Into The Storm

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Into The Storm Page 20

by Melanie Moreland

He took off and started digging madly again at the snow. I followed him and knelt down, reaching in to where he was digging. The small black piece of leather I could see became larger and, eventually, we worked it out of the snow.

  I sat back in shock at what he’d uncovered. Even without opening it, I knew what it was. I had tripped over something trying to get into the car that night, but it had completely slipped my mind with my concern for Rabbit at the time. But this is what I had tripped over.

  Rabbit’s missing purse.

  I made it up to the house as quickly as possible. The purse was heavy and laden with snow. I grabbed a towel and knelt in front of the fire. I spread out the towel and tipped the contents of the purse on it, spreading out the items. I opened the wallet and pulled out the driver’s license. Elizabeth James. The same name was on the one credit card in the wallet. There was a library card, a gym membership card, a business card bearing her husband’s name, and twenty-five dollars in cash. That was it. I looked at the other items laid out before me. There was a small, sodden package of Kleenex, a compact, a tube of lipstick, a pen and small blank notepad. There was also a small, digital camera which I doubted would work again. And lastly, a sealed Ziploc bag. I opened the bag carefully and pulled out a manila envelope. It was cold, but thanks to the plastic bag, it felt dry. I hesitated a minute, then opened the envelope. Inside was a small journal-type book and when I opened it up, I immediately choked in horror.

  Even though her face wasn’t in any of them, I knew the person in these dreadful photographs.

  They were pictures of Rabbit.

  Every page had one taped onto it.

  The first one; her hand in a cast.

  Then pages of pictures of bruises on her arms, legs, and torso.

  Each one noted with a small explanation of why she had received the injury; what the medical treatment had been and the name of the uncaring, careless doctor who patched her up and sent her away, only to be abused again.

  And lastly, the name of who had so callously inflicted every single one of her injuries.

  I shuddered. My eyes shut in painful realization. I didn’t know how long it had been going on, but I now knew without question who had caused her injuries.

  There were no kidnappers.

  He had lied. The whole story had been a lie.

  Brian James was her attacker.

  Chapter Thirty

  Joshua

  I fumbled around and found my phone. I hit speed dial and Cecilia answered quickly. I didn’t bother with a greeting. “Get Trevor. Get here. Fast.” I didn’t even wait for her to respond. I stumbled down the hall into the bathroom and threw up as the images of what the journal showed played through my mind again and again.

  The unconfirmed theories and worries were all real. I had proof of my greatest fear.

  I sent her back.

  I sent Rabbit back to the person who had been abusing her. Repeatedly.

  Instead of listening to my gut and keeping her here for a while longer, I reacted to what I should do and based it on how I would react if it was me. How I would feel if she had been taken. I did what I thought, what I’d been told, was the right thing to do. I was so fucking stupid.

  I had believed the lies he spoke.

  I thought he wanted what was best for her. That was what I wanted.

  But he wasn’t me; he hurt her.

  She hadn’t been taken; she had run.

  And what I’d thought was right, had been the worst possible thing I could do.

  My stomach heaved again and I laid my head on the cool porcelain.

  She was so far away.

  Trapped somewhere alone.

  Somewhere I couldn’t get to.

  Because I was trapped here.

  We were both trapped in our own living hell.

  A few hours later, I stared at the three people sitting with me at the table. Cecilia and Trevor had arrived with Frank. I had heard the helicopter approaching and was surprised but grateful to see Frank with them when the door opened. I was calmer and resolute. Rabbit needed to come home. With Frank here we could figure out how.

  “The car is Elizabeth’s?” I repeated what Frank just told me.

  Frank shook his head. “Ms. Allen, or Tracy, refuses to call her that. She knew her as Lizzy when they were young and they kept in contact after she moved here. I think she is probably one of the only people Elizabeth knew outside her marriage. She says the Lizzy she knew and the Elizabeth James she became are two different people.”

  I nodded in understanding.

  Rabbit.

  Lizzy.

