As soon as my body fills the space, I grip the sides of the window frame and sit on the sill, dangling my legs inside the window.
“Try not to make any noise,” Jason reminds me from the ground.
I nod, even though he probably can’t see me in the dark and I drop down to the floor as quietly as possibly. Fortunately, it is only a drop of a foot or so and I manage to hit the tile noiselessly.
The bathroom is dark and I am walking my hands across the wall to find the light switch when I realize that idea is stupid. If I turn on the light, it will alert Walter to the fact that there is someone in the bathroom.
And besides, all the lights went out, remember, Amy? Instead, I crouch down on all fours, blindly feeling for the step stool that I’m supposed to hand out the window to Jason. I find it just as my head whacks the side of the tub. I suck in my breath, resisting the urge to cry out. It was quite a hallow noise; I wasn’t sure if that was the tub or my head.
Damn it. I hope the sound of the storm outside covers the noise of my head bonking the tub.
My legs still unsteady, I stand and lower the step stool out the window without a word. I feel Jason taking it out of my hands and I back away from the window so that he has plenty of room to climb in. Within seconds, I feel his dripping wet body land softly on the tile next to me.
“I’m going to go first,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath prickling my frozen earlobe. “Stick close behind me, but get out of the way if Walter attacks.”
“But he doesn’t have a gun-” I start to say. But then my body goes cold as I realize, he has an entire drawer of kitchen knives at his disposal. And I told Allie and Sean to hide in the kitchen. He’s got them right where he wants them and what’s worse, they trust him. They have no idea what has gone on outside the cabin tonight. They don’t know that Walter is the bad guy. Heck, Sean thinks of him as “Grampy”; why would he ever think that “Grampy” would hurt him?
Suddenly, I am panicking, my palms sweaty and my mouth cottony. We need to get the kids out of this cabin as soon as possible. I poke Jason in the ribs, trying to get him to move a little faster.
“Could ya stop?” he growls through gritted teeth. “I’m ticklish.”
“Jason,” I hiss. “The kids trust Walter to keep them safe. We gotta get them out of the cabin!” The urgency in my voice is palpable. I am trying my hardest not to cry again.
“No, you don’t say?” Jason remarks with sarcasm. Ok, so maybe it wasn’t necessary to mention this fact to the secret agent. But as the events of the night unfold, I am starting to see myself as a bit of a sleuth, like Nancy Drew. Or maybe more like Colombo.
Jason presses his ear against the bathroom door, trying to get some indication of where Walter and the kids are. “I hear voices,” he tells me. If I wasn’t so damn nervous and fidgety, I would have made a sarcastic comment. But just like the Wonder Pets say, this is serious! Crap, I miss Evan. I feel a tear trickle down the side of my face.
Dear God, if you get us all out of this alive, I swear I will never complain about watching endless hours of children’s programming with my toddler. I will let Colt keep the sling shot in his fort, eat as many cookies as he wants, and not make him wipe the dirt off his face. I won’t tune Lexie out when she natters on and on about pens with feathers versus pens with glitter. I won’t yell at her for taking her dolls outside. I won’t stalk my teenager, I won’t check her messages. I will trust her, because it is ME who got us into this mess, simply by not trusting her. I’ll be a better mother, I swear.
Jason draws the bathroom door closer to his body, opening it inch by inch, attempting not to make a sound. He jerks his head towards the open door and whispers, “I changed my mind. You go first. I’ll cover you.”
“What?” I hiss. “No way. Then I’ll get shot first.”
“He doesn’t have his gun, Amy,” Jason reminds me. “He’s probably hoping for the element of surprise so he’ll attack with a knife or a blunt object.” He nudges me slightly. “Trust me, you’re safer going first.”
I guess he has a point, I think as I cautiously step out in the hall. I glance towards the bedrooms. I don’t know what I am expecting, but from where I am standing, both bedroom doors are open and completely dark inside.
