The Toybox

by Charly Cox

  After the five adults shuffled into a conference room down the hall, Alyssa knew she had to begin asking the tough questions, though it was never easy to intrude on a family’s devastating loss.

  ‘Mr. Jessup, Mrs. Jessup, I understand you and your daughter had an argument over her dating an older boy. Can you tell me about that incident?’

  Instantly, Mr. Jessup’s face turned into stone, and it took him several moments before he could speak. When he did, it wasn’t what Alyssa expected him to say. ‘This is his fault. He killed her.’

  Alyssa shot a sideways look at Sergeant Boudreaux to gain his reaction, and by the way his posture stiffened, she knew it was the same as her own. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because if he hadn’t been trying to convince a fourteen-year-old to have sex with him, then we never would’ve fought. What kind of sick eighteen-year-old kid wants to date someone four years younger than he is? A future pedophile, that’s who.’ Venomous anger punctuated every word.

  Alyssa didn’t necessarily agree that it proved the young man would turn into a sexual deviant sometime down the road, but that wasn’t the most important matter at hand. ‘Can you tell us this individual’s name?’

  Mrs. Jessup’s shoulders shook as she admitted they didn’t know. ‘She refused to tell us his name because she was frightened we’d press charges if they ever… ever…’ Had sex. ‘I don’t think he even lived in the area. We only found out about him at all because Reed and I were out enjoying Sunday brunch when we saw her with the boy. Neither of us recognized him.’

  ‘Can you describe him for me?’

  Chilly goosebumps peppered her skin at Mr. Jessup’s response. ‘He was quite a bit taller than I am. Big guy, about six-two, six-three, muscular, linebacker build. Short brown hair. I don’t mind saying he looked like a real ass.’

  Beau Cambridge. Mr. Jessup had just described Jersey’s boyfriend.

  ‘Can we take our daughter’s belongings, her clothing with us?’ Mrs. Jessup directed her question to Lynn, her words sounding tortured as she gripped her husband tighter.

  Lynn’s eyes swung to Alyssa, passing the question on to her. ‘We’ll need to hold onto them a little longer, see if our technicians can pull any forensic evidence. I’m sure you understand that every bit of information we can obtain gets us one step closer to finding who did this to your daughter.’

  As if Alyssa’s words were the final weight her body could handle, Mrs. Jessup’s legs turned liquid as she fell into her husband, allowing his strength to support the both of them. Over her head, Mr. Jessup said, ‘The sweater she was wearing was a gift from her mother, so when will we be able to get it back?’

  Careful to keep her expression neutral, Alyssa said, ‘I’m sorry, but Meghan wasn’t wearing a sweater when we found her.’ She gave a slight nod to Lynn, indicating that she should bring the bagged clothing in. Lynn disappeared briefly, and when she returned, she handed the bag of clothing to her. Alyssa held the items up for Mr. and Mrs. Jessup’s inspection. Mr. Jessup’s forehead crinkled, and he frowned. ‘Those don’t belong to Meghan. I’ve never seen those.’ Then tilting his head down, he addressed his wife. ‘Do you recognize them?’

  Mrs. Jessup’s eyes widened as she shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Is it possible she had a change of clothing she kept at school? Or maybe even a friend’s house?’

  ‘Of course, it’s possible…’ Mr. Jessup hedged. ‘But to be honest, those are nothing like my daughter’s style.’ His gaze never wavered from the shorts and top in the plastic bag. ‘Those don’t even resemble the clothes we’ve refused to allow her to purchase in the past.’

  Alyssa caught Lynn’s, then Sergeant Boudreaux’s, eye. If they truly didn’t belong to Meghan Jessup, then who did they belong to?

  Before leaving the medical examiner’s office, she and Sergeant Boudreaux agreed to stay in touch. In the car, she allowed herself a moment, closing her eyes, sending up a silent thank you that she and Brock hadn’t been faced with the same pain the Jessups were now experiencing. Isaac had escaped; Meghan had not. Witnessing their agonized realization that their entire lives as they’d known had been completely destroyed by their daughter’s death brought Alyssa a new determined resolve to bring justice to the Jessup family.

