by Roger Hayden
He stood silent as his stunned eyes looked away from the photo and onto the floor.
“You have to let April go,” Miriam said. “Then this can all be over.”
He glanced at her with a skeptical expression as tears formed in his eyes. “I’ve been wanting to tell you everything for a while, Miriam. Don’t waste the moment with empty promises.” He closed his eyes and took a long sigh, opening them with a look of sadness and staring at the picture of Anabelle still in Miriam’s hand.
He then sniffled and wiped his nose, approaching her with slow, menacing steps. “Where did you get that photo?”
“From your scrapbook. We found your underground room.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said with the barrel pushed closer to her face. “And you also found out who I was, right?”
“Was?” she said. “You are Desmond Turner. You had a wife and a child. You were a doctor.”
He leaned forward with a steely look in his eyes. “I lost that residency a long time ago. They had no faith in me. They said I couldn’t be trusted. They said I needed counseling!”
He paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself.
“After Anabelle’s murder, I became fascinated by the pain of loss. Whenever a patient died, I’d watch the reaction of their families. It fascinated me. It reminded me how much I didn’t feel anymore.”
He brought his head down again, eyes closed but his pistol still aimed. Miriam thought of grabbing it, but Trudeau was far too unstable. One wrong move on her part, and her life could end in an instant. He looked up, running his free hand through his hair, and continued with another sigh. “Losing Anabelle brought it out of me, and I just didn’t care anymore.”
He suddenly backed away from her and walked toward the small living room, pacing around a sleeping bag on the floor. “So, here we are, two individuals who have had our share of loss.” He then turned to her, eyes narrowed. “Do you really think that you’re going to talk this thing to a conclusion?”
“No,” Miriam said. “I want you to take responsibility for what you’ve done. It’s never too late. You’ll spend the rest of your life in jail, but you’ll be alive. You’ll have the time to make peace with yourself. Seek forgiveness. Become a better person.”
Distracted, he paced back to the kitchen and looked out the broken window behind her. “Yeah… a tempting offer to be sure.” He then came back into her view, aiming his pistol to the side. “But I don’t think there’s any peace left in me to find. I see them out there, hunched and ready. They want blood. And can you blame them? I’ve killed three detectives.”
Miriam tried to read his next movement, but as his eyes shifted around the room, he seemed more confused than ever.
“How about you release April first? She has no reason to be here.”
“She’s mine!” he shouted, startling her.
“I know you care about her. Show her, and end this now.”
He glanced toward the window again with a cynical smirk and a slow nod. “Okay, Miriam. You win. I think I’d like to see my daughter now.” He brought the pistol to his left temple and stared at Miriam, unblinking. “Maybe someday you’ll understand.”
In a swift movement that didn’t even seem like her own, Miriam reached back and grabbed the thick, old-fashioned frying pan and swung it at Trudeau with the force of a medieval mace. The force smacked the pistol from his hand and pelted him in the head with a blunt thud. Trudeau flew back, holding his head in shock, and hit the ground in a matter of seconds, rattling the floorboards below.
Miriam tossed the pan and then charged at Trudeau, sliding to her knees, as she grabbed her pistol and stood up over him. Trudeau kicked and thrashed on the ground with his hands covering his head in pain as he screamed out through gritted teeth. She couldn’t believe what she had done. Trudeau was done, but their standoff was far from over. On instinct, she hurried past where his pistol lay within his own reaching distance.
“You fucking bitch!” he screamed out, gripping his head as blood flowed from its side. His legs kicked as he turned to his side in a frenzy of confusion.
“Just stay down!” she demanded.
She calmly picked up his pistol and pushed it into her pocket. Their roles had reversed in an instant, and there was only one thing left in her mind to do. She ran to the bedroom door, past the kitchen window where everyone was waiting outside, and pulled against the knob. It was locked.
“April, are you in there?” she asked while knocking. “Open the door. I’m with the police!”
