“Sweetie, you’re going to be fine.”
“Bobby?”
“Yes, we’re going to find you. Try not to worry.”
“Oh, one other thing, I think there are large me—”
The battery dies. I feel my heart drop into my stomach, and I hope and pray that there are enough clues and enough of a signal for them to find me. I slip the phone back into my pocket. I still have no appetite. Even if I did, I don’t trust the food they’ve given me. What if it has been poisoned? Or laced with more drugs?
I find myself staring through the tiny holes for what seems like hours at a time. I scream and shout for help, but still—nothing.
I am so thankful I was able to make contact. It was great to hear Jonathan’s voice and Bobby’s. There is even a sense of comfort in knowing that Phillip is there working on the case. For now, I guess I must sit and wait. I’m not sure that there is much else I can do.
Maybe ten minutes have gone by, and I’m back up on my feet looking out the window. Then I wonder if by chance these men left the door open. I run to the door. Unfortunately, it being left open was wishful thinking.
I hear a vehicle pull up, and I run to see if it’s the FBI. It’s not. The men have returned. I quickly try to wrap the tape around my ankles. However, with handcuffs on, even the simplest task can be a struggle. To make matters worse, I hear their heavy boots descending the stairs. I sit up, wanting to avoid another cold bath. My clothing and the mattress are still damp from earlier. I finish replacing the tape, and at the same moment, the door opens.
The man with the brown eyes comes in with his mask in place. He throws a large bottle of water and snacks on the floor next to the mattress. He seems to be the one that was considering taking my offer. He also appears to be the follower. Blue Eyes is the leader. I think about saying something to him.
“Please think about my offer. I don’t want to die.”
“If your boyfriend pays up, you won’t have anything to worry about.”
“Who’s paying you to do this? If you tell me who it is and let me go, I’ll pay you.”
“Your boyfriend fucked with the wrong people. How much are we talking, anyway?”
“How much do you want?”
All of a sudden the other masked man rushes in—furious.
“What the fuck are you doing? You’re trying to make a deal with her?” he asks, shoving Brown Eyes against the wall.
Brown Eyes pushes back and the two exchange punches. This might be my opportunity to escape. I try to remove the tape around my feet as fast as I can while the two struggle. I stop dead in my track when I hear one single shot. I look over in time to see Brown Eyes holding his chest and falling to the floor.
“Fuck!” Blue Eyes shouts as he watches the other man collapse to the floor. He holds his head, and kneels to the floor in agony. He sobs for a second.
He rises to his feet and walks over to me, pointing the gun at my temple.
“See what you fucking caused. You made me shoot my own fucking brother.”
“I’m sorry. Take him to the hospital. Doctors can help.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he screams, pacing the floors with his hands on his head, then kicks an old bucket that sits in the corner.
“Come on, take him to the hospital.”
“Shut the fuck up, lady… I need some time to think.”
“But he needs a doctor now. If you don’t take him, he will die.”
“Shut up!” he screams, hitting me across my temple. Then I hear the door slam shut.
I fall over. My head is throbbing. I’m temporarily dazed. I hold my head in pain then I realize blood is running down the side of my head. I don’t know if this is possible, but it almost seems like he’s redone the damage from my accident a few weeks ago.
I lie over quietly. The only comfort I get is from keeping my head still. Moments later, I hear the door open again. I don’t move, but in my peripheral vision, I can again see Blue Eyes pacing the floor.
“Fuck,” he exclaims. “Sorry bro.”
He pulls away his blue plaid shirt, exposing a green T-shirt, and covers his brother’s upper body. He then exits the room, locking the door behind him.
I lie in a cold room with a dead man in a pool of blood on the floor not more than ten feet away from me. Despite the fact that I know these men tried to hurt me, I feel somewhat guilty that my interference instigated the fight that caused this man’s death.
It seems like hours since I spoke to Jonathan, although I really have no sense of time. Where are they? How long will it take them to get here? Will they even get here in time?
Now, Blue Eyes might be unstable and unpredictable. He was distraught over his brother’s death. Who knows what he’ll do next. Because of that, I feel like the danger has increased, and at any moment, he can walk down the stairs and put a bullet in my head.
I try not to think. I don’t want to think. Right now, I want to wake up from this horrible nightmare.
Suddenly, I think about my mom. I wonder if she knows about any of what is going on right now. I hope she doesn’t. If she does, she’d be worrying out of her mind, and at this point, it’s not necessary.
She wanted to travel all this way when I had my accident. If she knew I was kidnapped, nothing Bobby could say to her would convince her to stay away. Frankly, she would not be much help to the FBI or Jonathan either. She’d ask a hundred and one questions and interfere. I love her, she’s my mom, but it would make things ten times more complicated if she were here right now.
I’m tired. I look out through the tiny holes covering the window and it looks dark. Probably overcast, maybe the rain will come down later. I don’t even want to think of spending another night here.
I hear some movement, like possibly things falling hard onto a concrete floor, but it’s hard to tell what it is.
Out of nowhere, the thought comes into my mind—I wonder if he’ll get rid of me now that I’ve witnessed him killing his brother. I’m the only person that knows what happened to his brother. I’m the only person that knows he’s responsible for his brother’s death. What if he forgets all about the money and kills me.
