“Ronald!” She called out in a panic. Brenda tried her best to see into the windows of the residence. But, of course, Ronald barely allowed a view into his home from the outside.
“Brenda,” he called out to her from up the street, garnishing her attention.
She jetted down the porch, tearing off toward him.
Ronald’s heart pounded, his stomach twisted in knots, knowing whatever she was about to tell him involved the love of his life.
Brenda hunched over, hands resting on her knees, nearly out of breath by the time she coughed up the words. “Gertrude’s gone,” she cried.
“Gone where? What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“We went to my house to get some clothes. She wanted some bottled water, so I told her they were in the garage. When I went outside to the garage after getting my suitcase packed, she was gone. I don’t know where she went. Do you think it might be the men that took me? Do you think they came back for us?”
Ronald knew that unless Daryl and Joey had come back from the dead, it couldn’t possibly have been them. A fact he wouldn’t dare reveal to Brenda. Quite frankly, he didn’t have time to convince her that everything would be okay. Ronald had to find Gertrude—and fast. “I plan to find out,” he assured her as he darted off. “You should go home, Brenda. It’s getting dark.”
Ronald rushed into the house, then slammed the door behind him. He had to find out where Tom could be holding her hostage. It was him Tom really wanted. Gertrude was merely bait. Ronald hoped the cameras on his property would spot something that could assist him in finding her. With the computer in his living room, he maintained a connection to his cabin in Idlewild. Ronald powered on the hard drive and monitor, then proceeded to pull up the cameras. After five minutes of searching, he found nothing out of the ordinary, just a few bucks roaming the grounds.
The phone chimed, grabbing his attention. Without hesitation, he snatched up the receiver to the big, black, outdated phone sitting on the desk beside the monitor, answering the call. “Hello.”
“Ronald, we haven’t seen each other in a while. We should meet up. Hash things out like gentlemen.”
“Gentlemen kidnap women?” Ronald spouted angrily.
“I haven’t harmed a hair on her curly head. Ask her yourself.” Tom pulled the handkerchief from between Gertrude’s lips, allowing her to speak while he held the phone to her ear.
“Ronald, I’m afraid, baby,” she whimpered, sniffing loose mucus back into her running nostrils.
“Don’t be scared, baby. I’m coming to get you. I promise. I’m so sorry I got you in thi—”
Tom pulled the phone away from her ear, abruptly ending their time to talk, “That’s quite enough of that, lover boy. The directions where we are to meet will be on the windshield of your car. Drive safely. You know what? On second thought, don’t.” Tom hung up the receiver.
Ronald lowered his head as if he were about to pray. “If I’ve never asked for your help before, I’m asking for it, now. Come with me, Cecilia.”
“Nothing would please me more, dear brother,” his twin sister answered, revealing herself near the front door.
He had to get to Gertrude as fast as he could, and there was only one car that could take him there at that time. Ronald ripped the note from the windshield of the conversion van, then headed straight for his garage. Inside, he pulled the two iron pins securing the large metal door on each side so that he could lift it. He hopped into his father’s cherry-red beauty, revving the engine to warm it up, before pulling out into the darkness in search of his woman.
On the way to his destination, he thought about the good times he’d had with Gertrude. Envisioning her dimpled smile and joyful laugh eventually led to Ronald admitting to himself how she made him feel so needed, yet at the same time, cared for.
“You really love her, dear brother.”
“I’ve never experienced this kind of love before, Cecilia. I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose her.” He finally allowed the words to come off his heart.
“And what will you tell her about me? Do you plan just to ignore me forever when she’s around? What if she catches you talking to me? She’ll think you’re crazy. And your mission . . . You think she’s not going to find out that you’re a killer?” Cecilia griped.
“My mission? You mean your mission, Cecilia. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t enjoy killing people. It’s because of you Tiffany is dead. Now, I have to live with the fact that I killed one of my girlfriend’s closest friends. If you had just let me handle it, Tiffany would be alive.”
