8 Jude
In addition to being as cold as ice, Jude was also starving.
He had a feeling it must be the middle of the afternoon, at the very least.
He’d only gulped down two small pancakes before he and Cope started fighting.
He wished he’d kept his stupid piehole shut and just shoveled in more food.
If Jude had done that, he wouldn’t be in this mess, locked in a cage by an unknown maniac.
That last thought stuck in Jude’s mind.
Maybe the maniac wasn’t unknown after all.
The person had used some kind of modifier, making it impossible to tell if the kidnapper was a man or a woman or if he recognized the voice.
To be honest, he wouldn’t recognize Cope if he used that device.
It was entirely possible he knew exactly who’d done this to him.
Why else would the kidnapper use such a gadget? If he or she was a stranger, there would be no need to change their voice.
If he could figure out who had done this to him, he just might be able to figure out why.
The first people who came to mind were Jude’s family and friends. He knew Ronan and Fitz would never do anything like this to him. Ditto for Cisco. If it had been his friends, they wouldn’t have called him, “Mr. Byrne.”
They would have called him an asshole, douche canoe, or something else along that vein. The joke would have been up quickly and most definitely wouldn’t have been this elaborate. The kidnapper wasn’t family or close friends.
Jude thought back to what had been going on at work.
He and the others had just solved the Rebekah Hannigan murder, which had gone unsolved for the last fifteen years.
Maybe one of the detectives who’d work the case over the last decade and a half was pissed that Jude waltzed in, solved the case, and got all the credit.
He thought he’d mentioned the hard work of the Salem PD when he was speaking to the media, but wasn’t a hundred percent sure.
His brain was still muzzy from whatever the kidnapper had injected him with.
It was also possible his kidnapper could be a friend or family member of the man who’d been arrested for the murder, wanting revenge.
Okay, so he had one viable cause for his abduction.
Who else could have done this? Jude’s mind moved to Wolf’s school.
He’d been a pretty big advocate in the PTA this year, and there had been a lot of parents who hadn’t liked Jude’s style or the fact that he was married to a man.
Over the last two years or so, he’d noticed an increase in the amount of people who gave him shit when they found out he was gay.
He’d thought Salem had been a bit above the curve when it came to LGBTQIA+ rights and freedoms, but he was so very obviously wrong.
Maybe one of the parents snatched him?
Jude shook his head.
If it had been a bigoted parent, wouldn’t they have brought him to one of those conversion retreats, where they pray or beat the gay away?
They would have left a Bible in his cell and there would have been posters with verses of scripture telling him all about the glory of a life lived with Jesus and without sin.
Good thought, but obviously not a bingo.
Who else would have wanted to hurt him? Jude gasped.
Maybe the person who did this was after Cope and Jude was just a means to an end? Who the hell could possibly want to hurt Cope? Deacon Boudreaux was dead, killed in prison several years ago.
He’d been an only child whose parents died before he did.
There was no one left to avenge the former fiancée who’d almost killed Cope. Twice.
Not to be egotistical, for once in his life, Jude knew Cope had nothing to do with his current situation.
This was all on him.
Sitting up, Jude’s stomach cramped and he was swamped with nausea.
He moved to the bucket, which smelled horrible and did everything in his power not to throw up like he’d done last night.
Jude’s memory cast back to the previous night.
He’d been absolutely sick to his stomach, which never happened to him.
It had been years, maybe decades since he’d had enough booze to make him as sick as he’d been the night before, which was why he’d assumed drugs had been slipped into one of his drinks.
He could remember at least two that were handed to him where he didn’t see the bartender mix them.
One person who’d given Jude a cocktail was the former mayor of Salem.
She was now the lieutenant governor.
Sarah had been thrilled to pieces that Jude’s work had led to the arrest of Rebekah Harrigan’s killer.
That case had been an ache in her heart that time had never dulled.
She’d been proud of Jude and told him that if there was ever anything he needed, that she should be his first call.
It was impossible to think the former mayor would do this to Jude.
Yes, he was incredibly handsome, but she was gay.
He’d been introduced to her wife at a benefit a year ago.
They’d ended up spending the evening talking about organic baby food and if it was worth the extra monty.
If the former mayor wanted Jude to suffer, she would have come after his career, not his person.
Besides, there was no way a woman of her short stature would have been able to lug Jude into a getaway vehicle and then into whatever the hell building this was.
Of course there could have been a team of people behind his abduction, but Jude didn’t think so.
There was something tickling at his memory.
Something he remembered just before he was assaulted and knocked out.
What the hell was it?
Jude closed his eyes.
He tried to relax his mind to go back to what happened this morning.
He’d been sitting on the bench at the Salem Willows watching the waves crash against the beach when he heard footsteps behind him.
Only one set of footsteps.
There was more to the memory, but it danced beyond the tips of his fingers, out of reach.
What he did remember was that the second drink last night had been handed to him by Jerry Dunkirk.
It had been cranberry juice with vodka.
It was Jude’s drink of choice on the night he and Jerry had hooked up for the first time.
It was definitely possible that his former lover drugged him.
Jude always made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything serious or long term.
Jerry hadn’t liked those terms, but had gone along with them.
After Jude had ended their association, Jerry had called him several times a day, begging for another chance, saying he could handle friends with benefits.
Jude knew he couldn’t.
He blocked Jerry’s number and had moved on to his next conquest.
