You Can Run: A heart gripping, fast paced thriller (7th Street Crew Book 2)
Page 17
“I think we should walk a little,” I say.
Steven looks at the sky. The big black darkness is getting closer. “We don’t have long before that hits us,” he says.
“It’s long enough,” I say.
“As you wish.”
We start walking. I think about the kiss we shared the night before and wonder if he thinks about it too. Our hands are very close to each other when we walk, our arms rubbing against each other. I fight the urge to grab his hand in mine. I don’t know if I only want him to be close to me because I am sad and wounded, if I want to hurt Joey, or if it’s really because I like Steven. ‘Cause I do. I really like him, but I can’t stop thinking that he is not my type at all. I am usually more into the surfing lazy bad boy types. Steven is too perfect. But maybe I’ve changed my type? Maybe I am done with those good-for-nothing types? I know he is the type that I would like to fall in love with. I know he would treat me well. I know he would take care of me. And I would enjoy that six-pack of his.
While I think too much, as usual, he grabs my hand in his. The gesture startles me and I twitch. He looks at me, as if wanting my approval, and I smile.
“We’ll find her,” he says and kisses the top of my hand like a gentleman. “I am certain we will.”
“I sure hope so.”
We walk out of the beach park area and into a residential area, where the big beachfront mansions are lined up one after another overlooking the Atlantic. Each has its own boardwalk to the beach, and the yards are covered in sea grapes. The houses are a lot bigger than the ones you see in Cocoa Beach, even on the beach. These are three-to-four-million dollar mansions. I have heard that most of the people living here are doctors. I can’t blame them. It’s a little too far from a city for my taste. I like having a downtown to walk or bike to, but other than that, it’s gorgeous out here. A little desolate, though.
“You think she walked all the way down here?” Steven asks.
I shrug. “She might. But, then again, she could have walked north as well.”
“There’s nothing here but houses.”
“I know. It’s a dead end,” I say with an exhale and look at the sky above us. The storm is getting dangerously close now. We can hear the thunder now and see the lightning strikes in the distance.
“We need to get back to the car,” Steven says, “If you don’t want to be caught down here during that thing.”
Disappointed as I might be that we haven’t found even a trace of Marcia, I know he is right.
Being the lightning capital of the world, Florida is not a place to be outside in a thunderstorm. Every year, some tourist from up north refuses to leave the beach in time and gets struck by lightning. A guy we grew up with, Jared, was struck three times during childhood. It’s one of those stories you only believe because you know him, but it’s true. He survived all three times, but that is the exception to the rule. I, for one, don’t want to try and see if I can do the same.
Just as we’re about to turn and walk back, I spot something.
“What’s that?”
“What’s what?” he asks.
I walk to the boardwalk leading to one of the mansions.
“I really don’t think we have time for this,” he says.
“Just give me one sec.”
I walk up on the boardwalk.
“That’s private,” he says.
“I know. I just have to…” On the boardwalk, they have a small bench where you can sit and watch the ocean. I stop and pick something up.
“Bingo.” I look at Steven with a smile, just as the sky cracks above us with loud thunder. “She was here. This is her scarf. She always wears this. Even when it’s ninety out. It was a present from her father before he died. She has been here. Marcia was here.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
January 2016
Kelly’s hands are shaking as they press the numbers on the phone.
“Not a word, you hear me?” the intruder says, the gun pointed at Kelly’s temple. “Just act normal.”
“Papa’s Pizza.”
“Yes, hello. I would like to order a pizza,” she says, her voice about to crack as her eyes, once again, glance at her husband, who is on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Lindsey is sobbing, hiding her face in her hands, while lying flat on the floor.
“Delivery or carryout? Hello? Ma’am? Are you still there?”
Kelly feels the gun being pressed harder towards her temple. She catches her breath. “Yes. I’m still here. Sorry. Delivery, please.”
“Alright. What’s the order?”
Kelly stares at the body of her husband. She can’t take her eyes off of him. Such despair overwhelms her and she can’t move. It went all right when she called the bank and asked them to bring the money. She managed to keep her cool and not lose it, but she simply doesn’t have the strength to do so now. Not anymore.
What’s the use anyway?
Kelly stares at the intruder, thinking there really is no use, that they’ll both be killed anyway, no matter what. As soon as the intruder gets the money. The intruder certainly seems mad enough to do it.
“Ma’am? What’s the order? Ma’am?”
But I’ll have to sign for the money when John from the bank arrives. The intruder can’t do that alone. I am still needed. I can’t be killed yet.
“Ma’am? Is anything wrong, ma’am?”
“Yes,” she says, her heart throbbing wildly in her chest.
“Yes, what?”
Kelly glances at her husband, then back at the intruder, who is breaking a sweat. Their eyes meet and lock.
I’ll show you. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve as well. I am not down yet. I refuse to let you get away with this.
The gun in the intruder’s hand is shaking heavily now. The intruder’s breath comes in ragged bursts. The intruder might be playing tough, but Kelly sees right through all that. The intruder is nervous. Anxious.
