Stolen Lives: A Detective Mystery Series SuperBoxset

by James Hunt

  Chapter 13

  The florescent light in the hospital caused the blood on Cooper’s hands to shimmer an ugly red. She flexed her fingers as Beth’s dried blood crusted and flaked onto the white tile. Beth was still in surgery, and the girls and Tim were still being examined by the doctors. She sat alone in the waiting room.

  Outside the glass walls Cooper saw Hart and Hemsworth exchange a few words. Hemsworth noticed her watching. Hart ended the conversation and headed her way. When he stepped inside, Cooper returned to watching her hands and wiggled her fingers. The scent of her sister’s blood was still fresh in her nose.

  “Hey, we haven’t had any word from the doctors in surgery yet,” Hart said, keeping his distance. “But Tim and the girls look like they’re okay. Physically at least.”

  “Where is he?” Cooper kept her eyes on her hands, taking in the different shades where the blood had pooled thicker and lighter coats over her skin.

  “They followed the tunnel, and it dumped out near a river. There was a dock, and we think he took a boat downriver.” Hart inched closer. “Forensics is still sweeping the cabin for any evidence. They found a few leads that are promising.” He took a seat next to Cooper. “How are you holding up?”

  “We have to find him, Hart.” She glanced straight ahead and curled her hands into fists, feeling the cracked grime and blood in the grooves of her skin. “He’s only going to kill more. My family won’t be safe until he’s caught. He chose me because we’re connected somehow. And I need to find out why.”

  “Cooper,” Hart said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think the FBI or the chief is going to let you stay on after this.”

  Cooper’s rage was cut short by the swoosh of the waiting room door, and she leapt to her feet at the sight of the doctor. The first two steps were quick, but the moment she saw the look in the doctor’s eye, his body language, she knew the answer before it left his lips.

  “I’m sorry, Detective,” he said. “We did all we could to save her. She just lost too much blood on the way here. She’s gone.”

  The walls, the chairs, the lights, all of it slowly faded away until the hospital was consumed with darkness. A cold chill ran up Cooper’s spine, and the empty space was silent, save for her own vengeful thoughts. If he wants a story, then I’ll give him an ending he won’t forget.

  Death Notes: Obituary

  Chapter 1 – Baltimore 30 years ago

  The basement was small and dirty. A fine layer of dust signaled the room had not been touched in years. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling. It cast a dome of light in the darkness, stretching across the concrete floor to the walls where boxes were stacked in clusters by the dozen. Most of the cardboard tops were closed, but the few that were open revealed the spines of books piled messily inside.

  A thick musk of old paper and wood lingered in the air, which was only intensified by the stifling heat, and Gary Beachum felt himself growing sick. He wiggled uncomfortably in the chair. Thick cords of rope were wrapped around his stomach and chest, pinning him tightly to his seat. The flesh of his ankles and wrists grew puffy around the edges of the zip ties. He breathed through his nose, the duct tape taut across his mouth, and he struggled to keep from hyperventilating.

  A man, tall, skinny, dressed in slacks and a button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stood on the far side of the basement near a desk. He was hunched over, his head down, staring at something. Gary spit his pleas that filtered through the tape in unintelligible mumbles.

  The kidnapper slowly craned his neck around. In the shadows of the hanging light, only his chin and mouth were visible. He placed a long, slender finger to his lips and smiled. “Shhhh.”

  Gary shuddered, and his pulse quickened. He didn’t know that man, had never seen him before today. He felt the sweat on his skin stick to his shirt, and he jerked his arms and legs against the ropes that tied him down. He rocked back and forth, the chair legs lifting off the floor, the wood groaning under his pressure. Finally, he smacked to the floor, and he felt his left shoulder numb upon impact.

  “Enough!” The kidnapper’s voice was violent and explosive like the sound of thunder. He spun around, snapping shut the book in his hands. He stepped forward, his shadow growing longer and thinner the closer he moved. He stopped only inches from where Gary had fallen, then knelt, placing a gentle hand on Gary’s face. “My apologies.” He looked to the book in his other hand. “It’s just that I’ve always loved this story.”

