Abducted

by Brian Pinkerton

  Roy’s mind raced even as his body shut down. He knew. He knew he was dying. How many minutes left? Who will find me?

  Slumped against the chair arm, immobile, Roy’s eyes stared forward, his focus trapped on a portrait hanging on the wall.

  A family portrait of the Riskins. Proud father. Beaming mother. Smiling son. Looking all the world like the perfect all-American family.

  Roy’s vision turned cloudy, giving way to a swarm of fireflies. The pounding in his ears became a faraway ebb. Then Roy Beckert’s final thoughts fragmented and dissolved away.

  XVII

  Dennis watched the life drain out of Roy as if he was observing a science experiment. The skin color shifted from pink to white to grayish. The body, slumped over the chair arm, shifted ever so slightly, then moved a few more inches as muscles relaxed.

  Suddenly, the body pitched forward. It landed on the rug with a loud thump.

  Dennis placed the handgun in the liquor cabinet, behind several bottles, high enough to be out of Tim’s reach. Safety first.

  Cary entered the living room. She wore a white T-shirt and red shorts, skinny and long, all arms and legs.

  “Is Tim alright?” asked Dennis.

  “Jeffrey,” she corrected him.

  Dennis shut his eyes. “I know. Right. Jeffrey.”

  “He’s watching TV in our bedroom,” said Cary. “The loud music scared him for a minute, but he’s fine.” Her eyes rested on the dead body of Roy leaking blood onto the carpet.

  “That’s just great,” she said in a monotone.

  “It doesn’t change anything,” said Dennis. “Keep packing. Just pack what’s essential. We’re still getting out of here.”

  Cary cautiously stepped over the body, keeping her tennis shoes out of the blood.

  “We’ll roll up the carpet and bring it with us,” said Dennis. “The chair, too. I’ll take care of this.”

  “Are you sure he wasn’t being followed?”

  “He and Anita split up the neighborhood. He has a map. They aren’t covering the same ground.”

  Cary couldn’t take her eyes off Roy’s body. “Everything was going so well…”

  Dennis remained cool. “We’ll just start over someplace new. We’ve done it before and we can do it again. We’re pros now, honey.”

  He walked over and kissed her cheek. He took her hands and she turned her attention to him. He looked into her blue-gray eyes. “Go pack. We’re fine.”

  She made a thin smile. “I hope so.”

  He touched her short, shaggy blonde hair. She smelled good. She always smelled good. He rubbed against her. Her skimpy summer outfit unveiled long stretches of skin, turning him on. It didn’t take much. He felt the hunger for her. He wanted to push her on the couch right then and there.

  “Mommm….” cried a young voice, followed by footsteps.

  Cary pulled away and turned, alarmed. “Jeffrey.”

  “Keep him out of here,” said Dennis sharply.

  Cary moved quickly to intercept him and guide him back into the bedroom.

  Dennis watched Cary disappear, following the lines and curves of her body, down to the tattoo of a thorny vine that wrapped above her left ankle.

  No one will get in the way of my new family. That was everything in a nutshell. It was very simple, really. Anita out, Cary in. Anita no, Cary yes. The bitchy, boring worker bee replaced by vibrancy and fresh sex appeal. Cary was his beautiful, wounded kitten, who needed him and appreciated him. She was full of life, while Anita had become dead tired.

  Long ago, Anita had been something of a prize, brimming with fire and spice. But she rapidly lost her sense of fun after college, a rude case of bait and switch. She called it maturation, he called it dull. She called it responsible, he called it nagging. They disconnected, unplugged, had nothing more to say. It was sad. He was still young. He didn’t need to surrender the rest of his life to a bad choice.

  Anita out, Cary in, Tim stays. So simple.

  Dennis looked at Roy. A dead man on the floor. Also remarkably simple. Dennis examined the body with a determined detachedness, as if he were staring at a piece of furniture.

  He was pleased with his lack of fear or guilt. No remorse, no revulsion, no feeling of any kind, really. Just another necessity to achieve the goal.

  Frankly, he felt proud of himself for handling this whole thing in such a controlled manner. No panic, no sweat.

