4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Melanie
“Open it,” several of the girls urged.
“He said for my eyes only.” Something about the man's intensity makes me hesitate to open it in front of everyone.
“Oh, come on,” Connie nudges me. “You're not really listening to the grunter?”
“Well,” I flip the box over, “he did say whoever sent it doesn't want it shared.”
“OH!” Ruthie squeals from the makeup chair, clapping. “What if it's boudoir photos? You know, the ones everyone posts about on social media.” She claps again. “Even better, what if Cameron booked a couple's photo session for your honeymoon and this is what he wants you to wear?”
“Why would he care if we see what she's wearing? We've all seen each other naked. We've changed in front of each other forever.” Connie hasn't taken her eyes off the box.
Debbie's gaze shifts from box to Ruthie. “Unless it's what Cameron's wearing, and he doesn't want his brothers to know.”
The three of us exchange knowing grins, imagining exactly what the older brothers would do to Cameron with that information.
“On second thought, better not show us.” Debbie steps back, crossing her arms. “I don't want to be the one who spills.”
“Would you?” I look at her, shocked.
“Listen, Colton is a god with his tongue. He once got me to admit all my credit card debt, even the hidden charges. I mean, lucky for me that he's always nosy and knows what buttons to push to get me to tell, if you know what I mean. I know he's going to ask what all of us talked about. That man...” She blows out a breath. “The way he flicks that damn thing, it's like it's double-jointed or something. I'm putty.” She shivers. “Nope, don't show me. If I don't know, I can't tell.”
“Count me out too.” Connie moves to stand next to Debbie. “Carson's exactly the same. Hates surprises and knows how to get me to spill it. Every year, he spends time with that tongue and I spoil every single Christmas present. No matter how hard I try, I end up a babbling mess. Happy, but a mess.” Connie crosses her arms. “You're right, it's that flicking. I tell him everything. And I'm sure Carson will want to know about today, too. They can't handle not knowing.”
“Damn.” I look at the two of them. “Cameron's got the same tongue talent. Where the hell did the three brothers learn how to do that movement?”
We burst out laughing. “Lucky Mom,” I say between giggles. My phone rings and I see my aunt's number. “Hi, hold on a second,” I tell her, standing. “It's my aunt. I'll take it in the dressing room.”
Everyone smiles, knowing how important they are to me. “No crying,” the makeup artist calls after me.
“Hi, are you alright?” I close the door. “It's not ceremony time yet.” Looking at my phone, I see the call has ended. I try calling back but get no answer. She must have been practicing technology and my aunt are barely acquaintances.
I sit on the bench and study the box. Glancing at the door, I pull at the tape. It comes away easier than expected. Inside, beneath lavender packing peanuts, I find an old flip phone with a bright green post-it note: “Answer Me When I Ring.”
My sweet Cameron, knowing I'd be sad about Mom and aunt, setting up a mystery to distract me. He knows how much I love a good mystery.
The phone rings, startling me. I fumble it open, playfully saluting. “Agent I. Lika B. OnaTop reporting in.”
A male groan responds - not Cameron's voice at all. “Believe me, I know.”
Instantly embarrassed, I stammered, “Oh, shit, I thought you were my fiancé. Please forgive me.”
Another groan. “God, I love it when women beg.”
Ice slides down my spine. “Who is this?”
“Listen very, very carefully,” the voice says, dripping with menace. “First, know that I can see everything you do. Second, and most importantly, I'm not a man to be disobeyed. If you don't do exactly as I instruct, there will be serious repercussions.”
I force a laugh. “Okay, ha ha, very funny guys. I'm laughing, okay? I have to go get ready now.”
“You're sitting on the bench against the blue and gold wallpapered wall.” His voice turns clinical, precise. “That white silk robe becomes you. Personally, I prefer black, but I can work with the white purity thing too. The open box is on your right side, phone box on your left.” A pause that makes my skin crawl. “I thought you were going to wear your hair up. Did naughty Cameron leave a mark yesterday when he fucked you in the shower?”
My stomach lurches. “How - WHO IS THIS?”
“Melanie, you know who this is. Now listen, sweetie, we're on a time crunch and your questions are delaying what needs to happen. So be a good bunny and be quiet and listen.”
“Listen? I don't think this is funny-”
“Oh, it's not meant to be funny. Not at all. This is business. Now, Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” The growl in his voice makes my hands shake.
“I don't know who you are or what you want, but I won't be spoken to-”
“SIT. DOWN. Melanie.” His tone shifts to something worse, anticipation. “Tell me, does your mother swim?”
