Chapter 28
Jessica
Russ Decker finishes tying my hands behind my back and to a kitchen chair he’s put in the center of the small hunting cabin deep in the woods where he’s brought me.
I put my fear and pain aside to assess my situation.
Charlie is coming. I know it.
I can feel it like the steady beat of a drum in my chest.
All I need to do is stay alive until he finds me.
Russ rips off his sports jacket and tosses it on the couch before turning on the lamp and sitting down. “I need to think,” he barks out.
I don’t respond. I don’t even think he’s talking to me.
And I need to think too.
I need to use my skills and training to determine my options.
I have no idea where I am, but we are far from civilization.
My ribs are bruised at best, broken at worst. Even if I could find a way to free myself, I can’t run fast enough to lose him. Which is too bad, because healthy, I could take him. The guy is still huffing and puffing from the effort it took to get me inside the cabin.
But in my current state, escape on foot isn’t an option.
I’m not going to be able to overpower him.
I’m not going to be able to MacGyver my way out of this since he’s put me in the center of the room, far away from any object that could help me.
That leaves only one option.
My brains.
But he’s not calm enough yet. He’s still jumpy and agitated.
So instead, I survey my surroundings, wanting to capture every detail in case an unexpected opportunity comes my way.
Unfortunately, there’s not much to see.
The wooden cabin is small, utilitarian, and doesn’t belong to Russ Decker, considering he broke in using a fist and a rolled-up jacket to break the glass to gain entry.
It has a large window under the rickety, scuffed leather couch where Russ is sitting and another smaller window over the sink in the kitchenette.
There’s a twin bed, a small bathroom, and a fireplace with antlers over the mantel.
There’s also a trap door under the chair I’m sitting in that I assume leads to a root cellar or crawl space.
Charlie’s voice whispers to me in the back of my mind, his smooth, slightly Southern tones telling me to be smart. To stay calm. Promising me that he’s coming.
Maybe it’s a delusion, but it steadies me and helps me focus.
Decker scrubs his hand over his partially bald head, leaving his thinning hair askew and giving him a maniacal look.
I clear my dry throat and try for something innocuous. “Can I use the bathroom?”
His beady brown eyes skitter to me. “I’m not fucking stupid, bitch.”
“Why so aggressive?” I shift in the uncomfortable chair. “Where can I run to? I’m tied up, my ribs are broken, and I’ve probably got a concussion.”
I make my injuries as dramatic as possible.
He scowls. “Piss on the floor. I don’t care.”
All right, then. That’s not going to work.
But something will; I can feel it. I’m good at this. I’m trained to get people to answer questions. I can get him to talk if I find the right key.
I soften my voice and go in a different direction. “Listen, Russ, I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Let me help you figure out what to do next.”
“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to find something that will.” His voice is laced with agitation.
I keep my tone low and soothing. “Just hear me out. I can help you.”
“You’re a lawyer trying to trap me.”
“I’m not going to pretend I’m not motivated to live, but you have the same motivation, don’t you? Don’t you want to survive the night? That’s the question you need to be asking yourself. You didn’t plan this, but now you’ve set it in motion, and there are going to be consequences.”
Decker looks past me, scowling.
When he remains silent, I take that as a sign to continue.
“Be smart about this. I don’t know what happened with Congressman Crenshaw and Hazel Myers, but right now, you’re looking at attempted murder and kidnapping.
If you kill me, you’ll be dead or spend the rest of your life in prison, and, in case you’re not aware, Illinois doesn’t have parole.
If you’re lucky, you’ll be old and gray before you see the light of day. ”
I let the silence hang, and when it gets too uncomfortable for him, his gaze skids to mine.
I speak with cold seriousness. “If you kill me, Charlie will have nothing to lose. And I promise, the last thing you’ll think is that you should have listened to me.”
He doesn’t speak but he’s paying attention, so I continue, “Here’s the thing, Russ.
The consequence of panicking is you eliminate a lot of options.
Now you’re down to three. Take me with you, kill me, or leave me and run for your life.
That’s it. Those are the only three choices you have. And you’re running out of time.”
“This is all Crenshaw’s fault! If he’d followed the plan, I wouldn’t be in this mess!” Decker yells.
Maybe he is ready to spill his secrets. “What went wrong? I can help you. I know people. If you tell me what happened, maybe there will be a light at the end of the tunnel.”
