by Casey Lane
Movement up ahead puts the team on high alert. With a raised fist, he wordlessly orders the men to halt. Assessing their location, he raises a finger high, moving in a circular motion, prompting the other three to circle silently, surrounding the suspect. When the forces are in position, a double whistle signals the others to begin moving in, trapping their target.
“ELIZABETH PACK. THIS IS DETECTIVE JOEL CARLSON. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR THE MURDER OF STANLEY MONROE AND FOR THE KIDNAPPING AND ATTEMPTED MURDER OF ALEXIS REED. PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON AND PLACE YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD, LOCKING YOUR FINGERS TOGETHER.”
Sara looked around, surprised to see guns pointing from all directions. From his vantage point, Carlson could see the fanatical gleam in her eyes. Throwing her a second warning, the officers watched as Sara transformed from a homicidal killer to a misunderstood victim. Surrendering her firearm, she began to narrate a story, reversing the roles that she and Alexis played.
********************
Hours passed before there was a sign of anyone emerging from the darkened shadow. Two uniformed officers escorted a sobbing Sara, placing her in the backseat of a police car. The older man approached the waiting family, informing them of the decision to remove the threat in order to improve the ease of a successful rescue.
He recounted a simplified version of events, admitting that Lex appeared to be injured and confirming the probability that the blood found upon their initial arrival was hers. The officer was also quick to inform them that they did not believe the wound was life threatening, easing some of their worry. After fielding their questions, he joined his partner, and together they drove the prisoner away from the scene.
********************
I came to lying on my back, stretched out on the cold, wet dirt. My whole body aches, protesting even the thought of moving. A rugged looking man is kneeling over me, cautioning me not to move. Like that’s going to be a problem. I can feel the presence of another person near my ankles, but I’m too sore and exhausted to care. I start to lower my lids, and the man starts yelling in my face.
“Stay with me Alexis. I need you to look at me. Open your eyes Reed!”
I do as I’m told, but I’m not happy about it. I’m not sure why I feel the need to tell this stranger how annoying he’s being, but I do. “You can stop yelling at me. I’m tired, not deaf,” I snapped. In my mind, I roared at this man like a lion. In reality, I sounded more like a newborn kitten.
He let out a manly chuckle, saying, “I can see why Storm likes you. Ms. Reed, I’m Detective Joel Carlson, and down by your feet is Detective Rick Statler. We’re going to get you out of here, but first we need to evaluate the damage. Can you tell me if anything hurts?”
“I’ve been shot and I fell down a hill, everything hurts,” I muttered sarcastically. I uttered what I thought should have been obvious to anyone with a set of eyes and the reason I fell, along with memories from the past few days, came flooding back. Awareness that I had left a very discernible line leading to where I remained motionless for far too long, forced panic to saturate my system. Knowing I had to move before Sara found me, I attempted to rise. My efforts met the resistance of two sets of hands holding me immobile.
With terror coloring my words, I released my fear. “I have to move before she finds me.”
“We got her. She can’t hurt you. There is no one out here but us. I need you to calm yourself, sweetheart.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in. The realization that the danger was over and the knowledge that I was finally safe took root, tears of relief pricked at the corner of my eyes. Adrenaline receded, and my muscles relaxed. Feeling the transformation, gentle hands began running over my body.
Firm fingers began pressing at the sides and back of my neck. I felt movement along both arms, carefully avoiding the incision already present. Large hands massaged up and down my sides, from my armpits all the way down my hips and upper thighs. Satisfied with the results so far, the detective pushed gently on my abdomen, quickly examining the entire area. Palms ran over one leg and then the other, vanishing when pressure placed on my ankle produced a feeble yelp.
“Does that hurt?” he asked, what I thought again was a stupid question. My immediate reaction was, no dude, I always cry out in pain for the hell of it, but what I said aloud was a simple yes.
I felt the denim scrape up my calf, allowing the men to determine the extent of my impairment. They gingerly prodded tender flesh, each poke mirrored by an anguished whimper. The material was back in place, and the detective refocused on the fabric encircling my arm. Peeling away sticky cloth revealed the meaty cut. The bleeding had slowed, becoming a congealed gel around the edges. He hid the gory split with a clean bandaged ripped from the sleeve of his tee.
“All things considered, I don’t think you’re too bad. Your arm will need stitches and it looks like you have a sprain. I’ll feel better about it once we get you to the medics though.”
He studied our surroundings intently, finally coming to some type of conclusion. Helping me to my feet, the detectives assisted me up and out of the gully. Progress was slow as we climbed our way up the steep slope, with me gritting my teeth at the pain shooting up my leg. When we reached the summit, Detective Carlson swung me up into his arms and tucked me in close to his upper body.
********************
Sunlight was fading, but a full moon smiled down from its home in the sky, offering the only support it had to offer. Ethan remained vigilant at his post, eyes trained on the horizon. Several hours have passed since the kidnapper was taken into custody. Never voicing it aloud, fear of what the time lapse implied was growing stronger. Another thirty minutes passed before movement registered in the distance.
