Nothing Is Negotiable

by Mark Bentsen

It was sealed. As he drove, he pushed a finger under the flap of the envelope and tore it open. He reached in and pulled out the contents.

  A couple of pieces of white folded paper came out, followed by two glossy Polaroid pictures with white borders. Even at a distance, the auburn color of Bonnie’s ponytail glowed brightly in the snapshots. His heart raced as he fumbled for them.

  He focused on the first one. It was definitely her. She was on a bed, lying on her side with her head on a pillow. It looked like she was asleep but her hands were behind her. The quality and lighting in the snapshot were poor, but it looked like they were tied.

  He flipped to the next picture, it showed her from a slightly different angle, but a closer shot of her face. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. There was something under her nose. It looked like dirt or maybe dried blood. His first thought was that she was alive or else she wouldn’t be tied.

  An air horn blared and Luke eyes shot back to the highway. His Jeep had crossed the center stripe and a huge white semi was swerving to avoid hitting him.

  “Shit,” he screamed, as he jerked the Jeep back into his own lane. But he overcorrected and nearly sideswiped an old Chevy Camaro in the lane next to him.

  The goateed driver dodged to avoid being smashed, then shot Luke the finger while yelling through his open window. “Watch where you’re going, asshole!”

  Luke backed off the gas and the Camaro flew past him. He pulled onto the shoulder of the road and skidded to a stop.

  His heart pounded as he unfolded the pieces of paper. His eyes darted across the page. It was a map with some writing beneath it. Quickly he went to the second page.

  His eyes narrowed as he read the computer-generated note:

  YOUR WIFE IS ALIVE AND UNHARMED. IF YOU WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN, DO THE FOLLOWING:

  –Make no more contact with the police. We will know if you do.

  –Come to the location on the enclosed map. Be there PRECISELY AT 6PM.

  –Come alone.

  –Tell no one.

  –Bring no guns or weapons.

  –If we see any police or indication that you are not alone, you will never see your wife again.

  –After you read this call the following number and leave a message.

  On the next line was a ten-digit number.

  He flipped back to the other piece of paper. It was a map showing much of Alberta and Montana. A circle was drawn around Whitefish, a town west of Glacier National Park. A yellow line outlined a route from Cardston to Whitefish.

  On the bottom of the page it said: It will take about three hours to get there. He glanced at the digital clock in the Jeep. 1:22. Four hours and thirty-eight minutes from now.

  He pulled out the snapshots and studied them again. Bonnie looked like she was asleep, but she was in an awkward position. Her head was on a pillow, but her body looked as if someone had put her there. It was obvious she was unconscious.

  He turned the picture over and saw a single line written with a black marker that read No cops or she dies.

  Luke stared out the window. His first thought was that he had no choice; he had to do what they said. But his logical mind told him he was crazy to go into this alone. It was obviously a trick, it was dangerous, and it might cost both of them their lives.

  From the highway he heard a car honk twice. He looked over and saw a car stopped in the street and the driver of the car making hand signals at him. He looked around and realized he was blocking a driveway. He waved apologetically and backed the Jeep out of the other driver’s way. Luke realized he was in front of the Cardston detachment of the RCMP.

  His first thought was to go in and prove to Ernest that he was not an abusive husband and she had not gone back to Texas. Someone had abducted Bonnie and was holding her against her will.

  He pulled into the parking lot and marched toward the front door. But as he got closer he imagined the confrontation playing out in his mind. They already suspected him of being an abusive husband. When he found the broken sunglasses, grocery list and windbreaker with blood on it, they did everything but accuse him of planting the evidence. He knew if he showed them the photos and letters, they wouldn’t believe him. Instead, they’d probably arrest him and hold him until he told them where he was holding her.

  Deep in thought, he slowed to a stop ten feet from the front door.

  “You coming in?” the young officer asked as he held the door.

  Luke thought about one of the lines in the note: Make no more contact with the police—because we will know if you do.

  Could this be an inside job? Is someone with the RCMP connected in some way, or is this a bluff?

  Luke looked through the open door and saw the friendly receptionist who had been concerned about Bonnie. She wasn’t smiling now. He wondered if she knew they considered him an abusive husband. Luke looked down at the envelope in his hand and knew this was the wrong thing to do.

  “No.” He went back to the Jeep, and headed to the Husky pay phone. It took all the coins in his pocket to make the call. After half a dozen rings a generic greeting told him to leave a message.

  “This is Luke. I’ll be there at 6 p.m.”

  Chapter 26

  Bonnie sat on the arm of the leather chair, looking out the window, watching the crows fly from pine tree to pine tree. This was the day she feared would bring pain or misery. Evil men, like the ones who were holding her hostage, seldom let their victims go unharmed. So far, no one had laid a finger on her, but she sensed that was about to change.

  Yesterday morning was the last contact she had with anyone. That guy was less threatening than the first guy. He acted tough, but he was polite. Called her “ma’am,” and sounded unsure of himself. She thought he was young, twenty or twenty-five at the most.