He jumps up from the couch then stops in front of me with his hands curled into fists. “Do you think I’m so stupid I’m going to confess like some movie villain?”
I instinctively shrink back. “No! Okay. I won’t ask you again. Just don’t hurt me.”
His clenched hands flex. “Leave it.”
“You don’t want to talk about that, fair. But it doesn’t change anything. Of your remaining choices, your best chance at survival is to leave me. All I’m asking is for you to think about it.”
His expression flashes with fear. He begins pacing the faded wooden floor. “Stop trying to confuse me.”
My own heart leaps and crashes against my ribs. “I’m telling you the truth and trusting you’re smart enough to see it.”
He’s muttering and walking laps around my chair like a madman. “I just need time to figure this out.”
Alarm that he might decide to take his frustration out on me has me talking fast. “Charlie is going to be looking for me. You’d better start searching the cabin.
If you want to take me for leverage, you’re going to need supplies.
That is going to cost you money. And how are you going to get that?
Do you even have cash on you? Do you have a gun?
More rope? Duct tape to keep me quiet? What if you get pulled over with me in the car?
How will you explain it?” Maybe helping him think through the best way to hold me hostage isn’t typical, but I need him to start assessing the situation.
If I can make taking me sound like a nightmare, he’ll be more likely to leave me and flee.
Besides, if he starts taking inventory, I’ll be able to assess what I can use against him.
I can hear my own panic rising in my throat. I take a deep breath, gritting my teeth through the piercing pain.
As he continues to pace around me, I stare out the window into the inky night to compose my next argument. Off to the left, in the deepest part of the woods, I see a swath of light flicker so quickly I’m not sure if I imagined it.
Hope crashes through me.
I hold my breath, still loud and rushing in my ears, hoping to hear the sounds beyond the cabin. It’s hard over the rhythmic pounding, but I think there’s rustling in the woods.
It’s Charlie.
It has to be Charlie.
I raise my voice, hoping it will carry through the broken window to the man I love.
“You’re wasting time. How long do you think you have until they find this place?
You didn’t just stumble upon it. You brought me here.
There’s a connection leading to you, and they will find it.
I promise you. Listen to me!” I am practically screaming now.
“My boyfriend and my brother are cops. They are going to find you. You don’t have time to sit around here thinking. You need to move.”
Behind me, Russ starts frantically opening and slamming shut the few cabinets. “There’s nothing here but dishes and a few cans of chili.”
Under the chair, I bang my foot on the trap door. “There’s a cellar, Russ. This is a hunting cabin. There’s got to be stuff down there you can use.”
He comes to stand in front of me, looking at me with a frown.
I meet his gaze. “Save yourself.”
There’s a creak on the small porch.
My breath stalls.
Is it my imagination? More than anything, I want to look out the window, but I don’t want to alert Decker, so I shift back and tap the toe of my shoe on the trap door that will lead him to the cellar. “You have to look.”
His eyes narrow. “I don’t trust you.”
I blink up at him, doing my best to appear helpless.
“What can I do? I’m tied to a chair, and everything is out of my reach.
Open the door, go down to the cellar, and see.
It will take a few minutes. How much trouble can I get into if you push me back a few feet?
” I glance wildly around the room. “There’s nothing for me to use. ”
He points at me. “You could stand up, close the door, and use your weight to trap me.”
“Then move me or leave with nothing. I don’t really care if you have supplies or not.
All I care about is living, and I think that’s all you care about too.
So if you don’t trust me and you want to leave, go.
Now. Before it’s too late. But if you want to look, pull me out of reach.
It’s not that complicated.” I make my voice urgent. “You’re running out of time.”
He lets out a frustrated yelp, scrubbing his hand over his bald spot, making tufts of hair stand up.
Hope surges as he tilts the chair so it’s on two legs.
It screeches as he starts dragging me across the floor.
I cry out as the movement sends pain shooting through my left side, and I grit my teeth as my vision swims. He roughly sets the chair back on four legs then comes to stand in front of me, leaning down and practically spitting in my face. “You’d better not try anything funny, got it?”
I gasp. “Got it.”
Then he opens the trap door and goes down the stairs.
Thirty seconds go by, in which all I hear are Decker’s footsteps and the pounding of my heart.
I hear another creak.
The knob turns.
And Charlie opens the door.
