by A. Hargrove
“You think this is funny? Are you enjoying this? You won't for long when you see what I have planned for you.”
My blood ran cold, cliché I know, but it was true. If I'd done that to his balls, was he going to twist my boobs off? If so, he'd have to grow bigger hands. The thought struck me as funny and maybe it was because of being drugged earlier and trying to get over that, or maybe because my situation was completely hopeless, or because there was no way he could grow larger hands. But I laughed. Loud and annoyingly. And then I snorted like my sister.
“Oh, God, I just snorted.” It was like being in church. I couldn't stop. Sure hysteria had set in, I let it loose and totally cracked up until the tears flowed freely. When my laughter finally ceased, it was eerily quiet in the room.
“Are you finished? Because you really have nothing to laugh at.”
His tone had switched. He was back to being American Sam. And it was the most disquieting, evil thing I'd ever heard. That's the moment I discovered the truth. I was dealing with a man who wasn't just going to beat and rape me and go on his merry way. This man intended to kill me.
Chapter Thirty-One
Alessandro
Not a word. Nothing. For two days. DCI Thornton didn't phone, text, or tell me to go to hell. Neither did Emma. I was at my wit’s end. Emma had tried to call Piper the day she went missing to inform her that Michael Critchly had been released. There had been nothing else from her that day. When I hadn't heard from her, I went into town, searching. Nothing. She'd told me of a few of the places where she was going and no one had seen her. That's when I called Emma and she called DCI Thornton.
When I was close to shattering, I phoned Emma and begged her for news.
“All I can say is we are onto something.”
“Emma. That's not enough.”
“I'm sorry. I can't disclose anything else. But I can say this. I'm as upset about this as you are. I was supposed to keep her up to date and they let that fucking piece of shit out without telling me until it was done.”
“Do you think she's alive?”
A long sigh came out of her.
“We believe she is. Just pray, Alessandro.”
“If you hear...”
“I'll call. You'll be the first.”
Emma was usually upbeat and cheerful, only this time, her tone was anything but. Hearing what she said made me worry more. Just pray, Alessandro. That fucker had her for two days now. Maybe I should call in extra help.
Gabriele came in crying. “Papa, did Piper go away because she was naked?”
“What?”
“Because I kept asking about that?”
“No! Oh, God, no, Gabriele. She didn't go away because she wanted to. Something happened, but she's trying to come home.”
“Why isn't she then?”
“Because right now, she can't. But she loves you like crazy. More than anything.” I picked him up and hugged him as hard as possible without breaking him.
“Did she tell you?”
“Yes, a thousand times and when she comes home, she'll tell you too.”
“Promise?” His eyes filled with water as he asked.
“Please don't cry. I promise. I swear it.”
“What if she doesn't come back? Ever?”
“She will.”
“I'm scared, Papa. Did that bad man get her?”
How did he know? “Bad man?”
I still held him, so I sat down with him on my lap. “The bad man who broke her face. Is that why you look so sad too?”
“Gabriele, I'm worried about her, yes. But she didn't go away because she wanted to. I don't want you to worry too.”
A loud banging on the door startled both of us.
“Who is that?”
“I don't know. Stay here.” He was on my heels like a trained puppy. I didn't blame him though. I opened the door to see a haggard Emma standing there. “Come in.”
“I don't have but a minute. I'm headed to London.”
“London?”
She swung her gaze to Gabriele, and I took her hint.
“Son, why don't you go upstairs and make a picture?”
“Are you going to talk about Piper?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay.” He slowly went up the stairs, dragging each of his steps out.
“He's frightened she's not coming back,” I explained.
The way Emma didn't respond let me know she was too. “We've got Scotland Yard helping on this. We have located him in an area of about three square miles, but in London, that could be anywhere.”
“Do you believe she's still alive?” I had to ask the question because if she wasn't, I had to prepare myself on how I would tell Gabriele.
“I honestly don't know. He's weaving around that particular area and not leaving, so our guess is yes. If he had killed her, why would he linger there?”
That gave me hope. “True. I'd think he'd get out as fast as he could.”
She nodded. “I have to go. If you hear anything at all from her, call us.”
“Hey, what about her cell phone?”
“He must've destroyed it because we can't locate it.”
I scrubbed my face. “Have you notified her parents?”
“No. If you want to, that's up to you.”
“I don't have their damn number. The university does, but let's see what happens in the next day.”
“Fine. By the way, Thornton is sick about this.”
“He should be. He should've never have gotten Piper involved.”
“He sees that now. I have to run. I'll be in touch.”
She left and I stood on the porch, watching her drive off. The feeling in my gut worsened as she disappeared from sight. All I could think of was Piper in the hands of that crazy man. He was sure to be hurting her, but how badly? And would he hurt her bad enough to kill her or maim her permanently?
My slow footsteps resembled Gabriele's as I dragged my body up the stairs. He sat on his bed, waiting for me.
“Emma didn't have too much to say, other than she was going to do her best to bring her home to safety.”
“Does she know where Piper is?”
