Kidnapped: A Criminal Deeds Novel

by Kyle Autumn

  “Well,” I say, spreading my arms out to my sides, “as you can see, I’m fine. I’ll give Jane a call once you’ve left.”

  “I don’t have these missed calls they say I should have on my phone,” Keaton urges, holding said phone in the air. “So I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Ma’am,” Officer Todd says, ignoring Keaton, “we need you to come down to the station to fill out some paperwork for our report. Do you mind coming now?”

  I step forward, but Keaton grabs my arm to hold me back. In front of the officers, this is not his best idea. So I put my free hand on his other arm, stare him straight in the eye in a comforting but insisting manner, and remove my arm from his grip. Then I move my hand from his arm to his cheek.

  “It’s fine. I’ll just go sign some stuff and come back.” Anything to get this over and done with and put it behind me. Even though I don’t know where back is.

  I quickly find out where back is when I step outside, pass the officers, and see my car in the driveway right next door. Freezing in my tracks, I twist around and eye Keaton. The wide-eyed look I shoot him screams We’ve been in your house the whole time?!

  I suppose I should have realized that when I woke up in a bedroom. And then when I saw the photos of him around the house. But with everything going on, where I was wasn’t all that important compared to who I was with and what we were doing.

  The officers don’t give me much time or space to communicate with him. All I see is his apologetic gaze before he hangs his head.

  As the two officers usher me to their cruiser, I wonder why Keaton didn’t offer to come with me. Is he embarrassed about the photos? Does he think I’m upset that I’ve been right next to my house without knowing? Or is it something else? Something like his resignation to the fact that this is over now that I’ve left the bubble of our safety? Or does he think I’m going to tell the police that he kidnapped me and have him arrested?

  I truly hope it’s not that last one. After everything we’ve confessed and everything we’ve been through, even though it’s been such a short time, I’d like to think he’d trust me more than that. We both have a lot more to lose when we’re separate. But without a phone to my name or anything in my pockets, I’ll have to wait until I’m back to reassure him that everything’s going to be fine. No matter what.

  As it stands, I can only dream that I get that chance.

  22

  Keaton

  Watching her walk out my door fucking hurts. All the things I should have done and told her stay trapped as thoughts in my head instead of coming out and making things right. This is probably the last time I’m going to see her. Because I fucked up. I completely, totally fucked everything up. And it’s torture unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  Including what Robert Franklin did to me that gave me these damn scars. This is much worse than that. So much worse.

  The regret I’ll forever have for not warning her is one thing. But knowing that I’ve hurt her beyond her wildest imagination is another. It’s unforgiveable, and I now deserve these scars and all the pain I endured while receiving them more than ever.

  I should have told her where we were. She asked more than once, and that look she gave me when she realized I hadn’t taken her very far seared through me like a branding iron. I’ll carry that look with me forever, every time I think of her. Which will be often. A man doesn’t forget about a woman like her easily.

  I should have been honest with her about my past. But I knew that, if I told her I’ve covered up a murder, she’d never want me. I should have given her the chance though. Because, now, it doesn’t matter. I’ll never know, because she’s never coming back. I’ll never see her again or get the chance to make this right.

  God, I fucked up. Badly.

  As I rub my chin through my beard, I think, It doesn’t have to be this way. I can stop this before it goes too far. Before it’s too late and I can never fix what I’ve done. So I can come clean and take a chance to be with her if she’ll still have me once she knows everything.

  While storming through my house, I dig my HK out of from between couch cushions and snatch my car keys off the ring in the kitchen. Then I make one phone call that might save a life tonight.

  This isn’t how this ends, so I jump into my car to make sure of it.

  23

  Ali

  In the darkness of the cruiser, I do the math. Having memorized maps, I know that the station nine miles away, so we should be there within fifteen minutes, given the lack of traffic at this time of night.

  “Sorry for the insistence, ma’am, but we actually needed to get you away from that man,” Officer Yardley tells me, twisting in his seat a little to look at me while he speaks. “Your friend was worried that something had happened to you, so we needed to get you on your own so you’d be able to tell us the truth.”

  With small movements, I shake my head. “That wasn’t necessary. My friend was overreacting. Everything’s fine.”

  “That knot on the back of your head says otherwise,” Officer Todd says knowingly from the driver’s seat. Then he brings his phone to his ear and speaks quietly into it.

  Before I think better of it, I reach to the back of my head and wince when my fingers land on the sore spot.

  “That’s what we thought,” Yardley sneers. “You seemed pretty okay with leaving him behind.”

  “It’s not what you think,” I insist, but it’s falling upon deaf ears.

  “Doesn’t matter now,” he says smugly as the car makes a turn I wasn’t expecting.

  Perhaps they have a preferred route instead of the one I thought they’d take. Perhaps they know a shortcut I couldn’t see on the map I studied. Or perhaps something sinister is going on. That’s my default worry, so my pulse ratchets up as my brain works overtime to plot a way out of this. Because they’re not acting like friendly neighborhood cops.