  The book’s cover was thrust in Gary’s face, but the picture and title remained hidden from the dim lighting.

  “Have you read it?” the kidnapper asked, a hint of childlike curiosity in his voice. “It was my favorite as a kid. Arrow to the Sun.” He smiled, gently tracing his fingertips over the pictures on the paper. “It’s about a boy brought to earth by a powerful being, an outcast who changed his destiny and grew into his own power. I always wanted to be that boy.” He opened the first page of the book. “See here? Beautiful illustrations. And an important lesson at the end. Do you like it?”

  A drop of sweat rolled down the valley between Gary’s nose and eye, blurring his vision and stinging his eye. He couldn’t focus on the book. He couldn’t focus on the man’s questions. The only constant running through his mind was getting back to Anna.

  The kidnapper returned to the desk, tossing the book aside, and hunched over. He trembled, his knuckles blanching white against the desk’s edge. When he turned around, the rage subsided. He stepped directly under the light, giving Gary a good look at his face.

  A youthful gaze examined him. The kidnapper couldn’t have been older than twenty. Most of his features were normal, except for his eyes. They were small, beady things, sunk deep into his skull, almost as if they were afraid of the light.

  The kidnapper glanced back at the table, some of the books still open on the desk. He picked a few of them up and clutched them to his chest. “I read all the time. Stories are so much better than regular life, aren’t they?”

  Gary shivered, turning his face away. The kidnapper grew angry again and grabbed his face, digging bony fingers into his cheek and jaw. Despite the slenderness of his hands, the man’s fingers were strong. “You think you’ve done better than me? Is that it?” He squeezed harder. “And what have you done with your life, Gary? Working at some stupid baseball stadium? Maintaining the structures so the masses can have their mind-numbing entertainment?”

  The smack of palm and cheek rang through the dank basement air. Each repeated slap left a burning mark etched on Gary’s cheek, and it was all he could do not to whimper and cry. The kidnapper fisted a cluster of his hair, then yanked his head back with a vicious pull.

  The veins along Gary’s neck pulsed, and the muscles strained to keep the neck from snapping. “Well, you’re in my story now. And now it’s my turn to write the ending.” He shoved Gary’s head forward again and returned to the stacks of books on his desk. “This will be better than the ones I’ve tried to write before. It’ll be different. It’ll be real.” Items thumped and scraped along with the flurry of the kidnapper’s hands.

  Gary shifted his gaze toward the stairs while the kidnapper’s back was turned. A gut-wrenching knot twisted in his stomach as he slowly realized that this nightmare wasn’t going to end, that he would not wake. He shut his eyes, and the fear that had befuddled his mind leaked out in tears that streamed down his cheeks. He felt the sting of the salt in the few cuts along his cheek from the kidnapper’s assaults and accepted the fact that he was going to die.

  The kidnapper spun around, revealing the cleared desk space and the blank paper that rested on top. The bipolar hospitality returned with a smile and a gentle hand against the cheek he had previously struck. “I’m sorry, Gary. I didn’t mean it. Truth is, I’m a little nervous.” He chuckled slightly and pulled another chair that he set right in front of Gary. He crossed his legs and cupped his hands together. “I know you have questions. I know you’re wondering why I b
rought you here.” He pulled a blade from his side, and it gleamed in the light. He examined the knife in his hand, revealing the serrated edge meant for cutting.

  The steel was cold against Gary’s throat, and he looked away, his eyes squinted shut, waiting for the kidnapper to draw blood. But nothing happened. He slowly opened his eyes once more and stared into those small, lifeless eyes.

  The kidnapper cocked his head to the side, his face stoic. “I’m going to take the tape off of your mouth. You can scream, but no one will hear you. I’ve soundproofed this place.” He glanced around, smiling to himself. “It’s just us down here.” The stoic expression returned when his eyes locked back onto Gary’s. “But if you act out, I will cut you. Understand?”

