Trapped (2 page)

How do I get out of here? How do I get the woman and the kid to safety?

The boy behind the counter was looking at her again. Melissa put on a bold face. “Where’s the woman who got me the coffee earlier? Or do I just pay you? And I need directions to Harper’s Grove.”

Half his mouth moved up and to the right in some kind of stupid smirk. “She checked out. She has left for the evening.”

Melissa looked away, gripping her warm coffee cup with both hands.

Everything’s fine. Everything’s going to be okay. I have to leave. That’s what I have to do.

The blind man and his driver edged past her and sat at the first table by the door. The boy had run around to make sure the table was clean and they were comfortable.

“Okay, you’re set then?” she heard the boy say behind her.

No one responded. They must’ve nodded. With her back to them she had no idea what they were up to.

Melissa stood, made sure there was enough money to cover her beverage and turned for the door. The boy stood beside it.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m leaving now.”

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Her stomach dropped further. “Pardon me? What did you say?” She was surprised her voice didn’t shake.

He cracked a smile. “I can’t let you leave at this hour, in that darkness.” He half-turned and gestured with his arm toward the window. “Without giving you proper directions to Harper’s Grove, now could I? My boss told me that every customer needs to leave satisfied. How else is a restaurant like this, out in the middle of nowhere goin’ to make a name for itself?”

Melissa eyes moved to the woman with the little girl. She was smiling. A sidelong glance at the clock said it was just past midnight.

“Aren’t you closing now?”

“Sure, but we never ask the customer to leave. People ought to be allowed to finish what they ordered.”

“Just tell me which way to drive and I’ll go. The money for the coffee is on the counter.”

“Well then, be on your way, but first…” the boy reached into a large pocket in his apron. Melissa stepped back. To her relief he pulled out a folded map. “Let me take thirty seconds of your time to set you on the right path.”

Why am I so spooked? No one knows what I’ve got in the trunk of my car. No one could possibly know who I am and why this weekend trip to my sisters was so important. Yet I’m paranoid at every step. Get it together, Melissa.

These people were all just being kind and she was acting like they were trying to kill her. As if a blind guy would be using sign language to communicate to a sixteen-year-old dishwasher. If they knew who she was and what she had in her trunk, then she would be worried.

She bent and looked at the map the boy had unfolded and placed on the counter a foot from where she had been sitting. Behind her, she heard one of the two men say they were going to the restroom. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the blind man getting up.

“It’s okay,” he said to his driver. “I will find my own way.”

Melissa looked back at the map as the boy pointed out where they were. She was over twenty miles off the highway she needed. Back on Interstate 90, construction signs had said she needed to take a five mile detour off the main road as it had been flooded out. The detour had gone longer than five miles as there had been no other turn offs the whole way.

Come to think of it, I can’t remember it raining in the past week.

“When was the last time we had rain?” she asked the boy.

He looked up at her and rubbed his chin. Then he looked away lost in thought. “I don’t seem to recall any rain.” A smile formed on his face. “Why do you ask?”

“When I was on Interstate 90 I hit an area where I had to make a detour due to flooding.”

A light chuckle escaped the boys lips. “You must’ve imagined it. Interstate 90 never floods. Not out here. Too dry—”

A lock clicked into place, cutting the boy off in mid sentence. Melissa saw that the blind man had just locked the restaurant’s main door. He wasn’t in need of a bathroom after all. Nor was he blind as he removed his dark glasses to reveal alert eyes.

“Sit the fuck down and maybe you will get out of this alive,” he said.

A long barrel edged out from his waist as he produced a weapon. Melissa had no problem with the sitting down part because her legs were already thinking along those lines.

The boy knocked the map off the counter and stood back, grinning like he’d just solved Rubik’s Cube when no one else could.

“Now,” the former blind man said. “You have some explaining to do.”

What the fuck is he talking about? Do they know me? Why is pointing his weapon at me?

 
She held her stomach, hoping it would contain itself.

“You have ruined people’s lives for too long, Melissa Walkens.”

They know my name.

“It’s past midnight. We are over twenty miles from help and there’s no one here but us cats. It’s payback time. Wouldn’t you agree, Vicky?” He gestured at the woman sitting with the little girl.

Melissa tried to contemplate what he was saying as her mind raced through options.

They’re all in on it. But in on what? Revenge? Murder? Theft? Am I supposed to be killed? How have I ruined people’s lives? How do they know me? Could this be about what’s in my trunk?

“Go ahead, Vicky. Tell this bitch whore who you are,” he said, the gun in his hand raising slightly.

Whatever they wanted, they had her attention.

Vicky got up from her seat and walked maddeningly slow. She sat on a stool beside Melissa, hip to hip.

“I am Layton’s lover,” she whispered. “Soon to be new wife.”

Melissa felt like she had been gut shot. She leaned forward and pressed on her stomach while moaning.

This is a nightmare. It can’t be true.

“That little girl belongs to Layton and I. Isn’t she beautiful?”

The little girl had turned in her seat. Their eyes met. She looked sad, forlorn. Her hair was obviously cut at home as no hairdresser would ever do that bad of a job. She didn’t appear to have been bathed in forever. But the oddest feature of all was she looked exactly like a female version of Layton. DNA tests be damned. There was no doubt those freckles and red hair could be anything but Layton’s.

Pain shot through Melissa’s head like a searing rod had just branded her. Vicky held a clump of her hair and brought her back up to a full sitting position. She couldn’t help the scream that escaped her lips.