“Oh, cry me a river. She knew what she was doing all those times she stole from those places. Yet, people like her get to live, and my life gets cut short. It’s not fair,” she spouted.
“So, you think stealing food or a few items is worth someone’s loss of life? See, that’s where your mission completely conflicts with mine. The punishment just doesn’t fit the crime. Besides, when did we go from punishing sexual predators to petty thieves? Cecelia, don’t you see that was someone’s daughter, someone’s cousin? Her only crime was taking items that probably didn’t cost more than $100. And you killed her for it.”
“No, dear brother. I think you are mistaken. You’re the one who forced her over that bridge. You even looked into her pleading eyes as she plummeted to her death. No, dear brother, I’m sure of it. It was you that ended her miserable life.”
Ronald glanced into his rearview mirror, catching the evil smirk his sister brandished. Even still, he didn’t have the freedom to think thoughts he really wanted to. Cecilia wasn’t the same. She sat before him, tainted. The evil she’d tried so desperately to vanquish, her will had fallen prey to.
“I won’t do this anymore,” he blurted, causing a feeling of release he’d waited for since he was a child. “I’m done, Cecilia. After this, no more killing.”
“After this,” she huffed. “Why put off until later what you can do today? Right, dear brother? You want me gone? You can save your girlfriend all by yourself. See how well you do without me,” the apparition threatened before disappearing into thin air.
Ronald knew it wasn’t the last he’d seen of his sister. There was no way she would allow him to walk away that easily. She would be back with hell, brimstone, and fire behind her, he reckoned. Even so, at least for the time being, he could think freely. Getting Gertrude back was his main objective, and without Cecilia’s intuition backing him, Ronald would have to strategize. Waltzing right in through the front wouldn’t be an option if he wanted to gain the upper hand. He mashed his foot to the accelerator, zooming left around the vehicle in front of him, then took off down I-75.
His instructions on the map led him to a place he couldn’t recall ever having been before. Ronald figured he could ride by first to get a good look at the layout. He was sure Tom would have taken some measures to be privy to when he would arrive. Therefore, it was a must he approached the situation with caution.
It wasn’t until he exited the freeway on Jefferson Avenue that the buildings started to look familiar. The last time Ronald had been in that area, he was a little boy. Back then, whenever they’d have a family picnic, it was at Belle Isle. So much time had gone by that he’d practically forgotten about their special place. Seeing it all again, Ronald recalled the memory as if it were yesterday.
Chapter 51
Family Time
Young Ronald stared out of the car window in awe from the backseat. While passersby admired how beautiful his father’s ride was, the little boy soaked up the scenery down Jefferson Avenue. Stunning brick architecture hiding the Detroit River behind it kept his awestruck stare. The trip to Belle Isle that day was in an effort to lift his mother’s spirits. Mr. Doolally looked over at his wife from the driver’s seat. Oh, how he loved her so. He would do anything for her, yet the one thing she needed he couldn’t provide. Mrs. Doolally wanted their daughter back, alive and well. She gazed sorrowfully from the passenger window, remembering the times the
y had been to the island as a complete family—before their daughter’s life had been ripped away from them.
“Look at the water, Mama,” young Ronald shouted excitedly.
With Cecelia being gone, it was hard for her to take that trip, let alone put on a joyful facade. Only for the sake of her son had she tried to carry on with some type of normalcy. She didn’t want Ronald to feel like he didn’t matter. Mrs. Doolally loved her son, but losing her daughter destroyed the best parts of her. Much of the time, if not cold, she was distant.
That day, she had promised her husband she would be present in body and mind for their day outdoors.
“Yes, it’s beautiful, son. Kind of makes me feel at peace,” she answered, appeasing him for the time being.
“We’re here!” Ronald cheered excitedly as his father turned on to MacArthur Bridge to access the island.
More than half of the 982 acres were covered by three lakes, a lagoon, and 230 acres of forest-inhabited wetlands. Since its development in the late nineteenth century, Belle Isle had become home to some of young Ronald’s favorite places to visit. Among them was the beach, its giant yellow slide, Belle Isle Aquarium, the conservatory, the nature center, and the Great Lakes Museum. The island bustled with activity due to the addition of the Detroit Yacht Club, casino, and golf course.