In her haste, she realized that the rusty brass doorknob was in fact locked on the outside. She quickly turned the lock and swung the door open to a room where the only light inside came from a small window in the corner near a neatly made bed. Several carry bags and backpacks lined the floor, some open and sprouting clothes, both male and female. She scanned the room for April but didn’t see anyone. Utter confusion gripped her already shaken state of mind. Everything and everyone else was just background noise.
She suddenly heard Agent Pinkerton shout to her from outside. “What’s going on in there? I need an update!”
Miriam backed out of the room, adrenaline pumping through her veins, and shouted toward the window. “Trudeau’s down. We’re clear!”
“He’s down? What do you mean?”
She turned and looked to the spot on the floor where he had been writhing in stunned agony, but saw that he had risen to his feet, shaking against the kitchen counter. He held a small red-stained towel to his head, drooling with sporadic gasps, as one trembling hand lurched toward a kitchen knife.
Miriam brought her pistol up and aimed it at his head. “Where is she?”
“We’re coming in!” Agent Pinkerton shouted.
Trudeau stared at Miriam, dazed, his eyes fluttering. “The hell you talking about?”
“April!”
“Who’s April?” He paused and then grabbed the knife, nearly falling over in the process. “Who the hell are you?”
The front door swung open in a fury as the lead SWAT member stormed inside with the rest of his team following.
Trudeau spun around, gripping the knife and wobbling against the counter. He dropped the blood-soaked towel against his head and held the knife out in a desperate, defensive posture.
“Who-who are you people?”
The SWAT team surrounded him at a careful distance with their rifles aimed.
“Drop the knife!” the lead man shouted through his visor helmet. Miriam watched helplessly as Agent Pinkerton and Murphy entered the cabin, pistols in the air.
“Don’t shoot him!” Miriam said, but the confusion in the air was just too great.
She wasn’t sure who fired, but the blast made her jump to the side and fall to her knees directly in front of the open bedroom door. Trudeau collapsed to the ground as Agent Pinkerton shouted at the SWAT team in anger.
“I said don’t fire, damn it!”
Miriam barely caught her breath before she froze, inches from the doorframe, at the sight of trip wire inches from the ground. She peeked inside the room and saw two rectangular blocks of explosives duct-taped to a nearby dresser. Her heart pounded in her chest as she crawled back and turned around to face the chaos unfolding in the room.
“He’s still breathing!” a masked SWAT member said. The team huddled around Trudeau as he lay on the floor, with only his legs visible to where Miriam was. Agent Pinkerton noticed her and moved quickly past her team, deep concern in her eyes.
“Don’t come any closer!” Miriam shouted, thrusting her hand out.
Agent Pinkerton halted. “What is it? Where’s the girl?”
Miriam stood up, pistol at her side, with her other hand still trying to keep the agents at bay. “He rigged explosives at the door.” She paused, stunned at the realization of how close she had come to serious injury or death. “I was ready to run in. The only thing that stopped me was…”
“What?” Agent Pinkerton said with growing impatience.
Ignoring her, Miriam turned and entered the room, carefully avoiding the wire in her path. She called out for April once again and then stopped at the end of the bed, heart sinking deep into her chest.
On the floor below sat April, huddled against the wall and rocking back and forth. She looked to be somewhere else—a silent refuge in the deep recesses of her mind. She made no sudden movements upon Miriam’s careful approach and only shook once Miriam knelt and placed a tender hand against her cheek.
“It’s okay,” Miriam said softly. “Everything’s going to be all right,” she said.
“I… I…” April began. Her face was dirty along with her oversized children’s clothes. Miriam brushed her stringy hair to her side and tried her best to comfort April despite her petrified state.
“Don’t worry, honey. We’re going to get you home.”
“It’s over?” April asked.
“Yes, my dear. It’s over.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Miriam, and I’ve been trying to find you.”
