by Roger Hayden
Probably nothing, Miriam said to herself. Just a crazy old man. Warm plate in front of her, she lifted her fork and took a bite.
Prisoner
“Wake up, little one,” a man’s voice said in a kind tone.
Natalie opened her eyes in a small, darkened room, illuminated by a single bulb in a ceiling fan that flickered intermittently above. She attempted to sit up in her disoriented state and found that her right arm was handcuffed to a side railing on the elevated bed she had been placed in. Her memory was hazy. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten into the stuffy room with its old-fashioned wallpaper, faded and peeling in some areas, and thick draperies covering the windows.
As he watched her, she couldn’t see the strange man’s features, nothing beyond his looming silhouette. His mere presence frightened her, and she didn’t know what to say. There was a tray of food and glass of water next to the bed on a wheeled stand. Natalie couldn’t remember eating, but she noticed some half-eaten mashed potatoes and what looked like hamburger. She was lying above the covers, wearing a large, ill-fitting shirt that went down to her knees, covering her underwear.
Though she felt like a patient, she was certain that she wasn’t in a hospital. Her gut told her she was in danger, and judging by the handcuff on her wrist, she was, in fact, a prisoner. She recoiled and quickly pulled the covers over herself, backing against the wall at the head of the bed.
“It’s okay,” the man reassured her. “Don’t be afraid.”
Natalie had no idea where she was or with whom. She was certain, however, that the man before her was a stranger. A quick glance around revealed a barren space with some boxes stacked in the corner near a closet door. A nearby dusty bookcase stood against the wall, filled with books and magazines.
The fan whirled above, squeaking as it rotated. The room was foreign and ominous, like some bad dream, but even within her daze, she understood the reality of her situation.
Natalie tried to speak, but her voice came out in a strained whimper. “Where… am I?”
The man stopped inches from the foot of her bed and stared down at her. He was tall, with hair parted to one side, just above his right eye, and wearing a short-sleeved uniform—a collared shirt with a nametag and slacks. He raised a gloved hand, urging calm.
“Don’t worry about anything right now. It’s best you got some rest.” He paused and walked to her food tray, taking the glass of water. He then held his other hand out, which had two small white tablets. “Here, take these. You’ll feel better.”
Natalie backed against the wall, pushing the matted hair hanging down the sides of her face and reaching to her shoulders. Her mouth remained a straight line, further tucked in and refusing whatever the strange man was offering.
“Come on, silly,” he said, further extending his hand. “I know your head hurts. It’s a natural reaction to the sedatives you took.”
“I don’t want to,” she said softly, though he was right about the pain in her head. There was a faint throbbing that made it hurt to move. Her throat was sandpaper dry, and the glass of water in his hand was tempting. She moved her cuffed arm, causing the handcuff to clink against the railing. “What is this?” she asked. “Why…?”
“Why are you handcuffed?” he answered.
She took the water from him with her free hand. He then took her cuffed hand and placed the two tablets inside, squeezing her palm shut. “You’re handcuffed because you need to rest.”
The man paused, taking a step back and reaching under the bed, from where he retrieved a stainless steel bedpan. “You’re going to need this sooner or later,” he said, setting it down near a small nightstand next to her.
She gulped down half the glass of water and gasped for air as he paced beside the bed, remaining in the shadows. “It’s just aspirin, Natalie. You’ll feel better, trust me.”
Natalie. He knew her by name. She set her glass of water on the tray, followed by the pills, refusing them.
The man stopped and shook his head with a sigh. “You want to be in pain, fine. I’ll give you your choice, but if you keep pushing me, next time I’ll force them down your throat.”
No one had ever spoken to her that way, not even her parents at their angriest. She felt too tired to run and didn’t think she’d get very far anyway, not with her hand attached to the railing like a prisoner in a hospital ward.
