“What the hell was that for?” I screech as I grab onto his arms at the same time he has mine. A camera goes off in my face, and the dazzling light show before my eyes impedes my ability to see my surroundings. But the voices let me know what is happening.
“Ms. D’Salvatore! Can you tell us what happened?” Before I can embarrass myself by telling the reporter to go to Hell, an officer swings a jacket over my head and pushes me down as he pulls me through the crowd. I feel like a criminal being led through a throng of protestors as we attempt to get up the precinct’s steps.
I’m taken into some type of conference room with cushiony leather chairs and a mahogany table, and then I’m offered either coffee or water, but I opt for none. A pretty, female officer with strawberry blonde hair and strikingly green eyes tells me that an ambulance is on the way to take me to the hospital. After I’m cared for, they’ll get my statement and start prosecution. I furrow my brows as I try to understand what she’s saying.
“You mean you caught him?” I ask the young officer. She gives me a warm smile and pats me on the shoulder as she sits down in a chair beside me.
“Of course we did! The sucker came wandering out of the woods like an imbecile right into our hands.” My eyes never leave the tabletop for the rest of the wait as my brain tries to process the fact that they caught the man who drugged my dog and took me into the woods. How did they know it was him?
That question rolls through my mind like an old black and white movie reel while an EMT helps me into a garage that is closed off from the hoard of people outside. First he checks my pulse, and then I’m poked and prodded as they drive me to the hospital, where I’m poked and prodded even more. I learn that I’ll need stitches in my leg, but otherwise I don’t look too bad. Now, my smell, on the other hand…
“When can I take a shower?” Getting the dirt, grime, and the smell of death off of me is my first concern since the police have already dealt with capturing my kidnapper. The male nurse standing at the end of my bed with his dazzling smile and perfectly cropped hair glances up at me with a crooked smile. If I hadn’t just been kidnapped and interrogated, I might be interested in that crooked smile.
“Now, if you’d like. I can get a female nurse to help you down to the shower room.” Within moments of his departure, a woman in her mid-years with curly, brown hair and doe-like brown eyes helps me from my bed and ties the back of my gown for me. I hobble down the hall with just one care in the world, getting to that bathroom to wash myself off.
“The Chief of Police called and said that he will be down to have you give a positive identification of the criminal.” I could care less about that, maybe she could get me some shampoo and body wash? When I get into the bathroom and see the little kit already waiting for me, I feel a little silly for my snarky inner dialogue.
“Thanks for letting me know. I think I can handle it from here.”
“I’ll be right outside the door.” The woman pats me on the shoulder awkwardly and then leaves me alone in the room. It’s not a very large space, but it reminds me of the shower stalls used at the public pool areas. I step into one of the stalls, and as soon as the hot water runs down over me I feel safe.
Out in the woods, I was on the verge of tears, but right now, deep down inside I feel angry. The urge to hit something or someone is so strong that I have a rough time washing my hair without smarting the lump on my head. At least I should be thankful that I didn’t get hurt worse, but mostly I want revenge. My shower is short but gratifying, and the female nurse helps me back to my room with my wet hair in a braid down my back and a fresh gown around me.
Two police officers are stationed outside of my room, and the way they’re standing reminds me of toy soldiers with their right hands grasping their left wrists as they remain rigid. When I get closer to the door, the one who is taller than his comrade nods his head once at me, and I can’t help the quizzical feeling that runs through me. The perpetrator has been caught, why do I need armed men stationed outside of my room?
This just seems like overkill for someone who was missing for less than twenty four hours.
“Ms. D’Salvatore, I was wondering when you were going to get back.” My cheeks flush immediately, but I’m not sure why when the man in his forties greets me. I hold out a hand to him, and feel silly for standing here in a hospital gown. He reminds me of cops in television shows with his strong jaw, a five o’clock shadow on his face, and hard, blue eyes. I immediately feel intimidated around him, but I’m sure he’s used to people reacting that way to the fact that he’s wearing a uniform.