  This was even easier than the first time.

  He was cool and collected then, too. There wasn’t a choice. Anything less would unravel every plan he had for the future. It was a carefully plotted sequence of events, hinged on the credibility of his performance. There was no margin for sloppiness…

  “Shit!”

  Dennis slammed the brakes, stopping the Jeep Liberty as it backed out of the driveway.

  “What is it?” asked Anita.

  “My wallet,” grumbled Dennis. “I left it in the house.”

  “Well, good thing you remembered it now,” said Anita.

  “Wait here,” said Dennis. He stepped out of the Jeep. “I’ll be right back.” He slammed the car door.

  Anita remained in the passenger seat, all dressed up for the goodbye dinner that awaited in San Francisco with her work colleagues. The engine was running. Dennis gave her a quick glance before he entered the house, shutting the front door behind him.

  Gotta act fast.

  “Pam!” he called.

  “Mr. Sherwood?”

  Pam approached from the family room, where she had been picking up Tim’s toys. Such a good nanny.

  “I forgot to tell you about Horsey,” said Dennis.

  Pam smiled but wrinkled her forehead. “Horsey?”

  Dennis chuckled. “Come, I’ll show you.”

  He took her to the fish tank in the living room. It was a large, rectangular saltwater tank, sixty gallons, propped on a heavy stand. The contents, collected over time included anemones, clown fish, puffer fish, a blue tang, a yellow tang, angelfish, starfish, coral, and seahorses. Dennis removed the hood of fluorescent lights and delicately placed it against the wall.

  “One of the seahorses is sick,” he said. “It’s the little one. Tim calls him ‘Horsey.’ We need you to give Horsey his special medicine at ten o’clock.”

  “No problem, Mr. Sherwood.” Pam examined the fish tank. “Which one is Horsey?”

  Dennis stepped back so she could get a better look. “The little one. Do you see him?”

  Of course, Pam would have to study the tank. The two seahorses were the same size. There was no smallest one.

  “I’m not sure.” Pam moved closer to the tank. “Is it the one on the right?”

  “No, keep looking. You’ll see him.” Dennis quietly stepped back to the closed drapes that covered the living room window. He reached behind the drapes and grasped the handle of a Barry Bonds Louisville Slugger baseball bat.

  Dennis told himself: grand slam.

  “They’re so cute,” said Pam. “But I don’t see a small one.”

  Dennis stepped forward with the bat. “Keep looking. He’s probably in the coral.” Dennis brought the barrel of the bat back, prepared for a level swing, and aimed for the back of Pam’s head.

  “Horsey, where are you,” sang Pam lightly, tapping the glass of the aquarium.

  Dennis wanted to crush a 450-foot homerun into the Bay beyond the walls of the San Francisco Giants’ ballpark. But he knew he would have to check his swing. A love tap. Nothing messy; just enough to make her sleepy…

  Dennis drove the bat forward and wood met bone, filling the living room with a sickening crack.

  The momentum of the swing knocked Pam away from the tank to dive onto the floor. She rolled, then remained there, limp, her butt in the air, her limbs pointing in all directions. Her thick, nerdy glasses rested nearby.

  Out cold.

  Gotta act fast.

  Dennis dropped the bat. He took off his jacket. He rolled up his shirtsleeves to the elbow. He
took ahold of Pam by the hair and collar. He yanked her up. She jerked passively like a rag doll. Her face was turning fat and swollen. A huge purple welt bulged out of one side of her head.

  Dennis sunk Pam’s face into the fish tank, making sure the mouth and nose dipped beneath the surface. The fish scattered, while bubbles rolled out of Pam’s nostrils and lips.

  Drown you pathetic troll.

  Dennis counted to himself. “One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand…” His heart pounded madly, his pits and groin dampened with sweat, but he wouldn’t let emotion interfere with this very critical task.

  Pam stirred, barely conscious. But her tiny struggles were no match…

  Dennis held firm. He continued to hold her face in the water, even when resistance persisted. Sure, it was horrific; she would soon be dead, but he couldn’t think about that. He continued to keep emotions in check, telling himself, This is just a job I gotta do. Like changing the oil, or digging out a dead bush from the back yard, or…

  Don’t think of the action, Dennis told himself. Think about the results.