Real fear began to grow from within, though she was hesitant to show her panic. His gloved hands gripped the railing as he leaned closer to her, revealing a glimpse of his acne-scarred face and brownish bangs hanging to one side. The bed creaked as he placed pressure on its side.
Natalie clenched her eyes, wanting to scream but lacking the ability to do so.
“There, there,” he said. “We’re going to do some great things together as soon as you get better.”
“How do you know my name?” she asked.
He stood over her with his hands out as though the answer was obvious. “Well, it’s kind of hard not to. Your face has been all over the news.”
His response befuddled and frightened Natalie. She felt as if she were in a dream, but no dream of hers had ever felt so vivid and real. She pulled at her handcuff again, harder than before, but there was no getting free. She dragged the handcuff along the railing until it stopped.
“I want to leave,” she said, panic settling in. “I need to go home.”
She then jerked at the handcuff with all her might, thrashing around and shaking the bed with several useless air kicks.
The man gazed down at her with sympathetic eyes, visible even through the light reflecting off his glasses. “Please, Natalie. Calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
An unsettling realization crept in that she was in real danger, and for a moment, she stopped moving. “Let me go,” she said softly as tears streamed down her cheeks.
The man backed away with a nod and rubbed his chin in consideration, turning to face the barren wall to their side. “It seems that you don’t remember what happened.” He then paused and spun around, facing her. “I’d be happy to clear things up. That way, you’ll understand that there is little chance of you going anywhere.”
He approached the bed with his squeaky black loafers. “For the past day, your face has been all over TV. Your parents have been on TV. Everyone is talking about you. Isn’t it remarkable? Thousands of people die each day, but one eleven-year-old girl goes missing, and it’s ‘round the clock coverage.”
Natalie breathed in and shouted as loudly as she could, “Let me go!”
“Hey!” the man said sternly, finger in the air. “Don’t push your luck. You will regret it if you do.”
She froze and went quiet.
“That’s better,” he said, satisfied. “Now let me jog your memory. Yesterday you were waiting for your mother to leave the Food Mart. I approached you and offered you some candy, which you gladly accepted. The candy, however, contained a sedative, meaning that it was drugged with stuff that made you sleepy. You were out like that.” He smacked his hands together, startling her.
Natalie lay in horror, faintly recalling the scene. She could remember the man now. He had approached her in the parking lot, knocked on her window even. She couldn’t understand how he had gotten into the car or what he had done, but she could remember the candy. “What-what do you want from me?” she asked. The situation was too unreal to make sense of, and all she wanted to do was go home.
“Patience,” he said, touching the bed railing again. “I’ll explain everything in time. I just wanted to let you know what happened. Everything should wear off in the next hour, but in the meantime, you should really take your aspirin.”
He backed away from the bed and took the plate from her tray. “It’s morning now. I’ll make you some breakfast.” He smiled as though he was expecting a thank you in return, but Natalie said nothing.
The man turned and walked toward the rickety closed door at the end of the room as she sat up fully in the bed,
prepared to lash out. “Wait!” she shouted.
The man halted halfway to the door, tilted his head, and then turned around. “Yes?”
She couldn’t think of what to say beyond pleading with him to release her. Suddenly, she had an idea. “My parents…” she began. “They have money. They’ll pay you whatever you want.”
The man shrugged in response. “That’s okay. I’m not after their money.”
She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again. “Then what do you want?”
The man closed his eyes and lowered his head with a sigh. He then looked at her again, studying her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want you to be comfortable, and while I know this is all very hard, things will get better, I promise.”
Why wouldn’t he listen to her? Why had he taken her? Her mind suddenly recalled April Johnson, the girl from her school who had gone missing a week prior. Was there a connection? How long had she been in that room, and how far was she from home? Questions swarmed in her mind as the man made his way to the door.
“I know you’re hungry,” he said, stopping. “And if you’re good, maybe I’ll bring you down a book or something.”
