THE ABDUCTION OF CASSANDRA

by William Melden

  “I am,” Cassie’s father said. “God knows I am.”

  Man, that must have hurt, Roy thought, recalling the incident from the fight. This guy is tougher than he looks. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, y’all, but that reminded me of something that’s been puzzlin’ me. Why was that trap door there in the first place? There was a regular door right there in the wall. Why would anybody have added a hole in the floor? Seems like it would just get in the way, back when Tri-State was in business.”

  “I’m sure it was just an adaptation the kidnappers made, Roy,” Agent Burgess replied. “They obviously had hired workmen to make renovations in the office area, and they probably just paid them to move the shaft back and make it a trap. They wouldn’t have called it a trap, of course. The workmen just did what they were paid to do.”

  “That’s what it looked like when I was scouting out the place,” Celeste added. “It looked like they’d just knocked out the back wall of the shaft and moved the elevator back a few feet.”

  “Apparently so,” Burgess agreed. After a long moment, he spoke again. “Getting back to your other question, I think I can explain ‘why Cassie.’” He told them of Eldon Dayle’s strange history, the loss of his daughter, and his contempt for Christians.

  “That’s so sad,” Mrs. Hixson said. “And so sick. It’s like he was trying to get revenge on God by ruining someone else’s daughter.”

  “That’s the way I see it,” Burgess agreed. “But he’ll be thoroughly psychoanalyzed. First by the Bureau, then by the prosecution and the defense at his trial. So will Miss Maclean.” He no longer used the term “Agent” for her.

  “I don’t think he was sick at all,” Celeste interjected. “I think he was demon possessed. So much hate. . . . Cassie, did you ever get that feeling?”

  “You know I did,” she answered. “I think they were both possessed. But God was stronger. I could tell you things you wouldn’t believe. Well, maybe you would.” She smiled. “Miraculous things.” She looked at Brandon. “I don’t want to put you on the spot, but what do you think?”

  Brandon shifted on the ottoman. “Well . . . I haven’t figured out this whole Christian thing yet. I’m not exactly a church kid. But I watched Cassie. I saw things. . . . Most girls would have fallen apart. I definitely believe in God now, because of what I saw in her. I’m not a Christian, but I’m thinking about it. I’ve seen some bad things in my life, but I believe in the Devil just from what I saw in that man. Eldon Dayle. If there’s such a thing as possession, he and that woman were possessed.” He looked at Cassie’s parents, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I mean no disrespect. I’m just tryin’ to be honest.”

  “It’s fine, son,” Dr. Hixson said. “We appreciate it.”

  Celeste wasn’t finished. “Demon possessed. And he’s such a big genius? A great ‘man of science?’” She snorted. “What a joke.”

  “Be careful, now,” Roy cautioned, putting his hand on her knee. “A lot of those scientific guys are atheists, and hateful and high-minded, that’s true. But Dr. Hixson’s a man of science, too, see what I’m sayin’? And Mr. Williams, he told me once that some of the greatest scientists in history were Christians. You can’t be generalizin’ like that.”

  She looked at him, surprised. “You’re right. . . . I guess I was just letting off steam. When were you and Mr. Williams talking about science and stuff?”

  “We talk about everything,” Roy replied.

  Celeste nodded. Of course they do.

  After a moment of silence, Burgess spoke again. “Demon possession isn’t exactly addressed in the law,” he said. “But this was so well planned, and so prolonged, that I think he’d have trouble with an insanity defense.” He sighed. “Okay, here’s where it gets difficult. Brandon, I’ve been told that both Dayle and Maclean have implicated you in this crime, as an accomplice.” He held up a hand. “Now, don’t say anything yet. Remember, they’re criminals, and I don’t believe everything they say. Right now they’re trying to save their own necks.”

  He turned to Peacock. “Lieutenant, I’d appreciate your input here. These kids” —he nodded at Roy and Celeste — “and the two at the hospital, rescued Cassandra and Brandon, without much help from either of our agencies. But they broke some laws to do it. For example, battery against the two kidnappers. The fireworks, near an airport. Disabling those cars. From where you sit, do you think they need lawyers at this point?”