  As she turned the key in the ignition, she prayed she and her team would find Rachel, Jersey, and Katelyn before they met the same fate as Meghan. If they haven’t already. She shushed the voice by calling Cord to fill him in so he could let Hal, Tony, and Joe know.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Wednesday, May 22

  Like hot tar on pavement, apprehension clung to Rachel’s insides. At nineteen, she wondered how she could endure this torture day in and day out, let alone how someone as young and innocent as the new girl would survive. She didn’t see how it was possible.

  Rachel’s eyes drifted around the room, landing on each of the girls garbed in a rainbow of color that seemed incongruous with their surroundings, and once again she wondered what had happened to Meghan. But, like the others, she didn’t ask. Because, though unspoken, there was a reason they didn’t discuss their ordeals. What transpired upstairs in The Toybox was too horrific to relive, even if it was with others who experienced the same nightmare. Tears trailed both sides of her face as she rested her gaze on the young girl’s prone form. When she’d finally woken, it had taken quite some time before she’d been able to tell them her name. Katelyn Phillipson.

  What would be worse – Katelyn surviving – or dying right away? Again, Rachel wondered if Meghan’s sudden disappearance meant she was dead. Was that the end they all faced? Is that what she wanted? When she was in The Toybox, she thought yes, death was enviable. But down here with the others… she found herself hoping they could all find a way to survive this.

  What sounded like furniture being moved overhead stole Rachel’s attention away from her fear for the new girl. None of them could guess what was happening upstairs, but what they did know was that it had been several hours – from dusk to daylight and back to darkness – since the noises had begun, and in that time, none of them had been requested. At this point she wasn’t sure which was the most prominent feeling: relief that they’d been left alone… or vomit-inducing dread that she should be mentally preparing for horrors even more unimaginable than what they were already forced to endure.

  She couldn’t even take a modicum of comfort in the fact that, so far, after Jersey had been tossed back in the cell with them, the only person who’d been downstairs since Katelyn’s arrival was the lady of the house – no one knew her name, nor had they heard anyone allude to it. She’d descended the steps in a royal purple evening gown, a silk shawl trailing down her back like she was some kind of princess waiting for her prince to arrive and ordered them all to shower before disappearing upstairs again. No one had asked why; they’d just blindly obeyed. It was during that time the shuffling sounds of furniture began.

  And since then, they’d waited. And waited some more. Each scraping sound, each grunt that traveled down the vents, each second of silence in between the sounds was excruciating, like fingernails on a chalkboard. At some point, the lady, still in her gown, had returned with their meal – a platter of fruit, various cheeses, and some type of bland cracker, along with uncapped bottles of water.

  She’d unlocked the cell, set everything inside on the floor and then, after ensuring everyone had complied with her earlier command, left without a word, the metallic clang of the cell door slamming closed resonating through Rachel’s very bones.

  ‘Why are the bottles always uncapped?’ Even as it left her mouth, she knew this wasn’t the question that needed to be asked – not the discussion they should be having.

  Apparently, Faye’s thoughts ran along the same lines because she snorted. ‘Uncapped water bottles – that’s what you’re most worried about right now? Not wondering what fresh new hell is being prepared for us?’

  ‘I tried to swallow the caps once.’
Cheyenne’s voice was rough and scratchy, like she had a severe case of laryngitis. One shoulder lifted in weak resignation, her gaze unwavering. ‘I thought I could choke to death on them. It damaged my throat. That pain couldn’t be worse than the pain from that.’ Her eyes lifted upward, and a sad laugh escaped. ‘I paid the price twice for that failure.’

  Rachel realized that this was one of the first times she’d actually heard Cheyenne speak, and now she understood why.

  ‘I didn’t know about that, Cheyenne. Saying “I’m sorry” seems so – I don’t know, out of place considering our situation – but I am.’