He continued to the door, opening it halfway and slipping through, careful not to reveal anything that lay beyond. Natalie waited in silence as the door swung shut, followed by the sound of several deadbolts sliding into place.
Feeling completely alone, Natalie shuddered at the thought of the man returning. She pulled at the handcuff again, reddening the already visible mark around her wrist. Her breathing intensified as she lay on her side, sobbing into the pillow clenched to her chest.
“Mom…” she said between breaths. “Mom. Help me.”
***
The man locked the deadbolts along the side of the door and walked away satisfied. He turned down a narrow hall, leading into a cluttered kitchen, with dishes piled in the sink and a window above the faucet revealing a small backyard surrounded by a privacy fence. The house was dark inside, with all blinds drawn and only a few lights on. The man wished that he could bring Natalie into the kitchen and make her breakfast as if they were a family, but such a decision, for the time being, was out of the question.
In time, he told himself.
He dumped the remainder of her food from the night before into a trash can and then washed the plate off in the sink. He was looking forward to making breakfast that morning. Everything, so far, had been going according to plan. A little bacon, eggs, and toast would make everything even better. Perhaps Natalie would eventually warm up to him. It was a little after 7 a.m., and he didn’t have to be at work for another hour.
The man went by the name Walter Browning, and he lived in a modest two-bedroom house tucked away among many other low-income housing developments on the outskirts of Odessa. Walter was twenty-nine and lived alone. He had a job stocking groceries at the Food Mart and hoped to move up from there. For some time, Walter had been trying to get his life back on track. He was even seeing a therapist. The older he got, however, the less likely it seemed that he’d ever find the right companionship. One day, tired of trying to become the kind of person he was always told he had to be, Walter made an impulsive decision to seek such a companion. Someone who wouldn’t hurt him like all the others.
He had found that person in Natalie, and he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere. The past mattered little to Walter. Not the wife he had lost, nor his reputation after the pictures were found on his computer. Not the fact that everyone, after his disappearance, probably assumed him to be dead. None of it mattered anymore. He had a roof over his head and a new start.
Walter stirred scrambled eggs in a sizzling pan, taking in the delicious aroma while admiring the radiant morning light beyond the windows. His navy-blue polo shirt was draped over a chair behind him at the kitchen table, where his Food Mart hat rested. At work, Walter never said much. He didn’t like to draw too much attention to himself. He was polite and engaging when he needed to be, but his mind generally moved in a million different directions during the day, and conversation with coworkers often led to revealing too much about himself, or so he feared.
Walter stocked shelves morning and night, cleaned aisles, and sometimes bagged groceries. He had even been recently trained as a cashier. It was an easy job, and the hours were flexible. The Food Mart gave Walter a window into the town and its people. He had been looking for the right girl for a while. Having Natalie in his house gave him a sort of nervous thrill, and knowing that everyone was looking for her added to the excitement.
He placed two pieces of wheat bread in the toaster and pushed down the lever, whistling to himself. His earlier fears had subsided once he got rid of the blue van. The short-lived purchase was in the past, and it was back to driving his beat-up red Datsun. There were detectives in town looking for him. He had seen the AMBER Alert on his phone describing his van and knew that he had to get rid of it. Such a hasty move didn’t come cheap, but Walter was lucky to have a friend or two in high places.
He had heard the APB for the van on his police scanner shortly after abducting Natalie. Investigators would be searching the vehicle database for registered vans as well as anything reported stolen. What they didn’t know was that Walter had purchased the van out of state and it was now long gone.
Walter placed four strips of bacon in the pan. His stomach growled as they crackled and fizzed. A concerning thought suddenly entered his mind regarding Natalie. Her affection wasn’t going to come quickly or easily. It would take time, if it came at all. Walter had to accept that fact. There were no guarantees. He had a young, traumatized girl in his spare bedroom being held against her will. Her acceptance wasn’t going to come overnight.