“Sorry about that, but a shower sometimes helps to clear my head.” The female nurse helps me settle into bed with the back raised so that it makes me look like I’m sitting. I definitely don’t want to be in a lying down position with company around, especially not the Chief of Police. “Thank you.” I tell the woman quietly, wondering if she ever told me her name. She probably did while I was in LaLa land walking down the hallway; perhaps I’ll have a chance to get it later.
“You’ve been home less than ten days, Ana. Already you’re getting into worse trouble than when you were a kid.” I roll my eyes at him and look him up and down from head to toe.
“You’re only about ten years older than me, so I don’t think you were dealing with my troublesome behavior back then.” I fluff the pillows behind me and cross my arms over my chest as I lean back. A walk back through memory lane is not what I need right now.
“You don’t remember me do you?” My lips curl up at the corners, and I take a long time to study him, but nothing clicks in my mind.
“No, sorry, I don’t.” He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his thick, dark hair. I might take this as flirtation if I weren’t lying in a hospital bed with a thin sheet over me.
“I arrested you once for stealing a candy bar at the grocer’s in town. You were nine.” I squint at him and try to remember the incident he’s talking about, but nothing really clicks. “You were arrested a lot when you were nine for stealing candy bars, so I guess I’ll understand if you don’t remember.” And then it finally clicks when he smiles, and my eyes widen.
“Oh, you! You put me in the back of the police car and actually drove me to the precinct, I remember now! Boy was my father pissed when he had to come pick me up there after he was done his grocery shopping of course.” We both chuckle at the old memory, and something inside me feels more at ease in this man’s presence.
“Well, enough reminiscing. I’m going to take a verbal statement here if you don’t mind. Then when you’re feeling better I’ll get a signed, written statement from you. I’m going to record this for my own records.” There’s a manila envelope sitting on an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair with a small device sitting on top. The Chief picks up the little recorder and hits the play button with a quirked eyebrow. “Chief Roberts interviewing the victim in the D’Salvatore kidnapping.” I roll my eyes at the absurdity of this act, but play along with him as he sits down in the plastic chair. The interview begins with an amicable air.
“Anastasia D’Salvatore, tell me what you remember from the beginning.” And so I tell him in a quiet voice the beginning of my journey through the woods in the fading light with a maniac.
“I was putting away the leftover lasagna when I noticed May coming back from doing her business in the back yard with something in her mouth. The poor dog was stumbling by the time she got to the back door, and I pulled her inside quickly. She lay down under the kitchen table, and I tried to pull the meat from her mouth, but she refused to let it go.
While I was trying to wrestle the meat from her, someone hit me over the back of the head pretty hard. I remember flashes of being drug through the trees, and at some points I was conscious enough to stumble alongside the man. He was tall, probably over six feet, and he was wearing camouflage clothing, like a hunter. He also had on a mask, so I couldn’t see his face.” The Chief raises his hand to halt me.
“Do you remembe
r which direction you were heading?” I lean back into the pillows and close my eyes as I try to remember. My lips purse with my agitation, and then I hear the shuffling of some paperwork.
“East, we were heading east. He knocked me over the head again when I started to struggle, and the next time I woke up I was in a dark room. There was a dirt floor, and I was tied up with some sort of nylon rope on my ankles, but the rope around my wrists felt more like polyester. I don’t know if that’s important, but it’s what I remember.” Chief Roberts nods for me to go on, and so I do.
“He asked me repeatedly where the tape was. Before you ask, I have no idea what he was talking about. I told him a fake location in the house, and he told me that he would cut off my fingers if I was lying. After he left, I managed to get out of my restraints and broke the tarp over the window. Then I broke the window and climbed through. I don’t know which way I went. I just started walking and ran into the man who drove me to the precinct.”
“Do you remember anything else about the man who took you?” I try to think back, and furrow my brows.