  A new family of Cary and Tim.

  He imagined the three of them on a picnic on a picture-perfect summer morning. Tim full of love and happiness for his parents. Cary wearing her sweet pink halter top, long legs folded beneath her, fantastic smile and those lips…

  The pictures in his mind provided a beautiful substitute for the grotesque agony of Pam’s final minutes.

  When Pam’s struggles ended, her body went slack and she emitted a horrible gurgly gasp. Her mouth opened wide in the water and the stream of bubbles became a trickle.

  Gotta act fast.

  Dennis removed Pam’s face from the fish tank. Being careful not to let water drip on his clothes, he picked her up and kept her face held out over the floor. She was small, but not necessarily light. Dead weight.

  Dennis swiftly carried Pam’s body to the family room, and over to the door that connected with the garage. He reached out, pushed the door open, and then dumped Pam into the dark, onto the pavement.

  He shut the door and hurried back into the living room.

  Gotta act fast.

  He returned to the fish tank for a quick look. The fish appeared to be returning to their routines, after the rude interruption of Pam’s big, ugly face.

  Everybody fine? You won’t tell, will you, little fishies?

  Dennis reached in and delicately returned the little toy scuba man to a standing position.

  Then he returned the aquarium hood above the tank and secured it.

  Everything normal? He did a quick count of the fish, missed one, and counted again…then again…Shit!

  One of the clown fish was missing.

  How could that be?

  He searched frantically around the tank. I don’t have time for this. He couldn’t find it anywhere. Then he remembered Pam’s gaping mouth as she drowned in the saltwater, and it dawned on him—

  She inhaled one of the fish?

  Dennis started giggling nervously. He couldn’t help it.

  He hurried into the kitchen, dried off his arms with paper towels, rolled his sleeves back down and buttoned them. He put his jacket back on.

  Gotta act fast.

  Dennis ran up the stairs. He hurried into the bedroom and grabbed his wallet from the dresser. Then he opened the top drawer to rummage through it for a moment and create a scene. He had already removed the cash earlier in the week.

  Next, Dennis went into Tim’s room. Tim slept in his crib, undisturbed, clutching his bear.

  Dennis looked at him softly. Such a fantastic, lovely boy. He kissed a finger and brought it to Tim’s lips.

  “Sweet dreams,” said Dennis. “Don’t be scared. Daddy will see you again in a few months.”

  Gotta act fast.

  Dennis returned downstairs, where he unlocked the back door that led from the family room into the back yard. He snapped the back porch light off—then on—then off again.

  Another minute later, Dennis was back behind the wheel of the Jeep. Sweating a little bit, panting slightly, but under total control. Anita barely looked at him; her focus was on the farewell dinner ahead.

  Think: Academy Award, he told himself before he delivered his lines.

  “Something’s not right,” said Dennis. He backed out of the driveway and into the street. “I think I caught Pam off guard. She was crying.”

  “Crying?” said Anita.

  “She was picking up some of Tim’s toys in the kitchen. She was staring at them. She seems distraught.” He told Anita: “I feel like crap, but why should I?”

  “You shouldn’t,” Anita said.

  They discussed Pam’s sorry state some more, and then Dennis popped on the stereo. The Who blasted out of the speakers. Dennis let out a heavy sigh, drowned out under the music.

  The Jeep swung around a curve, making its way out of Rockridge and heading for the lights of San Francisco.

  XVIII

  In the back yard of the home of Dennis and Anita Sherwood, Cary blended in with the night. Tucked in the brush, out of the sightline of neighbors, she waited with supreme patience. She was as still as a statue, every joint and muscle locked. Only her eyes moved.

  Then: the signal. The back porch light flicked off-on-off.

  Cary felt a mad surge of excitement.

  Shit, he really did it, she told herself. Right on schedule.

  The rush of emotions provoked panic, glee, arousal, all of the above. This was more intense than any other high. She worked to regain focus, clear her head, stay calm.

  Now it’s my turn.