  Bonnie slid down, laid her head back and closed her eyes. Today her mind was clear. Yesterday, as the hours passed, the gaps in her memory began to close and it became easier to concentrate. Now she remembered everything in detail, except how she got here. The last thing she remembered before waking up here was Rita giving her a tetanus shot. Almost immediately, she felt dizzy.

  She looked down at the brace on her hand. After disconnecting the Velcro straps, she removed it and rotated her thumb. It was tender but didn’t hurt the way it did the first day she was there. The doctor said it wasn’t broken, just sprained. It felt much better already. And her stomach seemed to be back to normal. The pills had helped.

  Bonnie’s concentration was broken by a familiar whine. It was the sound of a truck negotiating the incline of the mountain road and the low, deep pulses of hip-hop music. Thank God it wasn’t the other guy.

  A few minutes later, the truck pulled up in the driveway. The music died and quick footsteps came in the front door.

  She waited and watched the door that held her captive. Squeaky shoes on wood floors. Then, “Hello, are you there? Do you want to go to the bathroom?”

  “God yes,” she said, a tremble in her voice. “Do I have to put on that pillowcase on my head?”

  “Yes, that’s the deal.”

  “Okay.” She found it and put it over her head. “I’m ready.”

  Again, like the day before, the wind rushed past her when he opened the door.

  She stood in the middle of the room facing him, the pillowcase covered her eyes. Her arms hung at her side, as if she was a teenager modeling a new dress for her mother.

  She had long, well-toned legs, a tiny waist and a flat belly. The tight-fitting T-shirt showed the fullness of her breasts. The girls in his school were young and immature and lately he’d been fantasizing about older women, and she was exactly what he wanted. The afternoon they brought her out to the cabin he carried her sedated body in and laid her on the bed. The man left him alone with her while he retrieved some supplies from the van. He wanted to feel her breasts. She was drugged, out cold, she’d never know. But he wasn’t a pervert. He didn’t want it to be like that.

  Now he watched
them rise and fall with every breath, and he imagined how she looked naked.

  “Are you there?” she said, bringing him back. She reached out in front of her like you do when you walk in the dark.

  “I’m here,” he said, adjusting his crotch that was suddenly too tight. He took her hand. It was shaking. “Relax,” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m scared.”

  He led her out of the room, and again, like the day before, the wind caused the door to slam closed, and she jumped.

  As he walked he reminded himself why he was there. They had promised him no one would be hurt and if he did everything right, he’d get a big payoff in the end. The problems his dad faced with the law would be over for good. But if he screwed things up, they had evidence that would send his dad back to prison for the rest of his life—and they said they would use it.

  She held out her free hand and guided herself through the doorway and along the wall until they were at the bathroom. He guided her inside then closed the door behind her.

  “Remember, don’t lock the door,” he said.

  Through the door she asked, “Do you know how much longer I’m going to be here?”

  “I don’t know any more than I did yesterday. Please don’t ask me a bunch of questions.”

  “I’m asking because it’s been three days since I’ve had a shower. I really need one. I can be in and out in five minutes.”

  “No, I can’t let you do that.”

  “Come on... you know how yucky you feel when you don’t take a shower, don’t you?”

  “Lady...”

  “I’ll do it in four minutes, real fast, I promise.”

  He was silent while he thought. Why not? She can’t get away.

  “Please, please, please.”

  He knew he shouldn’t but, what the hell? “Okay, but don’t screw around, because if you pull anything on me I’ll tie you up naked, blindfold you, and gag you. You hear me?”

  “I won’t. I promise.” And before he knew it, he heard the water running in the shower.

  While he waited he went to the kitchen and got a can of Coke. As he came back to the door, he began to worry about his decision. But it’s only a shower, and no one will know about it, he thought.

  He relaxed a bit and went out to his truck to get a bag of groceries he brought with him. After he grabbed the paper sack he started to push the door shut when he heard a sound that made his stomach cringe.

  It was the knocking of a familiar engine not too far way in the forest. It could only be one person.

  Holy shit!

  He dropped the groceries back in the truck and ran inside. He knocked on the bathroom door and shouted, “You have to get back to your room! Quick!”

  There was no response.

  He pounded with his open hand. “Do you hear me? You have to get back to your room. He’s coming.”

  Nothing.

  Within a minute, two at the most, he’d be there.

  There was no time to waste. He opened the bathroom door and reached for the shower curtain.

  Steam boiled out of the shower as she turned around to rinse the shampoo out of her long hair. The hot water felt good as it ran down her neck and onto her back. The force of the water echoed in her ears as she rolled her head around, letting it massage the muscles in her neck. With her head under the pounding water, she heard some weird vibrations and it made her feel uneasy.

  Just as she leaned out from under the shower head to listen the shower curtain flew to the side. Little John Standalone stood there, two feet away, his eyes wild.

  Bonnie screamed and recoiled back into the corner. Not comprehending what he said, she begged, “Don’t hurt me.” Without concern about being naked, she extended her arms to hold him off.

  “You have to get back to your room! He’s coming!”

  Though panic streaked his face, his eyes went immediately to her breast and locked there for an instant before coming back to her eyes. She could see the fear that controlled his actions and his words made no sense. Quickly she pulled back her arms and hands to cover herself.

