by Roger Hayden
Victoria brought a hand to her mouth, horrified as a blurry driver’s license entered the frame, held up by the gloved hand of the person behind the camera. The camera focused to reveal Todd’s license, his picture undeniable. Her throat began to constrict. The camera panned back to the man tied to the chair, struggling to free himself, squirming and moaning with pained, muffled grunts. For a moment, none of it made any sense. Then, like a nightmare, what she hadn’t wanted to see, hadn’t wanted to admit, seeped into her brain and became clear to her. She looked more closely at the screen, slowly studying every detail: the man’s size, the way he moved his head, the slant of his cheekbones, his jawline.
“No! Oh no!” she cried through her hand, moaning in anguish. Todd. Denying it no more. It was Todd.
“No. No. That can’t be!” Her panicked, watering eyes then glanced toward the sound of Brooke’s laughter and Henry’s barking coming from her bedroom.
“Do not call the police,” an unseen, distorted voice said on the TV. “We have your husband. If you do not deliver our ransom in two hours from the time you watch this message, we will kill him. Our asking price is ten thousand dollars cash.”
“Who are you?” she shouted at the screen.
“We are watching. If you so much as look at a cop, he dies. You make a call, your daughter dies. You try to send anyone a message, you die. Got it?”
She reached for her cell phone in haste just as the gloved hand re-entered the frame, holding a knife to Todd’s throat, pressing it against his skin.
“Okay, I won’t!” she said, tossing her phone down, to the sounds of Todd’s muffled pain.
“We will call. If you fail to answer or comply with us in any way, your husband dies, your daughter dies, and you die, in that order. Don’t do anything stupid, Victoria. We only want the money. Then all of this will go away.”
The screen went blue again as the disc stopped playing. Victoria looked around in panic. She’d never felt so alone, so terrified. Only a fool wouldn’t call the police.
“What am I going to do?” she asked herself, shaking as she sobbed. “What… can I do?”
Brooke laughed again from her room as the puppy barked.
“Okay,” she said, quietly calming herself. “It’s going to be okay. Just get the money and everything will be fine.”
They had about twenty thousand in savings. Trembling, she ran through the scenarios in her head. She could make a quick withdrawal and tell the bank that it was for a down payment on something. Best not to raise suspicion. She could get Brooke on a plane to her mother’s house in South Carolina. She’d be safe there. Then maybe she could call the police and tell them not to make a move. She could explain the fragile situation. Detective Weaver would understand.
Her cell phone suddenly vibrated against the coffee table, startling her. The screen flashed with a strange number, with eight as every digit. She waited and then seized the phone on the third ring, rushing to her room in a frenzy.
She slammed the door behind her and answered the phone, standing with her back against the wall and eyes searching for her .38.
“Don’t take so long next time,” the familiar, distorted voice said.
“Who are you?” Victoria asked in desperation.
“Ten thousand dollars in one hour at a location of our choosing. Got it?”
“But you said two hours.”
“One hour!”
“Withdraw the money and stand by for further notice.”
Victoria paced the room, trembling. “I-I don’t think I can do this.”
“Of course you can. You’re Tricky Vicky. You’ll figure it out.”
“What did you call me?” she said.
The caller hung up, leaving her flustered and without answers. She lowered the phone and stared at it. Her mother would know what to do. She’d tell her to call the police. Only a fool would put the lives of their family in the hands of some lunatic kidnapper. Even if she got the money, there was no guarantee that they’d let Todd go.
She walked to the DVD player, dizzy and short of breath, and took out the disc. Brooke was still in her room, thank God. If she gave the disc to the police, they could probably find Todd in time. She was no expert negotiator. It was better to let the professionals plan it. But then Brooke’s distant laughter made her think otherwise. She pictured the house full of cops, turning it into central command and scaring the hell out of her daughter. There was no reason Brooke even had to know.
