by Sandra Alex
“He’s a con artist. He doesn’t know I know that, of course. But I’ve been trying to pin him red-handed for the past year. I don’t want him near my child, and I’m almost there, but I can’t build a strong enough case against him to put him away for good.”
“But isn’t the alcoholism enough to keep him at bay?”
“He told you he’s an alcoholic?” she asks in disbelief. “That must be his latest ploy. A couple of months ago he was a military paraplegic. And Lord knows what other roles he’s tried to use to get into people’s wallets or girls’ pants. He took me for a run, but I was too stupid to get out before it was too late.”
So this must be where my money went. My anger starts to bubble up inside my gut. “What’s his real name?”
“Sean Grimes. He’s got some kind of record, but most of his crimes have gone unpunished. I wish I’d known his deal before getting involved with him. Now I’m stuck. The only leverage I have is that he adores our daughter. He’d never do a thing that would harm her.”
I read off his address and ask if that’s truly where he lives. “No. I have no idea where that is.” She names off the street where he lives. It’s the next town over. She gives me a once-over and then gives me a ‘level-with-me’ kind of gaze. “How much has he swindled from you?”
“I don’t have proof, but my credit card was hacked a couple of days ago. Twenty thousand was taken, and I gave him another three thousand before that.”
“Oh, I’m sure that was him. He’s getting good. Too good. I know he has a friend who helps him, too. Smarmy kind of guy. Creepy. Lives with his parents.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know his last name, but he goes by Frank. I don’t know if that’s his real name.”
“When are you supposed to meet up with Sean again?” I ask, pulling two business cards out of my wallet. I ask her if she’s got a pen and she opens the car door and presents one from her center console. After writing my cell phone number on the back of the card, I hand it to her.
“We’re not on a fixed schedule. We met here because of Shyla’s birthday. He’s not coming, of course, because my mother will kill him if he’s there. But he still wants to help.”
“Well, you call me when you’re meeting up with him next. I have a feeling he’s cooking something up. A friend of mine didn’t show up for class tonight, and neither did Greg.” She writes her number down and hands me the card.
“He’s pretty smooth. You sure he didn’t persuade her into sleeping with him?”
“I’m certain that’s not what happened. But my gut tells me there’s something wrong and his name is all over it.”
“If there’s trouble, he’s most certainly involved.” Tina says.
“Thanks.” I shake her hand again. “And please call this number if you need me for anything as well. If you get into any trouble with him, that is.”
“Thanks. Daniel…you said, right?”
“Yes. It was nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you, too.”
As I walk away, my gut clenches. I don’t know what’s in store next, but I’m certain it’s nothing good.
Chapter 22
Kayla
As I open the door, my genuine smile when I thought it was Daniel, fades away to a pasted-on smile. “Greg. What are you doing here?” I ask with a nervous chuckle. “Daniel just left.”
“I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing. Shyla’s babysitter lives just up the street from here.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, I was just about to start getting ready for work.” I step away from the door reluctantly, to let him in. “Don’t you have to go to work today?”
“I’m working from home today.” He waves. “I was up super early and got a ton done. I was in to see Shyla for a bit, and I thought I’d swing by. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“I have to go to work soon, but we can have a coffee or something. Are you hungry?”
He takes his shoes off. “Sure. Thanks.”
“Have a seat.” I offer, gesturing towards the kitchen table. He sits down and rests his chin on his hands while I start the coffee maker.
“I really just wanted to say thank you.”
I look at him as I measure coffee into the percolator. “Thank you for what?”
“For being so supportive, you know.” He gestures with his hand. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have been fully back off the wagon. Instead, I just had a mild relapse. I’m over it now.”
“Oh, well…that’s good, Greg. I’m glad that you’re stronger now. It takes a lot to be able to give up drinking.”
“Have you ever known anyone that was an alcoholic?” he asks innocently. I look at him and his eyes are like dinner plates. He’s like a little brother.
“No, but I have heard a couple of stories.”
