But Franny never actually came into her room, he would just stand there staring, until his girlfriend called him, then he would give a ‘Humfpt,’ as if telling her his girlfriend had saved her, that he wouldn’t bother her that night. But the night came when his girlfriend wasn’t there, and wouldn’t be, not for a long while, and she could hear there was another man in the house, and Franny came to her room before she had even undressed for bed, and he actually came into her room and told her ‘Get undressed!’
That’s when she became pretty sure what he wanted and knew she had to leave. So she had picked up her purse and dolly, and slowly walked toward him. She knew he was drunk but felt she could get past him but he grabbed her dress when she ran. Unconsciously, she touched her dress where her shoulder was ripped.
“What happened to your dress?” Mandy asked.
Mandy’s eyes got a little bigger. She felt Mandy cared, and did want to know, but she couldn’t just blurt it out. She wouldn’t care if Mandy’s mom heard but she didn’t want the other woman to hear. She didn’t want to talk to the other woman, or anything. The more she thought of the other woman the more she feared her, “I was hiding in the brush when a big truck went by, and I caught my dress on a branch.”
She felt strange lying. She had never lied before, not once, but suddenly felt she might have to lie again, and again, just to stay safe. She remembered running through the hall and seeing that other man, but that man had been sitting down, but when Franny yelled he got up quick and also grabbed at her but she got away from him too and ran down the street, and another street, and onto the highway, and then hid in some bushes until she was sure Franny and the other man wasn’t following her. Then she had just started walking on the highway.
“Okay, Cassandra,” Mandy said, “I’ll try to explain what we do.”
She tried listening, but as Mandy talked on the words began to sound too much like the something bad that had happened to her before.
Chapter 41 Nicole’s Confrontation
The second stop Nicole made after leaving Family Services was the same foster home where they had met Cassandra before.
Remembering how unkempt the couple had been, in appearance at least, especially the man, she was ready for blood, and felt pretty sure why the young girl had ran away. She felt the girl would have eventually run even if they hadn’t started trying to farm her out. She felt so helpless, and felt glad the chaplain wasn’t along. The phone call had been Riley Stokes with a job he felt the chaplain was perfect for and could they come right away? And they would have, but the chaplain said, “I can fly out right away, Riley, but is it imperative that Nicole come?” Then he listened for a few seconds, then closed, “Fine. I’ll see you shortly.” Then he hung up and turned to her, “Honey, how would you feel about approaching those two alone?”
“Don’t worry, my dear, I could kick both their asses, and at the same time!”
She remembered feeling a little strange after that assertion. Yes, she had done fine in training, but that was with a man who wasn’t really trying to hurt her. Things could go differently in real life, yet she had felt confidant and must have pulled it off, because her man just smiled and agreed. So they first had gone to the local airport and dropped the chaplain off. Luckily there was a nearly-immediate local flight. And maybe just as well, because she felt the chaplain had appeared ready for blood even more than herself.
She stopped in front of the house. The street looked unkempt too, and all the houses. No children were playing anywhere. That seemed strange too. Maybe there weren’t any even living nearby. Was that part of it too, that Cassandra didn’t even have a friend her own age? She left the minivan and walked to the house.
The woman appeared in the doorway even before she knocked. She appeared to be wearing the same stained sweatshirt and the same baggy sweatpants of questionable color. The only thing different, the questionable color of the sweatpants was even more questionable.
This time there was no look of belligerence on the woman’s face. She looked kind of meek. Her face appeared to lose even more color when she spoke, “What do you want now?” No class in her question. The woman obviously wasn’t capable of class. How on earth had those two ever gotten a foster child?
“I’m looking for Cassandra,” Nicole said.
“She’s not here.”
“I know that. But I had just hoped you could give me some idea where she might go.”
The woman laughed, “As if we even knew that girl, and I even taught her how to sew!—and no! I have no idea where she would go. Now you can leave—“
“Why do you feel you didn’t know her?” Nicole asked, “How long was she with you?”
“About four months, and that girl just stayed in her room—I don’t think she even wanted to get to know us—“ I don’t blame her. “—She did go to school though, for a bit—“
“Where’s your husband?” Nicole cut in.
“That loser is not my husband.”
“Fine. Where is that man that lives here with you?”
The woman turned and called into the house, “Franny! Get your butt out here! This detective wants’ta talk at ya.”
Shirtless, but wearing underwear with shoulder straps the man appeared. Still unshaven and whiter even than the woman he lived with. She wondered if either ever spent any time outdoors, and again wondered how they could ever have gotten a foster child, “What do you know about Cassandra?”
The man’s eyes enlarged, “Nuthin’!”
Without even thinking first, she took one step forward, “I think you do know. What did you do to her?”
“Nuthin’!” He looked at his woman and grabbed her arm, “Baby, I didn’t touch that girl!”
“But you wanted too, correct?” Nicole took another step forward. Franny dropped his woman’s arm and took two steps back, and tripped on the step, which sat him down.
That brought a change to the man’s eyes. She knew she had struck a nerve, “What happened, Franny? And don’t worry, if you didn’t—as you say—touch her, I won’t go to the police.”