  Cheyenne released a steady breath but refused to make eye contact with anyone as her fingers toyed with the seam of the robe. ‘It was just after Meghan arrived – we were the only two here until you were brought in.’ She glanced briefly at Becca before once again looking away. Her voice was shaky as she added, ‘I don’t know how long I’d been here when Meghan came, but I remember being relieved I wasn’t alone.’ She wiped furiously at the tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘And then when I saw what they did to her that first time… that’s when I tried to swallow the bottle caps. I just couldn’t watch another person experience the same torture. I didn’t even think about the fact I’d be leaving her here all alone, like I had been.’

  Rachel was used to Faye’s bold directness that sometimes seemed to border on cruel honesty, so she was surprised when she angled her body toward Cheyenne and spoke softly. ‘You shouldn’t feel guilty about that. And no one here blames you.’

  The silence that fell after Cheyenne’s admission and Faye’s proclamation was heavy with fear and more dread of the unknown.

  Becca bit down on her bottom lip and shifted on her mattress, being the first to break into the sudden hushed quiet of their enclosure. ‘What’s the last thing you remember before—’ Her gaze focused on the cell door as if afraid the upstairs occupants would hear.

  The question hung in the air, the weight of it heavier the longer it went unanswered. Finally, Jersey spoke. ‘I’d gone for a walk to clear my head.’ She sniffled and ran a finger under her nose before wiping the moisture on the side of the mattress. ‘I was leaving the duck pond at UNM’ – her breathing turned into short, gasping pants, and her hushed words fell out more quickly – ‘I heard someone following me’ – she drew her legs in and wrapped her arms around her knees, shaking back and forth – ‘and then someone attacked me from behind.’ Wild eyes flickered between the others before shifting to the stairs and staying. ‘Something jabbed me in the neck… I remember a hotel, I think, and a car trunk before waking up here.’

  The meager contents of Rachel’s stomach threatened a reappearance, and she had to swallow several times before she trusted herself to speak. ‘My friend Anna wanted me to go with her to a frat party.’

  ‘Is that the friend you asked about when you were brought in?’ Becca asked.

  Tendrils of fear and pain wrapped around Rachel’s insides, and she nodded. ‘Yes. I wouldn’t even be here if I’d stayed home like I wanted.’ She closed her eyes, afraid to see shame on the others’ faces at her admission. ‘I feel really bad blaming her because I don’t know where she is or what happened to her. I’m pretty sure someone drugged my drink at the party, so I went to find Anna so we could go. When I fell asleep, she was lying right next to me. And now here I am.’

  Becca shared her story next. ‘A girl I didn’t know but who seemed familiar asked to borrow my phone because she’d left hers at school. I said sure, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in this cell with Cheyenne and Meghan staring at me.’

  Almost too quiet to hear, Katelyn spoke next. ‘I was on my way home when a girl approached me and asked me to help find her phone.’ She gripped the edges of her hunter green robe, bunching the material into her fists. ‘My mom and dad will be looking for me – I know it. They’re going to find me.’ It was like she was miles away as her eyes shifted to the window, repeating the same thing over and over.

  A sickening feeling in the pit of Rachel’s stomach began to bloom. So far, it sounded as if they’d all been drugged. And at least in Becca and Katelyn’s case, by a female. But how could one girl do this to another?

  For several seconds, Jersey watched Katelyn, and then she fixed her eyes on the wall, uttering in a flat, monotone voice, ‘My dad is currently off in another country with his girlfriend who’s my age, so he probably doesn’t even know I’m missing.’ A humorless laugh pushed past her lips. ‘My mom’s horrible in a crisis. There’s always my cousin, Sophie, but she’s probably still mad at me.’ Suddenly, she sat up straighter. ‘But my friend, Holly – her mom’s a detective.’ Her hands shook, and her voice trembled as she looked around the room. ‘Holly’s mom – she’ll be looking for us!’

  The energy changed in the room at Jersey’s proclamation. ‘How…’ Rachel’s words were drowned out by what sounded like dozens of hammers pounding on the walls.

  Instantly, the hope of seconds before crashed, replaced once again by the nauseating fear of the unknown.

  ‘What do you think they’re doing up there?’ Jersey asked the one dreaded question none of them wanted to ask, much less receive an answer to.

