“Here, get comfortable with it,” Ryan said as he held the pistol over the center of the table.
Meghan reached for the pistol and looked into Ryan’s eyes. He blinked his eyes and exhaled slowly as he held the pistol delicately over the table and waited. As she gripped the barrel and took the weight off the pistol from his hands, he smiled a soft smile.
Meghan looked down at the barrel of the pistol and pressed the magazine release, removing the magazine of cartridges from the pistol. After verifying that it was fully loaded with ammunition, she pressed the magazine back into the bottom of the grip frame and locked it into place. Carefully, she slid the slide of the pistol rearward and confirmed that a round was in the chamber. After releasing the slide and allowing it to close completely, she cocked the hammer and pressed the safety into place.
As Meghan carefully placed the cocked and loaded pistol onto the table, she looked up at Ryan. A slow nod of acceptance from Ryan confirmed her thoughts of his belief of her trustworthiness. She smiled in return.
“What? Did you think I was going to shoot you instead?” Meghan asked as she placed her hands in her lap and sat forward in the chair.
“Had I believed for one moment that you were capable of harming me,” Ryan leaned forward onto the table, pressing his forearms onto the edge.
“I would not have given you this option. I merely would have retrieved the pistol, shot you, and shot Elena,” Ryan inhaled slowly and pursed his lips as he finished the sentence.
Meghan pressed her palms onto the edge of the table and pushed her chair back onto the rear legs as she straightened her forearms. As she balanced on the rear legs of the chair, she smiled. She admired Ryan’s dress, and his handsome looks. She smiled and attempted to determine just how she felt about all of what was being requested of her.
She was relaxed. As she realized her degree of comfort, she began to become worried.
“I don’t know if I really realize that this is actually going to happen,” Meghan looked up at the ceiling as she spoke.
“It must happen. I suspect we should get down to the details. I will, of course, open the door. As soon as the door opens, be prepared. The first opportunity you have Meghan, shoot. And Meghan, shoot to kill her. I am not interested in watching you shoot her countless times. Or to listen to it. I suspect that the noise will be unnerving in that concrete room. It’s a good thing I live in a rural area. Oh, and the entire room is concrete, so don’t miss her and hit a wall for goodness sake. We’ll have a ricochet that could cause damage to us all,” Ryan tapped his index finger on his lip as he talked, his eyes focused on the center of the table.
Ryan looked up at Meghan and raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t worry, I won’t miss,” Meghan assured him as she dropped her chair back onto all four legs.
Leaning into the table, she laid her forearms onto the top and clasped her hands together, “What happens when this is over? After I shoot her? What happens then?”
“Well. Let us see. We’ll get rid of the…” Ryan was in mid-sentence when Meghan interrupted him.
“We?” The thought of handling the dead bodies sickened Meghan.
For now, at least, she considered shooting Elena as something that she had to do. Surviving. If she wanted to get home to see her daughter, to find her daughter, to begin living life again, she must kill Elena. Handling the body, in her opinion, was something she was not prepared to do.
“Yes, I will need assistance with the bodies,” Ryan nodded his head as he finished speaking.
“Get someone else to help you,” Meghan pushed herself from the table and looked down at the pistol.
“Pardon me?” Ryan asked, shocked that Meghan would refuse to assist him.
“That’s the difference between agreeing to do this and not being involved. I will not mess with the bodies. I can’t and you can’t expect me to. It becomes too personal. I was in that room with those women. I was reasoning with them, planning, plotting to try to…” Meghan thought of what she was preparing to say and stopped speaking.
“Yes, I suspect you were,” Ryan admitted as he leaned back in the back of his chair.
“Well, fair enough. First things first, I suppose. Do you suspect you’re ready?” Ryan asked.
Meghan nodded her head and stood from the table. As she reached down and picked up the pistol, Ryan watched intently. Meghan blinked her eyes, and looked at the pistol curiously. Although she considered it, and felt she should, she didn’t say a prayer. She turned toward the door and walked out into the basement and to the doorway, not looking to see if Ryan followed.
Ryan stood from his chair and walked toward the door of the room. As he reached the door, he inhaled a slow breath and stepped through the threshold. As he noticed Meghan standing at the door of the secured room, he exhaled. He stepped to the doorway, raised his right finger to his lips, and adjusted his jacket with his left hand. Feeling an odd level of comfort toward Meghan, he slowly nodded his head and raised his eyebrows on question.
Meghan nodded her head in reassurance and released the safety of the pistol. As she stepped away from the door, straightened her forearm, and took a defensive stance with the pistol, Ryan raised his left hand to the pad beside the door.
The door lock mechanism clicked, and Ryan took a slow breath.
Meghan stared at the door and waited as Ryan’s began to press against it with both hands. As the door swung open she looked down the barrel of the pistol and held her breath.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AN ANGEL COMES.
NINETEEN. Elena held her knees close to her chest and rocked back and forth on the bench, her fingers intertwined as her hands continued to shake. After Ryan had opened the door earlier, moving Shellie’s body, Meghan could not stop staring at Shellie’s face.
