Up Close And Gone

by Jennie Spallone

  He aimed the gun at the bridge of her nose. Shana’s heart pounded through her nostrils. Was the gun filled with acid instead of water? She struggled to block her eyes. He pressed the trigger.

  A cold stream of water smacked her face. “You bastard!”

  His body tensed. “You recall who I said would be upset if I cut you up?”

  Shana knew damn well who—her daughters! But it was safer for her to pretend otherwise. “Your grandmother, duh!”

  Her captor’s body relaxed. Evidently, she’d confirmed what he wanted to hear.

  “I need to apologize,” he said, his voice filled with remorse. “Sometimes my emotions scamper like water beetles.”

  Shana shivered at the visual image. For sure, this guy was wacko. She needed to mine these momentary lulls in his aberrant behavior. She forced her breathing to slow.

  “We all freak out sometimes. I forgive you.”

  He hung his head between his knees. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

  Her captor’s docile behavior proved more frightening than his outburst, especially since she was sitting in a pool of pee. She proceeded with caution.

  “Listen, I smell gross. My thighs are chafing. Do you have some wet wipes and clean clothes I can change into?”

  In one swift move, he unzipped her khaki skirt and kicked her fallen cell phone to the radiator. Then he finished undressing her, rolled up the clothing, and threw it into the trash can.

  Shana’s breathing came hard and fast. In an attempt to shield her naked body, she brought her knees to her chest.

  “Are you going to rape me?”

  Ignoring her question, he grabbed one of three kitchen towels hanging from the oven that sat caddy-corner to them. Then he slipped the towel beneath her buttocks.

  Horrified into silence, Shana observed the out-of-body experience unfold.

  Her captor rose and secured a mop and pail from the shallow pantry aligning the opposite wall. Then he disappeared into an adjoining room. Shana heard water stream from a faucet.

  A moment later, he returned with a filled bucket. The bitter smell of ammonia permeated the kitchen.

  “I wouldn’t suggest drinking this; it can kill you.” He paused, eyeing the windows, which looked painted shut. “So can breathing ammonia in an unventilated area.”

  Shana gasped!

  Chuckling, he strategically moved the bucket just out of kicking reach.

  School janitor? Building maintenance? The bitter smell was seeping into her nostrils. “How do you know my daughters’ names?”

  He heaved open the cracked window above the sink. “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

  Now he soaked a spider-webbed old mop in the pail, wiping the excess cleaning solution on the pail rim. Then he shoved her body to the far side of the kitchen sink and rigorously mopped the urine puddle. After he washed and towel-dried the floor, he stood back, Shana’s captor bent next to her, removed the soaked kitchen towel she was sitting on, and propped a second dry kitchen towel beneath her buttocks.

  “Answers trump money, hands down. But let’s save that chat for later. I’ve been an awful host. Bet you’re starving.”

  Holding her breath, Shana nervously waited for the next shoe to drop.

  He gestured to a fluted TV tray. “I’ve made you some breakfast.”

  Shana’s breathing slowed. Her body was still sticky, but at least rape didn’t seem to be on their morning menu. That he treated her nude body as invisible might signify he was gay. It could also mean her ancient body was as appealing as a prune. Why did she even care how attractive she looked to him?

  She decided to change tactics. “My arms are tingling.” “Would you mind unlocking my shackles, first?”

  He picked up the tray and turned toward the hallway “Perhaps you’d prefer to eat later.”

  Even the tingling combined with the ammonia smell could not stop Shana’s taste buds from going on high alert as she eyed her captor’s retreating body. “Stop!”

  He spun around and gave her a dazzling smile. “Give me your daughter’s phone number and I’ll feed you your breakfast.”

  “How about you forget the food and release my shackles instead?”

  Again, he picked up the food tray and headed towards the hallway door.

  “I need to eat!”

  He pivoted and threw the plate of eggs in her face. “You think this is a vacation, Bitch? No wonder Zander didn’t want to introduce you to his family.”