As they crossed over the bridge, Mr. Doolally spied on his son through the rearview mirror. His bright beaming eyes and freckled cheeks blushed over as he sported a giddy grin.
“Would you like to go all the way around first?” Mr. Doolally asked, knowing it was a customary tradition for them, but could see the anticipation nearly bursting from Ronald’s little body.
“Can we go to the giant slide first, then the aquarium? After that, we can go wherever Mom wants to go.”
“How generous of you, son,” Mr. Doolally admitted, yet in the same instance, snickered at the audacious comment. He looked over at his wife, expecting to see a glint of amusement, but there was nothing. Mrs. Doolally’s mind was so far removed from the conversation that she had blocked out both of them. Her mind was transfixed on memories of Cecilia.
They cruised by the James Scott Memorial Fountain as others stopped to toss in a coin and make a wish.
“Wait!” Ronald shouted. A brilliant idea had dawned on him in a flash. Maybe it would work. Then his mother would feel better. “I need to stop at the fountain. It’ll be really quick, Dad. Can you pull over?”
“I sure can, son.” Mr. Doolally pulled over to the right, granting his son’s request.
“I’ll be right back, honey. I’m going to park right here.” He unbuckled his seat belt.
“It’s okay. I’m a big boy. I can go by myself,” young Ronald insisted.
“I can respect that, son. But, unfortunately, I can’t.” He paused in correction. “I won’t allow you to cross this busy street all by yourself.”
Ronald lowered his head in disappointment, prompting his father to make a compromise.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll get you across the road safely, and you can go up to the fountain all on your own. I won’t stand over you. It’s your business. Agreed?”
Young Ronald looked up with a smile, confirming it so. “Agreed.”
Mr. Doolally was a man of his word. He accompanied Ronald across the street, then allowed him to approach the fountain on his own, as he promised.
“I forgot something.” The little boy turned back to address his father. “Would you mind letting me borrow a quarter? I promise I’ll pay it back in chores.”
“One quarter gets me a yard void of apples on the ground,” his father negotiated.
“Deal.” Young Ronald shook his father’s hand firmly, making it official before darting off toward the big wishing spot. Spouts of water streamed here and there, even crossing over one another. The fountain was a beautiful sight to take in. If any wishing spot would work, the little boy surmised it would be that one. Young Ronald’s eyes beamed with wonder at the various streams of shooting water and white stone lion statues decorating the monument. With his speech already in mind, he tossed his quarter in, shut his eyes tight, and began to wish as hard as he could.
“God, please bring my sister back. My mommy isn’t doing very well, and I don’t want her to be unhappy anymore. I don’t want my father to have to hold her another night in tears. I miss Cecelia. She was my only true friend. I don’t want to be alone anymore. Please, God, send my sister back to us.” He opened his lids when he finished, feeling as if maybe, just maybe, someone up there heard his silent plea.
Once they got back into the vehicle, Ronald reached over the seat, letting his hand rest on his despondent mother’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, Mom. Trust me,” he declared before sitting back to strap himself in.
Mr. Doolally didn’t say a word, but from the expression on his face, you could see that he was proud of his son for attempting to uplift his mother’s spirits. “So, the giant slide, right?” his father inquired in efforts to boost his excitement even more.
His plan worked perfectly.
“Yayyy,” young Ronald cheered, ready to take on the attraction.
When he spotted the giant yellow slide, he pointed it out, yelling, “There it is, Dad! Look at it. It’s magnificent.”
“It is, indeed, son,” his father cheesed.
Mr. Doolally made sure to park near a shed close to the restrooms just in case his wife had to relieve herself. They all got out, Mrs. Doolally moving in silence. She stared out at the river, remembering how much her little girl loved the beach. Cecelia, often, would be as wrinkled as a prune by the time her mother could get her out of the water. Mrs. Doolally would wrap her daughter up in the towel, then scoop Cecilia up, keeping her snug in her embrace. Those were the good ole days, she fantasized.