“Me, too. That’s what AA is all about.” His face is solemn. I almost feel like going over and giving him a hug.
“And I hear they talk about God and stuff like that, is that true?”
“Yeah. I go to church a lot, too. It helps.”
“Well, that’s good. I go, too. Maybe not as often as I should, but I do try.”
“Maybe we can go together sometime.” He offers, looking at me. The coffee is just about done, and I’m grabbing two bagels out of the freezer. As I place them in the microwave to thaw, the coffee is done.
“Can I help you with anything?” he asks.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll be there in a minute. Do you like cream cheese?”
“Sure. Whatever you’ve got.” He comes up behind me, and I’m about to turn around, when he grabs me by the arms from behind, and forces a rag across my mouth and nose. I can’t breathe in deeply at first, but when I do, the world goes black.
***
I awake to two voices shouting. My head is pounding, and my hands and feet are tied together, and a rag is around my mouth, tied in the back of my head, effectively gagging me. I’m laying sideways across the back of a leather seat, inside a car, I’m assuming, because we’re moving. There is also a rag across my eyes. At first, the shouting is muffled as I come to, but then I recognize one voice as clear as day. One voice is Greg’s. The other is a female, which I don’t recognize at first, but then after a minute or so, I know who it is.
The shouting stills after I lift my head. “Good evening.” Greg says. “Don’t try to talk, it’s a waste of time.”
I mumble ‘what do you want’ but of course, it’s for naught.
“Just take the gag off her, Sean. What’s she going to do, scream at oncoming traffic?”
Sean? Who the hell is Sean?
I feel a hand reach around and untie the gag. “Who is Sean?” is the first thing I say.
“That’s me, sweetie.” Greg says. “I haven’t used my real name in so long I’ve forgotten what it is.” He says with a little chuckle.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To my place. We’re almost there, but you have to promise you’re not going to scream, or I’ll have to knock you out. I don’t want to have to do that, okay?” he says as though he’s just asked me to avoid walking into his house with my shoes on.
“And what’s Brenda doing here?” I ask, motioning my head to where I think Brenda’s voice is coming from.
I hear him pat her on the back. “Brenda? She’s my partner in crime.”
“And what is it you’re after?”
He laughs out loud. “Money, sweetheart. What else?”
“Why am I here?”
Another laugh. “Because your pretty boy boyfriend will cough up the money if he knows you’re in danger. I’ve siphoned what I can out of him from conventional methods.”
“So you’re the one that hacked his credit card.” I say.
“But of course.” He says as though he’s taking a bow proudly. “I recorded his number the night he ordered the pizza. Another one of my buddies was able to hack in without a pin code and drai
n him…twice.”
“We’re here.” Brenda says. I hear a garage door open as the car enters.
“I thought you lived in a little shack. How do you have a garage?”
“That little rat hole isn’t my place. But you’ll be impressed with this.” He says.
I hear the garage door close and the two of them disembark. When the back door opens, Greg speaks again. “Here’s the plan, Kayla. You scream, I have to hurt you. Otherwise I’ll untie your feet so you can walk inside the house on your own. Then, we’ll lay low for a while until Daniel starts getting nervous. We’ll call him and lay down the law. Hopefully he’ll cough it up quickly so this can end, and I can move on to my next plan.” He pauses. “Capiche?”
“Yeah,” I say, and I feel his hands untie my feet.
“Oh yeah. Your cell phone is at your house, so don’t think anyone is going to track you here.” His tone is conversational.
The tie is removed from my feet, but the rag is still across my eyes. “Can you at least take the thing off my eyes so I can see? I’d hate to fall flat on my face and die…you’ll lose your nest egg for sure then.” I don’t hide the facetious tone in my voice.
“Oooohhhh! She’s a little firecracker!” Greg squeals, impressed. “Not to worry, honey. Brenda and I will guide you. I’m not taking the blindfold off unless it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t want you getting any ideas in your pretty little head.”
