Something Borrowed (New Castle Book 3)
Page 21
This was the man who abducted her babies. She needed to see his face. Reaching to unbuckle her seat belt, she stilled as Marcus dug his fingers into her leg without even glancing in her direction. He told the other driver they were finished and removed his foot from the brake, their car once again in motion.
“Remember what happens when you disobey.”
They pulled out of the shopping center and onto the main road. Marcus reached in his pocket and removed something that looked like a piece of gum, folded in silver paper. He held it out to her.
“Take this.”
She took the item in her hand, too light and small to be gum. She unfolded the foil. “It’s a pill.”
“Swallow it.”
Did he plan to keep her drugged? Whatever he gave her before made her incredibly sick and she needed to stay alert. “I’ll do—”
The car swerved without warning and skidded to the shoulder. He got within an inch of her face and snarled, “It grows tedious, don’t you think? Swallow the fucking pill or I’ll make you swallow it. If I think you didn’t ingest it I’ll force another one down your throat with my fingers holding it there until it dissolves.”
Sheer impotence had her eyes tearing. “Can I at least see the boys first?”
“You will not be seeing my boys tonight. They don’t know you’re coming. They’ve had a rough day, thanks to you, and I won’t have you getting them worked up. Now, swallow the fucking pill before I jam it down your fucking throat. One. Two—”
She whimpered and placed the pill on her tongue and forced it down her ravaged throat while her mind reflexively tried to regurgitate the drug. Common sense and her need to survive were lost against her instincts to reach her children. She needed to be strong to do that, not battered. The tiny capsule disappeared.
She breathed and waited. Marcus looked at his watch then pulled down the visor mirror and ran his fingers through his hair.
“I wonder,” he said quietly to himself. “How much have you lied to our boys about me?”
Chloe didn’t answer.
“Six years is a long time.” He continued to groom himself and she wondered what he was waiting for. “It’s a shame they had to leave their friends without even a goodbye.”
She tilted her head and frowned at his ear. It looked wrong, too curly and flat. Did he always have ears like that?
“I suppose I should give them time to adjust, but you and I have some catching up to do and that requires privacy. I’ve already enrolled hem in theirrrr new spoolll...” His words slurred and garbled as she swayed in her seat.
Why did his voice sound so far away, his words coming out slow and long? And what was he saying? She focused on his mouth. It moved slowly, sound coming out, but only a few words recognizable.
She sagged in the seat, suddenly very relaxed as the tension left her shoulders. As if in slow motion his hand reached past her and opened the glove compartment.
She rested her head on her shoulder and watched the man with the silly ear pull out a rolled up scarf and shut the compartment. The bundle unraveled and she saw it was a necktie.
But Trenton doesn’t wear ties.
She tried to count his fingers as they moved like octopus tentacles. He either had seven or twelve. She wasn’t sure. He slid the knot up to his throat and said something she couldn’t understand. A buzzing hum filled her head.
“Wellllllllllllll,” he said with big eyes, too many eyes. Slow and echoing, his voice filled the air. “Thaaaaaat should doooooo.”
Her belly danced as the car moved, the soft motion rocking her to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A door slammed and Chloe opened her eyes. Parched. She licked her cracked lips but even her tongue was dry. Gazing around the empty room her breath stuttered. She didn’t recognize the room. Like a bad dream, she wanted to shut her eyes and wish it away, but she needed to see her boys. They were near. She could sense them close by.
It was morning. Rolling into a seated position, she winced at how weak her arms and legs were. She’d been put on a mattress resting on a blue-carpeted floor. Folding to her knees she hoisted herself halfway up but had to move slowly to stand.
The windows were without curtains. Looking out the glass she tried to place the house across the street. She was in Mattie’s old nursery on the second floor.
The latch on the window had a lock that required a key. Chloe moved to the other window and saw the same lock. Not that it mattered. From this room, there was no latticework or any way to shimmy down even if she managed to open or break a window. She’d end up breaking her neck. And if she tried and failed Marcus would surely break it for her.
Lurching to the door she tried the knob. Locked. Her fingers pressed over the painted surface. It was an exterior door. Metal. There’d be no kicking it down and the hinges were on the outside.
The room connected to a shared bathroom that led to Dayton’s old room. She rushed to the bathroom. Where the door should have been, was nothing but wall. Pressing her hand along the flat surface, feeling for seams in the sheetrock, she whimpered, unable to detect any telltale sign of how the room used to be.
The tub was bare, not even a shower curtain liner hanging over the opening. Next to the sink was a bar of soap still wrapped in paper, a travel sized tube of toothpaste, and a toothbrush still in its package.
Was she in Mattie’s old room? She pressed her ear to the cool wall and tried to hear something but heard nothing beyond her beating heart.
She opened the medicine cabinet, found it empty, and closed it, purposely averting her eyes from her reflection. No need to upset herself more.
She opened the cabinets under the sink that still had the child safety lock she’d installed when she was pregnant with Dayton. The space smelled of bleach, but there was nothing but plumbing underneath. Cupping her hand under the faucet, she guzzled water.