My blood turns to ice. “What?”
“Do you think your mother remembers how to swim? Because if you don't start fucking doing as I say, we're going to find out when I toss her and your aunt overboard. NOW SIT DOWN!”
Something in that voice tugs at recognition. My heart pounds as I sink back onto the bench.
“Good girl, see, you can listen.”
“Why hello there?” My aunt's voice suddenly emanates from the box. I flip it over, sending packing peanuts flying as an iPad slides out. My breath catches in my throat at the scene on screen. My aunt sits at their kitchen table, a desk phone before her. “It's so nice of you to come make sure we'll be able to see my niece's wedding on the big TV,” she says to someone off-camera. My whole body goes cold.
An enormous man enters the frame, at least six-foot-five of solid muscle. His white tank top strains across his chest, sky-blue coveralls tied at his waist. A skull tattoo covers his bald head. My mom shuffles beside him, her small hand looped through his massive arm, completely vulnerable.
NO! I jump up and look around the room. I must help them.
“Melanie, sit down and we'll talk.” The calmness of his voice causes me to look at the iPad again.
“Who - who is that?” My voice comes out as a whisper.
“He works for me and he's very good at his job, extremely clean.” The voice savors each word. “Let's just say he has a particular set of talents.”
After settling Mom in her chair, the man turns his own chair around, straddling it across from the women. He dwarfs them both.
“Would you like a coffee?” my aunt asks brightly. When he nods, she hurries off the screen. She has no idea she's serving coffee to her potential murderer.
“What's happening? I don't understand.” The words feel thick in my mouth.
“Put down the iPad,” the voice orders. I comply, but keep it visible.
“Here's what's going to happen - you are not getting married today.”
“I'm what? Of course I'm getting married.” Hysteria edges into my voice.
“No, Melanie, you're not. You're going to do exactly what I tell you.” The hatred dripping from his words chills me to the bone. “Now, sit down.”
I remain standing, trembling. I see my phone and make a grab for it.
“Fine, if you're going to call my bluff.” The voice sneers.
I spin to the iPad to see the man on the screen touch his ear. “I own a nice speedboat, docked right down the road. Maybe you ladies would like a ride?” the man sips his coffee and gives a slight nod. “I bet you'd like to go out on the water.”
“No!” I whisper.
“Sit down, Melanie.”
“Oh, it's been so long since we've been on a boat. Wouldn't that be fun, dear?” my aunt says brightly. Mom just smiles vacantly, clutching her stuffed giraffe. “I think, one of these days, we'll take you up on that offer.”
My heart shatters.
“MELANIE! Unless you want them to go swimming, PLANT YOUR ASS!” The phone voice's bellow makes me jump and drop it. I scramble to retrieve the phone and mine with trembling fingers.
“I'm calling the police.”
“Oh, I don't think so. I can have those sweet old ladies loaded and gone before you dial the first number. Did I fail to mention I have your phone bugged?”
A doorbell rings on the iPad. “They're with me,” the skull-tattooed man tells my aunt as she opens the door to two more massive thugs.
Oh God. “Their in-nocent, p-please don't, please don't hurt them.” My voice gives away my inner panic and fear.
My aunt brings coffees for the new guys as they pull out chairs and sit around the table. Mom hands her giraffe to the nearest one and begins coloring. I close my eyes.
Fighting for composure, I whisper, “What are you going to do to them?”
“I'm curious - do you think Mommy can swim back to shore from ten miles out?” His voice turns contemplative, almost dreamy. “Personally, I doubt it - not with her condition. Would she even understand she's drowning? And your aunt? Goodness, those health problems of hers. She definitely won't make it. But it might be entertaining to watch them try. I'll make sure the guys put cameras on them so we can watch together. Should I make the popcorn or do you want to?”
“I-” Words fail me as bile rises in my throat.
“Sit down.” When I don't move - “SIT. THE. EVER. LOVING. FUCK. DOWN. NOW. Next thing I say is 'let's go swimming.'“
I sink to the bench, bile burning my throat as my reality crumbles.
“Good. See, that wasn't hard. Take out the envelope marked number one and open it.”
That voice... I know it. The realization hits like a physical blow. My stomach heaves. It can't be.
“Michael?”
“Ah, you've finally figured it out. Good job, little bunny. Yes, Melanie, it's me.” The satisfaction in his voice makes my skin crawl.
“Michael, what are you doing? I'm not playing this game. This isn't funny.”