Ethan met the party long before they could reach the halfway point. Seeing the woman he loved sent relief to wash through his body. She was filthy, mud and small pieces of debris matted her long hair. Dirty skin peeked from holes torn in her jeans. The shirt she wore the night of her abduction is ragged, displaying a multitude of scratches and cuts covering soft skin. A mixture of brown and red smears paints her skin and clothing. She is tiny and fragile huddled in the other man’s arms.
Wordlessly, Carlson transferred Lexie to the other man. Ethan held her tight, careful not to cause any additional pain. He carried her through the high grass, murmuring softly the entire way. At the edge of the lawn, family waited to see Lex’s state for themselves, but Ethan didn’t stop until he reached the open door of the ambulance, deftly placing her on the waiting gurney.
Chapter Twenty
I was in a sterile, white hospital room. An IV, secured with medical tape to the back of my hand, facilitated the contents of several hanging bags into my veins. The rhythmic beep from a monitor behind me, emulated the pulse in my finger. Dirt and grime is absent from my body, and I feel skin pulling at numerous cuts and scrapes.
Although the blinds were drawn, a light, recessed in the ceiling behind the bed, illuminated the room with a faint glow. Searching the muted space, I focused on the chair against the wall. The sleeping form’s disheveled appearance spoke volumes to the stress suffered by all over the past several days. Crumpled clothing hung loose, indicating weight loss. Dark circles and deep, creasing lines testified to a lack of sleep. One more day and his scruffy hair would be a full beard. Even in this unkempt state, he was still the most beautiful man I have ever seen.
A nurse entered, jarring me from my musings. “You’re finally awake. I was starting to believe you meant to sleep forever.” Her spoken words woke my companion, and Ethan was soon by my side, holding my free hand and stroking my hair with his.
“Hi baby, welcome back,” he said softly.
“What time is it?” my unused voice croaked.
Looking up at the wall, he answered, “nearly midnight. You’ve been asleep for just over twenty-four hours, waking only for a few minutes at a time. The doctor said it was partially due to your body’s exhaustion, and partly due to the medication
you were given.” He paused for a moment, drinking me in. “You’re family’s in the other room. They’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
“Can I see them?” I asked the nurse.
She pursed her lips and replaced the pressure cuff on her cart. “Visiting hours were over hours ago, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt. As long as they’re quiet and only stay a few minutes,” she warned.
Ethan followed the nurse out, returning moments later by a parade of people. Of course, the first by my side were Makayla, Bella, and Jack. When adequately assured of my wellbeing, they moved aside, replaced by Makayla’s parents. This scene repeated itself several more times to include all of the Stewart sisters, Ethan’s parents, Sophia, and ending with Tate and Sebastian. At long last, the line of visitors dwindled, leaving me to rest; except for Ethan, who resumed his position in the hospital chair.
Morning arrived, and with it came the doctor whose care I have been under. The pudgy man stood at the end of my bed reading the notes in my chart. I was mesmerized by the elaborate comb over he displayed on the top of his head. It started at one ear, extending upward to form a puffy coif and swirling down the other side to tuck behind the other ear. Maybe I hit my head harder than everyone thought. My doctor cannot possibly be a stunt double for a cartoon character.
The doctor looked up at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Good morning Miss Reed. I’m Doctor Salvadore. I’ve been described a lot of ways, but I must admit, that one’s a first for me.”
My head whipped in Ethan’s direction. The amusement playing across his face told me that yes, yes I did just say that out loud. The heat caused by embarrassment flushed my skin. I began to apologize, but the doctor cut me off.
“No need, I think yours is now my favorite,” he said good naturedly. “Now, let’s have a look and see how my lovely patient is today.”
Dr. Salvadore examined my more severe cuts and bruises. Removing the adhesive pad from my arm, he inspected the sutures holding my skin together, and then he moved to run his fingers over my scalp. Pulling up the blanket, revealing my legs, he lifted my foot, lightly touching the exposed area he held.
When he was once again by my side, he went over my diagnosis. “When you arrived, you were quite battered. You suffered a concussion, and a sprained ankle. Bruises and cuts, filled with dirt and debris, covered nearly your entire body. You were severely dehydrated, slightly hypothermic, and your body had gone into mild shock.
You were given fluids and broad-spectrum antibiotics. The knot on your head has decreased, as well as the swelling on your ankle, but I want you to stay off that foot for at least two weeks. The incision on your arm was the worst of the abrasions, but the sutures look good, and it is healing well. My biggest concern is still infection. You will be our guest for one more night, giving us a chance to get another round of antibiotics in you.”
Dr. Salvadore chatted with me for a few more minutes, playing twenty questions. When he was finished, he left saying he’d be back in the morning. I tried to convince Ethan to go home, telling him that I was just going to nap and he needed some real rest. I won the argument when I told him he stunk and needed a shower. The Lydia issue is still hanging between us, but I’m not ready to discuss anything yet. As far as I’m concerned, nothing has changed.
