by Heather Lyn
When I park my truck next to my dad’s, I find my Mom waiting for me on the front porch. Killing the engine, I leave my keys and go running toward her. She pulls me into her arms and I lose it, crying like I can’t remember doing ever. She rubs one hand up and down my back, the other stroking the back of my head.
I clutch her to me, face buried in her shoulder. She’s whispering words of comfort, but they don’t mean anything to me. I want Lindsey. I want to go back to yesterday and force her to come home. To not go to work.
I want her back in my arms.
§
It’s been hours and Garret hasn’t called. Nothing.
Sitting on the couch in my parents’ living room, my mom brings me a cup of coffee and I take it from her, grateful for her and my dad at the moment. They haven’t forced me to talk, nothing. We’ve just been sitting in silence, waiting for news of anything.
Taking a sip of coffee, I kick my shoes off and stretch my legs out in front of me on the couch. Grabbing my cell from my pocket, I try calling my brother but he sends me to voice mail. I’m frustrated, but I know what he said before is true. I’m not a cop, and there’s nothing I can do. Hollie called me about an hour ago and said she finally spoke to Linds’s family. She was going to go pick up her sisters and parents, and then they’re all coming here.
Aimlessly, I wander upstairs to my childhood bedroom, coffee in hand. Mom never changed our rooms, they just became guest rooms more or less. Stepping inside, I laugh, looking at all the dumb posters on my walls. I remember the first time I tried to hang a Sports Illustrated photo on the wall, Mom almost killed me.
I’m still looking around when Dad steps into the room, knocking on the doorframe.
“Her family is here, son.”
Nodding, I follow him back downstairs, finishing my coffee as I go. Taking the empty cup to the sink, I hear the front door open, followed by total pandemonium.
Turning around, I watch Luke and Donna rush inside, heading right for me. Expecting anger, I’m taken by surprise when her mom pulls me into her arms, crying loudly.
“What happened, Brody?” Luke asks me, her sisters and Hollie following close behind.
Shaking my head, I hug her mom and look around at everyone.
“I don’t know. My brother hasn’t called with an update yet. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault, son. You have no reason to be sorry. You’re the best thing to ever happen to our little girl. Now we just need to get her home to you.”
I’m almost brought to my knees at her dad’s words, but I fight the emotions as I hold out my hand to him, which he promptly shakes.
“Can I get anyone coffee?” my mom offers, stepping into the room. I give her a grateful smile, and she blows a kiss before getting to work.
I’m so lost in my thoughts I barely notice the sound of ringing piercing the room. My cell phone. Pulling it from my pocket, the color drains from my face.
Garret.
Shushing everyone in the room, I answer.
“Hello?”
And my world changes forever.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lindsey
The first thing that registers is darkness.
My body feels weighted down, and I can’t move. I am moving though, and after letting my senses focus, I’m clearly in a vehicle. My legs finally cooperate, though after running them around the small space, I can’t get a feel for where I am or what I’m in. Then I hear a loud roar.
Am I in a car? How the hell did I get in a car?
I try to sit up, but I’m not able to, and my arms are bound behind my back. I try wiggling around, but it causes pain to shoot through my back and I cry out, tears burning my eyes.
Oh God, am I blind? What happened?
Trying to bite down on my bottom lip, I choke on the gag in my mouth. I try moving my arms again, but then I’m being slammed back against a wall of some kind. And then I’m no longer moving. Flailing around, I smash my head and groan at the searing pain. I give up the struggle, not wanting to hurt myself any more than I already might be. Lying in the dark, I hear the sound of muffled bangs, then a loud shout. A scraping sound and then a loud squeak.
The darkness brightens a little bit, but it’s still dark, just lighter somehow. I catch a whiff of a person in front of me, some sort of strong bodywash or something. I wrinkle my nose and then I’m being lifted. I kick my legs around and struggle, yelling loudly, but I’m dropped onto a hard object. Trying to kick once more, a bolt of pain shoots through my skull and my head is thrown back.