You messed with the wrong woman, my friend.
“Ma’am?”
Kelly is still staring into the eyes of the intruder as she opens her mouth and finally speaks.
“Help. I am being held hostage. Me and my …”
She doesn’t get to say anymore before the phone is pulled out of her hand. The intruder shuts it off, frantically fumbling with it.
This is it. This is your chance.
Knowing she’ll not get another chance, Kelly acts fast. She leaps through the air and lands on top of the intruder, pinning the intruder’s body to the floor. The person beneath her screams and the gun is knocked out of their hand. It slides across the tiles. The intruder groans and whines, while Kelly throws in a punch, hitting right on the nose. The intruder screams again and Kelly is surprised at her own strength. But the intruder is stronger. The intruder grabs Kelly around the throat and manages to get a good tight grip on her. Seconds later, Kelly is gasping for air and no longer able to throw any punches. The intruder presses Kelly off. Kelly is struggling to breathe, trying to fight the intruder off her, grabbing their wrists, trying to pull away, but the intruder is a lot stronger than her, and soon she is pressed to the ground, the intruder tightening the grip on Kelly’s throat. Kelly is only making gurgling sounds now. In the distance, she can hear her daughter whimpering and crying. Her vision is getting blurry, and soon there is nothing but darkness.
This is it. This is how I go. Please take good care of my daughter, God. Please take care of her.
As she drifts off and gives in to the daze, she can feel how the grip is being loosened on her throat, just before the sound of the gun going off rips through the air. After that, there is nothing but silence. Silence and darkness.
Chapter Sixty-Four
January 2016
“Did you hear that?”
Steven looks at me, his eyes wide. He turns his head and looks at the house behind us.
“Was that…?” I ask anxiously. “It wasn’t thunder, was it?”
“It sounded more like a
gunshot,” Steven says, then pauses. “I think I know this place. This house…” Steven freezes, then looks at me. “My brother lives here.”
“Your what?” I ask.
“I have only seen the place in pictures, on his Christmas cards that his wife sends out of the family. I lost connection with him many years ago. It’s a long story. But I have a bad feeling about this, Mary. I have to go check.”
I look at the scarf in my hand and think about Marcia. A terrifying thought hits me. What if she fired that shot? What do I do? Do I call the police?
“Let’s go,” I say, and pull his sleeve.
He follows me up the boardwalk leading to the house. We run as the rain starts to pour down on us. We approach the windows leading to the beach and look inside. In there, in the living room, I see Marcia. She is bent over what looks like the body of a woman on the floor. She has a gun in her hand. Not far from her lies a man in a pool of blood.
“Oh, my God,” I say, and clasp my mouth.
“That’s my brother!” Steven says. His voice is breaking.
“Marcia. What have you done?” I mumble under my breath. I feel devastated. I can’t believe what I am seeing. It truly is heartbreaking.
Marcia moves away from the body on the floor and walks to a little girl lying on the floor further away. The girl is moving, worming around on the ground.
She is trying to get away! She’s trying to get to the door. And now, Marcia is going to stop her. She’s going to kill her like she killed the two others!
“Don’t!!” I scream, and start hammering on the window. “Stooop, Marcia!”
The sound startles Marcia, and she turns to look at us. She doesn’t seem to recognize us. She simply stares and doesn’t move. Her head is tilted slightly, like she is wondering about something.
Steven is at the sliding door now and pulls it open. We storm inside and he throws himself at Marcia, knocking her to the tiles. Marcia goes down, screaming and yelling loudly.
“Help! Help!”
Steven manages to get the gun out of her hand, while I run to the daughter and grab her in my arms. She is crying helplessly, screaming in terror. I sit on the floor, pull her into my arms, and hold her tight. Her body is shivering in horror while I try to get her to calm down.
“Sh. Sh. We’re here to help you.”
Seconds later, I hear sirens outside. I look at Steven and our eyes meet. Marcia is still screaming underneath him, kicking him, telling him she will never give in to the government’s repression; she’ll never tell them anything, that aliens will come for her soon, take her back to their ship and make her pregnant, that the government wants her for her knowledge. I can’t stop crying when looking at the scene and the two bodies. I realize there is no more I can do to help her.
I close my eyes as the realization sinks in. Seconds later, the house is filled with boots, loud voices, and yelling men with guns pointed at us.
Chapter Sixty-Five
January 2016
The body is starting to smell bad. Blake realizes he has to get rid of it. The last few days he has kept her in the bed, kept coming back to see her and enjoy the work of his hands. This one was special to him. It was different. She is different.
But there is a time for everything, and now it is time for him to leave her. The smell will soon be a problem, and the body will be discovered.
Blake plans to be long gone by the time it is found. He has orchestrated everything down to the smallest detail.
He lifts the body up, and puts her gently on the ground, the smell tormenting his nostrils. Blake then grabs his knife, cuts open the cheap mattress, and starts pulling out the filling.