“She thinks she might. But she's not a hundred percent sure.”
He cried, God how he cried and it broke me to see how upset he was. But I didn't know what else to say to him. “How about we call Nonno?”
“Can he find her?”
“I don't think so but he's always good to talk to.”
“Can we camera talk?”
“Sure.” I FaceTimed him and he answered with the biggest of smiles. Only it disappeared when he saw Gabriele was crying. I let them do all the talking and then we ended the call. Soon after, as I expected, he called me back.
“What is going on?”
I walked to the kitchen and out the back door, so prying ears couldn't hear. Then I explained.
“I'm coming. I'll be in first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Papa, bring wine.”
“Yes. I will.”
That night I phoned Louise, giving her tomorrow off. I was keeping Gabriele out of school. I also emailed my last two students who were scheduled to give their orals in the afternoon, postponing them. I requested to do them the following day, due to an emergency. Then we went to the airport to pick up my father. He'd flown in on our corporate jet and was already waiting on us when we arrived at the airport. Thankfully, Cambridge had an airport for corporate jets and small planes, so it was close.
My son flew into my father's arms as soon as he saw him. It made me happy he was here. And then my phone went off. It was an unknown caller, but I wasn't taking any chances.
“Yes, hello.”
“Alessandro, Emma here. They found Piper.”
“Is she...” My voice trailed off because I feared the answer I'd get.
“Yes, she's alive, but in bad shape. The ambulance is rushing her to the hospital right now. I wanted to call you so—”
“Emma, which one? W
hich hospital?”
She gave me the name and location. I knew it would be faster and easier if I took the train than drove and tried to navigate the streets of a city I was not familiar with. Trains ran between Cambridge and London all the time and if I could get to the train station right away, I could make it. I would buy whatever clothing I'd need when I got there.
“I'm on the way.”
“Alessandro, you should know...”
“What?” I yelled.
“She's asking for you. She hasn't stopped saying your name since we found her.”
“Fuck!” I shouted the word.
My father spoke Italian, and Gabriele cried.
“I'm coming. Tell her I'm coming, Emma.”
“Hurry.”
The call ended. Then I told my father, “You have to drive me to London. Right now. I don't have time to spare.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Piper
Time didn't exist in my haze of brutality. Ironically, when I'd finally stopped laughing, he didn't hit me as I'd expected. Instead, he shoved a pillowcase over my head, plunging me into darkness. My limbs were twisted in awkward angles as he jerked me into different positions, binding my wrists and ankles tighter, making any sort of movement extremely painful and, therefore, impossible. Then his footsteps receded into the distance. I'd expected him to return at any moment, but he didn't. I tugged and pulled on the restraints with no luck. The freezing temperatures seeped into my bones as I lay on the ice cold floor. I shivered uncontrollably and thought of the possibility of hypothermia. But the throbbing pain in my skull, ribs, abdomen, and lower back made me forget about the cold.
Eventually, I dozed but awakened to him dragging me across the floor by my hair through the pillowcase. My mouth was so dry I could hardly open it or swallow.
“Are you ready to have some fun?” he asked.
He yanked my jacket off as far as my restrained arms allowed and then ripped my sweater down the middle. The frosty air hitting my bare chilled skin had me shivering again.
“You thought it was funny yesterday, didn't you? What you did to me?”
“I...” My mouth and throat were so parched, the words wouldn't come.
“Yeah, that's right. We'll see how funny you think it is now.”
One fierce kick to my side forced a grunt of pain from me.
My head was still covered, so I had no idea what was coming next, escalating my fear a hundredfold. And then I felt something even colder than the air against the skin on my chest.
“How about I carve my initials in your pretty skin? Would you like that?” he breathed into my ear.
I shook my head. “No,” I rasped.
“You didn't think much of what you were doing to me so I consider this part repayment.” He jerked my head back. “You know, an eye for an eye.”
Oh, God, please don't let him cut out my eyes.
The pressure of the blade he held against me increased. It didn't exactly hurt, but then again, I was in so much pain from the other injuries, maybe that was why. Or maybe it was shock. The blood felt like warm water trickling down my ice cold skin, running between my breasts. With that thought, my bra snapped, and my breasts were exposed to the frigid air. His blade, or whatever he was using, touched me directly on my breastbone.
“Maybe I'll just write my whole name here.” He scraped the knife point from between my breasts down to my abdomen and began making a pattern in what I imagined was his name. At one point he stopped and then undid my jeans. “Or maybe I'll just brand you down here, sort of like you did me. Would you like that?”
My arms were still bound behind me and every time he did anything to me, pain shot up my limbs. Inhaling a full breath was impossible, because my ribs ached along with everything else.
“Are you going to rape me?” I managed to eke out. I don't even know why I asked this. Maybe because I was stalling him, delaying the final act of death. That was the inevitable after all, wasn't it?
“Wouldn't you like to know?”
By this time, I wanted him to get it over with. Emma and DCI Thornton had told me he only raped and didn't murder, but I was sure that wasn't true for me. He tugged my jeans down to my ankles and stopped.