On tip toe, I inch down the hall, Jason close on my heels. Even though he is soaked, I can still smell his inebriating scent. I take a deep breath to steel my nerves. He won’t let anything bad happen to you or the kids, Amy. I am trying to reassure myself that everything is going to work out, but needless to say, it’s difficult to be an optimist when your child is potentially being held hostage by an DEA agent who might have killed his “wife” who was an undercover DEA agent and the only one protecting you is another DEA agent who has already killed a DEA agent that tried to kill him that very night. Difficult to keep up? Yeah, I’m dizzy just thinking about it.
We are approaching the kitchenette and living room. The kitchenette is to the left and the living room is directly in front of us. Even though I can barely see anything, I can make out the outline of the couch and I smell the burnt toast that Sean made right before the electricity went out.
Lightening illuminates the sky once again and I catch a shadow darting behind the kitchen nook. I frantically nudge Jason, hoping that he saw it too and I don’t have to speak. Because at this juncture, I’m pretty sure my vocal cords have frozen up. A fact that would most likely please my husband to no end.
Oddly enough, thoughts of Roger and our honeymoon in Vegas race through my mind. Roger and I at the Chapel O’ Love; he is in a comical green suede leisure suit and I am in a hot pink micro mini skirt that showed off my tanned and sculpted legs. Roger and I at the craps table, me blowing on his dice for good luck; us throwing back our heads and laughing with glee when we won. Roger and I making love on the balcony of our hotel suite, not caring that half of Vegas could see us.
A sob lodges itself unceremoniously in my throat. What? Why am I thinking of Roger now? And that’s not the Roger I know…that guy is long gone. With deep, unexplained grief I wonder, what happened to that Roger? And what’s more, what happened to that Amy?
Is this why I’m so hell bent on this dangerous, suicidal adventure? What kind of mother puts their thirteen year old’s life in jeopardy for a little excitement? The thirteen year old that is quite possibly in a ton of danger right now on the eve of her fourteenth birthday and she needs her mother to get her head out of her fantasizing ass and FOCUS.
With that, I banish all disturbing thoughts of Roger, our former life BK (before kids), and concentrate on the task at hand; finding Sean and Allie and getting them away from Walter.
The lightning strikes again, this time causing me to involuntarily gasp. It illuminates the room and I see Walter is standing in clear view in the kitchen, butcher’s knife gleaming in midair, his arm wrapped around my daughter’s waist.
I want to scream; really, I do. I open up my mouth with the intention of doing so, but no sound emerges from my lips. In the split second that the kitchenette is lit up by the light, my eyes lock on Allie’s. Her eyes are bulging, desperate and frightened, begging me to help her, save her, be her mother.
But I am powerless as I stand there, my legs and arms feeling floppy, as if no bones hold them up, as if they are just skin with loose adipose tissue flapping around underneath.
“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone,” I hear Walter’s gravelly voice which I once found endearing. Now I now can only think of it as sinister. “You had to come and live with us. You couldn’t just stay out of the way and let me take care of Mary on my own. She was a busy body; she got what was coming to her. You, on the other hand, were clueless. I would have just disappeared. You wouldn’t have had any idea why. Perhaps you would have thought the mob kidnapped me or some crap like that. You were focusing on that Donoghue idiot. He was just one of my lackeys at the high school. That idiot couldn’t run a drug ring! He could barely handle the small tasks I gave him to do. Maybe you
would have figured it out, but I would have been long gone. But no…you had to come track me down for my safety and drag me to this God forsaken place.”
I realize that he’s not speaking to me, but to Jason. I feel Jason behind me tightening his grip on my arm. Walter is alluding to Jason’s mother as a disposable piece of garbage.
“And you,” Walter growls. Even in the darkness, I know he is narrowing his eyes and focusing on me. “If you would have just minded your God damned business and cut the crap with all your neighborliness, your kid wouldn’t have a knife to her throat right now. I think she’s bleeding on me. Would be a crying shame if my hand slipped.”
I am tempted to leap forward at this revelation which is coupled with the sound of Allie whimpering. But I don’t move; not only because I am still paralyzed with fear, but because I am putting my total faith in Jason. He may not have saved Stacey or his mother, but I felt 100% confidant that he was going to get us out of this mess. Well, 95% confidant anyway.