  “The other guy, he’s almost here. I didn’t know he was coming. Quick, you’ve got to get to your room.” His eyes were wild going from her eyes to her body and back to her eyes and back to her breasts.

  Bonnie grabbed the shower curtain and pulled it in front of her. As Little John leaned in and turned off the water, she watched him closely.

  “He’ll kill us both if he catches you in here.”

  Then she realized what he was saying. The other guy, the mean one, was coming back.

  “The other guy—the one who was here yesterday. He’s almost here.”

  A chill ran down her body. With the water off she could now hear the sound of the truck outside, not far away. They didn’t have much time.

  She looked around the shower curtain for a towel but the only one she saw was a hand towel by the sink. She had gotten in the shower so quickly she didn’t even think about it. But, there was a cabinet across the room.

  “I need a towel,” she said.

  He saw the hand towel and grabbed it for her.

  “This is too little. Look in there.”

  He dropped the hand towel and looked inside the cabinet and found one. He flung it at her then stepped over and parted the curtains and wiped the steam off so he could see outside.

  “Hurry.”

  Time was running out.

  As Bonnie dried herself she noticed the mirror. It was steamed over, too. She knew that if that guy came in the bathroom, he would know someone had been in the shower. With Little John’s hair dry, it would be obvious it wasn’t him.

  The truck was outside now. The engine rumbled as she heard it come to a stop. He was there, seconds from coming inside.

  Her eyes darted around the room, looking for an idea. Immediately one came to mind, but she didn’t like it. But it was their only chance.

  “Take off your clothes and get in here.” She dropped the towel on the floor then reached down and turned the water back on.

  Little John’s mouth hung open. “What?”

  She pointed to the mirror. “He’ll see the steamed up mirror and window and know that since your hair is dry, it was probably me in here.”

  He seemed to understand and started to get into the tub.

  Bonnie said, “No. Take off your clothes. You have to be taking a shower.”

  “But—”

  “Just do it,” she demanded.

  He started peeling his clothes off like they were on fire.

  Little John was about six-three, not nearly as big as his father, but when his shirt came off she remembered his father had said he was going to college on a football scholarship. His muscular arms and chiseled chest were that of an athlete sculpted by hours in the weight room. When he got to his boxers, he stopped and glanced at her to see if she was watching. She was, but quickly retreated behind the shower curtain just as he pushed down his underpants.

  Outside, the sound of the engine died, and a few seconds later the door of the truck slammed.

  Bonnie looked out at Little John. He stood naked, unsure what to do.

  “Push the door until it’s almost closed.”

  He did.

  “Get in here.”

  He stepped into the front of the shower.

  “Let me up front,” she said. The shower was small and as they changed positions her breasts rubbed against him and she felt his penis brush against her.

  Bonnie stood under the showerhead, facing him, making no attempt to cover herself. Little John couldn’t control his eyes and kept glancing at her breasts while his hands were trying to cover his now semi-erect penis.

  Bonnie realized Little John was waiting for her to tell him what to do.

  “Get wet,” she said pulling him into the stream of water. The bathtub was small and their bodies were now touching. He looked into her green eyes; his fear was now accompanied with confusion
. Just above a whisper, she said, “Get your hair wet,” and pulled him closer, under the stream of water.

  Outside, they heard a cough. Their visitor was out of his truck, walking to the front door.

  Little John looked at Bonnie and mouthed, “What now?”

  “Just act normal—like you’re taking a shower.” She could tell he was scared. He needed to try to relax or he’d never fool this guy. “Settle down. Take deep breaths.”

  “Okay,” he said, nodding vigorously. He took a few deep breaths then said, “What about you?”

  “I’ll get down here,” she said.

  “Oh, God,” he said as she began to squat in front of him. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

  Bonnie wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but when she lowered herself to her knees, she knew. Little John’s penis was fully erect, right at eye level.

  Although she tried to look the other way, she couldn’t. It was only the second hard penis she had ever seen in her life.

  “Our clothes!” Little John screamed in a whisper.

  Bonnie was jolted back. Little John didn’t have to explain. She pulled the shower curtain back just enough to see the floor. Clothes were scattered everywhere. Little John’s covered hers completely, except for her bra.

  She grabbed the bath towel off the floor and tossed it. Perfect shot. It landed on top of the bra.

  But she saw two other problems: her scrunchie was on the back of the toilet, and her gold watch was over by the sink, at least six feet away. Too far to reach and too late to get out and get it.

  She grabbed the hand towel and tossed it. Another perfect shot. It landed right on top of the watch and she ducked back inside. A few seconds later the door pushed open a few inches.

  Little John pulled the shower curtain back a couple of inches to make eye contact with the visitor and said, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Bonnie could hear the man step in further and push the bathroom door closed behind him. Through the shower curtain, a quiet, raspy voice, said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Just taking a shower.”

  “Are you out of your mind? I never said you could take a shower out here. You know what you’re supposed to be doing here and it sure as hell doesn’t include taking a shower.”