  I check the passenger’s side mirror and notice a car following closely. Like an idiot, I didn’t take note of a car in Keaton’s driveway, so I have no way to know if it’s him. I can only hope he felt like he should follow us just in case.

  Just in case I decide not to go back. Just in case this goes south. Just in case I don’t make it out of this alive without him.

  Yardley is quiet for a few minutes while Todd talks in a soft voice on the phone. I’m busy mentally trying to figure out what to do next, but Yardley keeps sneaking glimpses at me that make me uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than I already am. More on edge than a normal person would be.

  It isn’t until Todd raises his voice that chills shoot down my spine.

  “I said we have her Melinda. Calm the fuck down.”

  Memories fly at me in the back seat of the cruiser. Melinda, the witch I used to know, the witch who seduced my father and made him kill my mother—made him want to kill me too. Against the backs of my eyes, I see her sipping wine with my father, dressed in her Sunday best. I see her disappointed scowl when I screamed at my father for having betrayed my mom. And, finally, I see her on her back, in my parents’ bed, wearing only a string of pearls and a smile when I walked in and realized she wasn’t my mother.

  As Todd turns the car into the woods on the outskirts of town, my blood freezes in my veins. Because the face in my memory, I now realize, looks a whole lot like the smiling woman in Keaton’s photo.

  In fact, she looks identical to his Melinda.

  The same Melinda who steps out of the car behind us and into the red of the cruiser’s brake lights.

  With my fucking father.

  My heart stalls in my chest. They found me. The past finally caught up with me and they’re going to finish what they started. Then I realize that Keaton isn’t the who followed us here. I hoped it were him, but then my heart starts to race for an entirely different reason.

  Was Keaton hanging his head in shame when I left because he’d set me up? Did he not ask to come with because he couldn’t bear to watch what he’s done? Cou
ld he not face me as my father finally kills me?

  Because that’s what’s about to happen.

  The bastard kidnapped me, fucked me to pass the time, and sent me off with two men who work for my father. Two men who have actually kidnapped me for real. Two men who are leading me straight to my father—my death—now. While Melinda, the witch who ruined my life, watches it happen.

  And, for that, I hope he fucking rots in hell.

  If I ever see him again, I might make sure of it myself.

  24

  Keaton

  I approach as quietly as I can, but I almost don’t have to worry about stray noises from crunching twigs under my shoes. The shouting voices nearly cover the sounds of my footsteps.

  Five silhouettes dance in the headlights of two vehicles. Well, really, four. Ali’s silhouette is fairly still. Her posture gives off the defeated vibe, and I want to run to her, protect her, and reassure her that everything’s going to be fine. But I have to stay back and wait for the right moment.

  “How is this not good enough for you?” the tallest person loudly asks. I recognize that voice as one of the officers.

  The shortest person has to be his partner, the other officer who came to my house. The other of two officers who said that they were taking Ali to the police station but actually brought her out to the middle of the fucking woods to meet with two other people I can’t quite see.

  “Well, for one, I told you to bring Emerson here alone!” one of the unknown people shouts. But she’s no longer unknown when that voice hits me square in the gut.

  That feminine voice that used to whisper naughty things in my ear when I fucked her. That voice that used to call my name out with each orgasm I gave her. That voice that also fucking told me lie after lie to keep me in her bed. That voice I never wanted to hear again.

  Melinda.

  “We are alone,” the tall one insists, throwing his hands out to his sides. “Who the fuck else is here?”

  “You’re telling me you didn’t see the car tailing us here?” the other unknown person asks as Melinda points an arm behind herself.

  Fuck me. Robert Franklin’s here too? What in the fuck do they want with Ali?

  That’s the last I hear of their conversation, even as I strain to listen to the rest. Lighting cracks in the sky, and thunder follows suit. They’re still talking though. Arms are flailing and voices are hushed as they angrily discuss something about “Emerson.” Is that Ali? What would Melinda want with her? If she can’t have me, no one can? No, that’s way too fucking self-absorbed. This can’t possibly be about me.

  And then it hits me. The pieces all click together and the puzzle is now complete.

  It’s about them.

  Another bolt of lightning zips across the sky. Thunder booms, and then I notice the first raindrop.

  I’m about to step closer to hear what they’re saying, but the click of a gun behind my head roots me in my spot.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” a man says, pressing the gun against my head.

  I don’t see the short cop in the headlights anymore, so I assume it’s him. If I hadn’t been in my fucking head, I would have heard him coming. But I didn’t, so I put my hands up by my head to show him that I’m not doing “anything stupid.” Then he nudges me forward with the gun and I obey, walking all the way into the headlights of their two vehicles.

  “Well, what have we here?” Robert asks, putting his hands on his hips.

  With an umbrella in one hand, Melinda approaches me and then drags one finger down my face. “A face I never thought I’d see again but always hoped I would. Though I must say you look much better without all of this hair.”

  “Go to hell,” I spit out at her, shaking her finger away.

  No one gets to fuck another guy, stomp on my heart, and use me as part of their evil plan only to say shit like that. Nope. Not gonna happen.