Someone just hit me.
I groan loudly, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. Focusing on the pain in my head, I barely notice my legs being strapped to something. My arms are still behind my back and my body starts shaking. Fear like I’ve never known takes over.
As I try to kick and fight, the sound of male laughter rings out.
“Stop fighting, you bitch. You’re fucking tied up. Your ass isn’t going anywhere.”
My pulse starts racing, eyes wide behind whatever is over my face.
I know that voice.
Laughing when he senses the jig is up, a cold hand grips my face. Bracing myself for a hit, I squeeze my eyes shut, but nothing comes. Instead, hands are near the back of my head and then bright lights flash over my face.
Blinking my eyes open, it’s hard to see, but after a few minutes they adjust. I was blindfolded. Looking around the room, I discover I’m in some sort of warehouse. There are large barrels everywhere and a dusty black car on the other side of the room. Turning to my left, I’m unprepared for what I find.
Jeffrey.
Bloody and clearly horribly beaten, tied to a chair same as me. His head is lolling around, his breathing wheezy and broken by a gurgling cough.
“Jeff… wee…,” I mumble around the gag.
His head moves slowly and when his eyes find me, they widen in fear.
“Lindsey…,” he tries, but his voice is broken and hoarse.
Hands come to the back of my head and my mouth is freed.
“Jeffrey!” I yell, throat sore. “Jeffrey, answer me! What happened?”
His eyes follow something behind me and I turn my head, even more horrified than I was when I found Jeffrey next to me. My captor comes to stand in front of me, dressed in an old pair of coveralls with a baseball hat pulled down low on his brow.
“Ryan?” I choke out, eyes wide and scared.
“What, you were expecting Santa?”
“Wha-what’s going on? What did you do?”
“What did I do? What you’ve had coming for way too long now,” he spits out, venom filling his voice.
My mind is racing, and I can’t grasp what’s happening.
“What did you do, Ryan? I don’t understand.”
“Oh don’t worry, Lindsey. We have all the time in the world. I figure it will take your dumb fucking boyfriend at least twelve hours, maybe more.”
As I struggle against the restraints, Ryan just wickedly smiles at me, clearly enjoying the pain on my face, my humiliation.
“Ryan, please. I’m your friend. I know you. Why are you doing this?” I ask, beginning to cry. The man I’m looking at is a complete stranger to me.
“Why? Because I fucking hate you, Lindsey Taylor!”
“I never did anything to you,” I cry, a sob breaking from my chest as tears spill faster down my cheeks.
“Are you serious? Everyone knows the incredible Lindsey Taylor, greatest motherfucking nurse to ever exist. It’s pathetic.”
“This is about my job? What are you talking about?”
“Two years, Lindsey. Two fucking years I held your hand, helped you, and what did I get? Fucking cast to the side, left to clean shit off patients’ asses, puke off the floor. All because you’re so fucking perfect, you bitch!”
“Ryan, please. You aren’t making any sense. We’ve spent the last two years hanging out, going places. I trusted you. You were my friend, Ryan. I care about you,
why are you doing this? And what does Jeffrey have to do with it?”
“It wasn’t supposed to go this far, but you just had to fucking keep throwing it in my face.”
“Make me understand!” I shout, voice breaking on the last syllable. “None of this makes sense! Are you fucking crazy?”
His eyes harden as he bends down in front of me. “Do not call me crazy.”
“Well, this is all pretty fucking crazy. Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the person you shouldn’t have fucked with, Lindsey.”
He goes quiet and walks away from me. Running his hands over the back of his head, he mutters to himself uncontrollably, either trying to talk himself out of something or trying to make a decision.
Closing my eyes, I try conjuring up an image or a thought, anything that makes any of this somewhat understandable. But there are none.
I’ve known Ryan two years. Not once have I been unkind to him. I never fucked him over at work, and he certainly hasn’t spent the last year cleaning shit or puke. He’s lost his mind.
