Chapter 3
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The past several days had been a nightmare, but the last two were the hardest of her life.
Tricia had done everything she could to keep her temper, to appear meek and mild.
That act had been so very hard for her, but she wanted to live through this nightmare.
She knew that he’d occasionally caught sight of the fire in the back of her gaze, and he loved it.
The other men had called him Rick. They were all scary, but Rick was the worst of them. Whenever he saw defiance in her gaze from the very first day, he was on her.
Usually, if it came to that, she would feel his belt.
Honest to God, her back burned with the fire of the multiple lashes.
The more pain response he got from Tricia, the more horror he saw in her, the more Rick liked it.
The more fear she showed, the more he loved to hit her.
And he hit her hard. So she tried hard to contain her pain response.
She was making coffee right now, hopefully the way he liked it, because, if it wasn’t, she would pay the price for that too. It was just so hard now that it was down to the two of them.
She kept glancing around, looking for something she could use as a weapon, and, so far, the only thing she had would be the hot coffee in the pot. But even that seemed lame, considering the scars she’d seen on his arms and hands. This man had fought through pain before.
He never let her near knives and only gave her access to a butter knife. Still, that would do if it was all she had. But it wouldn’t do her any good if she wasn’t able to get a good, solid stab in to stop him.
No way she was getting a decent shot at stopping Rick with what she had.
Besides, he could make her pay in ways that she couldn’t even imagine.
So far, he hadn’t made any sexual overtures, and she was damn sure that was more about the boss’s orders.
Rick had answered a couple phone calls since they arrived at this abandoned hut, and they always made him angry, so very angry.
She saw him hit a wall after he got off the call one time.
After that, she tried her hardest to avoid any contact with him.
In the meantime, she just kept to herself, curling up in a ball in the corner.
She had a blanket on the hard floor, and that’s all she got, and that’s all she would ever get, as far as Rick was concerned.
He’d given her a dry crust of bread and a half-eaten apple so far today.
She expected that much because yesterday, anything he didn’t want, he tossed her way.
She had no choice, knowing that she needed to eat to maintain the strength to keep going.
Anything less would be a defeat, and she wouldn’t let him see that.
She wouldn’t let him know that he could beat her.
She had to hold strong; she had to believe somebody out there was looking for her.
Her father was a cold man, but he wouldn’t let her be slaughtered like a pig, if for no other reason than it would make him look bad.
The big boss of this kidnapping scheme wanted something from her father, which meant she had time.
It would take them a while longer to realize how much she was worth, hidden in trusts within trusts.
Turning her attention to the coffee, she poured the water into the back of the coffeemaker, catching sight of movement outside. It could be an animal, or it could be something else.
She didn’t get a good look, but it was enough to get her attention. Something or someone moved around freely outside. Rick sat back in his chair, the only chair in the hut, checking something on his phone, doing nothing as usual. She carefully looked out the window, then risked another look.
She thought she saw a hand gripping the wall outside.
She stiffened but started the coffee and turned around to look at her captor.
Even if the other guys had called him Rick, it could be a fake name.
He for sure hadn’t told her his name, so she couldn’t confirm his identity.
Before that, the only thing to identify him was the scars on his hands and that double chin of his.
So that’s what she had called him in her mind.
He had this extra thick neck, once muscle, like a bodybuilder gone wrong.
Like somebody who had used drugs to get there but had then gone to seed.
Now he just had these massive rolls on his neck.
He was Double Chin to her, until one of his buddies let his name slip.
“What are you looking at?” He turned to her, glaring.
She pointed behind her. “I was just waiting for the coffee to be done, so I could pour you a cup.” He grunted at that and returned his gaze to his phone.
Then she heard a scrape, ever-so-slight.
Luckily Double Chin was busy on his phone, while it made chirping sounds. Then he muttered and spoke to his phone, “Stupid fuckers.”
She couldn’t imagine what he was spending his time on. Seemed to be social media. Some godforsaken thing had its effect on him. All fine and dandy as long as it shifted his damn focus away from her.
Then she heard it again, a gentle scrape.
Not much, yet just enough. Right after that, birds started singing outside, which she hoped would cover any future noises.
She heard the coffee stop dripping behind her.
She turned and waited another moment. She grabbed Double Chin’s cup, rinsed it out with a little bit of water here for washing dishes, and poured him a cup.
She carried it to him and put it on the table. He shot her a look and kicked the table lightly. “Get back in your fucking corner.”
She retreated to her mat on the floor. Curling up, she placed her head on her knees.
She couldn’t stop that sense of anticipation though, that sense that something was about to blow into her world.
She could only hope that, for once in the last week, it would finally be something good.
She so very desperately needed something.
Like a rescue. Or at least an opportunity to run.
Just then her captor’s phone rang.
But instead of answering it, he looked down at it. Then started typing. He was probably sending a reply text. Then he turned, a sly look on his face as he punched the air. “Yes, now you’ll get it.”
When the door exploded open, the look of shock on his face made her want to laugh. She also wanted to scream. She didn’t recognize the man bolting through the door, nor the second one coming in through the back. Both had masks on their faces.