“He had hazel eyes.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because that was the only thing I could see about him in that cabin, or whatever it was. His eyes were hazel with these shoots of brown that grew out of the pupils like rays from the sun, and they were surrounded by the blackest iris ring I’ve ever seen.” The chief purses his lips as he opens up the manila envelope and studies the picture inside.
“Is this the man who took you?” He flips the picture and hands it over to me, and my stomach plummets. My left eye starts to twitch minutely as I stare at the picture of Jonah in my hands, and my heart begins to pound audibly.
“Jonah Quinton?” I squeak out, staring at his gray-blue eyes. “No, you have the wrong man. Jonah didn’t take me. He’s h-harmless.” Reality is starting to set in, and my bladder starts to squeeze. “You don’t have the man who took me, Chief Robertson.”
Chapter Six
Jonah
“You did this to us! We’re fucking stuck here, and we’re going to rot in jail if we’re lucky! They’ll probably strap us to a chair and stick us full of chemicals to stop the breathing, and then stop the heart. You idiot!” Tom’s ranting has me leaning my forehead against the cool wall of the cell while the other inmates stare at me with concern. I don’t blame them because I’m starting to lose my marbles without my medication, and to top it all off no one will tell me if they found Anastasia or not.
“Shut up, before you get us both thrown into the nut house!” I can’t help the shout, and feel heat flood the back of my neck all the way to the top of my head as I realize I said those words out loud. One fist comes up to rest beside my head on the wall as I crush my eyes closed as if that will help me block out Tom’s incessant ranting.
“You should have just left so you could spare us all this trouble! Now we’re stuck, Jonah, we’re stuck in this stinking Hell hole while the cops plot our deaths.” Tom hisses in my ear and I feel the heat of his breath against my neck. I wish he weren’t so real, and part of me wishes that I thought he was real so that I was oblivious to my insanity.
“In just two days that broad has ruined our entire lives! D’Salvatore was right in telling us that she was off limits, never mind about what I said earlier. Don’t try to get her pants off, Jonah, or we’re going to be in even deeper than we are now. I have a bad, bad feeling about her!” Leaning against the wall is not going to get him to go away, so I push off and put my back to the bricks. Two of the men in with me stare at me warily as I slide down and put my head in my hands, waiting for something from the officers. The waiting is the worst part.
Just as Tom is going on about how we’re going to end up in Hell within the next forty eight hours, I hear the sound of boots clunking down the concrete hallway and immediately stand up. It’s the Chief of Police with someone behind him, and I catch a glimpse of her blonde hair framing her pale face. I don’t need to see anymore to tell that it’s Anastasia D’Salvatore, and Tom grips the bars next to me as he stares out at her.
“One last time, are you sure this is not the man who kidnapped you?” Her blue eyes search mine and I let my fingers slide off the bars as I see the scrape along her jawline. She’s alive, but she’s not unscathed.
“No, he wasn’t the man who kidnapped me. Now will you please get him out of there? He needs his medication and a shower.” Tom lets his head fall back and laughs raucously with his hands thrown up in the air. I chance a sidelong glance at him, and Anastasia gives me an understanding nod. The door to the cell slides open with a hiss, scrape, and then a loud clang as it hits the end.
“Come on then, Quinton, you’re free for the time being.” I immediately step out of the cell like the hounds of Hell are on my heels, and don’t even wait for the Chief or Anastasia to catch up with me. I don’t stop until I’m standing outside of the precinct in the fresh, afternoon air.
It takes her about five minutes, but Anastasia finally catches up to me with a bottle of water in one hand and the pill bottle in the other. Tom is nowhere in sight, but as soon as my high from getting out of jail wears off he’ll show his ugly face to me again. So I take the pill from Anastasia without looking at her and down half the bottle of water. In half an hour, I’ll feel dizzy and sick because I missed a dose, but I won’t be seeing Tom.