Victoria rushed to her room and changed into a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt. She tucked her shirt in, looked at herself in the mirror, and snatched a jean jacket and Todd’s red ball cap from a chair. She reached for the .38 on the nightstand, unable to control her shaking hands. “You can do this,” she said into the mirror, holding the revolver at her side. Her hair was tucked inside Todd’s hat as if she was undercover. After several deep breaths, she turned from the mirror and left the room, not looking back. She walked past the living room toward Brooke’s room and slipped the .38 into her jacket pocket. She stopped outside the door and knocked. She could hear Brooke on the phone.
“Brooke?”“
“It’s open!”
Victoria pushed the door a crack and saw the puppy on Brooke’s bed, already making itself at home, as Brooke stood at her window, cell phone against her ear.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Hold on, Katie,” Brooke said, lowering her phone. “What’s up?”
“Tell her that you’ll call her back,” she said, walking in. The puppy stood at the edge of the bed and barked, apprehensive about jumping off.
Brooke rolled her eyes and told Katie that she’d call her back. She hung up and looked at Victoria, waiting.
“Something has come up and I have to go into work.”
“Why are you wearing that hat?” Brooke asked.
Victoria ignored the question. “I’ll be gone most of the day. Is it okay if I drop you off at Katie’s?”
Brooke thought to herself, confused. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” Victoria said.
Brooke scanned her room, thinking. “Um. I guess I could. Can’t Dad take me later?”
Victoria crossed her arms and stared at her without answering.
“Oh, right. You guys are fighting.”
“Just call and ask her. I don’t want you to stay here alone, and that’s not up for negotiation.”
Brooke called Katie back and made the request in her own confused tone. “Yeah, my mom wants to know if she can drop me off at your house this morning.” She paused and looked out the window, turning her back to Victoria. “I know. It’s weird. She said that she has to go to work and doesn’t want to leave me—”
“Hey!” Victoria said, stepping forward. “Just ask her if it’s okay, and cut the small talk.”
Brooke turned to her, slightly annoyed. “Is it okay with your mom? Sorry about the short notice.”
Victoria waited impatiently as her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She reached for it with dread and saw that she had received a text message from the same mysterious number.
You’re stalling. If we don’t see you walk into the bank in twenty minutes, your husband loses an ear.
Victoria gasped and put her phone away as Brooke suspiciously glanced at her.
“So, it’s okay? Henry too? Great. Thanks, Katie. I’ll see you soon.” She laughed and hung up the phone, shaking her head at Victoria. “You’re acting strange, you know that. And now you look like a weirdo to Katie.”
“Just get ready,” Victoria said, rubbing her forehead while trying to not give in to her intense anxiety.
“It’s rude, you know?” Brooke continued. “Now I feel like I’m, um. Imposing on them.”
“It’s either that or McKenzie’s house.”
“No. It’s okay,” Brooke said, quickly packing .
“We leave in five,” Victoria said, stepping outside the room.
Her heart raced as she walked to the kitchen to retri
eve her purse. Nerves shot, she again considered calling the police. Not calling meant leaving Todd’s fate to the word of a kidnapper, but she was afraid. She didn’t want to do the wrong thing.
Brooke emerged with one bag over her shoulder and the other in her hand, carrying Henry. “I’m ready. If we have to go.”
“We do,” Victoria said, moving past her. She walked outside and went straight to the car, looking down both sides of the road. There were no cars around and no one seemed to be watching her. They got into her silver Corolla as she started it up in a hurry, slammed the door shut, and put her sunglasses on.
“So, who got me the puppy, anyway?” Brooke asked, strapping herself in, with Henry on her lap. “Was it Dad?”
Victoria backed out of the driveway, distracted. “I-uh… I think so.”
“I should call and thank him,” she said.
“No,” Victoria said, straightening out the car. She pressed the gas and the car jolted forward.
“Why not? That’s pretty rude,” Brooke said.
“He’s not answering,” she said in a shaky voice. “He’s busy. You’ll have to call him later.”
“You’re both weird,” Brooke said, glancing out the windows as neighborhood houses raced by.
