Into the Night

by Marin Montgomery

  “Max,” I whisper, “she could totally be in trouble.” I try not to raise my voice, the baby pausing mid-bounce.

  Max stares out in the dark. “Surely she will call if she’s worried.”

  “I don’t have a good feeling…” My voice trails off. “If she’s trying to save another girl, I’m worried she’d put herself in harm’s way.”

  Mark. He’s the best one to help. He did say he was watching her. I reach in my pocket for my cell, dialing him, desperately waiting as each ring drones on with no answer.

  I hit re-dial, the shrill rings startling the baby. Moving the phone to my other ear, I’m impatient as voicemail picks up again.

  “I’m calling 9-1-1,” Max mouths at me.

  Trying once more, Mark picks up, breathless.

  “Where’s Bristol?”

  “She was going to coffee...what’s wrong?”

  “He’s got her...” That’s all I manage to say before the line goes dead.

  “Shit,” I mumble. His phone must have died.

  Max paces the room, talking to Dispatch, halting to glance in my direction. “Can you watch the baby?” He’s frantic. “We can’t lose her again.”

  As much as I want to scream at him to let me go, let me find her, I know that both of us searching isn’t going to find her any quicker. He lives here and knows the area, I don’t.

  Someone needs to stay at the house, watch the baby, stay by the phone.

  “Maybe we can track location services?” I hear him say into the receiver. He’s throwing on a leather jacket and grabbing his keys at the same time when there’s a squeal of tires outside.

  It’s a black sports car with tinted windows. We both peer out as the horn beeps. Max eyes the car suspiciously, holding up a finger to me, the phone still in hand.

  Mark sticks his head out the window, honking again, baseball cap on, hands planted firmly on the wheel. “Let’s go,” he hollers, “move it.”

  “I’ll be back, lock the door.” Max thrusts the phone in my hand, running outside to hop in the Charger. The mailbox lifts off its stake and smashes to the ground as Mark wildly backs out.

  I hold my breath, unable to come to terms with the fact that my sister might be missing once again.

  47

  Bristol

  Will speeds down the freeway, going at least eighty-five. I try and make small talk. “Did you get married?” I ask.

  “Yeah, she’s a royal pain in the ass,” he moans. “Not unlike you and your sis.” He stares down at my feet, eyeballing my purse. “That’s gotta go, no need for a purse where we’re headed.” My stomach drops to the floor. I reach forward slowly with my trembling right hand, clawing at my handbag.

  “If I would’ve known David was going to keep you for himself, I should’ve asked to borrow you.” He gives me a snide look. “Don’t ever get married, it sucks.” Grinning, he goes, “But I guess you won’t have a chance. You might be the lucky one.”

  “Hand me your purse,” he instructs again, pointing to it. Reaching down, I purposely flip the purse over, lucky that it’s not clasped. Stalling, I nudge it with my foot so items start to scatter on the floor. “What about a picture of my son?”

  “Are you kidding me?” He frowns at the road. “All of it. Now.” Waiting until he’s distracted, swerving around another car, his eyes focused on a cop cruiser behind us, I make my move. Hunching over in the dark, I carefully slide my cell phone into the sling, where it’s hidden underneath my arm, guarded by the dark fabric. Sitting up, I pull my purse onto my lap, nonchalant as I watch him switch lanes.

  “What about money?” I ask as he yanks it out of my lap.

  “What about it?”

  “I’ll get you whatever you want, name the amount and my family will pay it. They just want me back.”

  “Then they would’ve done it before. David said he couldn’t get jack from your parents.”

  I decide to test David and Will’s partnership. “That’s not true.”

  He doesn’t take the bait, staring straight ahead.

  I continue. “I was there.”

  “Where?”

  “My parents gave him a sum of money.”

  “Bullshit, then he would’ve let you go.” He gives me a sideways glance. “Nice try.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have. He was just baiting them to get more.”

  “Nah, David wouldn’t take money without splitting it. He’s dumb, but not that dumb,”

  Will says. “I know where he lives, where he keeps the girls.”