  Peacock was silent for a minute. “I’ve been thinking about that. I appreciate your question, because I know most of the prosecutors and judges here in Yorkville. Yes, they’ve broken some laws. But they did it in order to rescue someone who was being victimized. We have a sixteen year old boy lying in the hospital with a bullet in his shoulder, put there by. . . sorry to say it . . . Miss Maclean. As far as I’m concerned, these kids are heroes.

  “You heard what those people did to Cassie and Brandon. If they hadn’t been rescued, they might have been killed. If Brandon was ever involved in this thing, Cassie says he was her biggest helper on the scene. I don’t know how you people will play it on the federal level, but I don’t see them being indicted for anything at all here. Who’d file a complaint against them, apart from the kidnappers? Only the city or county could do that, and our local prosecutors aren’t that stupid.”

  Burgess nodded. “My sentiments are the same, but I needed your perspective. If Gordon, Barbara, and Cassie trust Brandon, I’m willing to trust him. He could even be a great asset. Gordon? Barbara?” He looked at the couple.

  “You first, honey,” Dr. Hixson said.

  Mrs. Hixson blushed at suddenly being the center of attention. “We’ve told you before, Agent Burgess, when you took Cassie’s phone. We trust our daughter. She says he helped her. He doesn’t look like a bad kid to me, and he’s honest. What he said about Christianity. . . . He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Call it a mother’s intuition, if you want. I like him.”

  “I like him too,” Dr. Hixson added. He’d been sizing the boy up with a father’s eye. “I’d say he has the makings of a con artist. But he’s not trying to con anybody now. How old are you, Brandon?”

  “I’m eighteen,” he replied.

  “You look younger. Well . . . everybody makes mistakes. They’ve both been through a lot together. In the end, did he hurt Cassie, or help her? That’s the bottom line for me.”

  Is this possible? Brandon asked himself. Total strangers actually trusting me, for my own sake? Not just because I’m “the judge’s son?”

  Burgess nodded. “Fine. Brandon, we’ll talk about this. I can’t speak for the federal prosecutor, but if your story checks out, I wouldn’t be surprised if you got immunity from prosecution. From the way they . . . she, rather . . . abused you physically, I doubt that anyone could say you were their accomplice. Again, I’m not the one to make the call, but it seems you’d be a real asset to the prosecution.”

  Relief could be felt all around the room. Suddenly, Royal burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Celeste asked.

  “Talkin’ about us breakin’ the law,” Roy replied. “I just noticed. I’m not a criminal. I’m a victim!”

  Using his hands, he raised his bad leg, displaying his foot. The black leather of the shoe had been torn, and a bit of copper gleamed in the steel toe.

  Maclean’s third bullet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Brothers

  “Hi! Are you dead? You better watch out! The trannasaurus is gonna get you!”

  Brandon Fox stirred in bed in the Hixsons’ guest room. He rolled onto his side, toward the sound of the voice, and opened his eyes. There stood Nick, peering into his face, a line of tiny hard-rubber dinosaurs carefully lined up on the mattress next to the pillow. The boy held a Tyrannosaurus rex in his fingers, wiggling it menacingly.

  “No, I’m not dead” he mumbled, closing his eyes again. Then, realizing what he’d seen, he began to laugh. He opened his eyes and looked at Nick, and the toys, and caught a g
limpse of the clock on the bedside table. It was nearly noon. “Don’t let the trannasaurus get me, please. I’m scared of dinosaurs.”

  A voice came from the hallway door. “Nick, did you wake up our guest? You know better than that.”

  Brandon sat up in bed, the little dinosaurs tumbling to the floor. “No problem, Dr. Hixson,” he said. “I don’t mind.” He was still wearing his t-shirt and briefs from the day before. Cassie’s sweatpants were folded over the back of a nearby chair. He turned and saw Nick bent over, picking up the toys. “He makes a great alarm clock, after the past few weeks.”