Double Chin bolted to the side table, but, before he reached the gun there, a bullet blasted through his forehead.
At that point, Tricia started screaming, and she couldn’t stop.
*
Rubin walked over, dropped down in front of her, and pulled the mask off his face. “Hey, take it easy. It’s okay.”
Her screams turned to sobs as she stared at him.
“We’re here to rescue you. You’re Tricia, right?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes,” she whispered. “Tricia Forman.”
“Senator Forman’s daughter?”
She closed her eyes, shedding tears of relief, blocking the horror of what was visible behind him, all overwhelming her. Taking a breath, she nodded and opened her eyes. “Yes, yes. Senator Henry Forman, my father.” At that point, she couldn’t help herself and started to cry again.
He held her for a brief second and then asked, “Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention?” She shook her head and attempted to get to her feet. “Do you need help to get up?”
“No.” She shivered. “No, I’m okay. I haven’t had much food or water for the last few days. I’m beat up some but okay.”
“Your back is bleeding. Let me have a look.”
Slowly she turned her back to him. He lifted her T-shirt and swore. She nodded. “Yeah, well, I don’t know how ugly it looks, but I can tell you how it feels.”
“We’ll get that treated.” He turned her around and asked, “Do you have any other clothes?”
She shook her head. “No, this is it.” She looked down at her grimy shorts and T-shirt.
“It’s what I was wearing when they took me.
” She glanced down dispassionately at her feet and sighed.
“I could really use a pair of socks or something. I only had sneakers and lost one of them somewhere along the line. My feet are raw.”
*
He was surprised to see her so in control. And yet he knew that she was in shock and that it would take some time for the reality to set in. “We can find something for you. Let’s get you out of here.”
“Oh, absolutely,” she whispered. “Thank God.” He motioned her outside, but she froze, looking around the room until her gaze landed on Rick and the blood pooled around him.
“What’s the matter?” Rubin asked.
She looked back at him and nodded. “Check his phone. It rang just before you came in.”
Rubin nodded. The now-dead man matched the photo they had gotten at the train station cams. Rubin picked up the dead man’s phone, hoping for a better ID.
It was locked, so using the dead man’s thumb, he unlocked it and checked the call logs, then went through the texts that came in right afterward.
Last text was a brief one. She’ll get it now. He showed Tricia that text.
She nodded. “He repeated it out loud. I don’t know what that means.”
“Good news or bad news?” Oakley asked, coming up behind Rubin, pulling off his mask.
“Perfect timing.”
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Oakley noted, then headed outside.
Rubin nodded grimly, then searched the dead man for ID. Nothing was on him. Rubin pocketed the man’s phone, as Oakley came back.
“I’ve searched everywhere. Nothing is here.” He glanced over at her and then back at Rubin. “She okay?”
“Sure,” Tricia replied, “and seeing that she is right here, you can ask me that question.” Her nostrils flared with her anger.
Oakley suppressed his smile.
“And thank you, by the way,” she added.
He smiled back at her and, with a nod, glanced at Rubin. “We need to go.”
“I agree.” He tossed him the dead man’s phone. “He got a communication here just as we came in.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Just one text, saying that she would get it now.”
“So, we need to know what the hell’s going on.” Oakley looked back at her and asked, “Can you walk?”
She nodded and headed to the door, but her footsteps were slow and hobbled.
Rubin realized that she’d been barefoot on God-only-knows what surfaces. She winced with every step. He scooped her up, getting a shriek because he hadn’t warned her. “Sorry, no time to waste. We’ve got to go.” He carried her outside.
When she saw no vehicle, she asked, “Where the hell did you guys come from?”
Rubin replied, “We’re not that far away, but it’s a mile cross-country.” She swore at that, and he nodded. “That’s why I’m carrying you.”
“Yeah, but you won’t be carrying me the whole way,” she said.
“We’ll see. First things first, we need to leave, … like yesterday.” He broke into a run up and down with every step. Her back wouldn’t take this for long.
“Damn,” she whispered. When he stopped for a minute to catch his breath, she asked, “Could we try it with me on your back?”
He glanced at her and nodded. “Would that be easier?”
“For my back, yes,” she agreed.
He put her on her feet for a minute, glancing at his bloodied arm and wincing. Not his blood. “Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault. But, holy Hannah, my back hurts.”
Quickly he crouched in front of her. She climbed onto his back and looped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips.
“Better?” he asked.
“Hopefully for a little bit anyway,” she muttered.
He picked up the pace again.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “This is much better.”
He nodded. “We’ll do it as long as we can. But at some point—”
“I know,” she said, her voice raw. “I know. Eventually I’ll have to walk.”
He laughed and replied, “You call it.”
“No, you call it. As soon as you need me to get down, I will.”
“We’ll keep heading to the vehicle. Then grab some socks and get them on your feet. Then you can try walking.”
“I can walk now. And I need to move to get used to it.”
“Soon then, to the vehicle first.” Rubin focused on the narrow trail because one misstep would have them flying down a ravine; not what they needed right now.