My body is suddenly consumed with fear. I shiver uncontrollably. My mind spins out of control. Maybe he’s getting ready to kill me, and he’s getting his tools together so he can get rid of my body.
Would he just forget about the money? Would he not care about that anymore? Was that not the point of this in the first place?
I need to stop thinking. Right now, I am in excruciating pain and even the slightest noise sounds like a large explosion. I hear the metal doors open then the vehicle backs out and leaves after he closes the door again.
For a few minutes, I drift, but what I think is thunder soon wakes me. I look out of the tiny holes in the covering over the window. It’s too dark to see anything, but I hear the heavy rain pounding against the ground outside.
I pull my phone from my pocket and hope it magically works, but that’s a dream. Then it occurs to me that maybe Brown Eyes had a phone on him, and maybe even keys. That would mean I’d have to tamper with a dead bloody body. That’s something I don’t know if I’m prepared for, or prepared to do. However, to make it out of this alive, I may not have a choice.
I tear the tape carefully away from my feet. It’s so difficult because of the handcuffs. After a few deep breaths, I muster up the courage and check to see if there is a phone on his body. I look down on his covered body; he lies on his side. Half of his body is saturated in blood, and his back is perched up against the wall. To touch any part of him, I will need to step into the pool of blood that surrounds him.
I need to think about this seriously. I don’t want his brother to know what I’ve been up to. He will see my foot print in the blood. To make matters worse, I don’t have on any shoes, and the thought of stepping into gooey, nasty, sticky blood is not necessarily something I wish to entertain.
If I pull the mattress forward, I might be able to bra
ce my leg on the wall and the mattress without having to step in blood. An old broom also stands in the corner that will be extremely helpful for me to balance myself.
Before I even try pulling the mattress, I grab the broom and use it to feel around his pockets, but I can’t seem to find anything. Of course, the possibility exists that it might be in the part of his coat that’s in the pool of blood on the floor. I feel around with the stick but there’s no luck there either.
I need to check his back pockets, and that means I will need to use the mattress to brace my body. I pull it forward and I place some old boards between it and the wall, hoping it does not shift with my weight. I start the task of trying to get into his back pocket.
I use the broomstick to check it. There is something there, but I’m not certain it’s his cell phone. It could be a wallet.
The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs startles me. I rapidly shove my body off the wall, run to place the broom in the corner, and push the mattress with my foot in place. I hear him opening the various locks on the door as I try to swiftly replace the tape. I’m not going to have time. I hide the excess under my stretched legs.
The door bursts open. He looks at me angrily. He has what looks like a box of garbage bags and a cutlass in his hand.
“You’re going to chop that body up into small pieces and put them in separate bags,” he says, throwing the bag at me. He rests the cutlass against the wall.
I am in utter shock by what I hear. I don’t even know how to respond.
“When I get back here, you better be done.”
“I’m not going to do that,” I say calmly.
“You will do what I fucking tell you to do.”
“No. I won’t. Don’t you have any respect for your brother’s body or his memory?”
He swings his arm, hitting me straight across my cheekbone, and sends me rolling off the mattress. My head crashes into the wall and I feel blood running down my scalp.
“You will do as I tell you, or I will put a bullet in your head.”
I feel angry all of a sudden.
“Well, you may as well shoot me now because I’m not doing it. And if you think you’ll get any money after that, don’t fool yourself.”
He drags my body onto the mattress by my handcuffs, yanking me hard, sending my already broken wrist into excruciating pain.
“You’re hurting me,” I yell.
“Well, you should have thought about that before you decided to be a fucking wise-ass.”
“Please, don’t make me do this, please,” I beg. Tears are now spewing from my eyes.
“This is all your fucking fault, so you’re going to have to help me clean up this fucking mess.”
“Then why don’t you roll his body up in the garbage bag and take him away.”
“Because it’s a lot harder to get rid of him that way, you stupid bitch. You want to haul away two hundred pounds?”
“I can’t do this,” I mutter. He walks away from the mattress. I’m not sure what he’s going to do. He paces the floor for minutes, like he’s thinking. Then his eyes transfix onto the broom. I’m not sure why. He walks across and picks it up. The he unscrews the head from the stick.
“Either you do as I say, or I’ll bury this fucking stick so far inside you, you won’t be able to walk for months.”
I freeze in fear, and at that moment, I suddenly start trembling uncontrollably. I pray that someone would intervene, and somehow, this would stop. Although I know the consequences, I can’t find the guts to participate in something so horrid… so gruesome.
I burst into loud sobs and beg, “Please don’t.”
He doesn’t answer but knocks me over onto my back, spanning his body over my legs. He then pulls a revolver from his back then empties out all but one bullet onto my stomach.
“Don’t? Maybe you prefer playing Russian roulette with your cunt.”
Like in slow motion, I see his hand heading for the buttons on my shorts. I scream and shout as loudly as I can and try to kick my legs free. The tape is making it difficult as I try to cut loose. Eventually, the tape comes slack and I succeed. I am able to push him off me and kick him in his face.