  “Yes, I imagine he does,” Dr. Hixson replied. He held a plastic shopping bag in his hand. “Anyway, Nick, you need to go downstairs and see your mom and Cassie. I want to talk to Brandon for a minute.”

  “Okay,” the boy chirped. “See you later, Brandon!” He gathered up his toys and was soon heard thundering down the stairs.

  “Looks like you’ve made a new friend,” Dr. Hixson smiled.

  “I’m glad,” Brandon replied. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I haven’t been around kids very much.”

  Dr. Hixson approached the bed, and handed the shopping bag to him. “Since it’s Saturday, I had to go out and run a few errands this morning,” he said. “You needed a change of clothes. I guessed at the sizes.”

  “Well . . . thank you. That was really thoughtful.” Brandon opened the bag and pulled out a new pair of jeans, a long-sleeved button-up shirt, a package of briefs, some socks, deodorant, and a new razor. He glanced at the tags. “These are just the right size. I really do appreciate it. I’ll pay you back.” He still had the leather boat shoes he’d worn to the hangar on that first day, which seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Dr. Hixson replied. “Listen, Brandon, I noticed the cuts on your arms. The razor wire?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Would you mind taking off your t-shirt? I’d like to see how you’re healing up, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure,” Brandon replied, pulling off the shirt. Dr. Hixson sat on the edge of the bed and examined the little wounds, which had scabbed over. Taking one of Brandon’s arms in his hands, he looked it over, not only as a doctor, but as the father of the girl who’d been imprisoned with this boy. No needle marks on his arms. Fingernails neatly trimmed, but still dirty, of course, like Cassie’s. Whatever he is, he’s not a junkie. He released the arm and smiled.

  “You were right,” he said. “It looks like Cassie did a good job with the cuts. Did you have them all over?”

  “Well, almost,” Brandon replied. “I was wearing gym shorts and underwear. That woman ripped off my shirt before she knocked me into the wire. It was weird, Dr. Hixson. They actually bought some iodine and Band-Aids and things, and left them for us. That’s what Cassie used, after I showered the blood off. She didn’t do anything to the cuts on . . . well, on my butt and stuff. I mean . . . I’m trying to say that I wasn’t naked at any time. God bless her . . . she seemed embarrassed enough, but she just put it aside and took care of me.”

  “That’s Cassie,” her father remarked. Then he smiled. “Brandon, you just said ‘God bless her.’ And it sounded perfectly natural and sincere. Feels better than cursing, doesn’t it?”

  Brandon’s face registered surprise. “I didn’t even notice. I just said what I was thinking. That’s a first.”

  “Good for you. . . . Well, I’m glad you didn’t need any stitches, at least. I still can’t imagine Cassie snapping your nose back into place.” He paused for a moment, envisioning the scene. “But it seems to be healing well. Can you breathe through it?”

  “Not very much. Not yet.”

  “You should see an ear, nose, and throat doctor, in case there was any sinus damage.” He pulled out his wallet, removed one of his own business cards, and wrote the name of an ENT specialist on the back. “Here you go,” he said, handing the boy the card. “You make the appointment yourself, and see that you keep it. I’ll call him and have him send the bill to me.” He raised his hand. “No arguments. I’m serious. The sooner the better.”

  Brandon looked at the card. “Thank you, Dr. Hixson. I’ll do that.”

  “Brandon . . . you have some big decisions facing you. Cassie told me about your problems with your parents, so I doubt that you’ll be going back to their house.” Brandon shook his head. “But the way you were living before. . . . I’m not judging you, son. Before I became a Christian, before I met Barbara, I smoked a little pot, and chased the skirts, and in med school, I popped more than my share of pills. They were easy to get. But whatever decision you make, about becoming a Christian, I’d sure hate to see you go back to that environment. I want you to stay here for a few days, but I hope you can figure something else out. I’ll help in any way I can.” He stood up. “Go take a shower and put on your new clothes. You’ll feel like a new man. Then come down and you can have some real food, for a change. You need to relax and recharge your batteries. There’s a lot of craziness coming up, with these trials and everything. Okay?”