He understood the idea of a former lover wanting to get back into his pants, or wanting some kind of revenge over being dumped, but their relationship ended over seven years ago.
If the kidnapper was Jerry, why now after so much time had elapsed?
Jude thought back to the beach.
There was something else lost in the back of his mind about what had happened to him.
He blew out a frustrated breath The memory would come back in time, Jude assured himself.
Unfortunately, he didn’t think he had a lot of it left.
He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to keep him down here for years.
No, Jude decided, whoever this was would torture him for a bit, then kill him.
Probably leave his body in an abandoned field or in the median strip of a highway.
Somewhere anonymous, but not impossible to find.
His body would be located one day when some public works guy needed to take a piss with no bathroom in sight and had pulled off the road to relieve himself.
That was Jude’s luck and after the way he’d treated Cope, what he deserved.
His eyes burned with unshed tears.
Jude prayed, promising that if he could just live, he’d mend all of his stupid ways, that he’d be a better husband, father, cop, and friend.
He would do just about anything to get out of this cage.
It didn’t matter if he ever found out who did this to him or why.
All he wanted to do was see his family again.
To hug Cope like there was no tomorrow, to build LEGOs with Wolfie and sing silly songs with Lizbet.
A loud screech interrupted Jude’s train of thought, and sent him jumping to his feet.
Light flooded his cell as a hooded figure stepped into the room.
He or she was holding a tray, which they set down in front of the bars to Jude’s cage.
“Dinner,”
the modulated voice said.
“The door is locked, asshole. How am I supposed to grab the food?”
Jude studied the tray. It contained a peanut butter sandwich, a small bag of chips and a bottle of water. He was so hungry and didn’t care what he had to do in order to eat.
“Ask and you shall receive.”
The kidnapper set the tray on the floor and edged it toward Jude with his foot, stopping several inches shy of the bars.
It was against Jude’s better judgement, but he reached through the bars. The tray was too far away. Getting down on his stomach, and stretching out his arm, Jude was able to get his fingertips on the tray and pulled it toward him. He quickly grabbed the food. “Who are you? Why are you doing this? Tell me what you want and you can have it. I have friends with money, name your price.”
Jude was pretty certain Jace or maybe the Salem Police Department would pay whatever ransom this maniac asked for.
“What I want can’t be bought and paid for. An eye for an eye, isn’t that what the good book said?”
Jude shivered. It was beyond creepy to hear this madman/woman quote scripture in that weird, modulated voice. What was more alarming was the quote they’d used. “An eye for an eye? Whose eye did I take? Please. Whatever it is you think I’ve done, let me make amends. Let me at least try!”
The kidnapper stood silently watching him.
“I want to go home to my family. Whatever I’ve done can be made right. I promise you. I have small kids who don’t deserve to grow up without their father.”
“Oh, you mean this family?”
The kidnapper stepped closer to the bars and pulled a piece of paper from the pouch of the black hoodie they wore. Turning it around, the image became clear.
Jude’s mouth dropped open in horror. It was a photograph of Everly, Wolf, Aurora, Lizbet and Ezra dressed for bed, sitting in front of the television on their sleeping bags. A still shot from Finding Nemo was displayed on the television screen. Lizbet pointed toward the orange and white clownfish. In his mind, Jude could hear her shout, “Meemo!”
“It would be a shame if they had to pay the price for your mistake, wouldn’t it?”
The kidnapper let the picture flutter to the floor where it landed right side up. They turned and walked back toward the open door. “A life for a life.”
With another ear-piercing screech, the door slammed shut and a bolt was shot home.
“A life for a life? What life? Whose life?”
Jude shouted to his empty cell. To the best of his knowledge, he hadn’t killed anyone, with the possible exception of his mother when he was born. He wasn’t responsible for killing Deacon Boudreaux, his cellmate had done that, but it could be said that Jude and Cope were the reasons he’d been in prison in the first place. The kidnapper hadn’t mentioned Cope at all. They’d only mentioned Jude.
Setting his food down on the bed, Jude went back to the front of the cage. Getting down on the floor, he stretched his right arm past the bars and was able to slowly drag the picture back toward him. Pain slashed through him. This freak had somehow been able to get a photo of their kids. A photo taken in his own living room. Jude felt chilled to the bone. Seeing his kids’ faces gave Jude the boost he needed to carry on.
Jude would die for his kids. If he said it once, he’d said it a hundred times, never once imagining the scenario actually playing out. It was obvious the freak who’d taken him had access to his family. If Jude dying was what it would take to keep his family safe, then he’d die ten times over.
What scared him more that the afterlife was the fact that this asshole had been inside his house, with his kids. Looking at the picture, Jude focused on Wolfie. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, instead of a pajama top. From the angle he was photographed, Jude could see a number three and the letters “ORT.”
Jude knew at once Wolf was wearing his new David Ortiz shirt. Lizbet was dressed in her panda bear pajamas.
Wolf had gotten the shirt for Christmas and he’d been wearing it earlier that morning when he’d gotten out of bed. Same for Lizbet with the pajamas being a gift from Ten and Ronan. The picture he was holding in his hands was from last night. Jude bellowed at the top of his lungs. His kids and Cope were in danger and there was no way to warn them.
If Cope didn’t figure out who “an eye for an eye”
referred to, he was never going to make it home to his family.