  Shana paid no attention to her captor’s sly inference that he knew her daughter’s husband; she was too focused on tonguing a flying morsel of scrambled egg. She sucked the tiny morsel through pursed lips. Her first bite of food since yesterday.

  Her captor swept the wasted food and broken china plate into a dustpan and emptied it in the trash.

  “Why must you force me to treat you like an animal?”

  Shana closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing through the prickles in her arms. That dinner plate probably was a family heirloom given her when she married. You’re going to be in deep shit with grandma, she thought gleefully. Shackles or no shackles, she required food and drink to stay alive. To reconcile with her daughters. To celebrate her first grandchild’s birth. By now, the police must be searching for her, the girls’ phones tapped. If the Answer Man wouldn’t give her his answer, she would give him hers. “Sir?” Her voice shook.

  He raised his eyebrows at her respectful tone.

  “I’ll give you my husband’s phone number.”

  Chapter 11

  Shana

  June 27, 2018

  By playing the hubby card, Shana was bluffing. She knew David would need to ponder all options before making a decision. By that time, she could be dead. She debated whether to phone Becca or Rachel. Becca was the obvious choice since Rachel was over six months pregnant. Becca was a take charge person; she’d be on it like honey on toast.

  Her captor draped a kitchen towel between her breasts and knees.

  “No need,” he said.

  A buzzer in her brain was screeching red alert, red alert! But Shana’s hunger was screeching even louder. “I can give you my daughter’s number instead.”

  “Don’t need it.”

  Shit! If he knew Rachel and Becca, he already had their phone numbers.

  “You failed the test,” her captor was saying. “You were willing to give me, a complete stranger whom you believe unhinged, a family member’s phone number. Your personal survival is obviously more important to you than your family’s safety. But I knew that from the beginning.”

  Shana shivered beneath the wet kitchen towel. “What beginning? I don’t know you.”

  He snickered.

  Over the years, she’d exposed truths which had enabled the police to clear or convict an infinite number of individuals. Sometimes those truths had even resulted in the conviction of police officers who’d gone rogue.

  Black suspects were convicted and incarcerated at five times the rate of whites; thus, she should be able to remember her golden-haired captor. Maybe he’d been a walk-on character in her life as a reporter: a witness, a victim’s friend, or a criminal family member.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t recall ever meeting you.”

  He smiled. “Let me put you out of your misery.”

  Shana gasped at a sudden burning urge to go to the bathroom. “The ammonia water gave me a bladder infection!”

  Her captor toyed with his pocket knife. “Seriously? Your life is ticking away, and you’re complaining about a bladder infection?”

  At the moment, this searing pain took precedence over death. “If you loved your grandmother, if there ever was a woman in your life whom you really loved, help me!”

  He calmly replaced his knife in its holder and placed it back in his jeans pocket.

  “Rachel m
entioned it doesn’t take much to freak you out.”

  Shana’s jaw dropped. “You know my daughter?”

  Her captor left the kitchen, only to return with a physician’s medical bag. Shana snickered to herself. A doctor; every Jewish mother’s dream.

  “Rachel and I have been Facebook friends since she moved to Vegas,” he said as he removed a twin set of tiny purple pills from their foil wrapper. “She thinks I’m the cousin of her Cosmetology friend.”

  Shana grimaced in emotional duress. “That’s how you knew my location, where to kidnap me.”

  She inched back as he approached, but he put a staying hand on her shoulder. Then he pried open her lips and dropped two pills down her throat. As she began to choke, he slowly poured a china cup of cold water down her esophagus.

  “I know Becca from her older sister’s Facebook pics.”

  Now Shana’s throat and bladder both felt like she’d swallowed a lit cigar. How could her daughters have befriended this creep?

  “Is your Facebook picture real?”

  Shana’s captor plopped back down on the floor beside her and crossed his legs. “Authentic or fake—that was a tricky choice. Ultimately, I chose authentic. That’s why you’re here.”