“You fucking bitch!”
I leap off and head for the stairs. I hear him scurry behind me. His hand lands on my ankle, causing me to slip, and he drags me down the stairs back into the room.
“Help!” I’m fighting, kicking, and screaming. He hits me with the handle of the gun across my temple. I fall to the mattress onto my stomach. I feel the energy dissipating from my body. I hear what sounds like handcuffs closing, and before I realize what is happening, I feel the cold metal of shackles tighten around my ankles. He rolls me onto my back with his foot. I feel the urge to vomit, but nothing is in my system. He spans my legs once more, ripping the fly of my shorts open.
My teeth clatter. Tears pour from my eyes, and I scream out for help.
“No one is here to help you,” he shouts.
Oh God… He’s going to rape me…
“No. Please don’t, please.”
He’s not saying anything, but he has pure rage in his eyes. I follow his every move and watch him pick up the gun, and he places the barrel between my legs, massaging me with the barrel over my privates. I pray he will stop.
“Please stop,” I beg.
I know all I have to do is do as he wants, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Will you do as I say?”
I can’t respond.
“Or maybe I can have a look at the cute red bra and panties you have under there…” he says, fondling between my thighs.
I try to shove his hands away. He slaps me across my cheek. I feel the heat radiating across my face. It burns. I weep hysterically, and I realize I’ve come to my end. He’s screaming at me, but I no longer hear him.
Images of my last few months with Jonathan, my mom, and Bobby are all that flashes through my mind. I hear a loud bang, and I scream. My body jolts under his weight.
“One down… five to go.”
“I’ll do almost anything. Please, I’ll pay you.”
He punches me hard across my jaw, and I can taste the blood that accumulates in my mouth. I feel like I’m choking on my own blood and cough, sending blood spatter across his T-shirt.
My heart is pounding. I feel scared and so alone. I see Daddy telling me it will be okay, that he’s here for me, and I realize I might finally be seeing him again soon.
“Are you ready to obey?”
I ignore him.
He shoves the barrel into my mouth and counts…
“Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… Still don’t want to change your mind? Four…”
Violent shivers explode through my body. My heart explodes in my chest. I feel my entire body go weak. I think I’m going to faint. I can’t bear to look. I seal my eyes shut, but the tears still come through.
“Four… three… two…”
God, please take care of my family and Johnny…
“FBI. Freeze!”
I wonder if I’m dead, or dreaming, or in some sort of a trance, or in another world. Through my tears, three men in FBI tactical gear are pointing guns straight at him. Another pulls the weapon from him and slaps on a set of handcuffs. Everything that happens from here seems unreal. He’s escorted out of the room.
An agent picks me up in his arms and carries me out of the room. I look around me, and it looks like I’ve been in an old hanger. He walks me out of the oversized old metal structure in the pouring rain and places me in the back of an ambulance. A woman comes in and wraps a blanket around me. Another man takes the cuffs off my wrists and shackles off my ankles.
“We’ll take care of you,” she says, wiping the blood away from my mouth and throat. “You’re going to be fine.”
I stare at her, but the words don’t seem the come out of my mouth. A black SUV rushes in, and before the vehicle comes to a complete halt, the back door opens and Jonathan rushes out and runs
towards me. I finally feel some sense of relief. He wraps his arms around me and holds me.
Moments later, Bobby, Val, and Phillip show up. They all hug me and say all these things, but their words are a daze. I’m not sure, but I don’t think I respond. All I want right now is to go home. I don’t want to be here.
Val opens a medical bag and does some health checks.
“We need to get her out of here,” she says. “She needs to go to the hospital.”
“I want to go home,” I finally whisper.
They walk me over to the SUV. In the corner of my eye, I see Blue Eyes sitting in the back of a vehicle staring at me. I tense then stop. The mask is gone, but his eyes are all I need to see. Jonathan and Bobby follow my gaze as the tears descend my cheeks. Bobby starts towards him. Val and Phillip force him into the vehicle. Jonathan picks me up, placing me inside. He walks around the back and sits beside me. Val comes in on the opposite side.
Phillip has a discussion with some other agents and Douglas, who I see for the first time. He returns to the vehicle and backs out of the fenced area.
Jonathan sits next to me, pulls me in his lap, and I curl up in his arms. As I watch the scene disappear in the distance, I finally release and let go. I’m finally able to breathe. I try to squeeze my eyes shut so the tears won’t flow. I try to control the gasps of air that uncontrollably escape my mouth. The harder I try, the louder my sobs seem to get. Jonathan’s grip tightens around me, and I bury my face into his neck.
“I promise you, Baby. It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now,” he says.
I remain silent and close my eyes.
* * *
Jada doesn’t want to go to the hospital, but I manage to convince her to. With the obvious blows she received to her head, we all think that she should be checked out. Under heavy security, she’s taken to a facility where the doctors run tests and scans then she is allowed to return home.
I won’t let her out of my sight. Even for a few minutes. Val stays with us the entire time she’s with the doctors. They would prefer her to be in a hospital setting, but because Val is here to monitor her, and because of the extreme circumstances, they’ve made an exception for her to leave.
Love, Lies & The D.A. Page 39