“The car is around back. I wasn’t sure if the reporters would still be here.” Anastasia puts a hand on my forearm as she leads me around the back of the building. I slide into her rental and lean the seat back so that I don’t have to look out any windows. My arm goes up over my eyes to block out the light, and as soon as I feel her pull out of the precinct parking lot I’m asleep.
I wake up to the feel of the gravelly, dirt road underneath the tires that make the car jostle around. Anastasia pulls the car up to the front steps of the farmhouse and turns off the ignition. She sits there for a few seconds staring at the field surrounding the house with her hand still on the keys in the ignition. She still hasn’t looked over at me yet, so she doesn’t realize that I’m actually awake. I take advantage of that and watch her even breathing, and the way that the afternoon sun makes her hair look like tendrils of gold.
“I called about May before I came to pick you up.” Guilt floods me, how could I have forgotten about May? I pull my arm away from my face and use the handle beside the seat to raise it. Her face is turned away from me now, staring out her own window. She turns enough that I can see the way her chin wobbles, and my entire body tenses.
“How is she?” The silence that follows tells me that it’s not going to be a good answer.
“May died. The powder on the meat must have been poisonous, but they’re not sure what it was yet. The results from the lab are not back.” Through this entire explanation, Anastasia’s voice stays solid, yet when she puts her fingers on the door handle her face turns enough for me to see the tears brimming in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Telling people how much something upsets me is difficult. It’s as if the emotion grief is foreign to me, but it’s obviously not foreign to Anastasia. She slips out of the car without another word and meanders up the steps to the front door.
We shouldn’t stay here tonight. Tom whispers in the back of my mind. He’s not normally the one who makes rational decisions, and yet on this point I have to agree with him. You’re right. I’ll pack a bag, and all three of us will stay in town until this mess is all cleared up. I feel a stab of pain in my head and lean over in my seat to grip my head between my hands.
What if she doesn’t want to go? This is a dog eat dog world, Jonah, and we can’t be responsible for her well-being. You can’t even keep us out of jail!
“I know!” The sound of my roar shocks me into sitting up and looking around to make sure that no one heard me.
Before I can have any more embarrassing outbursts, I pull the door handle of the car open and slip out into the warm afternoon air. The humidity is high today, and
I feel as if I’m wading through a pool as I walk up the front steps of the D’Salvatore house. All the while, the same question plays over and over again in the back of my mind: What if she doesn’t want to leave?
“Anastasia?” She doesn’t answer me, and I immediately kick back into survival mode as I creep towards the kitchen. She’s always in the kitchen. “D’Salvatore?” I call out her last name as I used to with her father, and feel my muscles tense when I hear a clang in the kitchen. When I finally turn the corner, my heart is pounding in my chest, and my fingers are twitching as if my body is determining whether I need to make fists or not.
I’m not sure how to comprehend the scene in front of me. The dish of lasagna is sitting out on the kitchen table with the plastic wrap pulled half way back, next to it sits a tub of ice cream, and sitting calmly in one of the chairs like this is all normal is Anastasia. She has a forkful of lasagna halfway to her mouth when she spots me staring at her, and a blush graces her cheeks as she puts the lasagna down.
“I eat when I’m upset.” She admits to me, and I struggle for a response to that. Most people choose one thing to eat when they’re upset, not the two weirdest things that could ever be eaten at one time. “What?” She asks with an irritated tone, pointing her fork at the lasagna. “It has all the food groups in it, and ice cream must always be present at a well-rounded meal!” I throw my hands up in surrender, and try to figure out how to broach the subject of leaving this house.
Spit it out! Tom shouts at me while I sit down at the table across from Anastasia. Part of me wonders if she should really be eating anything in this house, considering the police were all through here and the kidnapper might have had time to leave behind some more poison in the fridge.
“I don’t feel like it’s safe here, at least, not until this maniac is caught.” Anastasia gives me a haughty look as she pops a piece of lasagna into her mouth and chews slowly. I see a gleam in her eyes and wonder what she finds so amusing.
My Kind Of Crazy Page 8