by A. C. Mason
He kept the gun against my temple. I wasn’t certain Denise would follow his directions. She seemed frozen to the spot. Finally she walked slowly toward us.
“Hurry it up,” he ordered. “There’s someone waiting out there who wants to make sure you get your just desserts.”
Denise took one anxious glance back at Tank, and then moved within Gibb’s reach. He motioned with the gun for her to walk ahead of him.
He placed the weapon at the back of her neck. “Now, start moving toward the river.”
Following closely behind her, he pulled me with him. Then with his powerful arm tight across my chest, he pushed me ahead of him. I could hardly breathe.
“W...hy…are you taking me away?” The tremble of my words copied the panic shaking my whole body.
I felt his breath against my neck.
“I like you,” he said.
Thirty-nine
He likes me? I couldn’t breathe, much less think, but his pronouncement reverberated in my head. I like you… I like you. The words sent chills up my spine. The cold wind blowing over me doubled my shivers.
Denise gave a sharp gasp. A woman pointing a gun in our direction emerged from the tall grass along the river bank. I took in a deep breath. Dolly Babineaux!
“Here’s your girl,” he said, shoving Denise toward her.
Dolly quickly took control of Denise, threatening her with the weapon. She stared at me and then turned her angry gaze to him. “What is she doing here? I told you I wanted Paula Edwards too. Susan has nothing to do with this.”
“Paula wasn’t around and I didn’t have time to look for the woman.” He pointed a finger at Dolly. “Listen, Momma dear, you owe me big time. I did all the dirty work, and I deserve compensation over and above all the money you promised me. Susan is my reward.”
I cringed in horror at his last remark. At the same time, confusion swirled around in my head. Dolly was Gibb Romaine’s mother? Wasn’t Patia the victim of the attack? None of this made sense. Unless he’s not Gibb Romaine.
“So she’s the one you’ve been stalking all this time.” Dolly heaved an exasperated sigh. “I don’t foresee a good ending with this.”
The figure I saw in the woods? Caroline’s ghost?
“I don’t see your reasoning,” he said. “Everything’s going to turn out fine...for us. My meeting her tonight was destiny.”
“We don’t have time to argue. Get in the boat. I’ll take care of Paula myself later.”
Their boat had been well hidden by tall grass and tied to a post left standing from the old pier located on property adjacent to this land—the site of the former Civic Center building.
Dolly forced Denise into the boat first and immediately tied her hands behind her back with rope she retrieved from the deck.
He shoved me in, whipped out a length of rope and in a flash bound my hands and my feet like a cowboy in a calf-roping contest.
After slipping into the seat behind the wheel, he twisted the key in the ignition. The craft sped off down the river.
The full moon spotlighted me as I sat huddled on the floor beside him at the steering wheel, close enough for him to grab me if I tried to escape. Not that I could escape right now.
Dolly sat next to Denise, keeping her gun trained on my fellow kidnappee who appeared strangely subdued as if she’d given up on life. Did she feel her life no longer had meaning with Tank dead?
Where was he taking us? And what would he do when we arrived? There must be some way to escape. At the moment, I had three choices: jump overboard and maybe get eaten by an alligator, or jump overboard and get attacked by water moccasins. Or the most probable of all was to jump overboard and drown. With my hands and feet tied, not to mention the long dress I wore, I wouldn’t be able to swim.
I needed to keep reminding myself of one fact—I was alive right now and as long as I was still breathing, hope remained for my rescue or an escape.
If he liked me as he claimed, he would set me free. Not going to happen. His words had a different meaning from the average person. The tone of his voice, his feral eyes, and murderous actions didn’t spell friendship. The roar of the boat motor couldn’t drown out the sound of those three words. I like you. What would he do if he hated me?
I squeezed my eyes shut briefly and said a prayer for me and Denise to get out of this deal alive. A more urgent plea was to my stomach. Do not toss everything I’ve eaten and drank tonight.