While using the toilet she smelled her clothing. She didn’t want to frighten the boys by her disheveled appearance and she was determined to see them. Every move she made was motivated by her need to protect them, both physically and emotionally from their father. She should clean herself up before Marcus brought her to them.
Her fingernails looked dirty, the polish chipped. She mechanically stood and removed her jewelry. She was missing an earring. Her numb hands adjusted the shower faucet to warm, hoping the hot water would steady her trembling body and focus her foggy mind.
Marcus was her worry. It was imperative she not make him theirs.
Forgetting herself, she gasped when she caught a glimpse of her naked reflection. Parts of her skin were discolored and starting to bruise. Her makeup was smeared and her hair was flat and matted.
As the room filled with steam, she unwrapped the soap but didn’t see a trash can, so she left the paper crumpled by the side of the sink. She gingerly climbed over the lip of the tub, her muscles stiff and sore, and adjusted the showerhead so the floor didn’t get wet. She would not cry.
She worked the soap between her hands and used her palms to wash over her tender places. Her stomach ached from retching. With no other option, she washed the soap through her hair. When she was ready to get out it occurred to her that she didn’t have a towel and she, again, fought the overwhelming urge to cry.
Shutting off the water, she shivered. She shook her arms and legs and squeezed off any excess water from her hair. Holding the side of the wall she carefully stepped out of the tub. Shivering, she blotted the drops off her skin with her panties.
By now someone had to realize they were missing. Adam and Tommy would be the first to notice. But how fast would they lead the police here? She was so private about her past the little they knew might not be enough to help her and the boys. And after years of guarded truths slipping out, Tommy and Adam might not know this was the time to confess all and get them the hell out of this nightmare.
Her worry blinded her as she dressed, her body cold and shivering. She would knock at the hall door until s
omeone let her out. Stepping onto the carpet she turned and gasped, her feet staggering back until she caught herself against the wall. “Marcus.”
* * * *
Adam’s secretary buzzed the intercom. “Tommy’s on line one.”
Adam sighed, once again interrupted, and took the call. “Yes, Tommy?”
“She’s not answering the door.”
Adam held his phone between his chin and shoulder as he copied a line of numbers into a neat column. “What do you mean she isn’t answering the door? Is her car still there?” He had a full schedule, and clients arriving in an hour, not really the day for Tommy’s dramatics.
“Yes, and I don’t hear anything inside. I know she’s upset, but this isn’t like her. I didn’t see the boys leave for school this morning either. Something isn’t right.”
“Did you try her phone?” Adam pivoted in his office chair, as he searched his cell for Chloe’s work number. She was never this difficult to reach.
“Yes, it’s still going straight to voicemail.”
“I’ll call her office and see if she’s there. Maybe she had car trouble and got a ride.”
“Why wouldn’t she ask me for a lift? Call her office and call me right back.”
Adam hung up and dialed from his cell. Her secretary answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Jennifer. This is Adam Peters, Dr. Wolfe’s neighbor. Is she in?”
“I’m sorry, she hasn’t been in since yesterday morning.”
He frowned. “What time did she leave yesterday?”
“Just before lunch. She looked like she might be coming down with something. I hope she’s feeling better today. It isn’t like her not to call and let me know she won’t be in.”
No, that certainly wasn’t like Chloe. “Okay, thank you.”
He hung up and quickly dialed Tommy. “Hey, get the key and go make sure everything’s all right. She isn’t at work and her secretary said she left early yesterday and seemed sick.”
“Okay. Maybe they’re all sick.”
“I don’t know. Go check.”
Adam tried to focus on his work but found himself distracted and continuously checking his phone. A few minutes later he got a text.
Come home NOW!
Adam stared at the text for a moment, unable to think, and then jolted into motion, collecting his things and calling Tommy back. “What is it?”
“They’re not here,” Tommy said in a panicked voice. “Something isn’t right, Adam. The house is a mess and Dayton’s project that was due today is still sitting on the counter.”
“Fuck.” Adam didn’t want to think the worst scenario, but he always knew Chloe’s situation wasn’t bulletproof. “Call the cops. I’m leaving now.”
“Jesus, Adam, this doesn’t feel right. What if he found them?”
“Call the cops, Tommy. Now. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He hung up the phone and yelled to his boss that he had a family emergency and had to go.
He didn’t try to call Tommy until he was in his car and speeding home. The call went right to voicemail. Tommy never shut off his phone. That could only mean he was on the other line. He waited a minute and dialed again.
Adam was still trying to get through to him when he pulled onto their street twenty minutes later. His heart plummeted when he saw a police car at the curb and the front door of Chloe’s house wide open. Dashing out of his SUV and up the front steps, he found Tommy sitting at the kitchen table crying.
“What happened?”
“They're not here. The kids aren’t in school and she didn’t call them out.”
A uniformed officer paced on the back porch talking into a walkie-talkie on his shoulder. Adam tried to reason this out. Chloe wouldn’t just take off without telling them.
