On the third stop, she heard Dennis shout “Don’t forget the beer,” followed by a door slam and a lengthy stillness. She could hear the occasional rattle of shopping carts, which indicated Cary was stocking up on groceries. If that was the case, they must be close to their destination.
Anita was right. Before long, the van maintained a slower speed and made frequent stops at intersections, away from the steady flight of the highway. Soon, the sounds of other vehicles faded away. The smooth pavement gave way to miles of uneven terrain. She could feel the gravel and dirt roads rumbling under the wheels.
When the van made its next stop, the engine shut off. Anita knew this was the end of the line.
Doors opened and slammed. Everybody was climbing out. Anita tucked herself tightly behind Dennis’s big stereo speakers. She held the golf club in one hand, the canister of pepper spray in the other. There was a long period of silence.
They must be taking care of Tim first, Anita thought. Putting him inside? How late is it? Day or night? Will they leave the rest of the van until morning?
Finally, she heard a metallic clang. Light spilled into the van. It shocked her eyes and took a moment for them to adjust.
The loading ramp rolled out. She could hear Dennis and Cary bickering.
“So that’s the best you could do?” she said. “It’s a dump.”
“Can it, we’re safe here.”
“It smells.”
“It’s been vacant, we’ll air it out.”
“The water’s brown. The phone’s disconnected…”
“We have the cell phone. Just chill out.”
“I’m still waiting for our dream house.”
“Well, not today,” he snapped.
“When do we pick up the new car?”
“Tuesday.” Dennis moved something and grunted. “Why don’t you grab that, I’ll get this…”
Dennis and Cary removed items from the van. They did not touch the stereo speakers or sense her presence. Dennis and Cary left the vehicle, and their voices trailed away. Anita heard the slap of the screen door shutting.
Now.
Anita scrambled forward, pushing items aside, careful not to create any obvious disturbances, but also moving as swiftly as she could.
At the edge of the van, she peered out into an area of heavy woods. It was early evening and the sun, muted by dark clouds, was sinking behind the trees. Anita’s eyes roamed the surroundings. She saw a small, tired-looking garage…a small, weathered cottage…and an unpaved road that wound back into the forest and disappeared. That was it. No other houses in sight. Just nature and isolation. Perfect seclusion for a pair of criminals.
Holding the golf club, Anita stepped out of the truck. Then she heard Cary’s voice.
Anita scurried into the woods, going deeper and deeper, about thirty yards in. Then she quickly knelt, crouching behind a thick tree and heavy brush.
They couldn’t see her. But she could see them.
Anita watched as Cary and Dennis unpacked the rest of the truck. Wordlessly, load after load. Cary was strong, handling large bins with ease. When Dennis grabbed his golf bag, she shuddered. But he didn’t notice the missing driver.
Tim remained inside the house, probably propped in front of a TV. She kept waiting for a glimpse, but he did not come out.
After numerous trips, Dennis returned without Cary. Instead of going to the truck, he headed into the garage.
Moments later, he emerged dragging a shovel. It scraped against the dirt. He leaned the shovel on a tree near the U-Haul. He stepped into the back of the truck.
When Dennis reappeared, he was pulling a stuffed, blue sleeping bag. It was heavy. It was Roy.
Dennis pushed the sleeping bag down the ramp. It tumbled and hit the ground. An arm popped out.
Dennis hopped to the ground. He shoved the arm back in. He grabbed the shovel and slid it into the sleeping bag with the body.
Anita watched in horror as Dennis started to pull the sleeping bag along the ground…heading in her direction.
Anita didn’t know what to do. If she got up and ran, he might see her. Her footsteps would make noise in the leaves and sticks. But if he continued in her direction, she would be discovered for sure.
Dennis continued in her direction.
Anita crouched lower, knuckles tightening around the handle of the golf club. Her heart pounded.
Dennis advanced into the woods. He stopped about thirty feet away from where Anita sat in the brush. He did not see her. She remained very still, breathing silently through her nostrils.
