Abducted

by T. R. Ragan

  But not Spiderman.

  It was disturbing the way his eyes looked through that mask of his. “What are you looking at, asshole?”

  “You.”

  “The only reason I’m here,” she said, gathering confidence at the thought that he might be in pain, “is because I let you take me.”

  His head tilted to the right. “How so?”

  He wasn’t using his voice changing device, which could bode badly for her. Maybe he’d listened to her earlier and realized she was right. If he was going to kill her in the end, what did he have to hide? And yet he still bothered to wear a mask.

  “I didn’t have to be Einstein,” she told him, “to figure out that you had a bone to pick with Lizzy Gardner.” She also didn’t need much in the way of brains to figure out the only way she might have a chance at getting away would be to befriend him and get him to untie her arms from the bedpost. Although she was well aware that her idea could just be wishful thinking on her part.

  “After watching the news, I figured you were watching her,” she said when he didn’t respond. “And if you were watching Lizzy that meant you would probably show up at the high school. So, I found a comfortable spot after everyone else left last night. And I waited.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I was bored.”

  He laughed, a weedy pathetic laugh, but a laugh all the same. “You could have spent your time getting another tattoo,” he said bitterly. “Looks like you enjoy using your body as a canvas. You could die from that.”

  She laughed. “Now that’s funny. You’re a killer, right?”

  “A seeker of justice,” he corrected.

  He had a deep soothing voice, she thought. He was articulate. Nothing like the losers her mom hung out with who couldn’t pronounce the simplest of words. “A seeker of justice. Hmmm. How so?”

  “I do my best to help rid the world of useless teenagers who serve no purpose—teenagers who seduce and tease young men, speak rudely to their elders, fill their lungs with smoke and carve their limbs with foolish designs with no respect for themselves or their bodies.” He looked at her tattoo. “Did you know that during MRI scans the metallic salts in a tattoo could cause the skin to burn as if the flesh is being cooked?”

  She lifted her legs, bending them at the knees so they both had a better view of the tattoo on her ankle above the tape. She also had an angel tattooed on her collarbone and a barbed wire tattoo around her baby finger. She shrugged. “I like my tattoos.”

  He sneered.

  She gestured with her chin toward her ankle. “That was my very first tattoo. It’s hard to tell from far away, but the writing on my ankle says ‘Brian.’ Brian talked me into getting my first tattoo...years ago, when I still trusted him. Brian is my mom’s drug dealer. He started out as Mom’s boyfriend, and then he got her hooked on meth. Years later, when Mom couldn’t pay him the money she owed him, she let him have his way with me. I was fourteen at the time. After that, I guess I became fair game. He and all his drug dealer friends have since had their way with me...sometimes at night, but mostly in the morning,” she added as if she were talking about the weather. “If you’re really a seeker of justice why don’t you go after guys like that instead of girls like me who never stood a chance?”

  He seemed to ponder that for a moment before he said, “I’m sure you weren’t perfect.”

  She didn’t bother telling him that she was a straight A student or that she worked most weekends and nights at a smoothie shop and gave every penny she made to her mom to help pay the rent. In her spare time, she read books. Lots of them. She liked the classics as much as she enjoyed a good romance or mystery. There was nothing like a well-told story to make her forget her troubles. “You’re right,” she finally answered, “I definitely wasn’t perfect.”

  Beneath the mask she saw his eyes brighten.

  “What did you do?” he asked.

  “Sometimes when those men made me suck on their dicks,” she said, “I gagged. They didn’t like that at all.”

  “What did they do about it?”

  Although she spoke the truth, the maniac seemed to have missed her sarcasm. Whatever. If she wanted him to be her friend she needed to keep talking...entertain him until she figured out how she was going to get out of this predicament. “Most of the druggies didn’t care if I gagged,” she said. “One drug dealer, a fat hairy dude, would pinch me real hard every time I choked. The pinching was worse than the retching, so I got a lot better at opening my throat. Sort of like a sword swallower does.”

  He nodded his head as if he understood. Sick bastard.

  “A couple of guys would wait until they were done getting off before they knocked me around.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “See my nose?” she asked, turning her head slightly so he could get a better look at her profile.

  “What about it?”

  “It’s crooked. It’s been broken three times by various assholes.” Her stomach grumbled, louder this time.

  “Sounds like you’re hungry.”

  She shrugged as best she could under the circumstances.

  “Tomorrow we’re going to make a phone call,” he said as he stood, his body stiff. “If you do as I say, you might get something to eat as a reward.”

  Hayley watched him walk toward the door. Judging by the grimace, he was definitely feeling some pain. Good. He should be dead, she thought as she released a long sigh.

  He usually shut the door after he left, but this time he left the door open. She hoped he would go to bed. Before he’d entered earlier, she’d felt the bindings around her wrist finally loosening. Her flesh beneath the tape was raw, but the pain had subsided to a dull throb.

  She was hungry, but more than anything she needed to go to the bathroom. She had already peed once, but her shorts were dry now. If she soiled herself she worried he might try and clean up the mess and then he’d find her knife. The pocketknife in her undershorts was uncomfortable but it was also her last hope.

