by R. G. Ryan
“We have reason to believe he may be headed for Las Vegas.”
“Okay, and is this notion based on evidence, or on one of your ‘feelings?’”
“It’s not even my feeling. Muriel told us that when she and Cassie were with him, Morgan had a gambling addiction.”
“Well, it’s not much to go on, but it’s something. We’ve got that van passing the Temecula Border Patrol checkpoint and then merging onto 215 at the I-15/215 split. I’ll have a couple of guys focus their attention on the Cajon Pass, Hesperia and Victorville. My thinking is that if we pick him up in those areas, Las Vegas is looking pretty good as a destination.”
“Thanks, Gerry.”
Aaron asked, “So, what now, bro?”
Don’t ask me how I knew, but I knew.
“We’re going to Vegas.”
“All of us?” Michael asked.
“Yeah, all of us. I’ve got a feeling that this is going to take everything we have as a family and we’re going to need each other’s strength.”
Muriel said in a small voice, “I’m not feeling very strong right now, Jake.”
I put my arms around her.
“Which is exactly my point. Right now, I’m giving you my strength. Later on, the roles will most likely be reversed.”
I felt her nod against my shoulder, and then she stepped back, holding me at arm’s length.
“I’m scared, Jake.”
“We’re all scared, which is exactly what that son of a bitch wants. When you think about it, what he’s doing is a form of terrorism. And we don’t have the luxury of giving in to that bullshit! Cassie needs us. Let’s go get her.”
Chapter Eight
Cassie was momentarily and blessedly alone, as Eddie had been summoned to the other room by Paul’s relentless calls for assistance.
How had she gotten here?
What memory she was able to dredge out of serpentine canyons of drug-induced oblivion was incomplete and intermittent rendering the process an agonizing tedium. Regardless of that challenge, she had been able to piece together a working understanding of what had transpired.
She remembered going to the gym, working out and leaving around 11:00 p.m. Outside in the parking lot, one of her gym friends she hadn’t seen for a while had caught up with her and they stood by her car and talked. She couldn’t remember any details or how long the conversation lasted, but her impression was that it had gone on for a while. After promises to have coffee sometime over the next week, she had gotten into her car and started for home.
It had been foggy and since she loved driving along the coast through the fog, she took the Palomar Airport Rd. exit and headed north on Carlsbad Boulevard.
There had been a lot on her mind.
Michael had been on her mind.
She had to tell him. She knew it and had said as much to Jake the day before.
It wasn’t fair to be starting the process of planning a wedding and your future husband not knowing that you were HIV positive. And in spite of the advances in treatment—the bulk of which her doctors assured her were working—she still had to tell him. Besides, keeping a secret like that was emotionally exhausting.
And why had she waited this long? Why had she waited nearly ten months since receiving the diagnosis?
Fear…plain and simple.
She was afraid that when he found out, Michael would leave her. It’s what had been the driving force behind her patent inability to give all of herself to him.
Thus, the note.
Quickly composed the week before in one of her darker moments, and then just as quickly discarded, the note had described in harshly direct and simple terms that she was leaving and that she couldn’t explain why, only that she had to go. It had been an act of craven cowardice driven by desperation and fueled by despair.
She was glad she had thrown it away, although now that she thought about it, she wished it had been burned. Even though she had wadded it up into the tiniest ball possible, what would happen if Michael somehow stumbled onto it in the wastebasket in his office?
Especially now.
If he found that note, would he believe that her disappearance was related? What if he did…and what if he convinced Jake and no one came looking for her and—
She shook her head to drive the subject from her mind, regretting the action immediately as the pain was nearly overwhelming.
She remembered being attacked in the parking garage—at least she thought it was the parking garage—fighting back and injuring her attacker. But then came the oblivion. And after that nothing until she had awakened to the horrible realization that Paul Morgan had found a way to get her back.
Eddie re-entered the room, a terrified expression darkening her worn but still beautiful face.
Closing the door softly behind her she came quickly around the end of the bed and knelt down beside it.
“Cassie, we’ve got to get out of here,” she said in a voice trembling with emotion.
“What’s going on, Eddie?”
Eddie glanced at the doorway as if expecting Paul to enter at any moment.
“He told me that he’s going to start injecting you with heroin and keep injecting you until you’re hooked again. And then…” her voice broke. “He plans to give you an overdose—while Jake is watching. Something about live streaming it.”
A sense of complete and utter despair covered Cassie’s soul like grime on a century’s old smokestack. She now knew the reasoning behind everything. She had used the word “diabolical” in reference to Paul before—oh yeah, he was all that. But this was beyond that. This was cruelty. Suddenly she began pulling violently on the shock collar trying to pry it from her neck. Sounds were emanating from her throat that she didn’t recognize as being human.
“Cassie! Cassie, no you can’t!” Eddie spoke quietly but forcefully while trying to restrain her. “He’ll hear the noise and come in and…and, you don’t realize what he can do to you.”
So great was her desperation that Cassie didn’t seem to notice that Paul had suddenly thrown the door open.