Dennis let go of the sleeping bag. He bent down and pulled out the shovel. Then he picked a spot and began to dig.
The shovel cut into the earth, tossing dirt, steady and repetitive. Dennis grunted, sweated, and swore. Anita could see the butt of the handgun sticking out, tucked into his waistband.
The forest darkened as night crept in. Anita maintained a painful stillness. Mosquitoes buzzed by her ears and landed on her face. They stung her neck and cheeks. But she couldn’t move her hands up to her face. She couldn’t move at all for risk of making a noise. A snapped twig could end her life.
She wanted to scream.
Every so often, Dennis paused to survey the surroundings. He looked around her, past her, but never at her.
A sprinkling of raindrops began hitting the leaves above.
“Goddamn it,” muttered Dennis. He dug faster. When the hole appeared wide enough and deep enough, he threw the shovel aside. He tackled the sleeping bag, rolling it several times until it tipped into the hole.
Not quite deep enough. Part of the bag extended out of the hole. Dennis swore loudly, sending birds fluttering from nearby trees.
The rain persisted. She felt a steady scattering of drops soak through her clothes to the skin. She could see wet trickles cling to Dennis’s face. He stared at the sleeping bag for a long moment. Then he jumped on it.
Dennis stomped on the sleeping bag, violently, repeatedly. Anita could hear ribs breaking.
Dennis flattened the bulge to ground level. Then he snatched the shovel and started dropping dirt over the hole. Each scoop of dirt splattered with a pop when it hit the sleeping bag.
When the bag was completely covered, Dennis hastily gathered some fallen branches and leaves. He scattered the debris over the grave. He stepped within twenty feet of Anita to grab a fistful of twigs. His next trip brought him within ten feet. Anita held her breath, watching his eyes. They missed her.
When the body appeared sufficiently hidden, Dennis picked up the shovel and examined his work for a moment. He glanced around the forest one last time. Then he headed back to the house.
Anita remained frozen. She waited until she heard the slam of the screen door.
The forest was gray now. The rain grew denser, louder.
Slowly, Anita stood up. Her legs ached. She vigorously scratched at her face, then forced herself to stop before she scratched herself raw. She moved toward the house, taking a zigzag path to stay behind trees and brush.
The interior of the house was lit up, illuminating each room. The home appeared cheaply furnished, very plain. Probably a rental, Anita figured. He probably paid cash, minimum paper trail. Someplace in the middle of nowhere to lay low…to start planning a new identity and a new life.
Anita examined the layout. It wasn’t a very big house. She could see the master bedroom…and a small bedroom for Tim.
The most encouraging sight was the open window to Tim’s room. A direct route to his rescue. It beckoned to her from across the overgrown lawn. Other windows had been opened, too, in an effort to air out the house.
The sight filled her with new strength and resolve.
Anita moved to another part of the yard. She slipped behind a tree and got a good look into the kitchen.
She watched Dennis enter the room. He washed his hands in the sink, lips moving, but no words, like a silent movie. Tim was already seated at the kitchen table in a booster seat. He drank milk from a coffee m
ug. Cary was taking a pizza out of the oven. She placed it on the counter and cut it into slices. Then she brought the pizza to the table.
Dennis grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator. He sat down at the table next to Tim.
Watching Dennis wolf down a piece of pizza, Anita realized how hungry she was. How long had it been since she ate? She decided she didn’t want to know.
Tim reached over and stuck his fingers in the pizza. He started to pull off a piece of pepperoni. Cary caught him and slapped his hand hard. Her face turned ugly as she scolded him.
Tim pulled his hand back, on the verge of tears.
Cary continued speaking sharply to him. She made a big production of presenting him with a napkin and then a small slice of pizza on a paper plate. Tim looked sad, withdrawn. He didn’t touch his pizza.
Anita felt renewed rage surge throughout her body. She tightened her grip on the golf club.