  Lizzy suited her far more than the formal Elizabeth.

  Frank continued. “When she moved to Toronto, Lizzy got in contact with her again and they saw each other quite a bit. Until she started dating Brian. Lizzy came to her not long after she was married and asked if she would accept ownership of the car. Apparently, the car didn’t fit the image she was supposed to project and Brian insisted she get rid of it. But it had been her mother’s and it held sentimental value to her. Tracy suspected there were other reasons as well for Lizzy wanting to know where the car was and agreed to the transfer. She drove the car occasionally to make sure it ran well and kept it full of gas. She also gave Lizzy the passcode to the garage where it was parked and left a spare set of keys in it at all times.

  “Why?”

  “She had a bad feeling. She said she met Brian James once and disliked him intensely. ‘A wolf in sheep’s clothing’ she called him. She was hardly surprised when she wasn’t invited to the wedding. She was shocked at the difference in Lizzy’s appearance and demeanor when she saw her shortly after her marriage.” Frank paused, his fingers drumming on the file in front of him.

  “She never seemed to be able to get together with Lizzy anymore. There was always an excuse. Lizzy insisted she was just very busy with her new life, but Tracy didn’t buy it. She was sure Brian had forbidden Lizzy to see her any longer.” He looked at me. “The last time she saw Lizzy, she didn’t like the explanation for the cast on her arm, and she called her on it. After that, their only communication was the occasional email. But Tracy never stopped letting her know her car was there, waiting, if she needed it. That she was there if she ever needed her.”

  I stood up so abruptly my chair flew back, hitting the floor loudly. I strode over to the sink, trying to remain calm. I could feel the clenching of my chest as the implications of what he said sank in. The first picture in the book was of her arm in a cast. Now I knew how long it had been going on. I looked down trying to concentrate on keeping my breathing even and I saw my hands were clenched so tightly on the edge of the sink that my knuckles were white.

  Cecilia came up behind me. “Joshua?” Her hand squeezed my shoulder. “What is it?”

  I spun around. “She’s been abused for almost two years. She’s been frightened for two years, Cecilia. And, I sent her back there. I sent her back to that.” Angrily, I pushed the small journal over to Cecilia.

  She opened it and gasped. Trevor came to her side instantly, and I heard their murmured words of disbelief at what they were seeing. Cecilia set the book back down on the counter. When she spoke, her voice was shaking.

  “You did what you thought was right, Joshua. You didn’t know. None of us did.” She drew in a quivering breath. “We were all wrong, Joshua.”

  I exploded.

  “But it was my decision! It wasn’t right! It was never right! In my gut, I knew that! I did it for all the wrong reasons. Because I was stupid! I actually let myself believe his story. I actually assumed that because I love her like I do, that someone else must as well.” I paused, looking at Cecilia, my voice dropping.

  “I sent her away because I was trying to protect myself.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I thought it would be easier for her to leave on my terms rather than have her wake up three months from now and remember her other life and have to let her go then. I always assumed I would hav
e to give her up eventually. I never had the faith in us that she did.”

  “But it wasn’t easier, was it?” Cecilia asked softly. “Because you love her.”

  I sighed. “So much, Cecilia.” I looked at her and shook my head. “And no, it wasn’t any fucking easier. And, now I’ve put her in danger. I’m terrified it will be too late to get her out of there.”

  I lowered my head. “This is all on me, Cecilia.”

  Frank stood up. “Stop thinking like that. Get your ass back over here, Joshua. We need to figure out how to get her out of danger. How to get her back here where she belongs.”

  I looked over at Frank and straightened my shoulders.

  He was right.

  I needed to do this.

  The house was quiet. Everyone had crashed for the night. I sat gazing into the fire, Bear beside me; his huge head nestled against my leg. I didn’t even bother trying to go to bed. My mind was too chaotic.