Charlie
Dressed in all-black tactical gear, we’d crept on to the property. We’d heard her talking, and silently, I’d urged her on, trying to communicate through my thoughts alone how smart she was.
How proud I was of her.
How much I loved her.
Wordlessly promising her repeatedly I was coming, as though we were connected by mental telepathy.
We’d surrounded the cabin.
Listened and waited.
The hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life was wait.
To trust her to get him where I needed him to make my move.
As she continues to talk about his escape, I keep my back pressed against the exterior wall, right next to the door, my gun chambered and ready.
From the forest, Ryder is watching the window with night vision goggles. I have backup trained on the house and at the exit of the trail about a mile down.
It’s been a long time, but the training beaten into me by the military holds. In the still silence of the porch, I listen to Jessica’s voice and begin box breathing to calm my nervous system.
Four breaths in.
Hold for four.
Exhale for four.
Hold for four.
Rinse. Repeat.
Calm. Steady. Even.
My entire past stretches out before me.
The pain.
The suffering.
The loss.
The way my father’s fist felt on the contours of my face.
My mom’s listless body as she sat slumped over, band still around her arm. Needle still pushed into her vein.
The loneliness that had taken up permanent residence in my bones when my parents died.
The cold isolation of my heart.
In my ear, Ryder’s voice says, “Clear.”
I don’t hesitate.
As quiet as a man trained for dangerous operations, I open the door, firearm angled down in a low-ready position.
When Jessica’s blue eyes lock on mine, I experience a swell of relief so strong it almost knocks me to my knees.
Then I take in the knot on her head.
And blind rage has my vision turning red.
He hurt her.
I am going to kill him.
There’s no escape for Russ Decker.
I look at her bruised face.
He’s a dead man.
I hold a finger to my lips, telling her to be quiet while I slip across the floor silently.
I want nothing more than to go to her.
To touch her to assure myself she’s real.
To tell her I love her.
But I can’t do that.
She’s not safe until I neutralize Decker.
She shifts, her gaze wild.
Again, I warn her to be quiet, and she presses her lips together.
I position myself on the other side of the trap door and wait, my gun trained on the opening.
Jessica made my job easy by getting him into that cellar.
My smart, beautiful girl.
The love of my life.
The only love of my life.
I stay focused and waiting.
For her.
Russ comes up the stairs with his arms full of canned goods, supplies, and duct tape.
The moment his head comes into view, I put the gun to the base of his skull. His hands rise on instinct, and all the items fall, tumbling across the floor and down the stairs back into the cellar.
“You hurt her.” My voice is deadly as I nudge the firearm against his head. “You fucking touched her.”
Decker tries to look over his shoulder.
I smack him with the butt of my gun. “Don’t fucking move.”
“I’m sorry, man. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to take her. I didn’t mean to hurt her, I swear.” He starts babbling.
I block out his words as the anger rages through me.
I want him dead.
I almost lost her.
The only thing that’s ever mattered to me and he tried to take her.
My vision blurs as the haze of anger blocks out everything but making him pay.
My finger twitches on the trigger.
“Charlie.” Jessica’s quiet, trembling voice pulls me back from the brink of that cold, desolate place where my fury stays hidden.
I don’t answer.
“Charlie, please.” She tries again.
I push the gun into his skull and glance at her.
Her expression is soft. “Don’t do it. He’s not worth it.”
“He hurt you.” My voice shakes.
“I know, but I’m okay and I’ll heal.” She licks her lips. “You deserve better than to waste your life on this piece of shit.”
I can feel that door pulsing with energy, desperate to escape.
“Think about it. Please think. You can’t shoot him execution-style. I’ll lose you, and I can’t lose you. I need you.” Her voice breaks, and she starts to cry. “Please, Charlie. I love you.”
And with the three little words I’ve never heard from anyone in my entire life, the door behind which I keep everything hidden blows open and consumes me.
Blind fury races through me.
Followed by crushing loss.
Grief—for the boy I was and the parents who were too young, fucked up, and addicted to ever give me a real life—crashes over me like a tsunami and drowns me.
My emotions spiral out of control, like a tornado whipping around me at dizzying speed, and almost bring me to my knees.
But then I see Jessica’s face through the chaos.
The storm calms.
“Please, Charlie, I love you. I need you.”
The dust settles, and what’s left behind is new and unfamiliar.
Trust. In her. In me.
In us.
I take out my handcuffs. “Russ Decker, you are under arrest.”