  “But I don’t do Facebook,” she protested, “and I don’t know you!”

  “All will soon be illuminated.”

  Shana could feel her anger resurfacing. “What does holding me for fuckin’ ransom have to do with me and my girls?”

  His lips tightened. “Language.” He closed his eyes and laid his palms upward on his lap for what seemed an eternity.

  Shana snickered. “Meditation is about inner peace, or did you miss that lesson?”

  Her captor’s crocodile smile oozed pity.

  “You must have Alzheimer’s. Less than an hour ago, I assured you ransom had nothing to do with you being here.”

  She gnawed her mental fingernails on that very possibility. She was about to deliver a stinging retort when he threw a teacup of ice water in her face. The liquid spilled so fast, she gasped for air. He lowered her head between her naked legs. After a moment, he raised her back into a sitting position.

  “Why did you do that?” she sputtered.

  “Because you’re a needy bitch. No more medical emergencies, unless I’m the one to cause them.”

  Shana’s voice rose ten decibels. “Bet your grandmother’s going to be real proud of you when she finds out you’ve added kidnapping to your resume!”

  He stared at her coldly. “Grandmother won’t give it a second thought. She’s dead.”

  Chapter 12

  Becca

  Becca walked into her sister’s hospital room; she was watching Gossip Girl reruns on her cell phone. Rachel glanced up at her with a hopeful smile. “Did mom come back yet?”

  “You know I would have called you.”

  “I woke up this morning and thought that maybe I’d just had a nightmare.”

  Becca grimaced. “It was no nightmare.”

  “She wouldn’t wander off like that, no matter how mad she was. No phone, no purse. The drivers here are crazy. Maybe she tried to cross a main street and got hit by a car. Maybe she’s lying unconscious in some hospital room!”

  “Calm down! You’re the one who should have gone into theater instead of me! All this drama isn’t good for the baby.”

  Rachel humphed. “Not even a ‘How are you feeling this morning!”

  “You didn’t give me a chance to ask!”

  “In case you do care, the doctor put me on a 24-hour magnesium drip to make sure I don’t experience contractions. Within two seconds, I started feeling flu symptoms. First I was really, really hot, then really, really cold. My chest felt like there was a crate of Mom’s old record albums pushing down on me.”

  “Remember how she donated those record albums to Goodwill when she moved?”

  “Mom said you made her give them away,” Rachel jokes weakly. “Any word on her?”

  Becca shook her head. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so sick.”

  “I feel perfectly fine now that they took it off. Like the drip never happened.”

  Anguish sliced her heart like a shard of glass. If only their mom’s disappearance was a nightmare from which they’d soon awaken.

  Rachel pointed to a small plastic container. “I saved a cup of fruit for you from lunch.”

  Becca rolled her eyes. “Like that’s something I’d ever eat.”

  “You can’t just live on mashed potatoes. You’ve got to start eating healthier.”

  Becca hugged her chest. “Give me a break. I’ve stopped eating processed meats. Doesn’t Mom comment enough about my diet?”

  “Sorry. We just want you to be healthy.” Her sister carefully moved her IV pole a couple of inches away from her hospital bed. Then she pat the space beside her.

  Becca slipped off her shoes and crawled into bed next to her. Her sister smoothed her hair from her eyes. “How’s Dad taking Mom’s disappearance?”

  Becca snuggled closer. “He’s been at the police station all morning, which is why I couldn’t get here earlier.”

  “Why didn’t Dad come with you?”

  “He’s exhausted, so he dropped me off and went back to the hotel. Says he’ll be here this afternoon.”

  Rachel stopped stroking her hair. “I tried calling him on his cell phone but he’s not answering. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Becca knew her sister didn’t pose that question lightly. As younger sister, Becca was secret keeper of the family. Only once had she ever confided information a sibling or parent had expressly forbidden her to share. She sure wasn’t going to start now.

  “Hello?” The word was razor-edged.