I was flipping through channels after a quick catnap, when the door opened. I figured it was Ethan, but a man I did not know walked in. Around six foot, clean shaven, and I’m not just talking about his face. His head was smooth all over. A white tee fit snuggly across his chest, straining around bulging biceps, and his dark blue jeans hid thighs the size of tree trunks. There was a dangerous quality radiating from this man as he approached. When he removed mirrored aviator glasses, it did nothing to ease my angst.
Perhaps he detected my anxiety, because he stopped near the end of my bed before speaking. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by.”
A huge smile spread across my face when that deep base sparked recognition. “You didn’t strike me as the type of guy who cared whether someone minded or not.”
The deep chuckle I remembered from the woods spilled from his mouth. He pulled the chair closer to the bed and made himself comfortable. “I suppose you’re right about that. You look a little better than the last time I saw you, cleaner anyway,” he smiled.
“Yeah, I should be out of here in time to enter the Miss America Pageant. I’ll send you tickets if you promise to vote for me.”
“Don’t worry, you’ve got my full support.”
“Tell me Detective, was it my sunny disposition or my keen fashion sense that brought you by today?”
“Would you believe me if I said it was your stunning beauty?”
Look, I have had a crappy past few months. My relationship with Ethan is in shambles, and in just the past few days alone, I was kidnapped, chained to a wall, shot at, and forced to play hide-n-go-seek with a crazy psycho in the woods. I think I have earned the right to flirt with the badass detective from my hospital bed if I want to. You can keep your opinion to yourself, because right now, I do not want to hear it.
“So you’re into dirty chicks, sporting a variety of colorful body art, and who participate in extreme sports that result in a high probability of death. Good to know you have a type,” I said, making light of how we met.
His expression became somber, and he gently raised my hand with the raw, three-inch ring encompassing my wrist.
“I wondered what happened to my bracelet. Granted, it was an unusual accessory, and you’d definitely need the right outfit to pull it off, but I can’t remember where I put it.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but it is now the property of the State Prosecutor.”
Letting go of my hand, he leaned back in his seat and turned on his serious voice. “There’s enough evidence that you shouldn’t have to testify. Ms. Pack will be away for a long time. I know this is difficult, given what you’ve just been through, but I need you to tell me what happened in your own words.”
He pulled out a recording device, and I started recounting the events of the past few days, beginning with leaving the club upset. Although, other than saying it involved a disagreement with Ethan, I left out the reasons behind my distress. I walked him through what transpired after waking in the stone tomb, and the assistance that the old man provided. Finally, detailing my escape, up to and including, regaining consciousness with him by my side. The detective interrupted every now and then with questions or for clarification. When we finished, he thanked me and told me that if there were any additional questions, he would be the one in touch.
With that unpleasant business out of the way, we sat like two old friends catching up, talking about everything from sports teams to favorite foods. I talked about my job, pointing out some of my campaigns he might recognize, and he told me stories of the criminals he’s caught. Let’s just say I’m glad we met under circumstances that didn’t involve me as the one on the wrong side of the law.
Ethan showed up while we were still happily talking, prompting the detective to say his goodbyes. Carlson was reaching for the door handle when I hollered out. “Hey Joel,” turning at the sound of his name, I finished with a smile. “Thanks for everything. I’ll talk to you soon.” With a nod in my direction, he was gone.
As soon as the door closed, Ethan turned to me. “Joel? When did Detective Carlson become Joel? And why will you be talking to him soon?”
“Don’t start.”
“You can’t expect me to stand back watching while another guy moves in on my girl.”
“Well, isn’t that the cheater calling the girlfriend a player,” I replied sweetly.
“One, I’ve never called, nor do I think you’re a player. Carlson is the one taking advantage of you with his position and the current situation. And two, I would never cheat on you.”
“One, Joel isn’t taking advantage of anything. And two, you don’t get to pitch a fit because someone came to see me in the hospital when you had a half naked woman si
tting on your desk!”
“Maybe if you’d give me five minutes to explain, you’d realize it’s not what you think. I was getting ready to throw her out when you walked in.”
“Oh, that’s convenient,” I said snottily. “She shouldn’t even have been there Ethan. The fact that she was speaks volumes all on its own.”
“I fucked up, alright. I never should have agreed to help her, but I swear, I had no idea what she was really up to until that night. This whole mess is my fault. You getting kidnapped is my fault.”
“No way, playing the sympathy card is not gonna work. Beating yourself up for what Sara did, does not cancel your thing with Lydia.”
“Jesus Christ woman! There is no thing with Lydia!”
The door to the room opened as Ethan cried out his frustration. My friends cautiously made their way over to me, unsure how to react to the palpable tension in the room.
“If this is a bad time,” Bella said, warily alternating between our expressions, “we can come back later.”
I jumped all over that immediately. “Nope, Ethan was just leaving.” He shifted into a stubborn pose that I knew well. “Ethan, just go. I’m too tired to have this discussion, and I really don’t want to be around you right now. Since I can’t leave, you have to.”
His face was a strange mix of defeat and determination. “I’ll leave for now, but Alexis, we will have this conversation.”
“There was never a doubt in my mind,” I muttered as he walked out.
“What was that all about?” Jack asked.
“Lydia,” I answered blankly.