Covering Shellie’s face with a towel had helped, but it did not relieve the guilt that Elena felt from taking the life of another living being. Filled with disbelief that she had reached a point in a moment of anger that allowed her to justify doing what she had done, Elena rocked back and forth on the bench and mumbled.
Twenty four hours prior, Elena was as far separated from God as she would have ever guessed possible. Now, on the bench, her mind was a flurry of emotion, thoughts, and feelings. Her focus had become God, and as she rocked back and forth, she continued to pray.
Elena prayed for forgiveness, she prayed for strength, she prayed for understanding, and she prayed for her daughter to live a healthy trouble free life. As she prayed for God to forgive her for what she had done, she heard a sharp metallic click.
Slowly, methodically, and without care, Elena continued to face the bathroom wall, rocking and praying. Out of the corner of her right eye, she saw the door move. Slowly, it swung open. As it did, she prayed to God to give her the strength to die in a manner that was acceptable to him. She begged for forgiveness, recalling that if asked, God would provide.
Elena’s elbows on her knees, and her knees on her chest, she rocked and prayed as she waited for her fate to become reality. Whatever Ryan would impose onto her, she would be able and willing to accept. Her mind had become deserving of the punishment that lay before her.
At the same instant of the room being filled with the deafening sound of the pistol being fired, the bullet struck Elena’s right side, below her armpit. The impact thrust her left side into the wall, and her body rotated to the right as she instinctively attempted to stand. Her legs incapable of supporting her weight, she faltered and looked up, uncertain of what happened.
As her lungs began to fill with blood, she blinked her eyes. The silhouette in the door appeared to be Meghan.
Coming to save her from this hell on earth.
An angel.
Her angel. Delivered from God to take her to the final resting place.
Meghan.
Elena closed her eyes as she waited for Meghan to lift her from the bench. One last apology to God was being mouthed silently as the second bullet entered
her chest. The .45 caliber bullet tore through her other lung and ripped through the muscles of her back before its travel was stopped by the concrete wall behind her.
As the smell of copper and cordite filled the room, Elena’s body slumped onto the bench. Blood dripped from her upper body, over the bench and onto the floor, pooling toward the center of the room. As the blood began to gather directly over the stain underneath the epoxy coating, the door closed.
And Elena’s heart beat one last time.
CHAPTER TWENTY
CAN PIGS FLY?
TWENTY. “Momma, pigs can’t fly, ever. Can they?” Amanda asked as she attempted to scoop the remaining few Cheerios from her bowl of cereal.
“No sweetie, not ever. Why do you ask such a silly question,” Meghan laughed as she responded.
“When you were sick, Gram said that. When pigs fly. But pigs can’t fly,” Amanda reached into her bowl with her hand and pinched the Cheerio with her fingers.
“Honey, use your spoon,” Meghan chuckled as she watched the milk drip down Amanda’s arm.
“They keep running from me, Momma,” Amanda responded as she poked a Cheerio into her mouth.
The three weeks that had passed since Ryan’s release of Meghan had gone by quite quickly. Two more days of school, and Meghan would have an entire summer of uninterrupted time to spend with her daughter. As she watched her daughter reach back into the bowl again, she held her complaint in reserve.
The police had questioned Meghan regarding her memory and recollection of the events. Her explanation of being bound, gagged, blindfolded, and placed into a room was welcomed with watchful eyes and wanting ears by the officers. She further explained that four days later she was blindfolded and released into the city at night. This was noted and unquestioned by the officers.
To date, the bodies of Elena and Shellie had not been recovered.
Meghan felt as if she emerged from the events of her capture a different person. She felt that she was much more understanding, willing to listen, and more capable of believing that as odd as it may seem, everything on this earth happens for a reason. She continued to tell herself the events that happened over the course of those four days were nothing more than a dream. The memories were tucked away with the memories of her childhood, in a place that was safe from the daily recollection that would cause them to haunt her.
Spending time with her daughter, as comforting as it was - caused Meghan to question her inner psyche - her mind’s subconscious thoughts. The fact that Meghan had not spent much time thinking of her daughter while she was in captivity bothered her. She struggled with acceptance of her actions while she was in captivity, trying to discern if her thoughts and actions were a defense mechanism, some form of survival skill, or simply denying if it was all real.
As Meghan spooned her last bite of yogurt into her mouth from the cup, she once again wished Ryan was available to talk to her. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, but was incapable of doing so. There was no doubt in Meghan’s mind that she loved her daughter, and for now that would have to suffice.
As the spoon circled the empty yogurt cup, Meghan’s mind wandered to thoughts of survival. The simple thoughts that she had struggled with, and the ones that came without even thinking at all. Life’s difficult decisions becoming simple and without thought. Survival, Meghan decided, was something that the human mind did without thinking. As she stopped thinking and watched the spoon circle the cup, she realized that it was log since empty.
Meghan looked up and focused on her daughter.
“Sweetie, are you finished?” she asked Amanda.
Amanda nodded her head, unaware of the thoughts that filled her mother’s mind. Her hands covered in milk, and her bowl free of Cheerios, her morning was complete and ready for what the day might bring.
“Momma?” Amanda asked from her chair at the table.