“Oh dear, it's not meant to be funny,” he says with a chilling calm. “You're a very serious business transaction, worth a lot of money. And as you know, I never mess around with money.”
“I don't understand.”
He sighs like a teacher who's explained the same problem seven times. “It's quite simple. Nod your head to show me you're listening. Good, now, if you come down in your dress, you'll force me to have my guys load those lovely ladies into the boat, drive them ten miles offshore and toss them over. You'll also force me to send my men to collect you on your honeymoon. Do you think you can put up much of a fight against the gentleman who delivered the box? Who, by the way, is downstairs as backup, waiting for orders.”
Tears well up as I start to protest, but catch myself covering my mouth. I can't stop my hand from trembling. Remembering he can see me, my eyes search frantically for cameras, checking the iPad repeatedly. The men are still sitting with Mom and my aunt.
“Darling, the camera's too small to find. Now, nod if I may continue.”
I nod slowly, my neck stiff with fear.
“Thank you. As I was saying - you are NOT getting married today. You're leaving as soon as we finish talking.”
“But-” He cuts me off.
“Did you interrupt me?” He pauses, voice dropping dangerously. “Let me be clear. You're not only leaving; you'll never contact the Whitaker family again. I have all their phones bugged, even Connie and Debbie's. I record everything. If you call, I'll know.”
“I can't-”
“SHUT UP!” Michael screams. “It's not that DAMN HARD, Melanie! I knew I should have just had the guys take you.” Something shatters in the background.
My hands tremble harder as I struggle to think. I swallow and it hurts.
“But they'll wonder-”
“Watch your tablet.”
The kitchen phone rings. My aunt answers and the man next to her enables the speakerphone.
“Why hello there? This is Michael calling. How are you two?”
I stumble as his cheerful, sunny voice comes through both devices.
“Michael, aren't you sweet sending these men to make sure we can watch the wedding? I thought it was all set up when you visited.”
How does he know where they live? He's never been there. Tears stream down my face, thinking of him in their house. Touching my mom, hugging my aunt.
“I told you I wouldn't let you miss it. So, I sent my men as backup. They're there to make sure things go off,” he paused, “swimmingly.”
“Aww, aren't you the best! I'm so grateful you're such a good friend to Melanie,” my aunt says. “Such a sweet man.”
“Sweet man,” mom says, taking the giraffe back.
“Thank you again. She just loves the giraffe you gave her. And that dinner, my, it's been ages since we had Chinese takeout.”
Bile rises. Mom hugs the giraffe. I feel like I'm going to be sick.
“My pleasure. I enjoyed it myself. Just called to ensure you're being taken care of.”
“Michael, dear, when you're down here again, you must visit. You're always welcome. Please give Cameron and Melanie a hug from us.”
I taste copper as I bite my lip.
“Thank you. It will be awhile before I see Melanie, but rest assured, I'll be sure to share your love with her. Take care.” Michael ends the call, laughing. “Such a nice lady. It will almost be a shame to see her splashing around.”
A knock interrupts. “Not a word,” Michael warns in a tone that I know he's not kidding.
“Melanie, the photographer, will be here in an hour.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.” My voice shakes.
“You alright? Heard voices.”
“Yes, just talking to Mom and my aunt. I need a bit.”
“Sure, honey.” I hear her tell everyone I want privacy with Mom.
“Well played,” Michael purrs. “Now, the envelope.”
With trembling hands, I pull out the Whispering Pines News, our local newspaper. I have to read the headline twice for it to make sense and settle in: “Local Whitaker Doctors Charged with Sexual Harassment.” A photo shows Charlie, Carson, and Colton outside the hospital. The article details accusations against them, including claims they assaulted anesthetized patients. Sometimes together. There's a mention of several underage girls. The feeling of throwing up returns.
“That's not true. You know it isn't.”
“Look at the date.”
“Tomorrow?” My throat closes as I tightly press my lips together.
“You look so fucking hot doing that,” Michael growls. “Amazing what owning a newspaper can accomplish. Did I mention I bought it? And its fascinating what people will lie about for money. A measly few thousand erases morals. Shit, a mere ten thousand in cash buys sworn testimony.”
Of course, he could buy people - he has more money than some countries.
“Take out the next one.”
I open it, then close my eyes against the horror.
“Read it. Out loud.”
“I can't.”
“READ. IT!”
My voice barely whispers: “Charges of Embezzlement filed against Evelyn Whitaker. Treasurer accused of stealing from women's church league and library. Sources say Mrs. Whitaker has a hidden severe gambling habit, owes over hundred thousand to charitable organizations she's been a part of.” The article below it is entitled, “The Shattering of the Glass Ceiling, One Family's Fall.” And there's a picture of all of us, the Whitaker family, taken at the last Fourth of July picnic.