  “I admire your morals.” I’m sarcastic. “Well, I heard the phone call. He made me get on

  so he could prove I was alive to them.” I shrug. “Why do you think I’m free?”

  Sneering, he clenches his fists tightly around the wheel. “Stop talking and shut up or

  you’ll regret it,” He waits until there’s a clearing in traffic before he rolls down his window, tossing my purse into the dark freeway behind us. I glance in the mirror, watching it fly through the air and land with a thud, hitting concrete as my items wait to be smacked by the oncoming vehicles.

  Exiting the freeway, he hangs a sharp right, barely slowing down for oncoming traffic. I grab the dash, clutching it with my fingers to hold on.

  The gravel drive he turns on winds up to a storage facility, a small house next door to it, the yellow paint peeling, one of the house numbers missing. One of the shutters hangs precariously by a corner. A slight breeze could send it crashing. Distraught, I look around the yard – at the junk cars and miscellaneous equipment scattered across the barren grass. My heart sinks. There are no street lamps, just a dim light next to the storage units, a glass front door locked until business tomorrow. A sign has a number to call for after-hours service or emergencies.

  Will screeches to a halt, gravel flying as he parks behind the building, a pond in the background, the moon shining over the murky water. Hands trembling, I’m sure there’s a graveyard on the property and bodies of the missing. I was so close to freedom, but now I’m back, Will the common denominator yet again.

  A steel door with no windows awaits us at the back entrance. His hand tugs on mine as he pulls me across the front seat and drags me out of the car. Rapping hard on the metal with his knuckles, he waits impatiently for someone to answer.

  The Mole a.k.a. David.

  Blue eyes, sandy hair, orphan, loner, a bona fide murderer and sociopath.

  He smiles longingly when he sees me, the yellow tooth peering out.

  Clapping his hands, he opens the door wide, welcoming us to hell.

  Will pushes me towards the concrete steps leading down to a basement. The hallway, still nothing but pitch-black darkness, terrifies me.

  “You already know where to go,” The Mole murmurs, holding his flashlight, the beam illuminating the dingy cement floor.

  “Where’s Bridget?” I shriek, my fist hitting him in the face.

  “Whoa, that’s enough.” Will picks me up from behind, my legs kicking out, as The Mole slaps me across the face, then carries them like a wheelbarrow from behind.

  When The Mole pushes the door to the room open, I shudder, my body rejecting this place once more. He pulls the string on the light bulb, and my eyes automatically dart to the bed. Bridget isn’t asleep on the mattress but crumpled on the floor, half-naked, wearing a ripped and dirty blue nightgown that’s around her waist.

  Will suddenly lets go of me, dropping me to the floor. I rush to her side, kneeling down to touch her face. Even in the dark, I can tell her eyelids are purple and mottled, hair hanging past her shoulders, stringy and unwashed.

  She’s barely conscious. Her eyes flicker in recognition as I grasp her hand. The nails are chewed up, burn marks on her wrists, welts trailing down her buttocks and legs.

  “That’s enough,” The Mole says. “Get away from her. She’s mine.” He kicks her in the stomach as he stares at her frail body. “But really, she’s dead to me.” He turns to Will. “Get rid of her, just dump her
. She’s not worth it. She’s too much trouble.”

  “She has a rich family,” Will says. “Let’s at least get some money out of her. We can dump her after they pay us.”

  “Since when did you get so greedy?” The Mole asks. “If we contact them, it opens us up to being found or traced.”

  “It’s always worked for us,” Will admonishes. “This is a girl from a wealthy family and you don’t want to try? Something’s not right with that. Maybe you’ve had your own business transactions on the side? Possibly without me?”

  “What’re you trying to say?” The Mole’s tone is sharp. “Are you accusing me of lying?” He grabs Will by the collar, violently shaking him. Will’s muscular, but The Mole is the same height and his grip is lethal. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

  “Put me down.” Will moans, clutching his throat until he’s released. Will shoves him in return, screaming. “You’re an inbred freak that’s not fit for the public, trailer trash that’s meant to live in this dump forever.”