He turned the boat into a narrow bayou off the river. Among the silhouetted trees, I caught a quick view of a dwelling on pilings as we sped past. A tiny reddish spot almost like a laser beam seemed to hang in the air on the home’s dark porch. My panic now had me seeing spots. Hallucinations?
Another sharp turn. My body shifted against his leg from the force. I gritted my teeth and righted myself in a hurry. I hated even the slightest touch or smell of him.
He slowed the boat to an idle and then cut the motor. We drifted a short distance before bumping softly into a small pier. A lump formed in my throat.
What now? Is this where he rapes and kills me? What will happen to Denise? I’m in this situation because of my own reckless actions. Most likely she ended up here for the same reason—except her actions might possibly have been criminal.
Tank appeared to be in pretty bad shape after being stabbed. I sympathized with Denise in her grief over the man who was the love of her life. If Jim had been lying there dying, I might feel like giving up too if it weren’t for my children.
Images of the twins and Jim flashed through my mind. I’ve got to get back to my family. I can’t give up. I have too much to live for.
“This is where we get off.” He reached for a rope and looped it over a post on the pier. He spoke as if we were simply passengers on a tour boat.
One heck of a Swamp Tour.
Dolly escorted Denise onto the pier, poking her in the back with her gun.
He removed his mask and tossed it in the river. Returning his gaze to me, he gave a brief smile. “Now you can see what I really look like.”
Maybe I’m crazy, but his face seemed different from the first time we had met days ago on the lakefront walkway. He appeared younger…and his hand was no longer bandaged.
When I didn’t make a comment about his appearance, he frowned. “Get up.”
“I can’t get up with my hands and feet tied.”
Without saying a word, he whisked his knife from his pocket and sliced through the ropes with the skill of a surgeon.
I couldn’t decide whether the knife he brandished, or the pistol he threatened me and Denise with earlier frightened me more. He displayed more confidence with the knife. His demeanor conveyed a certainty I wouldn’t attempt an escape. Without restraints, I could jump in the bayou and take my chances with the local reptiles. ‘Could’ being the optimum word in this instance.
Both weapons scared the heck out of me. If I didn’t figure out how to escape from this monster, I’d be dead either way.
Forty
Denise and I were marched like prisoners toward what appeared to be an unfinished house—like someone had started building a camp or home, then couldn’t afford to complete it. Cypress siding covered only a portion of the exterior. The entire structure appeared to have been neglected for many months—maybe years.
Oh no! This has got to be the property Megan owned. I held my breath when he forced me onto the porch. Please don’t let Megan be in with these people. My fears were eased on that respect by Dolly’s whispered request to her son.
“You’d better check to make certain no one’s inside.”
“Who would be in there? This place is an abandoned camp. I doubt anyone has taken up residence since I left.” His tone of voice left no doubt about his annoyance.
“Check anyway.” Her words held a hint of her own irritation.
He exhaled loudly and pushed me over toward Dolly and Denise. “Watch Susan while I check inside.” He turned the doorknob and pushed on the door. It w
ouldn’t budge. “The damn door’s locked.”
“Someone obviously has taken up residence since you left,” Dolly said through clenched teeth.
“No,” I blurted out. “The police came in and collected evidence from the property. They probably locked it when they left.”
“Then, since the police have been here already, no one will be looking at the place again,” Dolly said.
“Not necessarily. It depends on whose DNA they collected,” I said, feeling braver.
He gave a loud laugh. “I’m not too worried about a DNA match.”
Why isn’t he worried about a match to his DNA? Another confusing piece of this puzzle. He can’t be Gibb Romaine.
“Who are you?”
Dolly answered instead. “He’s my son. His name is Jason and that’s all you need to know.”
Jason grabbed my arm with his large hand and squeezed hard. “Sorry to disappoint you, but your Chief of Police husband won’t be coming to your rescue. There’s no one back in Cypress Lake to tell him where we went.”