“Too bad you didn’t figure it out before you dragged Harding up here, Jason. You would have had a shot to outwit me. But once Harding volunteered to babysit up here, you were outplayed.” The sky lights up and I see Walter shaking his head in dismay.
“Pathetic, really. I thought you were a way better agent than that. I mean, hell, I lived under your nose for what, two months and you didn’t figure it out? I guess you were too busy with that retarded kid of yours-”
“Shut up!” Jason growls, the first time he has said anything since Walter began his litany five minutes ago. I can feel the muscles in his forearm tense as he wraps his arm tighter around my chest, pulling me towards him as if that will protect him from Walter’s harsh words. “He’s not retarded.”
“Whatever,” Walter snorts. “Maybe the apple don’t fall from the tree. You’re not exactly the picture of brilliance yourself.” Then he stops and chuckles with an evil undertone. “But then again, Sean isn’t even really your kid, is he, Jason? He’s Stacey’s kid from another relationship. He he he, that Stacey probably had a ton of relationships over the years, didn’t she? Hell, I’d be surprised if she even knew who Sean’s real father was. Hot piece of ass like that, she probably had a hard time keeping her panties on.”
Jason’s arm constricts even more and I feel the cold steel of the gun brush past my other arm as he slowly raises it to aim at Walter. I tense up, thinking, no! He has Allie! You can’t see that well in the dark!
Walter is still pushing his limits, trying to infuriate Jason even more for some unknown reason. Maybe he’s suicidal, but what he says next is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. “So how’s it feel to raise another man’s son, Jason?”
“Shut up,” Jason snarls, spitting in my hair in the process. “Sean is my son and you trying to demean our relationship or disparage Stacey, is not going to change that.”
“Eh, whatever. It doesn’t much matter what you think. I’m the one with the knife held to the girl’s throat, aren’t I? And if you don’t want to see her blood spilled on the ground, you’ll put your gun right up here on the counter like a good boy,” Walter instructs, jerking his head towards the nook.
Grumbling, Jason lays his gun on the counter. “Anything else, Walter?” I try not to gasp in shock. What is he doing? He’s giving in?
Walter nods in my direction. “Tie her up.”
What????
“Are you crazy?” Jason asks as I feel myself blush.
Walter presses the blade of the knife against Allie’s throat causing her to squeal. “Are you really in the position to be asking that, son?”
I hear Jason sucking in his breath. “What am I supposed to tie her up with exactly?”
“Rope on the chair over there. Walter indicates the wooden chair in the living room. Jason sighs as he stomps off to retrieve the rope. Holding it up, he asks, “What now?”
Walter clicks his tongue. “Am I to really believe this is the first time you’ve tied up a woman, Jason?”
At this point, I really am frightened, however, the suggestion that Jason is into bondage makes me blush. Not that I’m into bondage. Just the image of Jason tying a woman up seems rather… never mind.
“Tie her to that chair. And don’t even think about making those knots loose. I’m going to check it,” Walter growls.
Jason purses his lips and nods at me even though I am staring at him pleadingly. “Come on, Amy,” he tells me. Something in his voice is begging me to trust him.
I sit in the chair obediently, never taking my eyes off of Allie. The gun is still on the counter, but it is too far out of my reach to make a grab for it. “Put your hands out in front of you,” Jason commands.
“And her feet!” Walter calls out.
Jason nods at me. I lift my feet obediently. I feel like an absolute jackass. Jason winds the rope around my appendages a little tighter than I feel is necessary.
“Ouch,” I wince.
“Sorry,” he apologizes.
“That better really be tight, Jason. Or I will slice this girl’s throat and her mother will be forced to watch her die right here. And then I will use the same knife to stab her mother to death. Right in front of you. You don’t want to be responsible for the death of a young girl AND her mother, do you?”