“Awright! I was considerin’ it.” He looked at his woman, who now was staring at him, obviously also learning something about the man she allowed to live with her, “I’d…been goin’ to her room after she was in bed. I’d…just stare at’er. I knew it bothered’er, but I kept doin’ it. I couldn’t help it, just for a few minutes each time, but the night you had to work, baby—“
“The same night the girl ran away!” the woman cried, “You bastard!”
“I told ya! I didn’t touch’er! She wasn’t in bed yet, so I told her to get’ta bed, and then….”
“Yes?” Nicole prodded.
The man looked at her, then back at his woman, then back to Nicole, “I had my pal there in the kitchen. He had already gave me fifty bucks—“
“What?” the woman cried, “You were goin’ to sell her?”
“Dang it! I tole ya I was invitin’ Mac over! What’d ya think it’d be for?”
“You bastard…!” The woman cried.
“Anyway, Cassie must of suspected somethin’ because she ran. She grabbed her purse and her doll, though. I grabbed at her but just got her dress, which tore a little.”
“And then?”
“She ran outside, down the street, in the direction of the highway. I ran after her for a bit, and Mac did, but we both ran out of wind.”
Nicole took another step forward.
The man stood up and took another step back, but then his face changed as he glanced toward her minivan, “And where’s yer man, sweetie?” An expression entered his face then that stirred a memory. Nicole dug in her brain for the meaning, and found it. A smirk, like Les Paul as a baby did. A smirk must be the favorite expression of all such men. He stopped backing up. His eyes took on an expression Nicole had never seen. Her confidence slipped, but she had to face him, beat him if necessary, if for no other reason than the fact Cassandra might get returned—even temporarily—to the care o
f this woman and him.
She felt her body tense from head to toe. But she felt ready.
”I didn’t do nuthin’!” Franny cried, but the sound no longer was wimpy, as it had been when the chaplain was with her.
The woman, between them and a little to the side, grinned, “Are you thinkin’ you want a piece of my man, sweetie?” Then, but hardly noticeable, the woman began moving to Nicole’s left. Her skin started crawling. She knew she was going to have to defend herself. ‘Know where your opponents are.’ Her trainer’s words came to her. In the beginning Sheldon had somewhat frightened her, but his training was without equal.
The woman had moved to just beyond her peripheral vision, but then stopped. Nicole knew she stopped, and knew she shouldn’t have…
And that quickly the world went into slow-motion. She saw Franny begin a lunge toward her and knew the woman if she hadn’t yet done something she would, so took her out first with a high left side straight-out kick—Nicole felt her foot stop and brought it back to the ground to stabilize herself for a turning side kick which nailed Franny dead on—both Nicole’s feet hit the ground enabling her to make a fast side movement and bring her fighting stance back into play…but it was not necessary, as both Franny and his woman were on the ground.
It was over. Neither looked like they wanted to play any longer.
Nicole back-stepped to her minivan. ‘When it’s over, it’s over. Leave.’ More of Sheldon’s words came back to her. Yes, she didn’t need to crush them, just beat them, and she had. She reached her minivan and crawled in. If Cassandra didn’t stay in town, and likely she had not, then she was out on that highway and maybe already picked up…by God knows who, or what.
She released a breath as she turned the key and brought the little vehicle to life. Cassandra could end up in the same town as Les Paul. She turned down the street, and soon onto the highway and drove close to in a daze for several miles. Up ahead was a small cluster of trees near a highway approach. She turned onto it, rolled into the trees and shut off the engine, then just sat, thinking, trying to think, I think we’re getting close to something…but what?
She reached under the passenger seat and pulled out the gun locker. She couldn’t imagine shooting someone, but then just a half hour earlier she also couldn’t have imagined having to defend herself, much less easily win, which she had. She lifted the locker into the passenger seat, reached into her purse to the key pouch she had sewn into the lining and removed the key, then for a full minute looked at the key.
If her little gun was in her purse how would she feel? Safer? But she didn’t feel unsafe, and if the gun was in her purse she might sometime feel more inclined to use it. She unlocked the box and removed her gun…my little Walther. She ejected the magazine, then ejected the shell already in the firing chamber and put it back into the magazine. She then checked the tension of the load. It was ready. She pushed the magazine back into the handle, pulled the slide back and held onto the hammer while she pulled the trigger.
It will kill now. All she had to do was pull the hammer back and squeeze the trigger.
She put the gun back into its metal box, locked it and slid it back under the passenger seat, then opened her purse again, returned the key, removed her cell phone, and speed-dialed her man.
He answered on the second ring, “Hello, my darling, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Rad.” Then she spent two minutes bringing him up to date.
“I’m really proud of you, Nicole, and I knew you would have no trouble. I watched you train, you know, and Sheldon told me more than once, ‘She’ll be fine.’”
“That’s good to hear, Rad. So, you’re not mad that you didn’t get to beat Franny up yourself?”
“I did a couple times imagine myself doing something like that, but, truthfully, my dear, I don’t think I’ve ever been that upset with somebody.
Nicole laughed, “Not even toward Les Paul?”