  My desire to simply go in and take her was vetoed. So many things could happen. Rabbit could get hurt or even worse. If we failed, we’d never get another chance. Trevor calmly pointed out that even though we had photos, none of them showed Rabbit’s face. Going to the police might start an investigation, but we needed Rabbit to be able to verify the claims. If Brian found out what was happening, Rabbit would be in a vulnerable position. Even more so than she was now. I couldn’t allow that. I couldn’t put her in more danger.

  But Trevor and Frank’s idea of getting Rabbit out of Brian’s hands should work.

  I knew the plan would work if everything was handled properly. If everyone played their part and we took it slowly and made sure that we covered all the bases.

  Then Rabbit would come home and then we could go after James. But not until she was safe.

  I had to believe that was what she wanted. Even if she didn’t remember now, I knew it was only a matter of time before she did. But she was still in danger. Something she did or said would push him over the edge and he would go after her. Of that fact I was certain.

  Remembering the broken, battered woman I had found, I shuddered.

  I had to make her safe. I needed her back with me. I prayed she would forgive me.

  I stared into the flames, remembering the words Rabbit had spoken as she stood in front of me, defiant and angry by the truck.

  ‘You will beat this someday, I know you will. Something will finally be reason enough for you to overcome what those bastards did to you.’

  She was the reason. For her I had to beat this.

  Monday night I was unable to sleep again and paced around the house feeling unsettled and restless. Suddenly, breaking the quiet of the night, the computer speakers upstairs started up with a droning sound indicating a call had come through on the automated, private line I had installed.

  The one I had encrypted on Rabbit’s card.

  I stood listening, my hands gripping the back of the sofa.

  She’d figured it out. She needed me. I could hear it from the little sharp intakes of air in the silence of the dark night. I didn’t need to hear her voice to know it was her. Her frightened gasps told me she was scared. I wished I could pick up the phone and comfort her. But there was no way to answer the line, only leave messages.

  My head fell into my hands. “I’m coming, Rabbit,” I promised into the dark.

  The days passed agonizingly slowly. Eating and sleeping were next to impossible. Especially after hearing the messages Rabbit left on the line the following days. Her frightened voice broke my heart and I wanted to go and get her right away. But Frank and Trevor convinced me we had to do this right. We now had people following Rabbit’s watchdogs and had even hacked into their email accounts and schedules so we already knew where she was going to be and when. Because of this information, we had the right day, the right time and the right location. She wasn’t as closely watched at the hospital. The layout made it impossible for her to walk out without being seen, so her watchdog would be sitting downstairs waiting for her. But we weren’t going out through the doors. We were going up. The helipad at the hospital would provide us with a quick way in and out.

  I had argued with Trevor over using the helicopter. He thought we should cause a distraction and walk her out of the library’s back door and drive away. “The drive will only take a few hours. The helicopter will get noticed, Joshua. We need permission to land and there will be records; traceable records,” he had insisted. “You’re reacting to your pain. You need to step away, Joshua.” He stared at me. “We need to think this through, rationally.”

  I had stood up, angry and frustrated, sending my chair flying and slamming my hand down on the table. I didn't care that I was yelling now.

  “Yeah, I’m reacting to my feelings! I’m fucking done with thinking, Trevor! Last time I thought it through I sent her away and that was the fucking wrong decision! My gut is telling me to get her out fast and that’s what we’re going to do. I won’t risk being pulled over and her being taken away from us! The helicopter is the safest, fastest way. I don’t fucking care how much money it costs to change the records and get this done. Make them an offer they can’t refuse. Arrange for the helicopter to land—just fucking do it!”

  Frank had to step in and calm us both down. He agreed with me and, grudgingly, Trevor went upstairs to make the arrangements while Frank and I sat with Cecilia going through the information we had on Rabbit’s schedule.

  Rabbit’s life was very regimented and she was never alone. For weeks ahead, each day was planned out and there didn’t seem to be many variances from the daily schedule, aside from the functions they attended. Mondays and Thursdays were to be spent at the library. Tuesday and Wednesday mornings were to be spent with a trainer and the afternoons at the hospital.