  “There’s nothing to hide. If mom doesn’t return by

  1:00 p.m., Detective Hernandez will do what she promised to do.”

  “OMG!” Rachel scanned her incoming phone calls from the previous day. “That person who called me yesterday, then hung up? Maybe mom asked them to use their phone. Here it is! Let’s call!”

  “Maybe we should let the detective follow through on that,” Becca said.

  “Hell, no. I’m calling now.”

  “Rachel, wait!”

  But Rachel was already clicking in the numbers. Becca could tell by her sister’s expression that someone had answered the phone.

  “Yes, hello. This is Rachel. Yesterday afternoon, someone from this number called me, then hung up. I didn’t recognize the number or area code.” Rachel paused. A young woman’s voice came through the phone. Then, “So you don’t know who could have reached out? What’s that? You say you let someone use your phone? By any chance, did you lend your phone to an older woman with blonde hair and purple streaks?”

  Rachel clasped Becca’s hands, her expression hopeful.

  “She told you she tried to call her daughter, but nobody answered. Do you know where the woman went after she left you?”

  She was silent as the response came through the phone.

  “Okay, well thanks for your help. I appreciate you.” She clicked off the phone.

  “I immediately answered the phone, why would mom lie?” Rachel mused.

  Becca’s face felt hot. “Maybe she was embarrassed about abandoning us at the restaurant. She figured we’d be all over her.”

  “She only thinks about herself. Doesn’t care we’d be worried.”

  Her sister had voiced Becca’s own sentiments. Becca’s voice quivered. “We might never again have to complain about Mom’s selfish behavior if she’s not found!”

  Rach’s voice trembled. “That was horrible of me to say.”

  Becca wiped the wetness from her eyes. “I know you didn’t mean it. What else did you find out?”

  “The phone belongs to a young mom. She wa
s walking her baby through the park in a stroller when mom asked to use her phone. She said she was unsure whether to give the phone to her because the woman—mom—looked scruffy, soaked with sweat. But she finally did so. Mom thanked her and went on her way. She was probably trying to locate a park exit.”

  “Did she say anything else?” Becca asked.

  “We’ve got to find mom!” Rachel attempted to move her body off the bed, then grimaced.

  Becca help her reposition herself. “Stop stressing yourself out! There’s nothing we can do until one o’clock.”

  Rachel closed her eyes, placed her palms on her tummy, and did some deep breathing. When she’d calmed down, she pulled out her cell phone and began to type.

  Becca rolled her eyes. “Now what?”

  “Let’s brainstorm what the detective needs to do to find mom.”

  “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need our suggestions, Rach.”

  “Makes me feel like we’re contributing! Okay, she needs to question employees of shops bordering the Park exits, and also interview police officers at nearby road intersections. Then there’s bus drivers and subway operators. Hotel employees.”

  “Detective Hernandez is going to hate us for pushing our noses in her business, is that what you want?”

  “I couldn’t care less. Our mother is missing, not hers! Ouch!”

  Becca’s heart quickened. She reached for the nurse buzzer.

  Her sister placed her hand on her arm. “I’m okay, but I’m feeling really tired.”

  “Let’s don’t talk about Mom right now,” Becca said.

  “Mind if we take a nap?”

  “You promise to not pull something once I close my eyes?” Becca asked.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  As they cuddled together, Becca silently prayed this was one promise her sister would keep.

  Chapter 13

  Shana

  “Did you kill her?”

  Her captor studied her. “You think I’m capable of killing my own grandmother?”

  As unhinged as he was, it was definitely a possibility. “That is the Question of the Day.”

  He gestured at the house. “This place has been empty since my dad parked grandma in a nursing home eleven months ago. She died earlier this year. She willed this hoarder’s playground to me. I put it on the market a couple of weeks ago. Of course, you were in no condition to notice when you arrived, but there’s a Contract Pending sign hanging out front. I’ve already brought everything to a domestic violence shelter, except for a few clothes and cleaning supplies.”