Dennis chugged his beer. Cary sat down and took a slice of pizza. Cary looked very tired.
Anita’s eyes roamed the kitchen. She saw keys on the counter. Car keys.
The van keys.
The rain was coming down hard now. Anita heard distant thunder. It rumbled in the air and beneath her feet. She was soaked.
Anita’s eyes surveyed the house from front to back one more time. She made a mental note of where everything was. Remember this. Then she crouched low and quickly headed for the garage.
Anita pushed open a small side door and slipped inside. It was dark, windowless and musty, buzzing with flies. She cautiously stepped forward.
Immediately, there was a rustling noise coming toward her. She gasped and didn’t know which way to turn. She felt something brush past her legs. It was a raccoon, scampering off into the night.
Anita regained her composure. Another rumble of thunder rolled across the skies, trembling the garage walls. The rain pounded aggressively on the roof. The next sound of thunder brought a flash of lightning.
Anita leaned against a wall inside the garage. She shut her eyes tight. She had to plan her next move. Her whole world narrowed to a single goal. Nothing else mattered. Nothing would stop her.
I’m going to get my son.
XXII
The storm gathered strength, raging louder as it bent trees and battered the earth. Rain and debris blew in through the side door of the garage. The rickety structure shook until Anita feared it would collapse. Lightning stabbed at the sky, illuminating the forest in glimpses.
Anita remained hiding, watching the house with tremendous patience. She had waited years for Tim’s return, what was a few more hours?
Finally, a window in the house went dark. Then, shortly after, another. And another. After twenty minutes, the light in the master bedroom went out. The entire house was in darkness.
Anita checked her watch. She decided to give them one hour to fall asleep…before she went inside.
During that hour, she ran the plan through her mind over and over. It was not a complicated plan, but its success or failure meant life or death.
Slip inside the house. Get Tim. Get the van keys. Slip out.
She felt confident that she could drive the U-Haul. And if the sound of the engine woke up Dennis and Cary and brought them outside, so be it. She would gladly run them over in her escape.
War. No rules.
She envied the sleep they were now getting. She was exhausted and dirty, drawing deep from a pool of remaining strength. Every bone and muscle ached in protest. But her work was not done.
At the one-hour mark, without any light or motion seen inside the house, Anita decided to make her move.
She gripped the golf club, waited for a flash of lightning to pass, and dashed into the pouring rain, covered by darkness.
When Anita reached Tim’s window, she found her entry blocked. The window had been shut and locked, shade closed. NO! Her heart sank. This can’t be happening…
As the rain continued to assault her, Anita conducted a quick survey of the other windows. They had all been closed and latched in the recent hours, probably when the storm turned ugly.
OK, OK, she told herself. Now what?
Anita spotted a window well that led to a small basement window. She stepped inside the well. Her gym shoes sunk into a large puddle.
The window was rectangular and wooden with three square panes. Anita held the neck of the driver. She placed it inches from the glass of one of the panes. She waited…
At the sound of the next crash of thunder, she smacked the pane, breaking it. The timing was perfect. The sound of the breaking glass was lost in the storm.
Anita reached inside and found the latch. She opened the basement window. It was a tiny opening.
Can I make it?
Taking the golf club with her, she squeezed through, feet first. She scraped her butt, cursed her figure, but did not get stuck.
Anita landed in pitch-black darkness. She didn’t know which way to turn and didn’t want to crash into anything to announce her arrival. She waited for the next flash of lightning to send some light.
After a minute, the storm obliged. A blink of illumination shot through the room, followed by thunder. Anita quickly got her bearings. It was a cramped, unfurnished cellar. All concrete and clutter. She glimpsed a furnace, a washer, a dryer, and several loads of their boxes and bins.
More importantly, she saw the stairway leading upstairs.
She made her way over in the dark. Spider webs tickled her face. When her foot hit the bottom stair, she groped for the handrail and started to climb. Her gym shoes squished with each step. Her clothes were soaked, chilling her to the bone. She pushed wet strands of hair out of her eyes.