  As usual, it was Faye who cut to the chase, shattering anyone who was foolish enough to dream they’d escape unscathed from whatever was taking place upstairs. ‘It doesn’t matter how any of us ended up here, just like it doesn’t do us a damn bit of good to wonder what’s happening because whether we want to or not, we’ll find out soon enough.’

  Katelyn huddled into the corner of her mattress, shivering, a low keening moan vibrating from the back of her throat at Faye’s words. Becca moved to the young girl’s side, running her hand over the other girl’s hair. Rachel joined her, leaning her head against Katelyn’s. As she wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder, she was struck again with how tiny she was, in everything from her face to her feet.

  Unaware she was even doing it, Rachel rocked Katelyn back and forth, a lump forming in her throat as she did, knowing how viciously the innocence would be ripped from her life. ‘She’s too young. God, she’ll never survive this.’ Her words began as a murmur, but before long, they tumbled out like a chant.

  Under her breath but still audible, Faye muttered, ‘God’s not listening, or haven’t you noticed that yet?’

  ‘We have to do something,’ Rachel choked out, at the same time thinking this, too, was new to her: putting someone else’s needs above her own. Her brother, Nick, would be proud of her, if only he knew.

  Jersey spoke again, but this time her words held a note of urgency, despite the hushed whisper of them. ‘The window.’ All eyes swiveled upward. ‘If we make a pyramid, like in cheerleading, we can try to pry the window open. And then Katelyn can squeeze through. She’s tiny enough. She’ll fit. And if she escapes, she can run for help for the rest of us.’

  Escape was the word that finally brought Katelyn back around. She clutched both hands to her belly, nodding as she croaked out, ‘I can do it.’

  No one moved, and no one spoke, and Rachel wondered if, like her, the others felt the electric charge in the air around them at the thought of escaping this nightmare. Her eyes moved around the room, touching on everyone before she stared up at the window. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine life again on the other side of that glass. But even as she let her imagination take over, a persistent voice nudged itself to the forefront of her mind: If we fail, we’ll be extremely lucky if they grant us a quick death. With fresh determination, she shut the voice down because, despite the fear, something else had begun to bloom in her chest, something she’d lost within hours of being locked in this place.

  Hope.

  To use one of her brother’s sports analogies, if she was going to die, she’d go out swinging.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Thursday, May 23

  Thursday morning, Alyssa sat in the kitchen waiting for Isaac to come downstairs so she could drop him off at Trevor�
��s on her way to the precinct. Mrs. Lewis had called last night to suggest leaving today instead of tomorrow in the hopes of beating the traffic, and though it had meant the family would miss his eighth-grade promotion ceremony, Alyssa had been unable to say no to her son’s pleading eyes. Brock would’ve taken him, but he had a meeting with some of the subcontractors he’d hired for construction on the hospital wing bid he’d won while she’d been hunting Evan Bishop. It was so hard to believe her baby would be going into high school in just a few months. It seemed like just last week she’d been helping him take those first steps on his wobbly infant legs.

  Her smile slipped as she thought about the fact that Meghan Jessup’s parents would no longer have any more firsts with their daughter. Her gut insisted Beau Cambridge was the boy they’d described seeing their daughter with. Not to mention the undeniable fact that Cambridge was exactly the kind of player capable of trying to date a beautiful fourteen-year-old girl, if for no other reason than to stroke his monstrous ego.

  Yesterday afternoon, she and Cord had driven over to Beau’s house to talk to him about a possible connection with Meghan, but he wasn’t home, and his mother hadn’t known where he was or when he’d return. Throughout their questioning, Mrs. Cambridge had steadfastly refused to look at them, choosing instead to focus her gaze over their shoulders.

  ‘Do you know if Beau has traveled to Santa Fe in the last couple of months?’ Alyssa had asked.

  ‘I don’t keep tabs on my son’s comings and goings, Detective. It angers both him and my husband. If they wish for me to know, or if it’s important, they’ll tell me.’

  ‘Does that mean you also don’t know which gym Beau and your husband use to work out?’ Alyssa asked because, as of last night, Hal still hadn’t found any links regarding a possible financial connection between the families.