And besides that, I couldn’t put up with that nasty bucket in here so I dumped it out the window.”

“He’s gonna be pissed, I’ll tell you that.” He grabbed her by the wrist. “Come on.”

As they left the room, she put her other hand out in front of her the way one does when moving in the dark.

It felt like they stepped outside the bedroom and turned right a few steps when suddenly there was a loud noise behind her, almost like an explosion.

She gasped and pulled her hand away.

The guy grabbed her hand and said, “It’s okay. The wind just made the door slam.”

They continued another dozen steps and stopped. He moved behind her and gently grabbed her shoulders and pushed her forward a few more steps.

“Ma’am, do your business and do it fast. Keep your head covered and don’t lock the door. If you do, I’ll break the door down. You got it?”

She said okay and heard the bathroom door close behind her. Immediately, she pushed up the pillowcase and panned the room. In front of her was the toilet; to the left a prefab lavatory with cabinets on each side. The bathtub was on the right wall with a shower curtain. There was one small window above the toilet covered with thin white curtains.

Bonnie parted the curtains and saw a big red pickup with huge tires in the driveway. A long driveway went through an open meadow and disappeared into the forest about a hundred yards from the house. She tried to see the license plate but the truck was at the wrong angle. A large bush blocked her view in the other direction.

She checked the size of the window and estimated it was big enough for her to crawl through it if the glass was gone. But for now, she didn’t consider trying to escape with him pacing on the other side of the door.

When she was finished she washed her hands and splashed some water on her face.

“C’mon,” the guy said, pounding on the door.

“I’m almost done,” she said, drying her hands. She pulled the pillowcase back down over her eyes and told him she was ready.

He grabbed her arm and led her back to her prison.

Bonnie tried to get more information as they walked. “What do you want from me?”

Irritated he said, “Damn lady. Quit asking me all these questions. I’m not even supposed to talk to you.”

“But why me? Why—”

“Quit asking me questions, okay?” he demanded. “I can’t tell you anything because I don’t know anything.”

“But, how—”

“When that other guy comes back, don’t tell him I let you go to the bathroom. Just keep your mouth shut. Whatever you do, don’t try to break out of here and run away. Even if you get out, you’ll never find your way back before the bears or wolves get you. The safest thing you can do is stay here. Okay?”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“No more questions.” he said, pushing her back into the bedroom.

She knew he was put out with her but she couldn’t help but ask one more question, “When are you coming back?”

The bedroom door slammed and locked. Seconds later, she heard him go out the front door. The truck started and roared away.

As the engine sounds faded in the distance, she stood at the window and thought about him. He sounded young, like a teenager. And called her “ma’am.” He must have been there when they brought her to this cabin because he knew about the bucket.

With him, Bonnie felt safer. He gave her hope, but she was still a prisoner. And there was no doubt the worst was yet to come.

“It doesn’t seem to me like they’re trying very hard and I can’t sit over here doing nothing,” Luke said to Mrs. Johnson. “I’m going to get a room in Cardston and camp out on the front door of the RCMP if I have to.”

“I’m so worried about her. Please call me and tell me when you find her.”

He nodded. She hugged him the way a mother would hug a son going off to college.

As he drove out of St. Mary, black clouds spilled over Gunsight Mountain and light rain peppered his windshield. The closer he got to the Canadian border, the harder it rained. Luke was glad he had taken the time to put a piece of cardboard over the broken window before he left. He breezed through the border checkpoint without a problem and drove on to the RCMP Detachment Office to see if they had any news.

“Hey Luke, I’m glad you’re here,” Ernest said. “Come with me. I want you to meet Paul. He’s got some things he needs to talk to you about.”

They entered a room that was empty except for a long wooden table with two chairs on each side. A manila folder was open with half a dozen pieces of paper scattered across the table. The man at the table rose as they entered. He was average height, barrel-chested with a round face and a full head of dark hair.

“Paul Simpson,” he said, extending his hand to Luke.

His grip was firm and his smile was friendly.

Luke rounded the table and took a seat across from Paul. He noticed a long horizontal mirror on the opposite wall. Ernest closed the door and stood over by the wall.

“There are some things we need to go over,” Paul said.

Among the papers in front of him, Luke saw copies of his and Bonnie’s passports and driver’s licenses. He didn’t remember providing them.

As Paul picked through the papers, he casually asked, “Have you heard from your wife, Luke?”

Strange question,
Luke thought. “No, I haven’t.”

Paul handed the missing persons report to Luke and asked him to verify all of the information. When he was finished he asked, “Is there anything else you can think of that might have happened or be important for us to know?”

“I don’t think so.”

Paul pulled out some other papers. “This is a report that says you assaulted your wife at the border crossing on Tuesday morning.”

“I did not!” Luke exclaimed, realizing immediately where they got the copies of their passports and drivers licenses. “I explained it to the officers at the border station and so did Bonnie. We accidentally ran into each other and Bonnie fell over some chairs. I certainly did not assault her.”