“Are you ready, honey?” Mrs. Doolally’s husband stole her attention.
“I’m going to use the restroom first. I’ll meet you two over there.”
“We can wait for you,” Mr. Doolally insisted.
“I’ll be okay, honey. The line will just get longer.” She pointed out the line of cars waiting to park. “I’ll meet you two at the giant slide.”
“Come on, Dad. Let’s go,” young Ronald pulled at his father’s arm rushing him along.
“Okay. Okay. Let’s get you on that slide.” Mr. Doolally blew a farewell kiss to his wife. “Until we meet again, my darling,” he uttered as he had on many occasions in the past.
“Until we meet again,” she replied softly.
Mr. Doolally and his boy darted across the median, then to the other side of the road where the line to the huge, hilly, yellow slide stretched around the gate encasing it.
“It’s gonna take forever, ” young Ronald complained.
“Wait right here, son,” his father directed him.
Ronald watched his as his father took his wallet out and handed something over to one of the kids near the front of the line. The next thing he knew, his father was motioning for him to approach.
Young Ronald reached his father. “Dad, how’d we get to the front of the line?” he whispered, nudging closer to him.
“Don’t you worry about that, son. Your father has a way of getting what he wants,” he bragged proudly, rustling his hand through his boy’s soft, ginger curls.
His father purchased the tickets at the booth, retrieving their wheat sacks, then up the steep line of stairs they trekked. Young Ronald gawked up at the staircase they were to climb, feeling a bit defeated before they had even gotten a tenth of the way there. It was like looking up at a mountain’s peak. Reaching the top always felt epic, no matter how many times they had achieved the feat. His adrenaline pumped every step he climbed.
Young Ronald started to think about how exhilarating it would feel sliding down. It’s what gave him the boost he needed to conquer the summit of stairs. They had endured five minutes of stair-climbing before the pair finally reached the top. As the instructor demonstrated how they were to step i
nto their sacks, Ronald turned to ogle at the river across the road. That’s when he saw it. His mother stood seemingly in a daze at the edge of the pier.
“Dad”—he uttered ominously as he tapped at his father’s arm—“isn’t that Mama?” He pointed out into the distance.
“Oh my God. Stay over here, son,” his father demanded before leaping down onto the slide, sack first.
Young Ronald watched along with spectators as his father made it across the road, then down the brick pier just in time to snatch her from falling into the depths of the river. Ronald didn’t understand why his mother would want to leave him. He knew his mother was grief stricken, but he couldn’t help pondering why wasn’t he enough.
Chapter 52
Kill or Be Killed
Even then, that very question haunted him daily. A plethora of fond memories on the island had been tarnished by one bad incident. Ronald and his family had never visited Belle Isle again after that day. Nearly fourteen years later, he found himself crossing that bridge to get back to that island. He drove by the fountain, still spouting water, illuminated by colorful fluorescent lights. In the darkness, it looked magnificent.
The Detroit River was turbulent that evening. He could hear waves crashing against the cement wall at the water’s edge. Ronald squinted to see, having shut off his headlamps as he came on the island. There weren’t many parkgoers on a weekday at that time of the evening, which he hoped wouldn’t make his vehicle stick out like a sore thumb.
Then there it was in the distance. He saw the flashing light at the peak of his favorite attraction. Ronald grabbed the pair of binoculars from the passenger seat next to him, using them to see exactly what it was. To his horror, it looked as if Gertrude had been covered in a wheat sack from head to toe. The old man had a firm hold on her arm as he waited for Ronald to arrive. Sticking with his plan to catch Tom by surprise, he made a right at the statue of Major General Alpheus Starkey Williams. If he could climb the back of the closed attraction, maybe he could sneak up behind them. Ronald thought it was worth a try. He pulled over near the aquarium, then got out, stuffing his father’s .38-caliber pistol into his waistband, beginning his trek.
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