I feel a set of hands grab hold of either side of my upper arms, by my shoulders. They guide me up a step and into a door that I’ll assume leads to the inside of the house. It smells like fake apple pie and when either of them talk, the place has a slight echo. I’ll assume the place is huge. We walk down a long hallway to another door, and then down a flight of stairs. I half consider purposely falling down them so I can kick one of them in the teeth, but with the blindfold on, I think it would be just me breaking my neck.
Greg instructs me to sit down on a couch, and then he ties my feet back up again. “We’ll lay low here.” He says to me. “You gotta pee or anything, just holler.”
As I hear them both trot up the steps and latch the door so it locks, I try to use all my senses to their best ability so I can figure out what surrounds me. I try rubbing my face against my shoulder to remove the blindfold, but it’s too tight. I try lifting my knees to try and pry it off with them, and that works better. I keep working at it until a piece of my right eye is exposed. Without my glasses, everything is a little blurry at first, but then my eye focuses better. I work at it with both my knees and my shoulders, until I slide the thing off my eyes entirely. Thank God for Pilates.
The room is dark except for a skylight at the back, where the moonlight shines in. Glossy, laminated floors span across so far, Greg could probably hold a dance party in here. Large pillars flank the room, two on each end for structure, I’ll assume. There are three doors; two on the far side behind the staircase, and one other to the left of the stairs. With the black leather couch and two smaller sofas, this place looks very cozy. Along one wall is a long fish tank encased inside the drywall. It’s offering a light source with its fluorescent bulb running across the length of it.
There is a statue of some basketball player to one side of the stairs, opposite the fish tank. On the other wall is a flat screen television. Turning around, I can see that the back of the house is oddly shaped, in kind of a triangular way, offering a spot for a skylight. There are no windows other than the skylight, which I’d have to get a long stepladder to reach. Shelves line the sides of the flat screen television; three deep, with various novelty nick nacks on them. Some of the collectibles look breakable.
With no sharp edges visible, I can’t figure out how to get the ties off my ankles and wrists. He’s used rags instead of tie wraps, so I can’t try to pry them off by leveraging them on something. I try gnawing on the edges with my teeth. Whatever progress I make had better be fast. If they come downstairs and see me trying to bust loose, they’ll come up with better ways to subdue me I’m sure. Upstairs is quiet. There is no movement at all. I try to work through the rag faster, and I finally get an end of it loose. The material is soaked from my saliva, and it tastes like ass. Who knows where it came from, but it’s definitely not clean.
When I finally get the rag off my hands, I hear movement upstairs, and I freeze. I place the blindfold back on loosely, and I place the rag over my hands so it looks like it’s still holding. The door at the top of the stairs opens, and I hear footsteps come down. “Haven’t moved a muscle. Good girl.” Greg says and leaves. I hear the lock latch again and get to work trying to get the rag off my ankles. With both hands free, that is accomplished in moments. Walking around, I try to find something…what, I don’t know. I find a collectible that looks like it could do some damage to that fish tank with a healthy throw at it, and I put it in my pocket.
Trying the first door, I open it and it’s unlocked. Inside is a typical laundry room. Nothing special. I exit quietly, closing the door behind me, and try the next door. Inside is a bunch of junk; black, plastic garbage bags line one wall, while piles of old chairs, books, furniture and old sports equipment lay scattered on the floor. There is a divider wall leading to the other room, as though someone once decided to turn it into something else, but then lost the nerve and left it as a half wall. Nothing unusual in there, except that I see a wall-mounted phone when I stand on my tip toes.
Scurrying, I close the door and try the last door. Dammit! It’s locked. I open the second door and try to find my way to the wall among all the crap. I may be able to climb over it with one of the chairs, but I’ll have to lift a whole bunch of stuff to get to it, without making a sound. What a guy won’t do to get someone else to clean his messy basement. Goodwill would have a field day in here. Suddenly, I hear voices upstairs. I run back to the couch and assemble myself, so it looks like I haven’t been plotting my escape.