“This report says you were put in an interrogation room for a routine interview and you got into a fight while you were waiting. The report says you were arguing and then you hit her, knocking her down.”

“That’s not right.”

Paul continued, “The agent’s report says, ‘We could hear them arguing down the hall. Upon entering the room I saw Mr. Wakefield strike Mrs. Wakefield, knocking her to the floor. We had to restrain Mr. Wakefield. During the altercation, Mrs. Wakefield injured her thumb and bloodied her lip.’”

“That’s bullshit! Her thumb was already hurt.”

Paul leaned back and looked at Ernest. “This is the report that was filed by the agents.”

“I don’t care what they filed. That’s not what happened. She sprained her thumb the day before while she was jogging. And she scraped her hands and legs when she fell down the side of a hill. That’s why we came over here—to go to the doctor.”

“The report says you claim her thumb was already injured, but when you spoke to the first agent about entering Canada, you said your wife was sick. There was no mention of an injury to her hand.”

“I didn’t know I had to explain everything just to get across the border.”

“The report states ‘Mrs. Wakefield is a textbook example of a battered woman. She had scrapes and bruises on her arms and legs, including a busted lip and a bruise on her cheek. She would not file a complaint or call in the police, but it was obvious she feared her husband.’”

“Oh, come on.” Luke turned his attention to Ernest who was leaning against a side wall, listening. “Ernest, that’s total bullshit.”

“It says you were separated from each other and the agent that interviewed Mrs. Wakefield said it was obvious she feared retaliation from you if she filed charges against you. There was nothing they could do but let you go.”

Luke was on his feet. “None of it is true. Bonnie and I were talking about how those agents at the border crossing were treating us like criminals. That’s why I was upset. Not upset with Bonnie, but upset with your people. And another thing: Bonnie would never say she was afraid of me.”

“Have you ever hit your wife, Luke?” Ernest asked.

“Never.”

“Luke, you’ve got a temper,” Ernest said. “Is it common for you to lose it?”

“No.” He knew he looked like a hothead, so he took a deep breath and calmly said, “Not unless I have a damn good reason and what you’re saying is not right.”

“Okay, sit down.”

Luke eased back into his chair.

“It says that they heard Mrs. Wakefield tell you numerous times to settle down,” Paul said as he lowered the report to the table.

“She may have said that because
your people
were treating us like criminals and they had no reason to.”

“Ever been charged with assault, Luke?”

“Absolutely not!”

“How long have you been married?”

“About twenty years.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Has she been a good wife?”

Luke didn’t like the way that sounded. “What do you mean?”

“Do you have to discipline her very much?”

Disgusted by his insinuations, Luke shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“So, how often do you hit her?”

“I’ve never hit her.”

“Have you had any other problems over the past twenty years?”

“No.”

“So, you say she’s been a good wife... no problems?”

“We’ve never had any problems.”

Paul leaned over the stack of papers in front of him and pulled out another one. “Not according to the deputies with the Lampasas County Sherriff’s Department. They said you and your wife were separated recently.”

Luke was shocked that they knew about this. “We were separated for a while, but we aren’t anymore.”

“Why were you separated?”

“I don’t think it’s any of your damn business.”

Ernest intervened. “Luke, you have to tell us what’s going on here.”

He sighed and said, “It was something totally out of our control. It didn’t have anything to do with our relationship. We’re doing fine now.”

“Now, why would you separate if everything was fine? Something’s not right and what I see is a troubled marriage and a missing wife. Unless you can convince us you’re telling the truth, we’re going to have to hold you until we find her.” Paul leaned back and tapped his pencil on the table. “We need you to explain this. And this time why don’t you
start
with the truth.”

Luke looked to Ernest for some help but noticed his eyes narrowed and locked on his, waiting. Luke knew it didn’t sound too good, but all he had to do was explain things and they could get back to looking for Bonnie.

“When the drought hit Texas a few years ago it was really hard on us. We didn’t have much grass in our pastures and had to sell most of our cattle. For a while we had some serious money problems. We were having trouble paying the bills and Bonnie wanted me to borrow some money from my parents. I didn’t want to do that.

“I wanted her to get a real job because her photography wasn’t bringing in enough money. She was working on her second book and said if she didn’t get it finished, her publisher would probably drop her. This was her dream and she didn’t want to quit. We had some tough decisions to make and didn’t agree on what to do. Things got bad for a while and we just needed some time away from each other. But we finally worked it out and there haven’t been any problems beyond that. We got along great the whole time we were separated and now we are back together.”

“How long were you separated?”

“About a year.”

“Did she want a divorce?”

“No, neither of us did. We never had any other problems.”

“No problems?”

“No.”

Paul pulled another piece of paper out of the folder and slapped it on the table in front of Luke. “C’mon Luke, I don’t have time to play all these games. You’re trying to make it sound like you were Ozzie and Harriet when you were far from it.”