Jeffrey grabs my attention when he groans, head barely turning to the side when he coughs up blood, the liquid pouring down his chest.
“Ryan, he needs help. You can’t just leave him there.”
“The fuck he does. This is his damn fault too. He couldn’t just follow the fucking plan!” he screams, spit flying from his mouth and hitting Jeffrey in the face.
“Ryan, please,” I cry, trying to get my arms out of the rope, but I’m unsuccessful.
“Ryan, pwease,” he mocks, sarcasm and anger heavy in his voice.
“Brody will be looking for me. You can’t do this. You won’t get away with it.”
“I don’t want to get away with it.”
This has to be a dream. Some weird fucking nightmare that I just can’t wake up from. When I scream in frustration, Ryan laughs, rocking back on his heels with a smile.
“This isn’t funny, you son of a bitch. Let me go!”
“Not happening, boo.”
“Don’t call me that. You lost the right to use nicknames when you fucking kidnapped me and tortured Jeffrey. What in the absolute fuck is wrong with you, you psycho?”
“Shut up.”
And with that, he walks away, whistling as he goes. He walks to some door I never noticed before and disappears behind it. I spend a solid five minutes screaming for help as loud as I can, but nobody comes. Nobody hears.
“Jeffrey, wake up,” I force out hoarsely. He doesn’t move, but I can see his chest moving. It’s shallow, but he’s still alive.
“Please, I don’t want to die,” I whisper, sobs pouring out of my chest.
I want Brody.
§
My wrists are sore and my head is throbbing. I have absolutely no idea how long I’ve been here, but Ryan hasn’t come back. He could’ve left us here to die, but I have no idea. I’ve long since stopped crying, and I can’t stop running it all through my head.
Ryan, my friend. My coworker. He was in on all of this with Jeffrey. He helped him.
His betrayal cuts me deep. I’ve never felt so used or alone in my entire life. All the times I cried to him, scared and upset, talked to him about Brody, my family, he was playing me.
Why?
I’m broken from my thoughts by the door opening and Ryan striding back into the room. He’s changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, a pair of Nikes on his feet.
“You done trying to get out?” he taunts.
“No,” I grit out.
“Shame. You’ll be here for a while. Might as well get comfortable.”
“No.”
“Have it your way, then.” Crossing to the other side of the warehouse, he goes over to a large table. I can’t see what’s on top of it, but he tucks something into the back of his pants and walks over to Jeffrey with a wooden baseball bat.
“Ryan, no!”
The sick sound of the bat hitting Jeffrey is a noise I will never forget for the rest of my life. Squeezing my eyes shut, I cry loudly, terrified and heartbroken. This is not the Ryan I know. That Ryan wouldn’t have hurt a fly.
“Stop it, please,” I sob. Jeffrey may have done some terrible things, but nobody deserves to be hurt like that. Nobody.
Ryan takes a few more shots at him, then tosses the bat to the side.
“God, look at you. Crying like a fucking infant. Grow up, Lindsey.”
“How could you do that to him? He needs help, Ryan. You killed him.”
“Oh, I did? How awful of me. Let me take care of it.”
For once, I should’ve shut my mouth, because Ryan walks over to him and pulls the object from out of his waistband. I have no time to react before he pulls the trigger. Jeffrey takes a shot to the center of his chest, and I watch in horror as blood blossoms across his shirt.
“No!”
Laughing, Ryan tucks the gun back into his pants. Sauntering over to me, he bends down in front of me. “Now it’s time for some real fun.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brody
Ryan Woods. Lindsey’s best friend.
If ever I could fucking murder someone.
Pacing my parents’ living room, my hands are fisted by my side. I got off the phone with Garret four hours ago. They found Ryan on a security camera carrying Lindsey from the hospital, her body limp and hanging over his shoulder. Garret told me they pulled a background check on him and found some interesting shit.