Greg appears at the top of the stairs and makes his way down. “You’re not getting into any trouble down here, are you?”
“I’m bound, Greg. It would be virtually impossible.”
He takes a step towards me. “Man, it’s really too bad that you didn’t show more interest in me. I might have chosen a different victim.”
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty.” I comment.
He slides a hand down my cheek. “It’s not too late.”
I resist the urge to turn my head away from him, because I don’t want him to figure out that the blindfold is loose. The room is still dark, so he can’t see it clearly. “You really expect me to be interested in you after kidnapping me?”
“True.” He sniffs. “Hell, you win some, you lose some. I really hope you’re worth the trouble. And I really hope Daniel thinks so, too.”
I scoff. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”
“You’re right, sweetheart. In just a couple of hours, I’ll make my move.” He pauses.
Greg is as lank as a one hundred pound weakling. I want so badly to just kick him in the groin and watch him drop like a bag of rocks. But I can’t see how close he is to judge my shooting distance. Lifting my legs, I pull the blindfold off with my hand and kick him with both feet, until he falls to the floor, hitting his head in the process.
“Fuck! Brenda!” he screams like a girl. I run like hell to the unlocked door and pummel through, finding the nearest chair. Brenda’s footsteps are coming down the stairs fast. She’s older but bigger than Greg, so I’m not sure what kind of strength she has. After years of helping my mom in and out of her wheelchair and her bed, I’m sure I have better upper body strength than she does. The chair gives me just enough height to climb over the wall, but I drop to the floor on the other side, hitting my back. I manage to recover just as Brenda arrives at the door.
She sees me in the room and goes for the locked door. “Shit, the door’s locked, Greg! She’s in there!”
“I’ve got the key here.” He calls back. I’ve got moments before they’re in here. When I reac
h the land line, I pick up the phone. God…dammit!!...it’s dead.
“Are you trying to call the cops, Kayla? Good luck. That line hasn’t worked since I moved in. Now come on out of there.” Greg orders from the other side of the wall. “I’ve got the key, so you’re wasting your time.” then he addresses Brenda. “Go get the tie wraps. She got out of the rags.” He addresses me again. “I had no idea you’d figure it out that fast, Kayla.” He shakes his head with what? Annoyance? Frustration? Pain?
There is a baseball bat leaning on one of the walls. I grab it. When the door opens, I hold it high. “Come any closer and I’ll knock you out with this.” I warn Greg.
“Aw, come on. I don’t want to hurt you, Kayla. But I will if I have to.” He says fairly. “I’ve got a gun and a knife upstairs. I’ll use whatever I need to use.”
“Yeah, well I’ve got a bat. I’ll use it if I have to.” I spit back.
He sighs, exasperated. “Brenda, looks like we’re going to need reinforcements.”
Brenda comes down the stairs, holding various black tie wraps…and a hand gun. “I figured as much.” She hands Greg the gun. He takes the safety off and points it at me.
“Alright, Kayla. Your choice. You can put the bat down and come on over here, or I’ll have to shoot you. Now, I won’t shoot you anywhere that’ll kill you, but I’ll have to do some damage. Like shoot your leg or your arm.”
“You couldn’t shoot that if your life depended on it.” I guffaw, feeling brave. I want to hit him so bad my arms are shaking.
“I’ve done a little target practice.” He admits.
“Where? In your backyard? On a video game? You aren’t the type, Greg. Give it up and let me go. You’ve already got a ton of money out of Daniel. Leave us alone.”
He shakes his head. “No can do, sweetheart. I’m going to give you to the count of five to put the bat down and come out of there, or I’m going to have to shoot.”
“Not if I hit you first.” I grunt as I take a swing at him, being careful to hit him in the arm that’s pointing the gun. As the bat makes contact, the gun drops to the floor without going off. I bring the bat up and try to hit him in the head, but he dodges it and I miss, getting the floor instead.