by Unknown
He made the call to Ian, rushing towards the bathrooms.
“Dude, why the fuck haven’t you been answering?”
“Adalyn’s missing.”
“Fuck. I tried calling you!”
Archer ran into the woman’s room, ignoring the yells from the few that were in line, and made sure she wasn’t in there. His thoughts were a mess, all jumbled with a million of things flying at him at once, but he had to focus and concentrate on the situation.
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
“About fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago.”
“Shit. Look man, I found it.”
“What?” He walked around the bathroom, saw nothing, and went to the men’s room to check the stalls.
“Him. The person she’s running from.”
Archer told Ian to talk until he knew everything. “Jack Rainor Jr., son of Jack Rainor Sr., head of the Italian mafia sector down in Miami. His father had ties everywhere, major dealer in drugs, guns, you name it they fucking did it. Jack Jr. had a thing for the ladies, and not in a good way. He was accused of raping fourteen women on top of all the other fucked up shit he did. He was not, in any way, a good person. Adalyn’s father was one of the lawyers representing the fourteen women. Rainor thought if he killed a bunch of people, then he wouldn’t be convicted. The guy is fucking crazy. He killed a few of the women the day prior to visiting the lawyer’s office. He opened fire on everyone on as soon as he walked in the door. The only two survivors were Adalyn and her dad.”
“She was there?” he bit out, and took off towards Madi’s house.
“Yes, but Rainor didn’t know. Her father was shot in the back, twice, and she witnessed it. She was five-years-old.”
Archer grunted out in frustration as he made his way through the crowd, silently cursing himself for leaving his truck at Madi’s, and trying not to run into people as he went. He was wasting precious time and the large, slow moving crowds didn’t help his pace; the couple minute walk felt like it was taking hours. Everything was clicking into place, but he still couldn’t figure out why Adalyn didn’t remember what happened. He could only assume she was so traumatized that she forgot. It was probably the best thing that could have happened to her.
“There’s more,” Ian said, while Archer climbed in the truck, flipped the lights on, and spun away from the curb. “Adalyn’s birth name was Becca. Rainor wasn’t only the most wanted man in Miami, but he found out later there was a witness at the office that day, so his father whisked him away overseas. Adalyn and her family were tossed into WITSEC.”
The line went silent, both men thinking. He got to the station, ran up the steps, and slammed through the doors.
“Rainor came back to the states a week ago, Archer. His father found Adalyn. Not sure how, but my guess, Rainor has her now.”
“I’m rounding up the guys,” Archer told him as he walked passed Margie so she would hear him. Margie knew by the look on his face that something serious was going on. She jumped up and followed him.
“I called in a favor, boarding a private jet as we speak. I’ll be there in a few hours.”
“You know where to find me.” He hung up, set the phone on the table in the conference room, and looked at Margie.
“Someone took Adalyn.” Margie gasped and Archer cut her off when she tried to talk. “Jack Rainor Jr.,” he said gritting his teeth. “Call Scott, Tim, and Tom; get them here ASAP. Call IT; I want Rob here. We need everyone we can get.”
“I’m on it,” she said, running out of the room.
Archer slammed his fists down on the table a few times, cussing. He should have gone with her. He should have been more careful. He should have told her he loved her more often.
Archer took a deep breath in and cleared his thoughts, again focusing on what needed to be done. A few hours later, Tim and Tom were out searching for her, using a picture he had taken on his cell a few weeks back of them laying on the beach. Aster Lake residents knew what she looked like, but not the tourists. Scott was helping the IT guys, and Archer kept checking his phone and pacing. They had no leads. He had nothing to do but worry and wait. It was killing him. He was letting Adalyn down at the worst possible moment.
Archer got a message from Ian saying he was a few miles out, so he left the room disappointed and walked outside. The sun beat down on him instantly, and he could hear the faint noises from the festivities and band still going on. It looked like a bright and beautiful day, but it felt like he was in the fire pits of hell. They should still be there, celebrating and watching the fireworks together.
A black SUV flew around the corner, and he knew it had to be Ian. It came to a quick stop and Archer saw Ian in the passenger side, another younger looking man was driving. Archer went to the door and swung it open.
“Hey fucker,” Ian greeted him and Archer hid his smile. Ian ages well, and looks the same as the last time Archer had seen him. His black hair was still buzzed, and he was pulling on his fingerless black leather gloves.
The driver jumped out, went to the back of the SUV, and grabbed Ian’s wheelchair.
“You got a chauffeur now?”
“He’s almost as good as I am with a computer.”
While the young kid pulled open Ian’s wheelchair, Archer picked him up and lowered him to the chair. The kid opened the passenger door behind Ian and started pulling out black duffle bags and a large metal suitcase. He had short blonde hair, a few pimples, and wore glasses, giving him the appearance of a fifteen-year-old.
Ian rolled towards the ramp. “Let’s get inside and find your girl, Arch.”