Victoria drove as fast as she could, swerving between lanes and passing every car along the way to Katie’s. She barely stopped at any stop sign and gunned through each traffic light just before it might turn red. They arrived at Katie’s house roughly ten minutes after leaving. Victoria pulled into the driveway, relieved but torn. She didn’t want to leave Brooke. Not in her current state. They were supposed to spend the day together. She wanted to tell her the truth. She wanted to tell her everything but couldn’t muster the nerve. Besides, it probably wouldn’t be wise.
Brooke opened her door to step out when Victoria stopped her.
“What is it?” Brooke asked.
“Give me a hug before you go.”
Brooke set her backpack onto the driveway and climbed back into her seat, leaning into Victoria’s arms.
“I’ll see you soon. I love you,” she said, squeezing hard.
Brooke seemed surprised by her mother’s sudden change but attempted to hug her back. “Love you too.”
Victoria held her for a moment and then stroked her hair. “Have fun. I’ll call you later, and everything will be okay. I promise.”
“Got it, Mom,” Brooke said, awkwardly trapped in her mother’s embrace.
She released Brooke, quick to wipe the tears from her eyes before they rolled down her cheeks. Brooke backed away and lifted Henry’s bag, carrying him out of the car. “Bye, Mom,” she said with a smile. “Tomorrow then?”
Victoria thought to herself. She had forgotten that it was slumber party night. “Yes. Tomorrow.” Though she didn’t know if that would be the case. Brooke closed the door and waved as Victoria watched her walk to Katie’s doorstep. It pained her to leave, but at least she knew that her daughter was safe for the time being. She drove off once Brooke walked inside and watched the house from her rearview mirror, fading into the distance.
Victoria arrived at the East Union Bank in a brief panic. She had forgotten that it was Saturday and feared that it might be closed. The other cars in the parking lot put her at ease. They were open until noon on Saturdays. She glanced at the dashboard clock. It was 10:15 a.m., thirty minutes since she had received the call from her husband’s kidnapper. No further instructions had been given to her beyond getting the money. She assumed she was being watched.
She surveyed the bank from the car, sunglasses and hat concealing her appearance. Customers walked in and out of the building carefree and oblivious to the terrible situation just a few feet away. She bowed her head and brought up her folded hands, praying.
“Please give me the strength to do this. I’ll take him back. I don’t care. We’ll move on. Brooke needs her father. She needs her parents.”
She squeezed her hands together more tightly, pressing them against her forehead, with her eyes squeezed shut. For a moment, everything was quiet and undisturbed. Her eyes opened, and she felt a renewed defiance. They could take the money, but she was getting her husband back, one way or the other. She wondered how they had gotten to him in the first place.
She thought about the gifts sent to her, the flowers and everything else. Was it all about a kidnapping? Why her and her family? How could something like this even happen in Clearwater? She had no answers. All she knew was that the clock was ticking. She adjusted her hat and took off her sunglasses, stepping out of the car. The less attention she brought to herself, the better.
She hoped that their financial adviser, Gary, wasn’t there. He’d ask questions about her large cash withdrawal. Would they even have that much cash on hand at a small bank? Concealing her emotions was going to be challenging, regardless. Parked several aisles away from the entrance, she glanced around the parking lot, closed her door, and walked quickly toward the bank. Her head was down, with her eyes on the pavement. She couldn’t believe that she was actually going through with it. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head, demanding that she turn back and call the police, but she pushed the door open anyway and walked inside.
Withdrawal slip in hand, Victoria went directly to the first teller available, indifferent to the young woman’s rosy smile and warm greeting.
“Yes, I need to withdraw cash from my savings account. Can you help me with that?” she asked in a quiet voice.
The teller studied her for a moment and then looked at the slip as she slid it under the glass. She read the amount and then looked back at Victoria with uncertainty. “Yes, ma’am. I can help you with that.” She suddenly paused and looked around. “I just have to find the manager.”