The only child of drug addict parents, he’s been on his own since he was seventeen. How he ended up putting himself through nursing school, they have no idea, since his only work history before that was minimum-wage jobs. And while he told Lindsey he had turned down med school, that was a lie. He never even applied for medical school. There’s no record of it.
After more digging, they found out that Jeffrey Lake had come back to the hospital a week after he was discharged, looking for Lindsey. For some reason he took a liking to her and wanted to see her. Ryan was pissed off that he wasn’t as smart or good as Lindsey. He clearly had such a deep jealousy of her, and I’m not sure we’ll ever understand why she’s who he chose.
Garret believes Jeffrey is just a pawn in this whole thing. Ryan used him to scare Lindsey, not knowing what his real plan was the whole time. They were able to compare security tapes from both the hospital and my bar, and they believe it was actually Ryan who came after Lindsey. He played everybody, and we can’t find him. Or Linds.
Everyone is out in the kitchen waiting for more news while I’m alone in the living room. Hollie tried calling Ryan’s number, hoping to get him to answer, see if he would act scared for Lindsey. But he didn’t answer, and then he turned off his phone. They tracked it from the station, but it pinged off a tower near his apartment, and he’s not there.
I’m broken from my pacing by the front door opening. Garret steps inside, Jace right behind him. He comes over to me and hugs me roughly, clapping my back.
“How you holding up, bro?”
“Not good. Any news?”
“None. They’re combing his financial records to see if he owns any other property, but so far nothing.” He looks grim before heading out to where everyone else is.
Jace gives me a hard handshake and grips my shoulder.
“We’ll find her.”
We better. I need her back. Now.
§
Late afternoon is upon us and nothing. Garret and Jace have been in and out for hours, going back and forth between here and the station. Mom is standing at the stove, cooking a large pot of chili. Luke and Donna are sitting with my dad on the back deck, trying to keep busy. Keep their minds occupied. Lindsey’s oldest sister Grace went home to take care of her little girls, but said she’d be back soon.
Unsure of where Blair is, I go looking for her, only to find her in the hallway, sitting against the wall. I sit next to her, my forearms on my knees.
“Hey,” I say quietly, my heart hurting when I see the silent tears falling down her
cheeks.
“Hi,” she whispers, trying to hide evidence of her fear. But she doesn’t need to, because it’s how we all feel at this point.
Shifting around, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and her head falls to my shoulder.
“I miss her, Brody. I’m so scared.”
“I know. I miss her so much.”
Sniffling, she wipes her face with the sleeve of her shirt.
“She loves you so much, Brody. I hope you know that. You’re all she’s talked about since the night you met. You’ve made her so happy.”
Blinking away the tears, I swallow past the lump and clear my throat.
“I know she does. I love her too, Blair. Your sister, she’s something else.”
“She’s my best friend. I want her back.”
“Me too.”
Together, we sit in silence. No words are said.
After all, what can we say? Talking won’t bring Lindsey back. We have to pray.
An hour later, we’re all sitting around the table after eating the dinner my mom made. I’m carrying my bowl over to the sink when my phone starts vibrating. I pull it out and see a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Say hi.
Raising my eyebrow, I go to respond when a picture message comes through and I drop to my knees, yelling for Garret. It’s a picture of my girl, her legs tied to the legs of a wooden chair, her arms behind her back. She’s crying, and there are red marks on her face.
Garret comes running into the room and grabs my phone. Cursing, he pulls out his radio and calls it in. Handing me back the phone, he kneels next to me and grips my shoulder.
“Respond,” he says. I shake my head, scared to do anything to hurt Lindsey. Garret repeats himself and I pull up the keypad.
Brody: Let her go.
Ryan: Yeah, no. 147 East River Ln. Come alone. No cops or Lindsey is dead.
“Goddamn it!” I roar, tears burning in my eyes.
Garret grabs me and tucks my face against his shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down my back.
“Breathe, Brody. Listen to me.”
I pull away and shove fists into my eyes, forcing the tears away.
“What do I do, Garret?”