“Adam… Her purse was on Mattie’s bed. Her cell phone’s gone.”
“Fuck.” Adam glanced at the officer on the porch. Spotting Tommy’s socked feet he frowned. “Why are your shoes off?”
“I stepped in vomit.”
“What?”
“By the door. There was a pile of puke on the carpet. I stepped in it.”
The glass door opened and the officer walked in. Adam’s heart raced.
* * * *
Trent gripped his cellphone as he once again got her voicemail. It had been two days and she still wasn’t picking up.
Phoenix slid a cup of coffee in front of him. “Give it time.”
After catching his sister up, she took sympathy on him. Phoenix was a tough woman with guns of her own but understood where Chloe might be coming from.
She said if a person terrorized someone enough, truly made them fear for their life and safety, she could understand how that could leave permanent damage. And if Chloe’s ex terrorized her with a gun, she’d likely never get over her fear of weapons. It wasn’t about him. It was about her ex and the things he put her through.
Trent understood that, and he was willing to accommodate her fears to some degree, but he couldn’t figure anything out until she answered the phone. “I should go to her office, insist she hear me out.”
“No, you should give her time to think. She’ll contact you when she’s ready. It’s only been two days.”
If they somehow resolve the whole gun issue, there was still a bigger problem to address. He still needed to confess his link to her ex. He gripped his temples as another headache pounded in his skull. “God, I’m going to lose her. I love her and I’m going to fucking lose her.”
“No, you’re not. You need to stay positive.”
“Oh, good, you're still here,” Pete said as he walked into the kitchen. “I want you to look at this.”
Distracted, Trent only half glanced at his brother-in-law, still hoping his sister would give him some magical fix for his love life. “I can’t go anywhere right now, Pete. I’m teaching self-defense at the community college on Wednesday night and I have some things I need to deal with.”
“Well, I think you should read this.”
Pete slid the form across the table. It was the standard Missing Person Report fax they received whenever someone was reported missing. Flipping the pages, he skimmed to the MP’s description.
38, Caucasian, female, height 5’8, weight 195lbs, auburn hair-medium length, brown eyes.
What the hell? He turned to the next page.
Holding Amber Alert until further investigation... 9, Caucasian, male, height 4’7.
“What the fuck is this?” Trent muttered as he flipped through the rest of the fax.
Second minor, age 7, light brown hair, hazel eyes.
Trent fumbled to find the first page again, his heart suddenly encased in ice.
Information given by Adam Peters and Thomas Stanley; MP’s full name - Chloe Anne Hunt. Alias - Chloe Anne Wolfe.
“Mother fucker!” He was on his feet, frantically turning pages, looking for the ‘Details of Loss’ page. He found it and quickly skimmed.
Missing from home, emesis found by front door, MP may be ill, possible struggle, PLACE LAST SEEN- leaving office Monday 11:45 pm—LAST SEEN by secretary Jennifer Blair.
Trenton gathered up the papers, his hands shaking. “I gotta go.”
“What’s going on?” Phoenix yelled as Trent rushed out of the kitchen.
“Chloe and the kids are missing. I think he found her!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chloe woke up on the floor and moaned. She winced as pain assaulted her. Her stomach was so empty and abused it felt as if it were turning inside out. Marcus made it clear she was far from forgiven and she’d been a fool for coming with him, unsure if her children were even here, but certain she wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon. Not after what he’d just put her through.
Rolling to her side, her breath hissed out of her in a rush. Too weak to rise. She had no idea how long she lay unconscious on the floor. Staring at the wall, tears clouding her eyes she tried not to let the fear consume her.
She’d never survive this.
“Mattie wallows around like a fucking pansy looking for his mother. What have you done to him? How is he supposed to become a man? And Dayton’s in some serious need of manners. You’re a disgusting failure of a mother!”
There was nothing wrong with her boys. There was something wrong with their father. He’d degraded her, blamed her for the boys’ introverted behavior. How quickly he returned her to a sense of nothingness. The punches, the screaming, the undignified way she pleaded with him to stop, it did nothing to sway his hatred.
This time was different. She wasn’t sure if he’d ever be satisfied until he killed her.
She had to get out of this god-forsaken room. The longer he held her here the more proof she had that he was the unstable one. The bruises, the locks… He was manipulating her by withholding her children and the threat of kidnapping charges, but she was the prisoner.
After forcing another pill down her throat, he’d left her on the floor and relocked the door, leaving her alone with only her chaotic thoughts and what she was certain were a few cracked ribs. She lost track of time. Her mind repeatedly wondered where her children were.
Were they scared? Were they wondering where she was? Did they know she was in the house? Had they heard her screams? How many times had Marcus already lied to them? Was he being kind to them?
God, she hoped so. Let him unleash his rage on her, but please, God, save her children from ever seeing that side of him.
Her stomach curdled at the thought of him physically injuring her babies and she pushed the thought away, her mind rejecting it out of fear. She’d take the brunt of anything he dished out and be his easiest target if it held his temper at bay and protected the boys.