“Go ahead, scream all you want,” Vicky taunted. “No one will hear you. Here, I’ll scream for you … AHHHHHHHHH!”

The hand released. The pain subsided equally fast but a throbbing remained. Vicky had gone over to comfort the little girl as she cried.

“It’s okay pumpkin. That there is a bad woman.” Vicky pointed at Melissa. “She done some bad things like steal your daddy away. Your daddy is rich. He promised us a great life but that woman stole it all. Mommy just needs to teach her a lesson, okay baby?”

The little girl wiped her eyes and nodded.

“Okay baby?” Vicky repeated.

The little girl nodded again.

“Say okay, dammit. I wanna hear you’re okay with this,” Vicky shouted.

The little girl looked up at Vicky with red puffy eyes. In a soft trembling voice she said, “Okay mommy.” Then she looked away and rubbed her eyes as if she was trying to remove an offending image.

Is my husband be in on this? Could Layton really have a mistress?

This was obviously orchestrated in detail. Someone went to a lot of trouble to get her there at that moment. Could the woman have done it?

No, it had to be the guy holding the gun.

His blind ruse and sign language bit. He knew stuff about her. Stuff, only Layton knew. He had a gun. He had the brains. Diffuse him and this could all fall apart and go away.

The driver of the van was getting up from his chair. Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing to watch him. He adjusted his pants and walked to the door.

“Mark, did you take care of the bodies like I asked you to?”

“Yes. They’re in the cooler.”

“What bodies?” Melissa asked.

“The truck stop closes at nine in the evening. The owners wanted us to leave but we couldn’t as we had to wait for you. May they rest in peace.” He said the last part with so much sarcasm, it dripped. “Their ultimate customer service was exemplary. They offered us their establishment to set a trap for the fly.” He made a buzzing sound. “That’s you, caught in the fly trap.”

Vicky grabbed the little girl’s hand and walked her to the door where she unlocked it and stepped outside. The driver followed, but stopped at the door, leaving it slightly ajar.

“Mark, clean the joint up. Leave no traces that we were here. Then, follow us to the cabin.” He looked at Melissa. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

Melissa crossed her arms and leaned on the counter. She had never considered what looking tough was supposed to be like. The last fight she had was in grade school. Leaving here and going to some remote cabin meant certain death. She’d seen their faces. The owners of this establishment were dead. Melissa had no choice but to refuse to go.

“I would rather clean my ears with an ice pick,” she said.

The driver stared at her, dumbfounded.

Clearly, you didn’t expect that, eh, asshole?

The blind gunman moved his weapon higher. The boy stepped back.

“What did you say to me? Repeat it, because sometimes I don’t hear right?”

“I said, fuck you. I’m not going anywhere.” Melissa remained seated, arms crossed, a look on her face that would’ve defied Medusa.

“So you like to play?” the driver said as he closed the door. “Mark, go start the cleanup. Trent, put your weapon away and go wait in the van.”

“Do I have to? I wanna watch.”

The driver looked back at him. “You did your part perfectly. Your share is as good as in the bank. Don’t fuck that up by not listening to me. Go wait in the van.”

Trent lowered his weapon and re-holstered it. He turned to the table they had been sitting at and retrieved his white cane. With only one backward glance, Trent left the restaurant, the door clanging behind him.

She realized how wrong she had been. The blind man wasn’t in charge. The mastermind was the driver. Taking him out was going to be nearly impossible. She didn’t even know how to throw a proper punch. But going to a random cabin somewhere, or letting this guy beat her up, or worse, was not an option.

This was fight and flight. She had no choice. The cornered animal had to strike out even though it knew it was going to die.

She would be no one’s fly in a fly trap. No one would own her.

Make the first move. There’s no turning back.

The driver edged closer. “Last chance to comply.”

The best way to attack him would be when standing. Melissa uncrossed her arms, leaned forward and made to get up.

“Too late,” he whispered.

She felt something strike her left cheek. She had no idea the pain would be so great. Her face felt broken. She fell to the tiled floor and writhed there, held under the grip of an agonizing pain.

She caught movement above. Her brain took over and reflex attempted to move her head away, but she wasn’t fast enough. The driver’s boot hit her in the forehead, whipping her skull back like the worst roller coaster ride from hell. Stars filled her vision. Pain filled her mind. She lay moaning and crying, waiting for the next blow.

When it didn’t come, she opened her eyes and looked through the tears.

The driver was gone.

She moved her head to look at the counter but her neck protested too much. She felt around the muscles. Nothing protruded or seemed broken.

The driver reappeared from the back room. He came from around the counter and walked toward her. Light from the moon came through the window and glinted off something in his hand.

A butcher knife.

He smiled at her.

“Now we’re going to have some fun. Reach in slowly and give me your car keys or I’ll remove a finger. You’ve got five seconds.”

A simple carjacking? No one knows what’s in my trunk. I will never give up my keys.

In the precious seconds she had, Melissa rolled to her back and slowly reached for her pocket, attempting to stall as long as she could.

“Come on,” he said. The knife edged closer to her hand. He held it just above her stomach as he kneeled over her.

The loop of the keyring wrapped around her index finger within her pocket. She pulled the keys out and gripped them in her palm. Then she threw the keys at the driver’s face. He blinked and turned his head in reflex. Melissa used her other hand to grab his wrist, spin the knife around and jab at him, using the floor for leverage.