At the top of the stairs, she felt a door. She listened carefully and heard nothing. She took ahold of the handle, turned it, and opened the door a crack…
…it creaked.
Shit!
Anita froze. She listened again. She heard the sounds of the storm. And nothing else.
Anita opened the door wider, very slowly. When there was enough room to slip inside, she advanced into a small corridor.
From her earlier examination of the layout, she had a sense of her location. Everything was on ground level. The bedrooms would be to the right. The kitchen and family room area would be on her left. Straight ahead, there was a bathroom.
Anita knew that Tim’s bedroom was nearby. Looking down the corridor, she could see his doorway opened halfway. A little further down, the door to the master bedroom was shut.
The corridor had wooden floorboards. Anita stepped cautiously toward Tim’s room. One hand gripped the golf club and the other reached out to avoid walking into the walls. Her wet shoes continued to squish. Worse, some of her footsteps caused the floor to creak. It was like maneuvering a minefield.
She could hear the rain pounding away at the roof. It provided a constant din that distracted from her sounds. The thunder continued to crash with irregular frequency. Every hit sent a jolt though her nerves.
Anita advanced in slow, measured steps to Tim’s doorway. When she reached it, she peered inside.
The room was small and plain. Several boxes lined the wall. Tim slept in a toddler’s bed. It was a startling sight. When he had been stolen, he was still in a crib.
Anita could see Tim’s face, relaxed and beautiful, resting on a pillow. His tiny fingers peeked out from under the covers. He was still just a little boy, surrounded by adult horrors.
Anita felt a sudden lump in her throat. She removed her eyes from him. Can’t get emotional. I’ve got to stay in control.
She gave Tim one more look. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry. Mommy’s going to take you home.
Anita headed for the kitchen, making careful steps. She grimaced at every small creak. When she reached the kitchen, the floor was linoleum. Her footsteps were silenced.
The kitchen windows offered just enough light for Anita to find her way around. She recalled the layout from earlier, and found the van keys on the co
unter.
Anita pocketed the keys.
She also discovered a roadmap of Wisconsin. So that’s where we are, she realized. Hiding out in the Wisconsin woods. This map will come in handy on the drive out of here.
She slid the map into her back pocket.
There was one more item grabbing her attention. Pizza. Anita was famished. Two pieces remained on a plate near the sink.
Anita walked over. She scooped up a piece of the pizza. It was cold and tasted fantastic. She finished it in several big bites. Food for strength.
Out of the corner of her eye, Anita noticed something glisten in the sink.
A knife. The knife Cary had used to cut the pizza.
Anita reached into the sink, took the knife and held it to the window for a better look.
It was a good-sized knife. It could offer some added protection.
She took out the road map and unfolded part of it. She placed the knife inside. She refolded the map around it.
Anita carefully returned the map to her back pocket. She untucked her shirt over it.
Anita consumed the second slice of pizza. She felt revived.
She moved over to the backdoor that connected the kitchen with an outside path leading to the driveway. She studied the door. Better unlock it now, so when I have Tim in my arms, I can move fast.
She turned the knob on the latch.
It made a loud snap.
Damn it!
Anita froze. That was the loudest noise yet. Please God, don’t let them wake up.
Fortunately, judging from the beer cans that littered the counter, Dennis was probably out like a light. And Cary had looked exhausted earlier, no doubt wiped out from the move…
Anita waited several minutes. She heard nothing.
Time to get Tim.
Anita returned to the corridor, back to the floorboards. Again, they creaked in random intervals, sending shudders of fear up her spine. She stepped as softly as possible, focused on her plan:
She would very gently lift Tim out of bed. Best-case scenario, he would not wake up. But if Tim did awake and become alarmed, she would put a hand over his mouth to stifle any noise. She could not afford to let him scream. She would move him very fast through the house, out the back door, and to the truck.
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