  Friday mornings were again with her trainer and the afternoon was scheduled as a spa day at a private women’s club. Cecilia told me she probably had lunch and spent the afternoon being groomed. I snorted. Like she needed that. She was naturally lovely and didn’t need any grooming in my opinion. Her evenings and weekends were spent either at Brian’s side at a function or alone inside her house. I shook my head. I thought I had sent her back to her life, but she simply existed in the environment she had gone back to.

  Frank’s people even had a few pictures of her, taken at one of the many functions they attended. It hurt seeing how blank she looked again, devoid of emotion, her eyes always downcast. I couldn’t see any new marks on her but her clothing covered her completely. And, her glorious hair was once again rolled tightly and hidden away. She was hidden away.

  I pulled a hand through my hair. The phone calls had stopped. I knew she thought she had been abandoned. I could see it in her defeated stance of the latest photo.

  I just had to hold on and know it would be done soon.

  I picked up a picture and traced her partially hidden face.

  “Hold on just a few more days, Rabbit. We’re coming.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Rabbit

  Three days. For the next three days every chance I got at the hospital or library, I called the number on the card. I had to be careful how often I went to the lounge so Bob didn’t suspect anything, but he never followed me into the staff room at either place and there was a phone in both lounges. But the number just rang and rang. A few rings each time and then nothing. It just cut off. After the first few attempts, it occurred to me that maybe the soft noise I heard meant there was an answering machine on the other end and, hesitantly, I left a message. Then another, then another…

  It’s Rabbit. Please. Joshua. I need you.

  Please, Joshua. I remember everything. I’m scared …

  It was him, Joshua. I don’t know how long I have until he knows and I’m being watched …

  Joshua … I want to come home.

  Joshua … please.

  Every time I called, I prayed I would hear Joshua’s voice. That he would tell me it was going to be okay. At the end of the first day, I was
convinced I had written down the wrong number, but once the card was dry the number disappeared again, and even when I re-wet it nothing came up, so I had no way of checking. But I had been so careful when I wrote it down. So I kept trying. I was desperate. Today was my last day out of the house and the watchful eyes followed me everywhere. By the time Bob came to my door and informed me it was time to leave, I was completely lost and dejected.

  Had he changed his mind? Did he just not care anymore?

  My head felt too heavy to hold up and I slumped down in the back of the car.

  If Joshua didn’t care … then I was truly alone. Nothing meant anything.

  And then … I gave up.

  The rest of the week passed by in a haze of sad fogginess. I did everything expected of me and acted the part of the confused, quiet wife well. My behavior was exemplary at all the functions we attended. The weekend passed by in a haze of events and duties. I slept fitfully, waking up frequently, sobbing into my pillow. My appetite was non-existent and my spirit lower than I could ever remember it being.

  Monday morning, I woke up feeling un-refreshed and still groggy. I winced as I sat up and looked down at the fresh bruise on my arm. Brian’s handprint was visible on my forearm. When I had cancelled the session with the trainer yesterday, pleading exhaustion, he had lost it and berated me for several minutes. I made the mistake of standing up, thinking he was done criticizing me, and he had grabbed me, his hand squeezing painfully down on my arm to stop me from leaving. It was only my gasp of pain that seemed to bring him out of his rage before he flung me away from him and stormed out of the dining room. I had spent the rest of the day in my room, alone and frightened.

  I made my way to the shower with a heavy heart, my week stretching out in front of me. It was starting again. I knew that soon enough the grabbing would turn into hitting and the hitting would escalate. I had to figure out an escape plan before he lost control. I wasn’t sure I’d survive his rages again. The months it had taken me to escape last time were a luxury I no longer had, and to make things even more difficult, I was now being watched. Somehow, I had to get away and find a way to start over. I needed to figure a way of slipping away from the eyes that followed me and escape. To where and to whom I had no idea. I had already risked Tracy, involving her with my car. I couldn’t put her at further risk. I had no one else to turn to. If Joshua didn’t want me, I wasn’t sure what to do. But I knew I couldn’t give up. I knew I had to get away from him.

 

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