  “Thank you, sir,” Brandon said after a moment. He really means it. Just like Cassie really meant it. He wants me to be a Christian, but he’s not pressuring me. Being so honest about his own past . . . not self-righteous at all. And he’s not a sucker. He’s not clueless. He was polite about it, but I know he was checking my arm for tracks. I’ve never known people like this. As Gordon left the room, the boy swung out of bed and headed for the nearby bathroom.

  * * * * *

  “Okay, so those are the contents of my beach bag.” Madison Andrews tossed her hair as she set the bag aside, off-camera. “You’ll probably have your own things that are different than mine, and that’s cool, but I’m just showing you what I take to the beach, because I go there a lot. It’s really a big lake, but I go to Myrtle Beach every summer. Now, before I finish, I want to thank all of you who saw me being interviewed on that cable news show, about the kidnapping case. It’s a local story, so I’m not gonna talk about it here online, but what a coincidence, right? They interviewed a bunch of people, but you guys recognized Platinum Cookie right away! Y’all are so sweet!” She wrinkled her nose. “Anyway, in my next video — ”

  Her cell phone thumped out its rap ring tone, and she hit the “Pause” button on the videocam. God, that better not be Chad again, she thought, scowling. But it was.

  “Yes, Chad?” she snapped. “No, I’m not in a ‘bitchy’ mood, and you watch your mouth. I was doing something important. . . . Yes, believe it or not, it was more important than talking to you on the phone. Okay, I got it. You’re gonna be a few minutes late tonight. Yes, of course I’ll be there, just like I always am. Now, can I get back to what I was doing? Thank you!”

  She poked the hang-up icon. This is getting so old. It hasn’t even been a month since we hooked up, but he thinks he owns me now. He’s gonna find out differently. She returned to her desk, to finish her video.

  * * * * *

  Ethan and Olivia knew that “the conversation” with her parents was inevitable, but they hadn’t expected Lieutenant Peacock to be present. The five of them sat in the Mendels’ living room, each with a cup of coffee, except for Ethan. He held a bottle of water in his right hand, his left arm immobilized by a sling.

  “Are you hurting, Ethan?” Olivia’s mother asked. “How are you healing?”

  “I’m doing pretty good, Mrs. Mendel, thank you. They’ve had me on painkillers, which has been kind of nice.” He smiled. “Really nice, I mean. Hydrocodone. But I won’t need it much longer. I hope I won’t, anyway, because Dr. Montgomery says it’s addictive. You know, Dr. Paula Montgomery? She’s been our family doctor all my life. I told her that I really liked it, and she said to enjoy it while I could, ‘cause there won’t be any refills.”

  Olivia closed her eyes and sighed. Nobody but Ethan would tell his doctor how much he’s enjoying his narcotics.

  “Any permanent damage?” Mr. Mendel inquired. He winked at the boy. �
�Those paintballs can be pretty lethal, I’ve heard.”

  “Paintballs?” Peacock looked puzzled.

  “No sir,” Ethan replied, blushing at the reminder of their deception. “The bullet missed this big artery. . . . What’s it called, Livvie?”

  “The subclavian artery,” she said.

  “Oh yeah, that one. Anyway, the bullet missed it. It got stuck in the front of my . . . what, Livvie?”

  “Your scapula. Your shoulder blade.”

  “Yeah, right. My scapula. But it was a pretty small bullet. They say that it probably won’t cause me to lose any use of my arm or my hand. I really wanted to keep the bullet, for a souvenir. But they said they needed it for evidence.”

  “Maybe after the trials,” Peacock smiled. “Thank God it wasn’t a bigger caliber. But even small bullets can be deadly, because they bounce around inside the body. Someone was watching out for you.”