After quickly assessing the situation, he came over the side of the bed and tried to grab Cassie’s arms. However, he hadn’t counted on her being quite so formidable. She soon managed to dislodge his grip and moved quickly behind him with one of her arms wrapped around his windpipe.
Paul Morgan wasn’t a large man—he was actually two inches shorter than Cassie—nor was he particularly strong. His domination of women had always been through furtive administration of drugs, natural charm and silver-tongued intimidation. Cassie, on the other hand, was adept in all forms of martial arts as well as being unusually strong for a woman, courtesy of a rigid regimen of weight training.
As they wrestled for control Eddie stood several feet away, frightened to the point of paralysis, alternately waving her arms wildly and covering her face with her hands.
Due to the lingering effects from the drugs Cassie’s strength was weakening while Morgan, on the other hand, was fighting her with all his might. While she was trying to get a leg up under him in an attempt to gain more leverage, he managed to dislodge one of her hands and rolled off the bed. He dove for the bathroom doorway while pulling something from underneath his shirt and when he finally yanked it free, Cassie thought it was a fob for a car alarm. She quickly learned that it wasn’t. Before she could rush him, he stood, pointed it at her and pressed a red button. Her body stiffened and then began to jerk uncontrollably as a strong jolt of electricity flowed through contacts on the interior of the collar. After ten seconds or so, he let go of the button and she collapsed unconscious onto the bed.
Morgan sat down hard on the floor in total exhaustion, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Looking over toward the bed he noticed that Cassie wasn’t moving.
“Hey,” he called to Eddie, who was standing absolutely still while staring at Cassie. “Hey Nimrod! Check out if she’s okay.”
Eddie
approached the bed cautiously, kneeling down and touching Cassie’s face.
“I think…I think she only passed out.”
Paul tried to stand up but only made it as far as his knees, so he crawled over to Eddie’s side. Reaching out his hand, he touched Cassie’s neck feeling for a pulse.
“Yeah, she’s all right. Only temporarily out of it.”
He sat back shaking his head.
“I didn’t know a chick could be so strong. I thought she had me there for a minute.” He tapped Eddie on the shoulder. “Hey, see if my throat has red marks or anything.”
Eddie leaned in and looked closely at Paul’s neck.
“You have red marks where her thumb and fingers were pressing on you.”
He was looking at Cassie with growing anger. A black malevolence seemed to hang over him.
“I should beat her until the sun goes down!”
Cassie’s groan cut him off. She slowly opened her eyes and had obvious trouble focusing on anything. When she finally focused on Paul, she hardened her gaze causing him to scramble quickly backwards while reaching for the fob.
“Don’t make me have to use this on you again, because I will do it! Don’t think I won’t!”
She stared at him with such venom that he was finally forced to break eye contact and get slowly to his feet while stumbling toward the door.
“I’m not through with you!” he yelled attempting to sound tough.
Instead, it sounded more like an impotent threat issued at the backside of a schoolyard bully. He staggered through the bedroom door, which he locked behind him. Through the closed door Cassie could hear him shouting profanities and slamming things around, which was soon followed by a cry of pain as if something had bounced back and hit him.
Cassie slowly rolled over onto her back and stared blankly at the ceiling. Silent tears began to course down her cheeks as she considered her plight, surrendering at last to complete exhaustion and dreamless sleep.
Chapter Nine
2:25 p.m.
We were about to leave for the drive back to Vegas, when Michael called me into the den and shut the door.
“Jake, I…man! This is so hard.”
“What’s going on, Mike?”
He ran his fingers through his longish, stylishly cut brown hair and took a few moments to compose his thoughts before launching into his narrative.
“It all started last Saturday. I slept in a little because Cassie and I had agreed to meet for coffee at ten. After I got ready to go I went into my office to sort through a couple of bills, you know, just making sure I hadn’t missed the due dates—it was just so random, not planned at all. Anyway, as I was throwing some junk mail away, I saw a crumpled piece of paper in the trash that was partially covered by a couple of envelopes. You know how distinctive Cassie’s writing is, right? Well, I could make out enough to immediately recognize it as being hers. I pulled it out.”
He paused as if not knowing how to continue, his brown eyes reflecting deep sorrow.
Finally he continued quietly, slowly, “It was a note that she had written and obviously discarded. It said, ‘Michael, I don’t know quite how to say this so I’ll make it brief. I am leaving, and I can’t really tell you why. All I know is that I must go. It’s not about you.’ And it was signed in her name.”
We stood in silence for a few moments—shocked silence on my part.
Finally, I said, “But, she didn’t give it to you, Mike. She threw it away.”
“I know. And yet, it was obviously on her mind. I haven’t said anything to her because, to be honest, I haven’t even known how to bring it up.”
“Have you noticed any unusual behavior?”
He sighed, his 6’7” frame suddenly looking very small as he collapsed into one of the overstuffed chairs and covered his narrow face with his hands.
