Chapter 47
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Evie
Iam the human embodiment of rage.
I have never felt such utter fury with a person, not even Trevor.
Watching Katrina talk to Charlie like she’s a doting grandmother and not a crazy person kidnapping two people sends anger burning so hot through me, I’m surprised I haven’t lit on fire.
Following duct-taping my hands and feet in her car after marching me into the garage where she’d parked, she ended up slapping a piece over my mouth when I kept asking her what she was doing.
I tried kicking out the corner of the trunk while I bounced around in the dark, but with my feet taped together and my hands behind me, I was immobilized.
I’m angry with myself for letting any of this happen, but she had a gun and she quickly shifted from pointing it at me to pointing it at Charlie. The sight of her holding my son in one arm and the weapon in her other was enough to make me comply immediately.
Who does that? What kind of person threatens a baby with a gun?
This is exactly why I’ve done as she said. She was horrible to me when I was with Trevor, but she wasn’t crazy. I think she may actually have had some kind of psychotic break if she’s willing to kidnap me and Charlie at gunpoint.
There’s also the realization that she’s seen Charlie. At one point, she said, “It’s so good to see you. I told you and that doctor I’d see you again soon, didn’t I?”
Now we’re in a tiny cabin a ways out of town.
There’s a small cot in the corner and a hot plate.
It’s some kind of hunting cabin, and I can’t imagine she’s been living here, though she clearly knows the space.
She sets Charlie down on a small, dusty carpet, then shoves me to the ground and rips the duct tape from my mouth.
A potent sting along my cheeks and lips makes my eyes water.
“Oh, yes. Poor little Evie.” She groans. “I have no sympathy for you, you stupid bitch. You’re the worst kind of human being and this is only what you deserve.”
“What do you want?”
She turns around from the table holding a large bottle of vodka. “Me? I want you to pay for what you’ve done.”
“What is it that I’ve done?”
Her chin juts out and the sneer on her face is nothing short of terrifying. “You came into our lives, seduced my boy, and then ruined our lives. You got him sent to jail, you—”
“He kidnapped me! He kidnapped a celebrity! After beating me and abusing me for months while I was pregnant. He—”
She backhands me so hard and fast, I never could’ve seen it coming. My jaw and teeth instantly ache. I can’t press a hand to my cheek to feel it, but Charlie knows something’s wrong and he starts crying, moving toward me.
I can’t reach for him. It strips away all the pain and highlights the utter agony of not being able to protect my child.
“He messed up. But I’ve got a second shot with Charlie here.
So you’re going to drink this vodka. And then you’re going to get in that car, and drive it off the road like a good little girl.
I don’t even care if you survive it, because once the judge hears you’ve been drinking and driving, he’ll agree we’ve got to reopen the case.
But this time, I’ll file, and I’ll win.”
This can’t be real. She can’t possibly think it’ll work, can she?
But reality has no place here for her because she grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back. “Open your mouth.”
I keep my lips firmly shut.
“Open your lying little mouth, or I will knock out your teeth.” She holds up the butt of the bottle, and I see in her eyes she would love to do it, so I open.
She instantly dumps vodka into my mouth. It burns my tongue and throat. I try to keep from swallowing it, but she just keeps pouring. I’m spitting it out, thrashing away from her, choking, and now Charlie’s wails are increasing.
“Fine!” She yells this so loud, Charlie’s cries stop for a moment. She scrubs something rough across my face, then covers my mouth with duct tape again.
Then she grabs my arm and moves me so I’m face down.
“Stay there. We’ll do this another way.”
She takes Charlie and I mentally follow the sounds of him crying outside. A car door opens, then shuts, and the sound is mute enough, she must’ve put my son in the car.
I brace for the sound of the engine, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, she reenters the cabin and hauls me up off the floor.
I have no reason to fight her at this point because I want her to take me to where Charlie is.
I see the car and can hear he’s still crying as we approach it.
She yanks open the driver’s side door and shoves me in, cracking my head on the vehicle as I drop into the seat.
She disappears, and I pull and pull and pull on the tab, but I make no progress. I can hardly move my arms because of how she’s taped them behind me. Does she really think law enforcement is going to believe I did this to myself?
Then she’s back, gun in one hand, bottle in the other. My mouth’s still covered, but I brace for when she’ll rip the tape off again since she’s evidently proceeding with her plan.
“Now. You’re going to drink this, or I will shoot your precious son. You will not fight me or try to be anything other than the simple little slut you are and do as you’re told. And when—”
“Pine County Sheriff, place the weapon on the ground and put your hands up.”
Katrina’s whole body jolts and I watch her hand, begging her to stay steady enough she doesn’t accidentally pull the trigger. Her eyes blow wide, then she juts out her chin and her whole demeanor hardens.
“Katrina Trundle, place the weapon on the ground and put your hands up.”
I could cry with relief at hearing Grant’s voice, but I’m too terrified by Katrina’s hesitancy. She’s not doing anything but standing there.
She whips around, dropping the vodka bottle and aiming the gun at me while she yells. “Are you going to shoot me? Is that it? Shoot me because I’m trying to make things right? Making sure this whore doesn’t ruin someone else?”
Charlie’s crying, my heart is shredded, and I still can’t do anything. I can’t move myself, can’t scream, can’t beg her to put the gun down and end all of this.
She scrambles to me and pulls me out of the car. I trip on my feet, but she yanks me upright and holds me in front of her. She was always fit, but the way she’s manhandling me seems impossible.
I’ve never thought about what it’d be like to be used as a human shield, but here I am. She’s got one hand around my waist and the other presses the muzzle of the gun into my temple.
Grant is shouting. Another voice comes in. Another. Sirens roar in the distance.
And then, my entire world shatters when I hear someone say, “Katrina, please. I beg of you. Let my wife go. Let Charlie go.”
I thrash around until I finally set eyes on him. Emerging from the far side of the cabin, he walks toward us with hands raised. Grant and someone else are yelling at him, but he doesn’t stop.
There’s my husband approaching slow and steady, and I discover a new level of fear is possible.