He thinks about his sister as he prepares for his next move. Blake remembers her only vaguely from their childhood. He was only three when she left town and never looked back, so they don’t have that many memories together. All he knows is that he hated her when growing up. He loathed Mary and how proud their father was of her, always bragging about her accomplishments as a journalist, her career on CNN and later at the New York Times.
Look at her now, Daddy dear. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Doing a blog. Like that is anything to be proud of. Blake knows she has a lot of followers. He is one of them, constantly keeping an eye on what she is up to, what she posts. He even comments on it using his alias, Nightrider123. But he is not impressed with what she is doing, not at all. The small piece she did on him and Olivia actually had him laughing out loud.
Like that is ever going to lead to anything.
Blake laughs again while thinking about how he has written several emails, from different accounts, using different aliases to lead them away from where he is really hiding. Using local stories of criminals robbing stores or whose description matches his and Olivia’s. In that way when they check up on it, they sound plausible. The one in Arizona is his masterpiece. He just knows they’ll be falling for that one. He hopes in his quiet mind that they’ll all go there to look for him. It would amuse him greatly. His only regret is that he’ll not be there when they find out they’ve been fooled. He’ll be far away doing what he always does, getting himself in trouble, but never paying the price for it. It is amazing how easy it is to get away with a crime. It makes him feel invincible. It’s like they can’t even get close. It’s too easy.
And so much fun.
Blake looks at her picture that he keeps in his pocket. A picture taken from one of the newspaper clippings that his father kept of her articles in the scrapbook. The big blue book that he had in his office and showed to his friends and colleagues, while Blake was never mentioned. Not even the time he got an A in math. His father didn’t even listen when he told him. He just handed him some cash and told him to go get himself something proper to wear and to get a haircut.
“Lord knows you can afford it, boy. No need to look like a bum. Your sister always dresses nicely.”
Blake destroyed the scrapbook when he was twelve, in a fit of rage, yelling at their father for his attention. He ripped it to pieces, but kept the picture.
You’ll never find me, dear sis. Never. But I will find you. When you’re least expecting it, I’ll come for you.
Chapter Sixty-Six
February 2007
It is raining on the day the trial begins. Daniel sits with Peter in the courtroom. Peter doesn’t seem to understand what is going on. At least, Daniel doesn’t think he does. He is biting his hands, as he usually does when he’s upset. He has been doing that excessively lately, and it worries Daniel. Peter’s hands are filled with deep sores that won’t heal. As long as he keeps biting them, they won’t, the doctor says.
They’re surrounded by their siblings, and Daniel suddenly misses his mother tremendously. He can still see the expression on her face as she fell to the ground in Kristin Martin’s office that day six months ago, a hand pressed against her chest. She was dead when the ambulance arrived. Everyone in the family blames Kristin Martin for her death. Now, they want her put away.
“She completely ruined our family,” their oldest brother argued when they held the first meeting about it. “She deserves to be locked up. She’s a pervert and has abused all of us. Especially Peter.”
The door to the courtroom is opened and Kristin is brought in, accompanied by two officers with strict looks on their faces. She has lost a lot of weight, even though she is pregnant. Her clothes are dangling on her shoulders. Her face seems longer, her cheeks are sunken in, and her eyes seem bigger than before. She is still beautiful, but not in the way she used to be. She looks like a beaten animal. The only thing thriving seems to be her growing stomach. Three months till she is due with Daniel’s niece or nephew.
Daniel doesn’t like to think about what will happen to the child, where it will grow up if she is convicted. No one else seems to care about it. They almost postponed the trial because of it being so close to her due date, but the family insisted on having it done before. They intend to show her no mercy for what she did.
Peter groans and makes a lot of noises, and Daniel turns his head to look at him. He looks into his eyes.
Is he looking at Kristin?
One of his older brothers sees it as well and leans over to Daniel’s ear. “It’s only natural that he reacts to seeing her again after all she did to him.”
Daniel nods. She is, after all, charged with sexual abuse of their poor defenseless brother. Living out her sick fantasies, getting pregnant with someone who has no idea what love is, who has no way of saying no.
“We were in love,” Kristin says, when the trial begins and she is called to the stand. She is asked about her relationship with Peter. She turns and looks at him. “We are still in love. We’re just not allowed to be, because the world doesn’t acknowledge that people like Peter are capable of something as simple yet fundamental in life as to love someone.”
“But the man has the mental capacity of a toddler. He has gone through many tests and they have all shown the same. How do you explain that? The man has never said a word. He can’t even control his own movements. How do you know that he loves you back? He suffers from profound mental disabilities. How can you tell me he gave you consent to have sex with you?” the prosecutor asks.
“He might not be able to speak or even hold a spoon on his own, but those are motor skills. It says nothing about who he is, what he knows, or how intelligent he is,” she answers.
“But the tests and assessments do, right? I mean, that is why we have the tests. To determine people’s intelligence and capabilities, am I right? They’re designed for that very purpose.”