  A million thoughts raced through her mind, including thoughts she used to have about killing herself. Back home, there was a fan above her bed. The scarred wooden blades would go around and around and she often imagined her dead body dangling from the fan: eyes bulging, face pale, tongue hanging limp from her mouth. The suicidal thoughts had increased in intensity over the past few months, another reason she hadn’t worried about the maniac catching her.

  Although her intent had been to kill the monster, she had considered the possibility that she might die in the process. She wasn’t stupid. Shit happened. And now, twenty-four hours after she set out to get the bastard, she was half naked, hungry, and tied to a bedpost with a pocketknife tucked under her ass.

  Despite all of that, she realized more than anything...she wanted to live.

  Saturday, February 20, 2010 6:17 PM

  Lights flashed in Lizzy’s face despite Jared’s best efforts to shield her from the blitz of reporters surrounding the school. Media vans lined up on one side of the street while patrol cars with rolling lights outlined the entirety of the school premises.

  “Lizzy,” a reporter shouted from the crowd. “Is it true that Spiderman has been calling you?”

  Lizzy kept her eyes focused straight ahead. Jared lifted the crime scene tape and ushered her through.

  “Did he kill Nancy Moreno to get to you?” someone asked. “And what about Sophie? Is it true he left another note for you?”

  “Did you know the girl who was abducted last night?”

  “You’re doing well,” Jared whispered into Lizzy’s ear. “Ignore them. We’re almost there.”

  Lizzy tried not to pay any attention, but that didn’t stop the hurt from wrapping its achy fingers around her heart and squeezing tight.

  Jimmy Martin, she noticed, was bent over a crime-scene technician who was using a scalpel to scrape dry blood samples into sterile containers. Portable flood lights were set up so investigators and technicians could work
fast and hopefully beat the rain forecasted to hit the area in the next few hours. Closer to the gym, Lizzy noticed the same reporter from the other night, the woman who had barged into the gym and put a stop to her class, talking to an agent. The reporter was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “Is she being interviewed?” Lizzy asked.

  Jimmy stepped away from the technician. “Apparently the reporter saw Hayley Hansen sitting alone last night, and she asked her if she needed a ride. It was getting dark. The girl told her somebody was on their way to pick her up.” He looked over his shoulder at the reporter and added, “She’s taking it pretty hard.”

  “Where was the letter found?” Jared asked.

  “Right here,” Jimmy said, “the same spot where the reporter saw the girl waiting for a ride.”

  Lizzy looked around. “Where is the letter?”

  “They’re making sure the blood is dry before they bag it. We won’t be able to take a good look at the letter for another hour at least.”

  “Any theories?” Jared asked.

  “I have one,” Lizzy said. “Hayley decided to use herself as bait. She mentioned doing just that when she showed up at my place the other night. All she had to do was watch the news to know that Spiderman has been keeping tabs on me. So she comes to the school where she knew I would be and after the talk ends, she sits down and waits for Spiderman to show up, knowing the odds are in her favor if she makes it easy enough for him.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jimmy said. “What kind of kid would get themselves abducted on purpose?”

  “She’s lonely and lost,” Lizzy said, wishing she’d had a chance to sit down and talk to Hayley the other night. Maybe then she could have talked some sense into the girl.

  “Has anybody contacted her parents?” Jared asked.

  “Eric Holden is with Hayley’s mother now. She had no idea her daughter was missing. In fact, she said it wasn’t unusual for Hayley to disappear for days at a time.”

  Lizzy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What kind of mother let her child disappear for days at a time?

  “If this is the same guy who decapitated Moreno,” Jimmy said, “I want to know how the hell he’s getting from point A to point B without anybody noticing him.”

  The technician finished gathering blood samples and started packing up. Jimmy wagged a finger at him. “I want the results ASAP. And I want every sample from this location compared to all blood samples collected from the Moreno residence.”

  The technician nodded, picked up his metal case and duffel bag, and walked off.

  “At this rate,” Jimmy said, “I’m going to run out of technicians. Who the hell is this guy? What happened to sticking with an MO?”

  “He no longer has an MO,” Jared said.

  Jimmy frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “This is personal now,” Jared said. “The media’s right about that. Spiderman’s playing us all, watching us run from one crime scene to the next. He’s angry and his rage is taking him down an unfamiliar course. Serial killers like to fantasize and plan. Spiderman is used to feeling as if he has all the time in the world. But things have changed.”

  Jimmy’s frown deepened. “Who is he angry with?”

  “Me,” Lizzy said.

  Jared didn’t argue. “The way I see it, Spiderman was getting ready to come back for an encore when Frank Lyle confessed to the world that he was Spiderman—the killer who had taken the lives of four young girls. That set our man off. Serial killers like to get credit where credit is due. And then Lizzy’s father agreed to do a couple of interviews on national television...”

  “Why would Spiderman care?” Jimmy asked, unconvinced.

  “I don’t think he cared so much as he was interested to hear what Lizzy’s father had to say. Lizzy was, after all, the reason I believe he must have stopped killing, at least at first. He had to be afraid she would identify him or at least point to his whereabouts.”