Victoria nodded as the teller walked around the counter and toward the offices in the corner. She was glad to see that Gary’s office was empty, with the lights off. Her foot tapped against the floor as she leaned against the counter and squeezed the bridge of her nose. The teller was taking too long, and Victoria was getting nervous.
She watched a uniformed security guard pace the lobby behind her, with his attention elsewhere. A clock on the wall behind the counter showed the time as 10:22. Her mind was everywhere. She pulled out her phone and checked the screen. There were no calls.
The teller soon returned with a mustached bank manager with perfectly groomed hair. She had never seen him before and prepared herself for his questions. Suddenly, he veered off and left the teller, as the woman returned behind the counter, smiling at Victoria with some forms in her hand.
“Sorry about the wait. Our bank manager said that all you need to do is fill out this disclosure form for the IRS and we can begin your withdrawal. I’ll need your license and bank card as well.”
Victoria sighed under her breath as the teller pushed forms to her under the glass. It was too much already, but she had to remain calm. Todd was depending on her. “No problem,” she said, taking a pen.
The teller typed into her computer and then looked up at Victoria with a smile. “Okay, Mrs. Owens. How would you like those bills?”
Victoria paused. She hadn’t yet given it thought. The kidnappers sure hadn’t specified. “Can I get twenty five hundred dollar bills?” she asked, doing the math in her head.
“We should be able to do that,” the teller said. “Would you like it all in one envelope?”
“Yes, please,” Victoria said, returning to her paperwork. Well aware that she was gutting their nest egg, Victoria didn’t care. The kidnappers could have asked for it all. She scribbled as fast as she could, signing document after document as the teller ran a handful of bills through a machine and banded them in the middle, placing them in one bank envelope.
After withdrawing ten thousand dollars from their savings, Victoria sat in her car and waited for further instructions. The ransom envelope rested on her leg, and she was eager to get rid of it. She stared at her cell phone, increasingly anxious, as the car idled.
> “Come on, you bastards,” she said.
Each minute that went by filled her with fear. She didn’t know what kind of sick game they were playing or why they were taking so long to get back to her. Then it dawned on her that they were probably having a good time torturing her. She glanced up as a police car pulled into the bank parking lot and parked in the back. There was still time to get them involved.
Suddenly, the phone number of all eights flashed across her screen. She answered immediately.
“I have the money. Where do you want me to go?”
“We knew that you could do it,” the distorted, nearly robotic voice said. “Time’s almost up.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to call!”
“Parking garage outside the textile factory. You have ten minutes.”
Victoria shook her head. “That place has been shut down for years. There’s no way in.”
“The gate will be open. We’ll be watching. Once you arrive, you’ll be given further instructions.”
“No,” Victoria objected, her voice a mix of conviction and fear. “I want to meet somewhere safer. I can leave the money in a public place, and you can release my husband. We don’t even have to meet.”
“Clock’s ticking.”
“I refuse to be pulled into some trap!”
“Your husband is going to look strange without his ears.”
“Fuck you!” she shouted.
The line went quiet, and Victoria instantly regretted what she had said. She strained to listen, when a sudden scream of agony came over the line. There was no mistaking who it was.
“Okay! Stop! I’m sorry. I’ll drive. J-just don’t hurt him!”
“Ten minutes,” the voice said, hanging up.
Victoria trembled as she shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. The old textile factory was at least fifteen minutes away, and she didn’t know how she was going to make it in time. She cut across four lanes of traffic and sped through the light as a cacophony of horns honked in the distance. “I’m coming, Todd,” she said, gripping the wheel hard.
She approached a vacant building on a rural back road—the worst possible meeting place she could imagine. A tall chain-link fence surrounded the premises, with a rusty “No Trespassing” sign posted in clear view. The front gate was open as promised. She slowed and hesitated to go any farther. Her instincts told her that it was a bad idea, but she couldn’t bring herself to deviate from the plan, not with Todd’s life at stake.