“I’ve gone through the previous few days over and over again, and I can’t come up with anything I’d describe as being telltale signs that she was planning to leave me. No unguarded moments—nothing! And something else that bothers me—when did she write that note?” Michael dropped his eyes, as if hesitant to reveal what came next. “Look, Jake, there is something that needs to be said here.” He kept his head down, unable to meet my gaze. “Based on the content of that note, it’s pretty clear that even if she hadn’t been kidnapped—she was thinking about leaving anyway.”
I let the statement hang as I tried to come up with a plausible answer as to how Cassie could have planned something of this magnitude without consulting me. It didn’t make sense. We were every bit as close as father and daughter and she talked to me about everything. I had been in on every major decision she had ever made.
Suddenly, I had a suspicion as to what it was about.
I gave Michael’s shoulder a firm squeeze and said, “I’m sure there’s a good explanation, Mikey. Could be that she was just…well…I don’t know.”
“Trust me,” he countered. “I’ve come at this thing every way possible. She was leaving, Jake! The kidnapping merely interrupted plans she had already made!”
Aaron opened the door slowly.
“You guys okay in here? ‘Cause we’re all ready to go.”
“We’ll be there in a second.”
He waved an acknowledgement and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I had to say something to Michael that would ease his fears while at the same time protecting Cassie’s confidence regarding the HIV diagnosis.
But what?
“Listen, Mike, I know Cassie better than I know any other human being on earth. And for what it’s worth, I can tell you without equivocation that she loves you with her whole heart and plans to spend the rest of her life with you.”
“Then how do you explain the note?”
Simply put, I couldn’t.
“But, she threw it away, Mike!”
“I know! But she also wrote it.”
“Right, but she obviously had a change of heart.”
He paused, his eyes haunted by doubt.
“Then…why would she throw it away in my office? My office! It’s almost like, even though she threw it in the trash, she somehow wanted me to find it.”
I sighed and sat down on the ottoman facing him.
“Sounds kind of like a conspiracy theory, doesn’t it?”
“Call it what you want, Jake, but the facts remain.”
“I respectfully submit that you don’t know the facts. You’re basing your conclusions on one piece of evidence that is, at best, unverified.”
He raised his voice, his hurt and anger getting the best of him.
“Unverified? It was written in her handwriting! It was her thoughts! That’s not unverified!”
“Okay,” I said, placatingly. “I am forced to admit that from your point of view, anyway, the evidence is there.”
He shook his head sadly.
“I don’t want to believe it either, Jake. I don’t…I’m just so confused. And now that monster has taken her. I can’t begin to describe the level of terror I’m feeling.”
“Me too, Mikey. Me too. But I will tell you this…when I find him, he’s a dead man.”
My phone buzzed.
It was Gerald Redfern.
“Gerry, what do you have?”
“My guys confirmed the suspect’s van passing through Victorville.”
“Huh! So I was right…he was headed for Vegas.”
“Looks that way.” He paused and then added, “Listen, I’m going to make a chopper available to take you, me and some of my guys to Vegas where we’ll rendezvous with the local FBI office. From there we can attempt to set up intercept points, that is if he hasn’t gone off the grid by then.”
“That sounds great, Gerry. Where do you want me to meet you?”
“Palomar Airport, say in thirty minutes?”
“I can do that. See you there.”
Michael asked,
“What’s happening?”
“Let’s go into the kitchen so I can fill everyone in at the same time.”
We walked quickly into the kitchen and I brought everyone up to speed on what Gerry had told me.
Aaron said, “So, we’ll drop you off and I’ll drive everyone over to Vegas in your car?”
“Yes. And, hopefully, by the time you get there, we’ll have something concrete to go on.”
Muriel wrapped her arms around me.
“Be careful, Jake. The little bastard is demonic!”
“So I’ve heard,” I replied while returning the hug. “He’s also small, weak and easily frightened.”
“But he has Cassie,” Michael said. “And as long as he has her, doesn’t he control everything?”
“He can only control what he can see. And he’ll never see me coming.”
“How can you be so sure?” Vanessa asked.
“Look, he’s focused on revenge, right?”
Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.
“By its very definition, ‘focus’ refers to a very narrow field of vision. If I come at him outside of that ‘focus’…”
Michael said, “I see what you mean. Okay.” He made eye contact with me and added, “Let’s go get my girl back.”
“Our girl, Mikey…our girl.”
He gave his head a sharp nod and we all trooped out of the condo and into a sequence of events that, had you told me in advance what was about to transpire, I would have suggested you have yourself admitted for psychiatric evaluation.
But that’s the way life goes sometimes. What you think you see isn’t really what’s there, and what goes unseen rises up and bites you in the butt.
Chapter Ten
Paul Morgan peered into the bathroom’s cracked, stained mirror. The scars, still manifestly evident from the near fatal beating he’d suffered seven years ago at the hands Jake Moriarity, flashed like neon at midnight advertising his humiliation. Below that humiliation was this more recent one—bruises forming on his neck from Cassie’s attempted strangulation. He still couldn’t figure how she could display that much strength after the drugs he had given her. He supposed he’d learned a valuable lesson about not making assumptions just because someone is a certain gender, looks a certain way, or because you knew them back in the day.