  The next steps had been planned very carefully and she had them memorized. She would not fuck up.

  “Do it right, and we will have our dream family,” Dennis had told her. “Forget a step, do it sloppy, and we all go to jail. There is no in between.”

  Cary moved quickly to the back door. Wearing gloves, she turned the door handle. It opened.

  Cary entered the house and locked the door behind her.

  She froze for a moment and listened.

  Silence. Absolute silence.

  She took a moment to take in the family room. Just like the exterior, the inside of the house sparkled perfect, like it belonged to one of the ideal TV sitcom families from her youth. The brightness, the cleanliness, the soft furniture, happy portraits, all the toys—it was laid out in front of her like a big cozy hug.

  Growing up, living in Hell House, Cary’s escapism was the Bradys, the Huxtables, the Cleavers—all cheerful, warm, and loving. There were never any serious threats, and the occasional conflicts were resolved neat and tidy before the half-hour mark. It was both exhilarating and foreign. When she was little, the other kids were into Star Wars or Batman, but her fantasy life was Family Ties. She wanted to know: How can I enter that world?

  Then, as she grew up, wised up, got knocked around one too many times, she realized the simple truth: you don’t always get the life you want. Sometimes you just have to take what you need.

  Right now, more than anything in the whole wide world, she needed Dennis and Tim and the cleansing future of a perfect family. They would buy a house together just like this one, but faraway, maybe in New York, or Chicago, or Dallas. She would decorate it with love.

  And that would destroy the memories of Hell House. Tear it to the ground.

  Cary opened the door that connected the family room to the garage. And there she was, just like Dennis had promised. The crumpled, dead nanny. Ugly and small, with clumps of wet hair wrapped like big spider claws across her face.

  Dennis did his part. Now Cary had to finish up.

  She started gathering items, using the checklist in her mind.

  She retrieved the baseball bat and the nanny’s glasses from the living room. She pulled the nanny’s coat out of the closet. She found the nanny’s purse, checked it for the cell phone, and took out the nanny’s car keys.

  Cary pocketed the car keys. Everything else went in
to the garage, on the floor in a small pile next to the nanny.

  Next, some cleanup. She took towels out of the kitchen cabinet where Dennis had planted them, neatly folded.

  Cary wiped up the water on the sides of the fish tank and the legs of the stand. She soaked up wet spots on the hardwood floor in front of the aquarium and then dried some smaller water spots along the path to the garage.

  When she checked the aquarium one last time, she found two long strands of the nanny’s hair in the tank. Cary took the hairs out, placed them in the towel, and checked carefully for more.

  When she was satisfied that no clues remained, Cary brought the towels into the garage and placed them with everything else that was going to be removed from the property, including the body.

  Dennis had left a waterproof bed sheet folded up, hidden behind the lawn mower. It was rubber and stain resistant, intended for toilet-training toddlers. She brought it to the nanny to cover her up.

  Cary couldn’t help glancing at the nanny’s face before she dropped the sheet.

  It wasn’t the first dead body she had ever seen in her life, nor the most startling. That honor belonged to Meg, one of her old roommates in Berkeley, who overdosed on heroin on Halloween while dressed as Vampira. Cary was high on ecstasy when she found the body, which complicated things. She waited for the ecstasy to wear off before she called an ambulance to the apartment. She later felt occasional guilt about it. Maybe they could have saved Meg if the call came earlier, but she doubted it.

  This wasn’t even the first murder caused by someone she knew. Nick, the biker she hung out with for four months, claimed he killed another man in a bare-knuckle fight outside a bowling alley, but she always suspected he was just saying that to impress her.

  As Cary stared at the dead nanny, she noticed something strange snarled in her hair. It looked like a little fish. She reached down and slid it out. It was a little fish, orange with white stripes, dead. She would have to tease Dennis about this later. She placed the fish in one of the towels.

  Then Cary dropped the bed sheet on the nanny’s face. Time to get the car.

  Dennis had placed an extra garage door opener on a shelf with the garden tools. She took it, jabbed it. The garage door rolled up, offering a view of darkness on Vernon Road. She stepped outside the garage and scanned the surroundings.