  Alarm bells go off in my head. I sneak a quick glance at the door. It’s not locked, Will came in after The Mole and didn’t slide it shut. My insides clench as I watch the two men argue. The Mole’s face is crimson, his eyes pop out of his head.

  This is my only shot. I have to make a run for it.

  Glancing once more at Bridget, then the men, I turn and sprint, my hands grasping the metal slider, pulling it with all my weight. The door moves creakily, lighter than I expected. It bounces to a stop as I push my way out.

  48

  Bristol

  The hallway’s dark and eerie. The sound of silence reminds me how alone I am down here. I remember the bathroom’s to the right, a dead end, the stairs in the opposite direction. I pound them two at a time, my breathing ragged as I grab the door that leads out of the back entrance, the metal one that’s my last barricade to freedom.

  Gripping the handle, I pull.

  It doesn’t budge.

  I push, then pull, frantic, the door already closed, a self-locking mechanism in place, blocking me from the outside.

  Sobs wrack my body as I keep pounding on the steel, knuckles turning bloody. My screams fill the air, feet kicking out to hit the door.

  Thrusting my fists with raw determination, a fear of being locked in the room again envelopes me. I take short stabs of breath, yelling at the top of my lungs.

  A hand reaches out, violently covering my mouth with a soaked rag, tepid breathing in my ear.

  The Mole.

  He’s yelling at Will to help him.

  My eyes wide, I try and strike him in the knees, his strength overpowering my still-underweight body. I’m not going down without a fight.

  “Don’t take her back to the room.” Will’s holding a cloth over his nose, red leaking through the thin cotton.

  “What do you suggest?” The Mole asks.

  “Bury them both.”

  “I’ll load her in my truck and you grab the other one,” The Mole instructs. “I’ll dump them now.” He pulls a metal key ring out, flipping through the keys until he finds the right one.

  Unlocking the door, he shoves it open with his boot. My head hits the edge as he carries me under his shoulder, my weight not enough to faze him.

  The truck’s parked in the gravel, mud and dust covering every square inch. The moon reflects off the rusted rims and faded coating.

  He doesn’t bother to open the passenger door, choosing to dump me in the bed of the pick-up.

  My eyes blur, lids flicker open and shut, drifting in and out of lucidness, my face pressed against the cool metal bottom. I think I hear Will’s voice, then feel Bridget’s body beside me. When I reach out to grasp her, there’s nothing but air. The tires crunch under gravel, speeding along as my head thunks against the hard bottom of the truck bed.

  My fingers try and grip the uneven surface, but I bounce and groan, head smacking as we hit a pothole. Rough hands reach out to grab me but I swat them away, wanting to remember my childhood as it swims in front of me, the life I left behind when I went missing.

  The sound of sirens shrills in the distance, far away, then closer. They seem to be moving in my direction, blaring as they come nearer.

  I want to cover my ears but I can’t, the nylon sling shredded but still awkward. Lying there, I have no idea for how long, my mind drifts in and out of reality and a dreamlike state. Memories seem to weave together, crisscrossed as they intersect with various points of my life.

  All I want is to just see her once more. Hearing my name called, I groan.

  “Bristol.”

  And again. “Bristol, wake up, it’s me, Max.” My cheeks feel a cool hand caressing them, my hair’s being stroked. I like this dream, I don’t want to wake up.

  Fighting it, I keep my eyes shut.

  “You have to wake up, Bristol. Your baby needs you, your sister needs you.” A quick intake of breath. “I need you.”

  “Max?” I moan, my lids fluttering. “Where’s Blair?”

  “At home with the baby, waiting for you.” He squeezes my hand. “Just like she’s always been, waiting patiently for you to come home.”

  When I open my eyes, I’m being loaded into an ambulance, a paramedic on either side of the stretcher. My hand clasps around his, tears pooling in both our eyes.