  Gary nodded carefully, making it a point to avoid the scrape of the blade on his jugular. The kidnapper pinched the corner of the tape over his mouth and peeled, slowly. Every inch of the tape that was removed burned his skin, and when it was finally done, he drew in a sharp breath.

  “There,” the kidnapper said. “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” He balled up the tape and chucked it into a trash can.

  Gary moved his lips, running his tongue over the chapped and sensitive skin around his mouth. “W-what do you want?”

  The kidnapper smiled, the intimate nature of his proximity unsettling. “Stories, Gary. I want to learn more about you. I want to hear about your life.” He leaned closer, like a child looking to a parent at bedtime. “Will you tell me?”

  “I d-don’t have anything t-to tell.”

  The kidnapper jumped out of his chair, waving the blade through the air, and circled Gary like a shark that smelled blood. “See? Now, I know you’re lying.” He gripped Gary by the hair and yanked his head back, and again the cold steel was placed against his throat. “Or if you prefer, I could go and speak to Annabel?”

  The icy waters of fear submerged Gary’s senses, and every fiber of his being went numb. Then slowly, with every thought of his wife that flashed in his mind, he warmed. The hot flush of anger melted the cold fear in his veins, and he trembled with rage. “You don’t touch her!”

  The kidnapper smiled. He released Gary and shoved his head forward, circling slowly now. “If I wanted her, then she would be in this chair and not you.” He tilted his head to the side, those beady eyes piercing, watching. “We’ll start with how the two of you met. And then maybe I’ll decide if you’re worth the effort.” He took his seat. “You don’t tell me, and I promise you she dies.”

  Gary’s tear soaked cheeks glistened under the light. The words came slowly, as if he were remembering a dream. “I met Anna at her work.” He paused and closed his eyes. “She’s a seamstress. And she had some of the most beautiful hands I’d ever seen.” The intimacy of sharing his memories made him sick, but the thought of her gave him strength, and he felt his resolve harden. “I needed a pair of pants hemmed. It took her twice as long as it usually did to finish them because I gabbed her ear off the entire time. Once she finally finished, I asked her out for drinks after work, and she said yes.” He squeezed his hand and felt his wedding ring. His palm had grown sweaty, and his fingers slid across the metal quickly. “My entire life I’ve searched for something, a part of me that was missing. I tried so many different things to fill it, hoping to feel whole, but nothing ever worked. So I grew used to it. I grew numb. I continued to walk through life with lowered expectations. But that moment, seeing her…” He smiled, his eyes red and glassy. “I knew I would never have to feel that way again.”

  The kidnapper nodded, smiling, his beady eyes fixated on Gary, entranced. “That was beautiful.” He released a soft sigh. “She sounds like a wonderful woman. The two of you must have shared some precious memories.” He squeezed his hand, his knuckles popping from the pressure. “I never had that.” He glanced up to the ceiling, frowning. “Even my own mother hated me. She tried to take this place away from me.” A smile curved on his lips, and the angle of the lighting darkened his eyes. “But I won that contest.”

  Gary eyed the staircase to his left. It was less than ten feet away. “Please. Just let me go. I won’t go to the cops.” His voice caught in his throat, which grew thick with phlegm. “Let me go back to Anna.” He watched the kidnapper’s features soften. “I love her. More than anything in the world. You said you’ve never had that before, so you know what it would be like for her if I died. You know how much she would suffer.” He leaned forward as far as the restraints would allow. “Let me live. For her.”

  In the silence that followed, Gary’s heart beat wildly. Each heavy thump pounded like a bass drum. Time inched forward at a crawl, and when the kidnapper finally stood and turned his back, walking slowly to the desk, Gary believed his last chances had been squandered. He lowered his head in defeat and waited for the end.

  “You’re right.”

  Gary lifted his head. “What?”

  “You and Anna should have a happy ending.” The kidnapper turned and sheathed his knife and crossed his arms. “But in order for that to happen, I need to know more. And I want it recorded.” He raised an eyebrow. “As a show of good faith from you.”