My heart sank. Unfortunately he was correct. Desperation started setting in. No, I didn’t intend to let that happen. You’re still alive. This was not the end.
Dolly surveyed the exterior of the house. “Try the window over there.”
“You don’t need to be inside to do what you planned for Denise.”
“I want to be nice and comfortable while I make her tell me what part she and her brother and David Edwards played in Malcolm’s murder—in your father’s murder. Then I’ll deal with her.”
“Whatever,” he said, sounding like a disgruntled teenager.
He hopped off the porch and strode along the side of the house toward the window. The sash opened without a problem. He pulled himself up on the ledge and climbed inside.
A few seconds later, the door opened and Dolly ushered me and Denise into the house.
“Now let’s get this show on the road so we can clear out of here,” he said.
Maybe my disclosure about the police search made him nervous after all. I could only hope for a miracle—somehow Jim discovered where we were taken.
“Is there a light of any kind in this place?” Dolly asked. “I can hardly see my hand in front of my face.”
The man’s shadowy figure moved a short distance away. I heard a metallic sound and some rustling. The click of a lighter…a tiny flame inside a lantern gave off a dim glow, only enough light to see the area inside this room.
The extent of the light provided by the lantern ended at a door leading to the rest of the house. The darkness beyond the opening reminded me of the mouth of a cave. I gave the room a quick survey in search of a possible escape route.
To my left, another door with dark curtain over a window seemed promising, provided it wasn’t locked. Or I could attempt to escape the way we came in.
My silent planning session was interrupted by Dolly’s voice.
“Denise, I want to know about your part in Malcolm’s murder.” She took a seat on the brick hearth of the unfinished fireplace and crossed her right leg over the other. “Sit down on the floor in front of me so I can see your face.”
No response from Denise except to obey the order to sit on the floor.
“Answer me!” Dolly swung her leg back and forward. She pointed her gun at Denise’s head.
Finally Denise spoke. “Why should I? You’re going to kill me anyway. Tank is dead so I don’t really give a damn.”
Hugging myself to ward off at least some of the chill, I leaned against the wall instead of sitting. If the situation arose, I wanted to be able to make a quick getaway.
Jason watched me intently from his position next to Dolly. I supposed he knew I would attempt an escape if I had the chance. But at least he was not standing right next to me holding onto my arm.
“Okay, then I’ll tell you why Malcolm’s murder went down,” Dolly said, still pointing the gun at Denise. “He found out about the attack on Patia Romaine and the resulting pregnancy from your father’s drunken mouth and decided to blackmail him and Henry Edwards. Am I correct?”
“Yes,” Denise answered in a low voice.
Dolly continued her version of the story. “When your brother and David Edwards discovered that one of them might have another sibling to share the family inheritance, they hired Johnny Francino to kill Malcolm using that gris-gris bag foolishness in hopes of framing the Romaines.
“Mr. Francino got carried away spending all that money y’all paid him and ending up getting caught. But Teddy and David were so thoughtful they even hired a big time lawyer to defend him.” She paused a moment and glared at Denise. “I’m sure they were extremely upset about Francino’s conviction.”
I hated to bring attention to myself, but as usual my curiosity got the best of me. “How did they manage to keep Johnny Francino from revealing who hired him?”
Dolly jerked her head in my direction. I thought she might be angry with me for butting in, but she smiled. “An excellent question. Denise, why don’t you answer Susan?”
Denise turned and stared at me. Her expression seemed to say she’d never realized my presence until then.
“Teddy and David made a large payment to Johnny’s wife for her and their kids,” Denise said, keeping her eyes fixed on me. “Afterwards they suggested to him he might ‘accidently’ die in prison if he revealed their names.”
Her demeanor appeared to change. I could almost see wheels turning in her head as if she suddenly contemplated escape and was silently asking me to join her. Or maybe my observation was only wishful thinking.
“None of this involved you. I’m sorry you got caught up in this mess,” Denise said in a strangely apologetic voice.