“Yes, sweetie,” Meghan responded, realizing she was still staring into the empty cup of yogurt.
“Gram said things die because their time on earth is over with, that’s what she said,” Amanda stated without emotion as she fished her fingers through the bowl of milk.
Surprised at Amanda’s recollection and recital of the statement, Meghan lowered her empty yogurt cup and focused on her daughter for a moment. She began to feel uncomfortable, and tried to decide if it was Amanda’s statement regarding death, death in general, or thoughts of Elena that caused the uneasy feelings that began to fill her.
“Baby, what was she talking about when she said that?” Meghan asked as he stood from the table.
“Chancey died, momma. He wasn’t at Gram’s when you were sick. He was gone. His bed was gone and so was his dishes. Gram said he died. His time on earth was over with,” Amanda slid out of her chair and onto the floor.
Meghan recalled her mother’s explanation of the death of her cat, Chancey. The cat was almost twenty years old, and had been a part of the family since Meghan was about ten years old. The cat died a few weeks before Meghan’s abduction, and she struggled even then with attempting to explain the death to her daughter. She reached over the table and picked up her daughter’s bowl, wondering what she might offer to make the thought of death easier for her daughter to understand.
“Well, baby,” Meghan walked to the sink, recalling the family cat sleeping in her bed when she was in middle school. The cat often provided Meghan comfort as it snuggled against her body to stay warm. Once, when Meghan was twelve years old, she had closed her door for privacy after a tough day at school. The young cat pressed against the door and meowed until Meghan let the cat enter her room.
Promptly, and without knowledge of Meghan’s hardship, the cat found its place on the bed. As it nestled against Meghan’s torso and began to purr, she smiled, realizing that the cat had no knowledge of her day at school. It provided unconditional love, regardless of the surroundings.
“Momma, are you crying because Chancy is dead?” Amanda asked as she stood beside Meghan, her hands raised high in the air.
As Meghan realized she was standing at the sink crying, she wiped the tears from her eyes and wondered.
“Yes, sweetie. Chancy was a good cat and a great friend,” Meghan dropped the bowl and yogurt cup into the sink and picked up her daughter.
“Sweetie, I suppose God decides. He decides when it’s time for things to go up to heaven and live with him,” Meghan answer came without thought or planning.
“Everything goes to heaven when it dies? Even Stephanie?” Amanda turned to her mother and placed her milk soaked hands onto her face.
Meghan, recalling the death of Amanda’s gold fish Stephanie, pondered her response. She smiled and opted for the easy response, and as she did, she wondered exactly who did decide and how.
“Yes, sweetie. All things go to heaven,” Meghan paused and swallowed the small lump that rose in her throat.
“Even Stephanie.”
CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE
FUCK IT. YOU’RE GOING TO DIE ANYWAYS.
TWENTY - ONE. What little interaction that Ryan had with Meghan allowed him, for the first time in his life, to feel. Now, filled with emotion, Ryan felt a certain depth within him that he had not for his entire adult life. He felt as if his life had purpose. He now knew why people developed a love for a person that they were not bound to by the ties of family or blood. Ryan felt, although she was no longer in his presence, that Meghan had become part of his life.
A week prior, after a thorough survey of the land that surrounded the home, Ryan was certain that his plan could work. The home was positioned approximately two miles into the rural area that surrounded the city. The ten acres of land that surrounded the home allowed access from the front through the driveway that led to the house. The rear of the property was primarily pasture land surrounded by a fence with two gates that allowed access into the fenced acreage. A small pond was centered in the ten acre pasture.
Now sitting in his vehicle in the driveway, Ryan inhaled through his n
ose. A slow deep breath allowed a calmness to wash over him and provided him with assurance that he would be able to proceed.
Dressed in Khaki pants, a pressed khaki shirt, and boots, Ryan turned his head and looked around the rural area that surrounded the front of the home. There wasn’t another house within half a mile of the residence. It would be difficult, he assured himself, for anyone to hear or see what was about to happen.
Slowly, he inhaled another breath through his nose and grabbed the door handle of the stolen van. As he exhaled slowly through his mouth, he pulled the handle and stepped from the van into the driveway. After double-checking the placement of his photo identification clipped to the light jacket he was wearing, he methodically walked up the drive toward the front door of the residence.
Standing at the front door, Ryan inhaled another slow breath through his nose. As he held his breath, he pressed the button for the doorbell affixed beside the frame of the door. As he waited for the resident to answer the door, he exhaled and listened for any sign of movement in the home. After thirty seconds, he knocked on the door three times sharply.
As he heard the bolt in the door lock turning, Ryan began to feel relief. Planning any type of event and not being able to execute the plan never settled very well with him. As the door opened, Ryan looked up into the eyes of the resident and spoke clearly and with precision.
“Sir, I’m Blake Johnson with The Gas Service Company. Our systems have indicated a leak of forty-two cubic feet per hour at this residence. Although we are uncertain of the exact leak location, we’re quite certain that it is coming from this residence,” Ryan motioned to each side of the front of the residence as he spoke.
“I’ll need to ask your permission to enter the residence and attempt to locate and repair the leak,” Ryan turned to face the man and looked into his eyes.
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