  “And then my father said too much,” Lizzy added, “and Spiderman must have gone berserk.”

  Jared nodded. “More than likely he worked himself into a frenzy knowing he’d been betrayed and lied to.”

  Jimmy was having trouble staying on track. “Betrayed by who?”

  “By me,” Lizzy said. “I had convinced him that I cared about him and even loved him as any young girl would love and respect her own father. It didn’t take long for me to realize he knew his victims well. But he didn’t know me. He thought he was doing the world a favor by eliminating teenage girls he considered to be bad. I knew I had to convince him I was one of the good girls if I was going to have a chance at staying alive.”

  “That was his MO,” Jared said. “Find a girl who fit his depiction of a ‘bad’ girl. Then wait, watch, and learn. But now he’s angry by Lizzy’s betrayal and he’s getting sloppy.”

  “Hayley Hansen was on to something,” Jimmy murmured.

  Lizzy looked at Jimmy. For the first time since she’d met him she felt like they might be on the same side. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I won’t let you do it,” Jared said.

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “Spiderman is growing restless,” Jimmy said. “He’s losing his patience, which could ultimately work to our advantage.”

  “We need to work fast,” Lizzy agreed.

  “He’ll know exactly what you’re doing,” Jared said. “He’s getting sloppy, but he’s not stupid. Bait might have worked for Hayley, although I’m sure her plan didn’t include being dragged off by the man. I want to know whose blood this is. Spiderman won’t be fooled twice.”

  Jimmy took a hold of Jared’s shoulder. “We’ll be all over Lizzy. She’ll have more wires hooked to her than the cable company.”

  Jared shook his head.

  Lizzy took Jared’s hand in hers and squeezed. “I have to do this.”

  Saturday, February 20, 2010 7:02 PM

  A loud POP sounded and the car lurched forward. Jessica held the steering wheel in a death grip and somehow managed to steer the Honda to the side of the road. She stepped out and saw the problem. The back left tire was flat. She looked up at the sky as dusk settled overhead and without any warning, she started crying. She couldn’t stop the tears from coming as she plunked her hands on her waist, her gaze never leaving the one lone star in the sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried and yet she knew the floodgates had not opened because of a stupid flat tire. She could handle a flat tire.

  After Mary disappeared, her family fell apart. Her father packed up and left, unable to handle the guilt he felt every time he looked into their eyes. It wasn’t long before Mom started drinking and her brother began experimenting with drugs. Jessica did everything she could to preserve what was left of her family. She started working at the mall to help pay the bills. When she wasn’t working and doing chores around the house, she studied. Even back then she’d known she wanted to study human behavior, find out why some people killed while others gave their lives saving complete strangers. She wanted to know what made people angry enough to do the unthinkable. Mostly she wanted to find out what kind of people abducted children because she was certain Mary had been kidnapped. Mary never would have run away. And yet the cops working the case were certain she had done just that. They said kids often ran off when family members were constantly fighting.

  Mary never would have left, Jessica thought as she wiped tears from her face. She and Mary weren’t only sisters; they were best friends. They had vowed to protect and look out for one another. When they were small and their parents fought, they made tents out of blankets in the room they shared and played make-believe.

  Mary might have grown tired of the yelling. She might have even gone to sleep at night dreaming of happier times when their parents used to get along. But Mary never would have left without talking to her first.

  Saturday, February 20, 2010 7:22 PM

  Back at the apartment, Jared and Lizzy checked the phone.
No incoming messages on her main line. Once again, Lizzy dialed Jessica’s number. “Jessica still isn’t answering her phone,” Lizzy told Jared. “She left me a message at three-thirty this afternoon. She sounded excited about the two names I had given her to add to the list of suspects. She asked me to call her back ASAP. That was four hours ago.”

  Lizzy grabbed her laptop sitting on the coffee table and booted it up.

  Jared went to the kitchen. “Do you have her home phone number?”

  “I called her there, too. No answer.” Lizzy heard the kitchen cupboards opening and closing. The water faucet was turned on and off before he asked, “How long have you known Jessica?”

  “A few months.”

  “Didn’t you say you were short on funds and couldn’t afford an assistant?”

  “She’s pushy and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Jessica’s persistence didn’t make sense until yesterday when I discovered that her sister is one of the girls who went missing fourteen years ago.”

  Jared poked his head around the wall dividing the kitchen from the main room. “What?”

  Lizzy’s fingers rattled across the keypad before she looked over at him. She sighed. “I just found out yesterday. I haven’t had time to give it much thought. We’ve been sort of busy.” She jotted down an address in her notebook and then stood. “Jessica thinks her sister is still alive.”

  “If she’s a runaway, then it’s a possibility.”

  Lizzy shook her head. “Jessica showed me a picture. It was her, Mary, the girl I almost saved.”

  “Did you tell Jessica?”

  “I couldn’t.” Lizzy put on her coat, went to the door, and then looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you coming?”

  “Where to?”

  “I have to find Jessica. I need to make sure she’s okay. I was hoping you could drive by Gilman’s house while I take a look at Coach Sullivan’s.”

  “Where does Gilman live?”

  “Not too far from here.”