  A faint glimmer of hope pierced the darkness of Gary’s soul. He huddled around it eagerly, protecting it from the harsh unknown that still remained. “Y-yeah.” He spoke eagerly. “Whatever you need me to do.”

  The kidnapper shoved Gary’s chair to the table with the blank pieces of paper. He opened a drawer and rummaged through its contents wildly. “I know it’s here somewhere—aha!” He slammed the drawer shut, clutched his prize in his fist, and took a seat on the desk. “When I was a little boy, my family barely had any money. There were times when I went days without eating. Days!” He raised both eyebrows in exclamation. “Luxuries weren’t anything we could afford, so my mother would try and make up games for me to play. I would close my eyes and pretend that I was in another place, somewhere far away where there were toys and candy.”

  Gary remained quiet as the kidnapper paused, his eyes closed, reliving the memory in his head.

  “But my imagination never satisfied me. Not really.” The kidnapper opened his eyes. “I just wanted more.” He leaned closer. “So one day, I was at the park with my mother. There were a bunch of kids there, most of them from wealthier families. And I saw that one of the kids had a coloring book with all of these crayons.” He laughed. “I’d never seen so many colors. And the boy wasn’t using all of them, so I took one when he wasn’t looking. But my mother saw me.” He clenched his fist tighter, staring at his hand. “That was a beating I never forgot. Or forgave.” He slammed his open palm onto the paper with a force that rattled the desk and the floor below it. When he removed his hand, it revealed a red crayon. “All of those smacks from the belt, just for taking one crayon that the boy wouldn’t have even missed.”

  The kidnapper untied Gary’s right hand, and the pressure around his wrist faded. He flexed his free hand, his skin tingling as blood flow returned to his appendage. He gripped the crayon and pressed it into the paper but stopped and looked behind him at the kidnapper. “What do you want me to write?”

  “A love note,” the kidnapper said. “To Anna. If you never saw her again, what would you tell her? What would you miss the most?”

  “Okay.” Gary closed his eyes as he fought the nervous spasms running through his body. But fear blocked his thoughts. Every memory that came to the forefront of his mind flitted away as quickly as it appeared.

  “C’mon.” The kidnapper shook the chair violently. “Where’s a place that is special to the two of you? Why is it special? What brought you there? What keeps you going back? What connects the two of you to that place?” He leaned intimately close. “I want to know her, like you know her.”

  Gary tilted his head away from the kidnapper’s hot breath on his neck. He shut his eyes. Camden Yards. With a reluctant hand, Gary scribbled the first few words down. As he gained momentum, the words flowed more easily. He purged himself of memories, the picnics, the birth
days, their first kiss, the proposal, all of the moments he was forced to share with the sick mind of a man he’d never met before today. He reached the bottom of the page and set the crayon down. “I’m done.”

  Without a word the kidnapper rewrapped the rope around Gary’s freed wrist, once again cutting off the circulation, then snatched the paper off the desk, smiling to himself. His eyes scanned the pages frantically. He rubbed his chin, pacing back and forth. “Yes, yes, this is good.”

  The churning pit of knives in Gary’s stomach was in full force. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to see Anna again. He felt himself hyperventilating, his heart thumping against his chest. “Let me go.” He watched the kidnapper stop under the light bulb with his back turned. “That was our deal, right? I tell you about me and Anna, and then you let me go.” The longer the kidnapper remained frozen under the light, the more Gary’s fear grew. “Let me go.” Fear slowly morphed into anger, and he clenched his purple, blood-drained fists. “Let me go!”

  The kidnapper slowly turned. The shadows along his face shifted from the waning light. “You don’t appreciate what you have, Gary.” The kidnapper drawled his words slowly. “Everything that has fallen into your lap.” He gestured to the letter in his hand. “These memories aren’t yours anymore. They’re mine now. And this is the beginning of my story.” His cheeks reddened, and he moved close enough for Gary to smell the stink of his breath. “You’re special. You’re my first.” He removed the blade from its sheath and pressed it to Gary’s throat. “But you will not be my last.”