  “What would be the fun in that?” she coos, popping her umbrella open. “I have so much left to do here.” She finishes with a pointed glare at Ali—or Emerson. Whatever her name is. “Or maybe, for old time’s sake, I should have you do it for me.”

  I don’t dignify that with a response. Truth is I did a lot of shit for her. A lot of her dirty work in the name of love. But that ship has long since sailed and she won’t get another favor out of me. Especially one that includes hurting Ali.

  Ali, who’s shivering as she stands handcuffed to the passenger’s side of the police cruiser, the rain starting to come down hard. Ali, who’s done nothing wrong in this scenario. Ali, whose only crime was to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  We make eye contact, but unlike the first time, I can’t possibly look away from her anymore. I’ve seen her soul, and she’s seen mine. I have more of mine to give, and I can’t give up hope yet. Looking away would seal the deal for me, so I stare at her, begging and pleading with her with my gaze.

  But she breaks eye contact with me, defeat and sadness written all over her slumped posture.

  “Ali,” I call to her. “Ali, listen to me.”

  She looks at me again, her nostrils flaring and her cheeks stained red from tears. But she remains silent.

  “Shut the fuck up!” the tall cop screams as the short one pokes me with the gun at the back of my head.

  “Ali, it’s going to be okay,” I assure her—even if I can’t possibly know that. All I need is for a glimmer of hope to shine in her eyes.

  Instead, she shoots daggers at me with them. “Fuck you. You can go to hell with her.”

  “Looks like it’s another rejection for you, Keaton,” Robert says dryly.

  “Ooh.” Melinda puts one red-tipped finger to her lips as she puckers them. “Sorry.” Though she’s anything but sorry. The evil tilt of her lips tells me as much.

  “I’m here to help you!” I shout to Ali, ignoring both of them.

  “Fuck off!” she screams, her body trembling. “You’re as bad as they are!”

  If words could kill, I’d be dead right now. Having her lump me into the same category as the biggest scum on the planet wounds me deeply, but I have to stay focused. So I say the one thing that’s most likely going to get me killed but also most likely to get her to listen—even if it means losing her forever. At least she’ll know I’m on her side.

  “I have the hammer, Ali!” I yell over the rain. The gun behind me presses harder against my head. “I have the hammer.”

  25

  Ali

  What the fuck did he just say? I couldn’t have heard him right. The rain—or maybe the stress of this whole situation—is playing tricks on my ears. There’s no way I just heard what I think I heard.

  I don’t get to ask him though. My father speaks up first.

  “Of course you still have it.” He reaches into his car for another umbrella and pops it open.

  Melinda twists Keaton’s beard with her fingers. “Just tell me where it is and we can be finished with all of this nonsense.”

  “Ali, did you hear me?” Keaton shouts to me.

  Before I can answer him, my father speaks again.

  “She heard you,” he tells him.

  Then Melinda spins to face me. “But it seems as though she can’t comprehend why you said that.” Facing Keaton again, she says, “You haven’t told her who you are and what you’ve done?”

  “Let me explain,” he grits out between clenched teeth.

  “Oh, I think I’ll do the honors,” Melinda says, her voice tinged of evil. “Keaton here works for your father, Emerson.”

  While Keaton is shaking his head, my gut starts churning. I fucking knew it. He’s a double-timing asshole—one I was, like an idiot, falling for. Thinking we could be together in this crazy world. Of course not though. Of course we can’t be. I don’t get to have any normalcy in my life. I can’t trust anyone. And this is what I get for trying.

  “My mother was killed with a hammer,” I say, no emotion in my voice. I’m shredded, completely spent. I should have pu
t it all together, but I didn’t. That’s what he’s hiding in his backyard? “And the hammer was never found, which is why my father never went to jail. You’ve had it this whole time?”

  “Don’t listen to her, Ali!” Keaton yells. “I don’t work for anyone. I told you that.”

  “Oh, but you did.” Melinda walks over to me, her umbrella in her hand, as Officer Todd crosses his arms over his chest. “And,” she says when she reaches me, putting a hand on my shoulder, which I shrug off without looking at her, “he was an active player in your poor mother’s death.”

  “I don’t know what she said, Ali, but it’s not true!” Keaton shouts over the rain.

  But it’s too late. I don’t know what to believe, but having my past this close to me and all of my previous assumptions swirling around my head is doing me no good. The rain, Melinda, all of the memories rushing back… I don’t know what the fuck is going on, and as they shout back and forth at each other and guns fly out of places I didn’t know they were hidden, I tune out.

  I’m just done. Let them kill me.

  I don’t know how long I’ve tuned out when a gunshot rings out. It jolts me, but I don’t duck like I know I should. Instead, I stay upright, shivering in the cold, hard rain. Everyone else bolts into action though. Melinda spins around and takes off running. So do the two police officers who brought me here. Bright lights flood the area, and more cops run past the cars, I assume in a chase for the four people who brought me here.

  But my father is lying in a pool of blood, red spiraling on his shirt near his chest. A cop runs over to him, kicks his gun away, and puts a hand on his neck. That’s when I stop watching. I can’t care less about what happens to that man, and I’ve seen worse violence in my life. So I let it go.