April seemed less afraid by the minute as a certain warmth returned to her face. Miriam wrapped her arms around her and lifted her up in a warm embrace. April didn’t protest. Instead, her head turned away and nestled in Miriam’s shoulder, with her body trembling.
Miriam carried April past the bed and outside the room, carefully stepping over the trip wire with hopes that she’d never have to see the cabin again.
On their way out, they nearly ran into Agent Pinkerton, whose eyes lit up upon seeing the frightened girl in Miriam’s arms.
“Is she okay?”
“I think so. She’s been through quite a lot. I’m taking her out of here now. Need to get her checked out right away.”
Agent Pinkerton stepped aside, seeming to understand. She almost thanked Miriam when Agent Murphy’s loud call for medical assistance on the radio garnered her attention. Miriam moved quickly past the SWAT team, where one member was attending to Dr. Trudeau, who lay shaking and convulsing on the floor. A quick glance showed Miriam that he had been shot directly in the middle of his chest. His arms and legs remained dormant, his neck and head the only things moving.
Miriam held April tight and rushed outside the cabin, where a breeze stirred in the trees. The grounds were too dangerous to traverse on their own. Traps had been set all around the cabin, and the risk of carrying her farther proved far too much. But that wasn’t going to stop her from carrying April a safe distance from the nightmare she had been trapped in. She found some shade near a tree and gently set April down.
“We’re going to get you out of here soon. Don’t worry.”
Resting against the tree, April observed her surroundings, squinting. Miriam walked a few feet down the hill and called out to Sergeant Bennett, who was watching from a distance.
“Are you okay?” he shouted, hands cupped at his mouth.
“There’s trip wire everywhere! Bring the rest of the team, but be careful!” She turned around to check on April, satisfied to see her still resting against the tree, still and observant in her movements.
“We have April, and I want to get her out of here as soon as possible!”
Sergeant Bennett waved at her with understanding and then disappeared into the forest to get the others. Detective Hayes and Shelton would be surprised to see how things had ended. Or would they? Miriam knelt next to April and gently brushed back some hair from her face. The helicopter grew closer and louder with its steady approach. There didn’t look to be any clear place to land, but its presence made one thing clear—help was on the way.
April struggled to speak, only getting out a few words here and there. “Want to go home… My mom… I…”
“You’re going to be fine,” Miriam said. “You’re safe now.”
She turned from April and looked inside the cabin from afar. The SWAT team had hoisted Trudeau into his sleeping bag and were carrying him outside like a wounded soldier in a makeshift stretcher. It was the last time she ever saw him.
***
Day Five
After a litany of statements and inquiries from the FBI and the county police department, she finally made it back to Phoenix the next day. She arrived home that Saturday and felt an overwhelming rush of joy upon seeing Ana and Lou at the airport, just outside the terminal. She squeezed Ana tightly, holding back tears and then hugged Lou perhaps a little too tight. She was cleaned up and wearing a navy-blue blazer, white undershirt, and jeans, with her black hair straightened down to her shoulders—a stark difference from her shabby, worn-down appearance from the day prior.
Lou took her carry-on luggage and didn’t ask her any questions about the case as they left the airport hand and hand. They went out to dinner that evening as a family at an Italian restaurant where they munched on breadsticks and pasta.
Ana told her all about her week at school and what Miriam had missed. Miriam listened attentively, trying not to think about returning to work. There were a lot of questions waiting for her. In the end, the FBI had agreed to officially minimize her role in any reports on the case. No one would know how deeply she was involved, or so she hoped.
“So, they were talking about Trudeau on the news earlier,” Lou said, taking a bite. “No one can believe that he was behind it all the whole time.” He then placed a hand over hers. “I’m just glad you guys caught him. And I’m glad you’re home.”
Miriam smiled. “I’m glad too.”
“Who’s Trudeau?” Ana asked, spinning her spaghetti with her fork.
Miriam looked at her affectionately, part of her relieved that Ana appeared to know so little about the case. “He’s the man we were looking for. The kidnapper.”