Chapter 23
I was barely lucid as I rolled over on my side and tried to sit up. I blinked a few times, adjusting the light blinding me, pulling me from the darkness I was submersed in. I felt warm liquid run down my face, and ran my fingers through it. The evidence on my fingers snapped me back to reality. It wasn’t a dream. The man was real. This place, wherever I was, was real. Panic, fear, and the thought of never seeing my family and friends again weighed on me like a ton of bricks. I knew I was going to die, because why else would this man kidnap me? My breathing became ragged, and when I finally adjusted to the light, I saw him. Sitting in a chair about two feet in front of me with his gun pointed directly at me.
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this day?” he seethed and leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees but never taking the gun off me. He was wearing all black, right down to the gloves on his hands. I dug my fingers into the concrete floor to offset the throbbing pain on the side of my head. The last thing I remembered was watching a trunk pop open on an old rusted white car. I knew now that he hit me over the head and shoved me inside.
I glanced down at my legs, which were scraped and bleeding, and noticed my shoes were missing. He must have dragged me in here.
I had no clue who the man was sitting in front of me, even though something about him felt familiar. Maybe I had passed him on the street at one time, or seen him at a restaurant.
“Take the fucking contact out,” he growled, waving the gun at me.
“How did you know?” I heard the words, but I wasn’t sure I even said them. His order caught me completely off guard.
He moved fast and swiftly. My eyes closed and I wrapped my hands around my head, begging him not to hurt me. He stood me up and shoved me against the wall, my head cracking against the concrete. Another wave of pain roared through my head, louder and heavier as I struggled to stay conscious. He held one arm against my throat, just enough to scare me. My hands wrapped around it, trying to pull him off, but he didn’t budge.
He was only a few inches away. I felt his moist, dank breath on my face. “I know everything about you, Adalyn.”
“I don’t understand,” I choked out, trying to get the pressure of his arm off my neck.
“You will.”
He stepped back, and I sucked in a huge breath of air when his arm fell from my throat. “Take the fu
cking contact out!” he roared, pressing the gun to my forehead.
I reached up, pulled it out, and dropped my hands. I flicked the contact from my fingers; it was now lost to the concrete floor. He started pacing, hitting himself on the side of his head with his gun. “One shot,” he muttered to himself. “One second. One shot.” He kept muttering those words to himself like a lunatic, so I glanced around the room. Concrete floors and walls, like an industrial kind of building, but this room was small. It could be part of a larger building though. The windows on the other side of the room were my only options for freedom besides the door. At least I had options. I let the rocks and uneven floor dig into the bottom of my feet, because I couldn’t move. Not yet. I was already on the edge of darkness, feeling like at any moment I could let it take me away, but I was fighting it.
“Everyone told me to drop it,” he started, continuing to pace in front of me, tossing the gun back and forth between his hands, “that I’d never find you. They told me to give up. Even my own fucking father told me to give up. He fucking gave up on me! He sent me away, hid me all those years. Fuck!” The man was having some kind of mental break down and I wasn’t about to make it worse, so I just continued to listen to his nonsense. “Then, my father gets sick and wants to make amends. Starts looking for you again, and after a year, he brings me home to finish what I started.”
He snapped out of his speech and came at me. I had nowhere to go as my body slammed against the wall again, his heavy body pinning me. I felt the cold metal of his gun make contact with my stomach. Sweat built up on his forehead as he stared into my eyes. “Do you know how long these eyes have haunted me? One blue. One green.”
“Please let me go,” I begged softly.
“I’ve spent most of my life looking for you. There’s no way in hell you’re going anywhere except a damn body bag.”
His words sunk in, I panicked and started pulling at his arm, scratching him. This wasn’t how I wanted to die. I wanted to start my own business, give cooking lessons, and finally take one of Madi’s wood building workshops.
“I don’t know who you are. Just let me go.”
“Let’s take a trip down memory lane.” He brought the gun up and tapped my head with hit a few times, and said, “See how long it takes to unbury that shit your parents hid from you.” He slowly ran the tip of the gun down my face and over my cheek. “A lot of men and women tried to take me down, but no one succeeded. For years, since my birth, I’ve been hated and sought after because of the family I was born into.” He continued to run the gun down my chin, the cold metal blazing a path down neck and across my shoulder. “Then one day, I try to make it right. Take them all out, get on with my life, and a five-year-old girl gets in my way.” He chuckled sarcastically. “A five-year-old girl ruined my fucking life.” He ground his hips into me, showing me how turned on he was. My stomach coiled as I fought the bile that was threatening to come up. “Still don’t remember, sweetheart? That’s too bad.”
I closed my eyes, and pictured Rudd and the kids on the dock the day they asked me to marry them. Warmth engulfed me as I remembered the smiles on their faces and how unbelievably happy I was, it was then that I knew they wanted me forever. They changed my life, gave me something I never thought I’d ever have. They showed me kindness, love, and support.
I felt a blow to my head, so strong that it knocked me down to my knees. He was going to kill me. Slowly. Drag it out and make me beg for mercy. I wasn’t doing that though. My mom’s voice rang in my head, “If it’s my time to go, well, it’s my time to go. I’m okay with Heaven, also.” I felt like this was my time, so if I was going to die, I might as well die fighting.