“I am too.” My voice cracked. “Jim and the children will be devastated.” I turned my gaze first to Jason and then to Dolly. “Why am I even here? Tank was killed and I happened to witness his murder. Is that why?” Hysteria rose in my voice.
“For some reason, my son took it upon himself to grab you instead of Paula Edwards.” Dolly regarded me with feigned sympathy. “He’s been living in Indian Country for quite a few years. My guess is he wanted to see what it was like to be with a sophisticated white city girl...the opposite of his Choctaw granny.
“I’m sorry you were dragged into this, but you’re here and there’s nothing I can do about it.” Her smile was more like a sneer.
Jason moved away from her and started toward me as if he suddenly realized he shouldn’t have left my side. Oh God, I should learn to keep my mouth shut.
Denise suddenly leaped up and lunged toward Dolly’s gun. “Go, get out of here!” An explosion of gunfire erupted. Denise fell to the floor.
I bolted for the door. Thank God he hadn’t locked it. Outside I stumbled down the porch steps and headed toward the woods. Shouts of obscenities from both Dolly and Jason sounded behind me. The sharp pop of gunshot followed. I cringed, expecting the worst.
I didn’t fall down dead. Thank you, Guardian Angel.
“Get her,” Dolly yelled. “She can identify us.”
“Susan,” Jason shouted. “You won’t get away from me.”
I ran for my life.
Forty-one
I had no idea what lay beyond this wooded area. For all I knew, it might be a dead end at the water again. I remembered the boat making a second turn shortly before our arrival here. In that case, my only choice would be to take a chance with the gators. There was a house or maybe someone’s camp. It could be unoccupied. If so there might be a boat I could borrow to get away.
The musty smell of decaying leaves filled my nostrils. A big palmetto leaf smacked me across the face. The sting caused my eyes to tear—or maybe I was crying. At this point my brain gave me only one message… Run!
The hem of my dress caught on a low branch. I heard fabric tearing. One high heel stuck in a hole. I stepped out of the shoe and kicked the other one off. No time to stop. Don’t know how I got this far in those high heels without brea
king an ankle.
Twigs and who-knows-what stabbed at my feet as I stumbled through the brush. His footsteps crashed behind me. Despite the cold, perspiration gathered beneath my clothes.
I glanced over my shoulder for a split second. He came out of nowhere and grabbed me. I uttered a small cry. He clamped his hand over my mouth. My heart thumped. I’m dead for sure this time.
“Be quiet,” he whispered. “I’m here to help you.” He slowly removed his hand.
“Who are you?” I whispered back.
“Gibb Romaine.”
I turned to face my so-called rescuer. “The real Gibb Romaine?”
“The last time I looked in the mirror I was.”
He didn’t attempt to drag me back, but he appeared every bit as large as the man who took me hostage—maybe bigger. “The real Gibb Romaine…”
At that moment a male voice called out. “Susan, I know you’re out there. You won’t survive the night in the swamp. Think about all those snakes and spiders.”
“I’m the real McCoy. And he’s the SOB who’s been trying to set me up for the last few weeks.”
I felt myself relaxing for a brief moment. The footsteps crunched again on the ground coming toward us. My panic returned.
“Get behind me,” the real Gibb Romaine ordered.
I gladly complied. My breathing accelerated the closer the kidnapper came to our position.
He crouched beside a large oak tree in front of me, ready to attack like a leopard about to pounce on some unsuspecting game.
A twig cracked. He leaped out and collided with the other man. I could almost feel the jarring punches each man inflicted on the other. In the midst of curses, grunts, and loud thumps, I thought I heard boat motors in the distance. Was the sound real? Or simply another figment of my imagination?
The whole scene played like a surreal and terrifying nightmare. One flashback after another surged through my mind, back to another time when a killer threatened to leave me for dead in a place very much like this one. A loud yell from one of the men snapped me back to reality.