Then the chaplain laughed, “Funny you should say that, Nicole. I’ve never felt violent toward Les Paul, not even the idea of him.”
“Really…!”
“Really. You see, unlike you—before we saw him in that jail—I had never had any contact with him, except as a chaplain the night of his execution. I don’t even know what he did in his prior life to deserve execution. I had never desired even to know, although I did have access to records. Strange, huh?”
“Very. And do you think he didn’t deserve execution?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that. I’m sure he deserved it all right. But like I said, I have no idea what he did, I didn’t even try to find out, not for any of the men we executed. It didn’t matter what they had done, you see, because smarter people than me had made their decision. The thing is, Les Paul deserved what he got, but now….”
“Yes. Now he’s back out free in the world, and he’s in the same town that I think Cassandra is probably on her way to. I’m worried about her, Rad.”
“So am I. When you get to Brentwood talk to Sikorsky. Ask him to put out an Amber Alert.”
They both became silent for a moment. Nicole spoke first, “I will, Rad.” She hesitated, “I just wanted to hear your voice, my man. You know, we haven’t spent any time away from each other in over nine years.”
“I’ve been thinking about that too, Nicole, and I miss you, and…and, I love you.”
“I love you too, Rad. Hurry back.”
“I will.”
Chapter 42 Back Room Prostitution
Far ahead Cassandra could see city lights. She had no idea what town. She didn’t even really have a good concept of town just that people went to town to buy stuff. She had never gotten to go, not to buy stuff anyway. She had ridden through many times, just seeing buildings go by and people walking, and kids running and shouting. She didn’t even know what a town should look like, just those glimpses. But now she was seeing lights, lots of them—they had even lit up the sky for miles back—so it must be a big town.
She didn’t know what was ahead for her and sometimes got to the point of not caring. She had been kicked around so much, and had found no adults—Nicole—she figured she could truly trust. Strange she would again think of Nicole, that nice lady with the pretty eyes…but she often wondered if that was all life was. Just moving around and trying to stay out of trouble.
The woman driver glanced back. An approaching car’s lights hit her face. There were no feelings on that face, just a mask, an adult mask.
“Ya stayin’ awake, honey?” the woman asked.
“Yes…I’m all right.”
“I didn’t ask if you was all right, honey, but I guess it’s okay that you told me.”
Cassandra glanced at Mandy. Mandy’s face also was momentarily brightened by an approaching car’s lights. Her eyes were big, and shining. There was no smile on Mandy’s face, nothing. She wished she and Mandy could run away together, and she wondered if Mandy ever smiled.
“Mandy,” the woman said, “When we get there you hang onto her tight till we’re in the room.” Mandy didn’t answer right away. “Mandy! Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I did, and I will.”
The woman in the passenger seat turned and looked back too, first at Cassandra, then at Mandy. Cassandra didn’t know what to think of her. She was Mandy’s mother but she didn’t appear to have any say over anything.
“Where are we going?” She asked Mandy.
“I’ll let you know where we’re going when you need to know,” the woman in the driver seat said, “Until then you just sit there and be quiet.”
They entered the city and drove for a while down a brightly-lit main street. Cassandra felt half safe where the lights were. Then they turned onto a street that wasn’t bright at all. They began passing a long low one-story building, and a sign that said Brentwood Juvenile Detention Center. She wondered what Juvenile Detention meant. They went three more blocks, then turned onto a street that appeared to have only one faraway, dim, light.
The woman
driver began slowing the minivan down, then she turned into an alley, then looked back. Cassandra barely made out the ugliness on her face, “You won’t have to work tonight, little honey, but you watch good, cause you will have to work soon!” Then she turned to Mandy’s mom, “Can’t believe our luck to run into a nine-year-old girl—that’s about what you are, right, Honey?”
“Yes, I’m nine.”
A flash of light showed the woman smiling, at least a change in her expression, “There’s men that’ll pay…” The woman stopped and turned around, evidently wasn’t going to finish.
Pay what? She wondered, and for what? She also wondered what was special about being a nine-year-old. Her life sure didn’t feel very special.
They finally pulled into an empty lot behind a small darkened house, and stopped. The woman shifted into park, turned off the engine, then looked back, her eyes…maybe kind of wild-looking, like she was expecting something, “Mandy, you hang onto her. Your mother will unlock the door, and I will bring in our luggage.”
“All right,” Mandy said, then slid the door open, stepped to the ground, turned back and held out her hand, “Take my hand, Cassandra, and hang onto it, okay?”
“Yes.” She was fine with hanging onto Mandy’s hand, as she still trusted Mandy over either of the adults, but she suspected Mandy would turn on her too should she try to run away, or anything. She stepped out to the ground and felt her shoes sink into sand. The lot wasn’t even paved. “Are we going to eat?” she asked.
“We might,” Mandy said, “Later.”
The woman driver must have good hearing, becuse she said from the rear of the minivan, “We won’t be eatin’ till morning, and don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”
She wasn’t so sure about that, “I haven’t ate since yesterday. I’m hungry.”
The Light at the End of the Tunnel Page 19