Once the food was finished, he made two plates of eggs, bacon, and toast. He then filled two glasses with orange juice and placed his plate on the table. Natalie’s plate in hand, he whistled his way down the hall and began unlocking her door with his free hand.
“Heads up. I’m coming in,” he said, opening the door with a creak.
Walter looked across the room, only to see an empty bed with an open handcuff hanging from the railing. He blinked and rubbed his eyes at the impossible sight, but there was no denying what he saw. The girl was gone. For a moment, he lost self-control and dropped the plate onto the hardwood floor, spilling food everywhere as the plate broke into shards.
“Natalie?” he said, rushing to the bed. “Natalie, where are you?”
Relax, he told himself. She’s still in here.
There were only so many places she could hide. Her sheets hung over the edge of the bed, concealing the space beneath it. She had to be there, hiding underneath the bed like a frightened child. Walter smiled, despite his anger at wasting food, and crept toward the bed, prepared to charge and subdue her.
“Come on out now,” he said. “Now’s not the time to get on my bad side.”
Once she was caught, it would be time for a little dose of punishment. He reviled the thought, but one thing was for certain: she’d never try to escape again.
***
Day 3
Miriam opened the blinds that overlooked the Sand Spur Inn parking lot. The sun was out, and there was plenty of activity below, traffic moving along at a busy intersection near the inn. She could see buildings across the street, canopies out front and signs for a coffee shop, a deli, and even a frame store.
Odessa seemed to have a little of everything. The town moved at its own pace. There was even a quaint fire station at the corner with two fire trucks parked in the open garage bay. She scanned the street ahead for a blue van, which was always on her mind. Her gut told her that their suspect was still in town.
Steam flowed from the bathroom, where she had just taken a shower. Standing in her bathrobe, Miriam walked to the nightstand where her phone was charging. There was a good morning text from Lou and another text from Detective Hayes, telling her that they’d be at the hotel in fifteen minutes. The time on the clock radio indicated 7:1
5 a.m. The detectives weren’t wasting any time.
She sent Lou a message back, wishing him a good day, and glanced at the television that sat atop the small dresser at the foot of her bed. High on the wall above the television was an eight-point deer-head bust. Its sprawling antlers shadowed the wall. She had never stayed in a hotel room quite like this.
The news played on mute, displaying the weather forecast for the day. The high was eighty-one, with the low seventy-nine and mostly cloudy. There was no forecast for rain for the week, but judging by swaths of dry brown grass surrounding the inn parking lot, the town needed all the rain it could get.
She walked toward a small desk in the corner, her bare feet against the plush carpet, and examined her notes from the evening prior. Notebook in hand, she sat at the foot of the bed and flipped through to her breakdown of each day. Her schedule could very well differ from what the detectives had planned, but she wanted to write it out nonetheless.
There was a lot of ground to cover, and their resources were limited. A pair of jeans and a dark-blue short-sleeved shirt lay across the recently made bed. Miriam couldn’t help herself. She had a compulsive need to make her bed no matter where she had slept.
Her suitcase sat in the corner of the room, nearly emptied. Her wristwatch, sunglasses, and pocketbook rested on the nightstand next to her phone. Her black hair was wrapped in a towel, and she knew she had to get ready, but just then a news report came on detailing a traffic accident not far from the hotel.
She received a text from Detective Hayes telling her that they were just pulling into the parking lot. Surprised, she walked to the window and looked out just as his silver Crown Victoria drove toward the front lobby below and parked. Miriam turned around and rushed to the bathroom, already hurried and behind. It was going to be that kind of day.
Ten minutes later, Miriam made it to the car with her satchel of notes and files. From the front seat, Detective Shelton turned around and handed her a fresh cup of coffee in a warm Styrofoam cup. Hayes circled around the parking lot and pulled into the traffic as sunlight beamed into the car. Miriam shielded her face and sipped coffee as they hit the intersection with an exchange of pleasantries, Hayes asking her if she slept well and how she was doing.