“And you caught him?”
“We sure did,” Miriam said.
“They should make a movie about you, Mom,” Ana said to laughter from Lou and Miriam. They continued to talk, eat, and laugh well after the check had arrived, and Miriam knew that she’d always look back at their reunion dinner with a heavy sense of fondness.
***
Later the evening, Miriam lay in bed with Lou, watching television with a comforting silence between them as a car commercial flashed across the screen at low volume. Her mind was everywhere. She thought of April Johnson, Natalie Forester, and Tara McKenzie. The three girls had been through a harrowing ordeal, though April had been the most affected by the end of it. She had been the first girl kidnapped and held longer than the others. Miriam then made a mental reminder to call each family the next day. For now, it was time to rest.
Lying on top of the sheets in his plaid pajamas, Lou took her hand in his and examined her engagement ring. “Whoa. Who got you that?”
Miriam turned to him with a smile. “Someone very special.”
“Oh yeah?” he said, leaning closer with a kiss.
The clock on the nightstand said it was 10:33 p.m. After a long, hot shower, Miriam felt the full exhaustion of the past couple of days, and she could barely move. Her bed had never felt so comfortable. In her stream of consciousness, she came to the conclusion that she’d never leave Lou and Ana again. The thought of them in danger was too much to bear. However, she did feel as though she had done the right thing in going to Odessa. The girls had been rescued, Trudeau was in jail, and she now seemed to be in good standing with the FBI and Ector County PD. Everything for the most part had worked out. So it seemed.
“So, they caught him alive?” Lou asked with his hands behind his head.
Miriam opened her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, but he’s paralyzed from the neck down.”
“A quadriplegic?” Lou said. “I can’t believe it.”
“The shot went through his chest and struck him directly in the spinal cord.”
She then turned on her side, facing Lou, to get more comfortable. “He’s under medical watch right now. Might just spend the rest of his life in a prison hospital.”
“What did he say? Was this really all about the death of his daughter?” Lou asked.
Miriam shook her head, amused. “He got banged up during the raid and suffered multiple concussions. Now he’s claims to have no memory of Dr. Trudeau or all the terrible things that he did.”
Lou stared ahead, stunned. “Of course he has amnesia now. Why not?”
“He told the police that his name was Desmond Turner. He said he had never heard of Nicholas Trudeau.”
Lou moved closer and kissed Miriam’s forehead. “I’m just glad you’re home.”
She moved into his arms. “Me too.”
“I was worried about you.”
“I know.”
A slight pause came between them as Lou continued.
“Have you thought about when you want our wedding date to be?” he asked.
“Sure…” Miriam said with a playful smile. “Now that you mention it.”
Lou backed away, feigning outrage. “You lie.”
“Relax,” she said, placing her arm over his. “Everything is going to work out just how we want it.”
“I love you, Miriam,” Lou said.
Miriam nodded as her voice drifted in a tired haze. “I love you too…”
“Good night,” Lou said, with another kiss on the forehead.
Miriam tried to respond, but sleep had fully taken her over and she drifted off to a place of soothing comfort where no one could harm her or her family again. There was a time when she felt nothing but despair—sometime after the death of her ex-husband, Freddy. She didn’t know how she or Ana would ever go on. She blamed herself for what happened to him, and the guilt had never been fully extinguished.
She hoped that she could make it up to Freddy by helping others, no matter the cost. Her debt to him, she realized, was the driving force for finding those missing girls. One day, she’d feel that debt paid. Until then, she vowed in her sleep to help the defenseless through any means necessary. As she slumbered, such disjointed thoughts made sense. Tomorrow was a new day and a chance to further realize just how grateful Miriam was for everything that she had.
Hi! I hope you enjoyed my latest series. Quality story telling is very important to me. It’s my living, and I can’t thank you enough for your support and for taking the time to read this boxset. But the learning never stops, and your feedback is vital to improving each new series I explore.