“Date?”
“Day after tomorrow,” I choke out.
“Another example of money's power. One more.”
The last paper makes me gasp. Tears blur my vision as I stare at bodies under sheets. I recognize the location, the Whitaker basement.
“Read it. Date first.”
“T-two days from n-now.”
“READ IT.”
“Suicide Pact: Four Found Dead in Local Basement.” My voice breaks.
“Read on.”
I can't speak.
“Melanie. READ ON! OR ELSE.”
Through tears: “Found d-dead in ap-parent su-suicide pact were Charlie and Evelyn Wh-Wh-Whitaker and their sons Carson and Colton. Note confessed to all allegations saying they were glad the truth was finally known. They also begged privacy for widows and children. The Whitaker's youngest son, Cameron, was unavailable for comment.”
“Melanie, listen carefully. If you marry Cameron today, ALL this happens. Your mom and aunt die. The precious Whitaker name gets destroyed before they die. All because of you. It's all your fault.” Each word falls like a hammer.
“How can you? Cameron's your friend.”
“Cameron's a tool, nothing more than a cover. His perfect family, perfect home, now perfect fiancée.” Michael's voice drips venom. “Long ago I learned my supposed best friend would lie for me, do anything for me. So, I used him. He's just a pawn. What I need is you. My business comes first, always has. You are what they want.”
“Who's they?”
“Never mind. You'll learn soon enough. Now-”
“I don't think you can kill them.”
“Oh, I certainly could. Their house is wired with explosives - has been for weeks. I could send it sky high anytime. I know you recognized the basement in the photo. Call it foreshadowing, it will be nothing to position the Whitakers in the same way. Now, Melanie, time's up. What's your choice? Go through with the wedding and everyone dies, or save them by leaving?”
My mind races uselessly, searching for an escape where everyone lives.
“OH, I almost forgot. Even though they want you, I've decided I deserve some fun, too. And because this is for me, nothing gets me harder than a chase. God, I love the sex after the conquest. Fuck, I might blow my load right now just thinking of it. But I won't, because I want to see your scared face as you run. Watch it as I pile-drive myself into someone else. Anyway, I'm giving you the chance to run and hide like a scared bunny. Don't worry, you won't stay hidden for long. I'll find you. We have a tight timeline, but we have time for a little fun. Plus, it gives you some time to stretch your muscles before you go to the warehouse.”
My stomach dropped as the clarity of what he was after came to light. “Warehouse?”
“Yes, think of it as your new home away from home. I do.”
“You want me to run and hide from you?”
“Exactly. Now we're pressed for time. What's your choice? Need more motivation? Check your tablet.”
The three men loom over Mom and Aunt. They're so helpless.
“A good chase needs rules,” Michael continues. “Keep this phone always. Answer every call. Contact anyone but me, I print the papers and start the ball rolling. They'll be dead within four days.” His voice turns giddy. “Remember, I have all their phones bugged. I'll end any call, stop any text if I need to. Now, take everything and go. Closet has a small door. Through it, downstairs. Once you reach your car, our game begins.”
I stand frozen, torn between calling his bluff and running.
“What's your choice? You do realize your mom and aunt will die first before you even get the words out of your mouth.”
“No. Please.” I beg.
“Oh baby, you're making me stiffen up with that begging. Keep it up and I'll shorten the chase time.”
I can't think past the terror. “If I go, will they live?”
“Yes.”
I looked around the room.
“Remember,” Michael said, “leave, and this all goes away with you. Stay and everyone you love dies - and I'll still get you. Your choice. Clock's ticking.”
I stare numbly at the evidence of his power.
“Melanie. Leave now or my men move in.”
On the tablet, one man touches his ear, nudges the others. All three stand.
“NO!”
“What's it going to be?”
I have to leave. I can't think. I can't fight this, not here, not now. With shaking hands, I throw everything in the box - papers, phone, tablet. Add my purse and coat.
“Through the closet. Hallway to main floor. Bottom, right, exit door? You'll come out near your car. My man is watching. GO NOW!”
Looking back at my wedding dress one final time, I duck through the small door into darkness. I almost pee when I bump into Mr. Daggers. Michael wasn't going to let me go. That thought lands on me like a ton of bricks. I stumble and go down on one knee. The man easily picks me up with one hand, gives me a small flashlight, and points. I swear I can hear my world shattering behind me.