Luke picked up the paper and scanned it. His heart sank.

“This is a copy of the restraining order she filed against you back in December. Don’t you think this means there were some serious problems?”

“This isn’t what it sounds like.” Luke glanced at Ernest. “It was a big misunderstanding.”

“People don’t file restraining orders for misunderstandings.”

“When we separated she continued to live in our house. It’s on my family’s ranch,” he said. “The barn and stables are beside the house, and that’s where I do lots of my work. A rancher’s job is not nine to five and Bonnie knew that. She didn’t have a problem with me being around. We didn’t hate each other, we were just taking a break... we thought it might help.”

“Why a restraining order, Luke?” Ernest tone was to the point, demanding. His arms remained crossed across his chest.

“Look, here’s what happened.” Luke leaned forward, laced his fingers and rested his forearms on the table. “One night while we were separated, Bonnie had some friends over to the house for a little Christmas party—about ten people I guess. I told her earlier in the week that I’d stay clear, but the weather changed and it started to sleet. I went over to put the horses in the barn.”

“So you invited yourself to her party.”

“Nothing like that. I didn’t have any choice. When I got there, some cars were parked blocking the barn doors so I went to the house and asked her to have them move them. As you can imagine, she wasn’t too happy about me showing up at ten-thirty during her party, but I really didn’t have any choice. These two guys came out to move their cars. One was a local banker and the other was a lawyer and they were both drunk. They started talking loud so I would hear them, saying all this bullshit that wasn’t true. About how we were behind on our loan payments and we were on the verge of losing the ranch. The lawyer said he was going to represent Bonnie in her divorce and she’d end up owning the ranch.”

“Was that true?”

Luke lowered his head and nodded. “Yeah, we were behind on our note, but my dad had talked to the president of the bank and they had worked out some new terms. We weren’t going to lose the ranch.”

“Did you know these men?”

“The banker is the son of the president of the bank. He’s a local rich prick named Tyler McAllister. I’ve known him all my life and we’ve never gotten along. His father actually owns the bank. I didn’t know the lawyer, but I know they’re both arrogant assholes and they just wanted to see how far they could push me. I ignored them as long as I could, but finally Tyler told the other guy that Bonnie was the best piece of ass he’d ever had and I lost it. I nailed him right between the eyes. He flew backwards, landing on the hood of his Mercedes. You’d have done the same thing if you were in my shoes.”

Luke leaned back and continued. “As soon as he regained his balance he got up and ran back into the house holding his bloody nose. Later I found out they told Bonnie I picked the fight. She was really pissed and the lawyer convinced her to file a restraining order, which she did the next day.”

“I don’t show that there were any other charges filed against you.”

“No, just the restraining order.”

“Was your wife involved with these men?”

“She said she and Tyler went to dinner once, but that’s it.”

“If you and Bonnie were getting along as good as you say, why do you think she went out with him, especially if she knew you two didn’t get along?”

“Because he bought a bunch of her pictures to hang on the wall in the bank. She said she thought he was a nice guy.”

“Did you and Tyler have any other confrontations?”

“No, I never saw him again.”

“When did you and Bonnie get back together?”

“First of February.”

“Anything else you can tell us about this restraining order?”

“It was only in force for about a month. Finally, when Bonnie realized what a jerk Tyler was, she called and we talked. I told her what actually happened that night and she dropped it the next day.”

“Do you think Tyler is holding any hard feelings?”

“I don’t really give a damn if he does. It’s all small-town bullshit.”

Paul closed his file, leaned back and looked at Ernest who gave a small nod.

“Is there anything else you want to tell us at this time?” Paul asked.

Luke thought a second, “No, but how about that stuff I brought in here yesterday?”

Paul pulled out a different piece of paper and ran his finger down it. “Her windbreaker with blood on it, a shopping list, and sunglasses she had in her purse.”

“Right. It was all at the clinic. Don’t you think something’s going on over there?”

“We’re not sure what to think of it.”

“Why not?”

Paul stood and stared at the floor a few seconds, then glanced at Ernest before he spoke. “Think about it, Luke.”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

“How do we know you found this stuff there? You told us she was wearing the windbreaker, but no one in the clinic seems to remember it. How do we know this list was in her purse? And the sunglasses? You didn’t mention it when you filled out the missing persons report. But, now, it’s your story, but you don’t have one bit of proof to back it up.”

“Why would I make it up, for God’s sake?”

“So far, everything you’ve told us has been a lie. Why should we believe this story is true?”

Luke couldn’t believe they had turned everything against him. Never in his life had he been called a liar. He had nothing but his word, and now it looked as if that wasn’t worth anything. He gritted his teeth and said, “Because it is.”

Ernest tilted his head down and glared at Luke over his glasses. “Luke, what we’ve found shows that you and your wife have a history of marital problems. The agents at the border crossing said you hit her, and from what I can tell, it probably wasn’t the first time.”