The floor was uneven, and I glanced around for something I could use. I found a small piece of broken concrete lying next to the wall and curled my hand around it. I mustered up all the strength I could. As he leaned down towards me, I swung my arm fast, hitting him in the temple. “Fuck you,” I spat at him. He fell, cupping his head and moaning in pain, I scrambled on my hands and feet, picking myself up. I used the wall to steady myself, putting all my effort into walking. I was dizzy and lightheaded, but if I could only find a place to hide and ride it out, I might just be able to make it out alive. I made it through the door, and kept using the wall to hold myself up. The hallway was long and I could see the opening at the end of it. Freedom might be waiting for me. Halfway down the hallway, his gun went off and stung my ear. My hands covered them as I cried out in more pain, falling to the floor. He grabbed a handful of hair and started dragging me back down the hallway. My hands flew to his forearm, while I kicked and screamed, trying to free myself.
“I like it when you bitches fight me,” he explained, dropping my head again, hitting the concrete.
I sat up, and used the wall to hold myself up. My beautiful dress was torn and covered in dirt. All of my hair had fallen out of my ponytail and was sticking to my shoulders from the humidity and heat that wafted in the air. Slowly I said, “You’re a sick, twisted, fucking pervert.”
A sadistic smile played on his face. “I knew that the second I was born.”
He pulled his gloves off and kicked my legs apart so he could sit between them. He held the gun with one hand, the other one he lifted to my face. “Do you remember now?” The outside of his hand had a red tattoo. A dragon’s head. The dragon’s mouth was open, breathing fire, and its body snaked up his forearm. It reminded me of the dreams I had been having of a red talking dragon. I’ve seen it before. My eyes went wide, and bits and pieces of my memory assaulted me. They still didn’t make sense though. So much darkness still surrounded my memories.
“I can see you’re trying, Becca. Really fucking hard.”
“Becca?” I said with a dry tone.
“Mommy and Daddy didn’t tell you about that, did they now?” he sneered. “No, of course they didn’t, because they wiped your fucking mind. Hypnotized you. Made you forget it all.” He started tapping the gun on the side of his head again. “Can you believe that shit actually worked? They wanted to free you of your nightmares, but mine never fucking stopped! Think, Becca! Figure it out, because it will make what I do to you a whole lot sweeter.”
At that moment, I closed my eyes and memories flooded my vision, forcing me to remember.
I was hiding in my spot.
My secret special spot.
The couches in my daddy’s office were pushed together just right so I could hide between the two of them. I always went to my special spot when I was at Daddy’s office.
I always brought my book.
I always read my books in my special spot.
I would lie on my belly and read my books.
I could see part of my Daddy’s office from my special spot. It was shaped like a triangle and I could see peoples shoes and legs when they walked by.
The people at Daddy’s office always played a shoe game with me. They’d stop at the door before leaving, waiting for me to say their name.
I always got it right.
Today, I was in my special spot, reading my book while Daddy was working. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there.
I was reading the blue page when I heard a loud pop.
Then, someone screamed.
I heard another noise, and then Daddy came and looked at me through my special hole.
“Becca, honey, we’re going to play hide and seek. You need to stay in your special spot and wait for me. Don’t come out. No matter what. I want you to stay quiet and hide. Don’t move. Don’t talk, no matter what you hear. Okay?”
Another pop!
More screams.
I was scared.
“Why are people screaming, Daddy?”
“Something is happening, but I need you to be my brave little girl while we play the game. Now lie back down and close your eyes. Wait for Daddy. Okay?”
“Sure, Daddy.”
Another pop!
“Cover your head with your arms and hide. Now.”
He mo
ved away.
I was still scared. I wanted my daddy to hide with me.
I laid there and heard a few more pops.
Then it got quiet. No more pops or people screaming, no shoes to play the shoe game with.
I thought my daddy was coming to get me.
My eyes stayed closed. I was being very quiet. I was so afraid.
I opened my eyes because I wanted to see if Daddy was coming.
I did not see Daddy. I saw a pair of black books.
I’ve never seen these black boots when playing the shoe game.
Pop!
It was louder this time and it hurt my ears, so I covered them back up.
Pop!
I was so scared I started to cry.
The black boots didn’t move, but his hand fell down to his side.
There was a picture on his hand. I wasn’t sure why he drew a red dragon picture on his hand, but I could see it.
I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop looking at it.
He moved his hand and then his boots moved as he left Daddy’s office.
He was gone.
I looked as hard as I could through the small opening and couldn’t see anything.
I wanted Daddy. I was so scared.
Why was it so quiet?
I waited and waited for Daddy, but he wasn’t coming.
“Becca.” I finally heard my daddy call my name.
I jumped up, ran towards his desk, and saw him lying on the floor on his stomach. There was red stuff everywhere.
“You’re so brave, Becca. I’m so proud of you, baby girl.”
“Daddy, I was so scared,” I cried.
“Sweetheart, you’re the bravest girl I know. Now I need you to do one more thing for me.” I nodded yes. “Get the phone for Daddy.”
I stood up, grabbed the phone off the desk, and gave it to Daddy.
I opened my eyes and he was still there. A wicked smiled played at his lips as he watched me. “You remember now, Becca? Huh? Do you remember all of it? Huh? Keep fucking thinking.”