“You forget one thing, Walter,” Jason says calmly, his breathing suddenly controlled and even. “I still have your gun.” With one swift motion, he raises his arm to shoot. I can’t help the blood curdling shriek that escapes from my throat as Jason aims at Walter and pulls the trigger.
I hear Jason curse under his breath, “What the…”
And then, Walter’s evil laugh again. “Shit, that’s my gun ain’t it? Oh, Amy, you dumb blonde…you fell for that trick. I purposely left that on the table, hoping you would grab it and shoot Jason as he walked through the door. Your prints would be on it and everything. But I guess I overestimated your close range shooting skills, huh? Only one bullet in the chamber. Hell, I couldn’t take the chance that you would figure me out and use my own weapon against me, could I?”
At first, I am very affronted by this statement. First off, I am not blonde. My hair is a mix between a dishwater and mousey brown. Secondly, I can’t believe he was not only going to let me kill Jason, he was going to frame me for it. Thirdly, I am pissed he has alluded to my lack of shooting skills. For God’s sake, it was the first time that I even held a gun! If I had ever gone to a shooting range before, I would have shown that crumidy old codger a thing or two. I can’t believe that I thought he was a sweet old man just ten minutes ago.
Suddenly my mind catches up with my body and it feels like it is crawling with spiders. We are dead where we stand.
I start to envision worst case scenarios, starting with Walter slicing Allie’s throat and then offing us one by one. I didn’t think I could be more panicked than I had been just a few moment ago, but my body’s reaction proves me wrong. I’m cold and shaking, but sweating in places I didn’t know exist. I feel hot and clammy, yet my teeth are now chattering. Through my mind runs all the things that Allie will never get to do; have a sweet sixteen party, a college graduation, a wedding… I am also thinking, shit, I really wanted to finally get to Europe…I knew we shouldn’t have waited till the kids were grown. I should have been like Joey and said fuck it and went years ago. I want to say a prayer, offer my daughter some sage wisdom in our final moments, but nothing comes to mind. My brain is like cotton candy.
This is the point where my life starts flashing before my eyes and I realize that my 8 mistakes led us to this point in time. I can just see the obituary now.
The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell: “Amy Maxwell, 35 year old wife of Roger, mother of 4, died on a mountaintop in a remote location all because of 8 mistakes. Basically, she couldn’t mind her own business. Her first mistake some may consider just being born…”
My depressing death rant is interrupted by the thunking noise that is similar to a gong. There is a scream and the lights come back on.
>
“What the…” Jason yelps. As our eyes adjust to the sudden flood of lights in the cozy little kitchenette, we see standing over Walter, who is slumped on the floor at the moment, Sean with hard ionized skillet in his hand, raised above his head, poised to strike again at a moment’s notice.
Allie is the first one to move. She shrieks and wraps her arms tightly around Sean’s neck, planting one hell of a kiss on his cheek which is now the color of an eggplant. Jason nearly knocks me and the chair over as he rushes towards the unconscious Walter, quickly whipping handcuffs out of the inner pocket of his jacket.
Where did those come from? He had those all along?
Allie rushes at me. And I can tell she is frightened; she’s trembling like a leaf on a tree in December and her face has soaked my shirt from tears. I haven’t seen her this upset since our cat Mittens was run over by our next door neighbor’s motorcycle. I want to hold her closely to my body, but I am currently tied up.
Instead, I relish her warmth and the smell of the coconut shampoo in her hair which reminds me of a day on the beach. She pulls back after a few minutes, and I expect she is going to be embarrassed by the uncharacteristic display of affection, but instead she says, “Thank you for looking out for me, Mommy. I was so scared.”
I can’t help but smile as I plant a kiss on top of her head, just like I used to do when she was little and fell off her bike and scraped her knees.
Walter is not unconscious for long, but it is enough time for Jason to render him as a non-threat to us any longer. He slaps the cuffs on him and as further insurance, handcuffs him to the stove. With a satisfied nod, he tells me that help is not far away. He texted for help when he and Harding dashed into the woods. His fellow (trustworthy) agents will be coming to haul Walter away and take the body of Agent Harding to the morgue.
The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell Page 24