  I lift my head, noticing Mark on my other side, speaking to police officers, another stretcher holding Bridget a few feet away. She’s semi-conscious, and I lay back, relieved. The police are contacting her parents in Kansas to reunite them with their daughter.

  Later on at the hospital, a doctor’s examining me for further injuries, her hands poking and prodding at me behind the closed door.

  I hear a giggle, one I haven’t heard since I was a teenager.

  Straining, I wait to hear it again.

  Instantly, I’m transported back to the night we got ready together, before we knew what would happen later on that night, when we had all the time in the world.

  Gasping, I jump off the exam table, the doctor speaking to me, her words unimportant.

  Thrusting the door open, I cry out, “Blair!”

  She’s waiting for me, Max by her side.

  Our eyes lock, both filling with tears. Reaching out, she touches my skin, caressing her hand over my cheekbones, smoothing my hair, and then just as suddenly, pulls me into a hug, her arms wrapped gently around my neck.

  “Please don’t ever leave me again,” she whispers, her tears running down both of our faces.

  “I love you.”

  She squeezes my good arm. “I love you too.”

  “Thanks for never giving up on me.”

  Kissing my cheek, she murmurs, “I couldn’t, you’re the brat of the family.”

  We stand like this, holding each other, time standing still as people walk around us, curious stares at our reunion, a moment I never thought would come again.

  I hug my sister tight to my chest.

  When she stands back from me, smiling, she murmurs, “You have the most beautiful baby boy.”

  “You’ve met him?”

  “Better, I got to hold him. He’s with his old nurse right now. She said she helped deliver him.”

  Grinning, I kiss her cheek. “Can you believe you’re an aunt?”

  “I couldn’t be happier.”

  The look on Max’s face as he watches Blair and I is priceless. Managing only a nod, he gives me a dazzling smile over her shoulder as I watch him tear up.

  49

  Bristol

  I’m relieved I was found in 2008, not 1998, because technology saved my life. Since I had the phone Max gave me, the authorities were able to track the location services from the cell to Will’s vehicle. Lucky for me, I was able to conceal the phone in the sling, or I would’ve ended up with The Mole in unknown parts, this time dead.

  Both The Mole and Will are dead, murder-suicide, both in the pick-up during a high-speed chase with Bridget and I in the bed of the truck.

&nb
sp; As the police closed in on them, Will shot and killed The Mole as he drove, the truck crashing into a tree when the bullet reached its trajectory, hitting him in the shoulder and then the heart.

  Will turned the gun on himself, straight into his mouth, his death immediate. The keys to the storage complex were found in the glove box and the police were able to connect a web of murders that spanned over twenty years. The Mole acted alone for a long period of time, until he met Will Loomis at The Ocean Club.

  Will had a thing for drugging and raping girls until The Mole busted him, threatening to turn him in. That’s how they started to conspire together, both for their own selfish desires.

  The police searched the storage complex, the yellow house, and another outbuilding. The underground was really the basement of a four-level storage shed. The ‘room’ is a storage space in the bottom, complete with sound-proofed walls, ceiling, and floor, a perfect place to ensure no one heard his victims. The Mole lives in the yellow house next to the storage complex, where he grew up with his mother and twin sister until she died in the closet.

  A search of the property is grueling – besides the cemetery where his mother Jean and sister Marian are buried, there are three other unidentified sets of bones.

  Bridget is rescued in the nick of time. A head injury caused brain swelling, and she’s rushed to the hospital just in time, lying in a coma for a couple of weeks until she’s stabilized and able to breathe on her own.

  I stay in the hospital a week this time, the doctors and nurses floored that I’m not only back a second time, but this time as myself, a girl that’s been missing for a decade.

  After I tell my story to the police, I hear from other victims’ families. It’s surreal, being one of the only two to get away from The Mole and his sadistic years of kidnapping, rape, and murder.

  This all weighs on my shoulders, forcing me to deal with survivor’s guilt. Why did I live and they died? I ask myself that, but I have to believe that I saved not only mine, but Bridget’s life.