I quivered uncontrollably, but now it was mainly fear that was the cause. All of a sudden, the pillowcase that covered my head disappeared and the dim light was blinding. I blinked several times to adjust to it. When I was able to focus, he stood above me glaring. A bottle of water was forced into my mouth. I drank greedily, but much of it spilled out due to my swollen lips. I wasn't able to put them around the opening.
“Damn, your face is a fucking mess.” He laughed, enjoying the sight.
I glanced down at my torso. I was covered in lines that oozed blood. He'd drawn a series of M's all over me, from my chest to my hips.
“Isn't it lovely? Now you'll always remember me, just as I will you.”
He knelt next to me and did the same to my thighs. I was terrified where he'd use the knife next.
“Please stop. I'll do anything you want.” The words were hardly recognizable.
“What?”
“Stop.”
“And why should I do that?”
I swallowed and licked my lips. “I'll do whatever you ask.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “A little late for that, don't you think?” He tapped my lips. “These are useless to me.”
Then he spread my thighs and when I thought the worst would happen with the knife, he dropped it. This was when he unzipped his pants and straddled me. A limp and shriveled dick flopped out into his hand. He tried to get himself hard, but it didn't do any good.
“This is your fault. Your fucking fault!” He got to his feet, his dick lolling around like a lifeless fish. Then he aimed his boot at me and delivered several more kicks to my thigh and side.
Next, he picked up the knife and brandished it. “I should carve you up into tiny pieces and toss you into the Thames.” He finally stuffed his pathetic dick inside and zipped up his pants. I didn't utter a word but watched him walk away. He slammed the door when he left. It was jarring.
I was surprised he didn't kill me then. I was left in the biting temperature without my jacket on, and I needed to squirm my way back into it. It took every ounce of strength I had left to do it. And then there were my pants. With my hands bound, I couldn't get to them. It didn't matter. I had soiled them anyway. If someone didn't find me soon, I wouldn't last much longer. He'd mentioned the Thames. I was in London and any hopes of being found plummeted. How would they ever trace me here? He'd thrown my phone away. Or I assumed he had since it wasn't on me anymore. I had no idea of how long I'd been gone. He’d drugged me, but I don't know how long I’d been unconscious. Hours, a day? And then I'd hit my head in the back of the van and had blacked out again. Had he taken me somewhere first before this place?
The more I thought about it, the more my head pounded. He hadn't put the covering over my head, so I inspected my surroundings. Perhaps there was a sharp object somewhere in here and I could scoot over to it and cut off my bindings. The room was large and vacant. Maybe a warehouse? There was a door at the opposite end and some small windows with frosted glass, but they were too high to break with my feet. Would I be able to stand if I got close to a wall?
I pushed my body, using my feet. Each time I did, jolts of pain shot through my back where he'd kicked me. He must've broken something. Ribs? I hoped it wasn't a spinal injury because doing this may be worsening it. But it was either this or die. Not much of a choice here.
It must've taken hours because when I reached the wall with the windows, it was dark, and I was exhausted. My reserves were gone. There wasn't much left in me to try and stand. But if I didn't, he would come back and find me here, so I had to take a stab at it. My wrists were raw from tugging and twisting. With my arms behind me, rolling to my stomach and using my knees seemed the best option. I hoped I didn't get stuck, but that's what I did. I was on my side and
pulled my knees to my chest, but then I couldn't roll onto my stomach. Rolling to my belly, I figured out how to get my knees pulled in. If I wasn't so weary, it would've been easier. Then I thought about Alessandro and Gabriele, my family and how they'd all be worried about me.
With one giant heave, I shoved myself and ended up kneeling. Dizziness engulfed me in waves and I prayed I’d keep my balance when I stood. To be safe, I made sure the wall was right there in case I wobbled too much. As I rolled back to my feet, my strength wavered and slipped away. It took another try before I succeeded. Having the wall there helped stabilize me. Now to come up with a way to get my hands free. Using the window had been a good idea at the time, but now I was here, there wasn't a way for me to get my hands close.
What about using my head? Would it reach and if so, could it break the window? I sized it and it was a possibility. My jacket had a hood which would protect me. Or I hoped, anyway. My head throbbed already, what was one more bump? This one was a potential lifesaver.
Getting the hood to cooperate was another thing. I bounced, jerked, and twisted until it fell back onto my head. Then I jumped against the window. The first few times weren't hard enough to break it. But I finally achieved my goal, only to come back with no glass shards.
The window had spider-webbed, the pieces falling outward with the force of the impact. I screamed in frustration. Not wanting to sit, in case there was a remote chance I could do it again, I rested against the wall. One more chance. I had it in me. If the edge of my hood would catch one of the sharp edges, maybe I could pull it toward me. How would I get it there? It was higher than where I stood.
“Help me! Help! Somebody please.”
What if he left the door unlocked, not thinking I'd be able to get there? I'd risk everything by hopping over there to check. Once I got there, if it was locked, I'd never make it back.