by Rowan Hanlon
But she tried, of course. She tried yanking at the chains to free herself. She tried digging a hole at the bottom of the barn, but the ground was so hard, she gave up after a few tries. Besides, what good would a hole do if she was chained up? She could see no way to free herself from those chains.
But one day, she heard a noise. She stopped moving and listened. Then she noticed the music wasn’t playing. She shook her head, wondering when it had stopped and why she hadn’t noticed it. She thought for a good, hard second that she’d lost her mind and that the sound she’d heard was only in her mind, perhaps replacing the sound of the music she’d grown so accustomed to. But there it was again. It was the sound of a vehicle, maybe a truck. Was it him? She didn’t even know how he got there, as the music usually played relentlessly. He’d just open the barn door and enter. Oh, God, what if it was him?
Her entire being seized up at the thought of him and she wanted to claw her way through the wood and escape. She couldn’t take one more second of this. And it was so hot in the barn now, as summer had returned. She felt smothered by the heat.
But then she heard the grinding sound of the gears shifting on the vehicle just outside the barn, like it was on a hill and the vehicle was having trouble making it up. Was the barn on a hill? She didn’t know. She’d never been outside of the barn. All she knew about it was that she’d woken up in it after he’d taken her.
Clara’s heart beat rapidly and she sat up when she heard the vehicle pull up to the barn and stop. The engine cut off then a door opened, then another then both were slammed shut simultaneously. Then she heard the voices, the male voices and realized it wasn’t him. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him! It wasn’t him! It was someone else! Someone else was outside of the barn! It wasn’t him! She began to shake with excitement, so glad he wasn’t coming into the barn. But if it wasn’t him, who was it? Clara thought about that for a moment before she heard one of them speak.
“I tell you,” one of them said. “This is a damned good deal. This property has been abandoned a good ten years or more. You can get it for back taxes.”
“Might not even be worth that,” the other voice said. “Look at this barn! It’s falling down!”
“Eh, throw a few two-by-fours on it here and there and she’ll be as good as new.”
“I think it might need more than a few,” he said.
“Well, whatever,” the other muttered.
Clara heard them at the barn door and stared in that general direction. Because of the way she was chained, she couldn’t stand up all the way, but she tried and managed to peer just over the top of the gate of the pen. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest but she didn’t feel scared. Maybe she’d passed that point when she realized it wasn’t her abductor entering the barn. She looked at the barn door with expectation, perhaps even thinking she was having a hallucination.
The door was slung open and two men around her father’s age, both in caps and work boots, walked in, looked around and stopped in the middle of the barn. Then one of them turned to her and his eyes widened.
“What the hell is that?” he asked and sprinted over to her. When he saw the state she was in, his mouth dropped, then he shook his head. “Hey! That’s that girl that went missing! That’s her! I know that’s her! Right there!”
The other one came right up behind him, saw Clara and his face dropped all emotion, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Clara’s eyes fell to the ground and she felt ashamed of herself for a moment because she knew she looked and smelled awful. But then she did the only thing she knew how to do. Still not looking up, she said very softly, “My name is Clara Maye Simmons. I am married. I am thirty-four years old now. I live in Nashville, Tennessee. My husband’s name…” She couldn’t finish. All she could do was break down into sobs, feeling for the first time in her life what it felt like to be finally rescued.
* * * * *
The men called the police and within twenty minutes, they reached the barn. And they immediately began looking for her abductor. They had search and rescue dogs scour the area but they never found him. He was gone. Clara had a feeling that’s the way it would play out all along. He wouldn’t be found. He wouldn’t be punished.
Even so, she was lucid as they unchained her, took her from the barn and put her in the ambulance. The female medic held her hand on the ride to the hospital and told her she was so glad they’d found her.
“Me and my husband have watched the news every day for word on you,” she said. “We’ve been praying, too.”
“Thank you,” Clara said softly.
“Everybody was so worried,” she said and smiled gently at her. “You were just so pretty, those pictures they showed of you. And your parents were always on the TV begging people to help find you. And lots did. If people had known about the barn, they would have looking in it. I guess no one knew. It’s so far off the beaten path.”
Clara listened to her but didn’t participate much in the conversation. She was so traumatized she couldn’t even think straight. But when her head cleared, all she could think about was Ray and how badly she missed him. He would make everything alright. He’d hold her hand, he’d give her time. He was her man, her best friend and she ached to be in his arms again, all safe and sound.
But that would have to wait. Once she arrived at the hospital, a team of about eight medical professionals descended on her, wheeling her into the intensive care unit and they began to fix her. She was out for most of it, but her broken arm—which he’d grabbed hard to jerk her up one day—was set in a cast. Her face was sewn up where he’d sliced her cheek before threatening to cut off her lips because she refused to speak to him. The bumps and bruises were attended to. She had several x-rays, too.
They did such a thorough job on her, she didn’t even get to see her family until two days later. Once they were let into her room, a mob of them came in with flowers and balloons. Her mother was sobbing, her father was wiping at his eyes and her sister couldn’t stop babbling about how much she’d missed her. She kept looking around for her husband but couldn’t see him.
Finally, she was able to say, “Where’s Ray?” She smiled when she said his name, not being about to contain her excitement at the thought of him.
Her mother, who had been by her side on the hospital bed the entire time, patted her arm once then looked at her father, who looked away. Her brother stepped up and started to speak, then silenced himself. Clara looked around the room at everyone, then back at her mother.
“Mom?” she said. “Where’s Ray?”
Her mother got up off the bed, turning her back on her, then she turned around abruptly and said, “Well, honey, Ray… Um… He…” She stopped talking and seemed to get very frustrated. “For God’s sake! Someone tell her! I can’t.”
“Tell me what?” Clara asked, feeling very confused.
Her father came to the foot of the bed and laid a hand on her ankle. He stared her in the eye and said, “He’s dead, Clara.”
She stared at him, disbelieving, thinking this was joke, that it wasn’t real. “But I survived for him,” she said. “Knowing that I would be back with him made me… It made me survive. Am I even supposed to be here?”
“Of course, you are,” her mother said and sat down beside her again.
“That man who took you killed him,” her brother said. “He hit him hard with a bat.”
Clara’s head began to shake involuntarily. She couldn’t stop it. And then, out of nowhere, a deep-seated howl of rage and despair erupted from her. It was so forceful she almost passed out. Her head swam and her body shook and she balled her hands into fists, shaking them. She couldn’t stop howling. Her mother took her head in her arms to comfort her but she pushed her away and fell to the bed, sobbing such an intense sob that the nurse came in, told everyone to “Get the hell out of here!” and immediately sedated her.
She woke up three days later. A widow.
Average Monster
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br /> Hadley Cowan had no alternative but to let the two women into her house in Key West. Well, she did. She could have told them no, to go away, to leave her alone. But something wouldn’t let her. Something told her to trust that they were who they said they were and so she unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Sloan entered first. “Well, it’s about time,” she said and gave Hadley a slightly hard look. She held out her hand. “I’m Sloan Mitchell, like I said.”
Hadley shook her hand just as the blonde stuck out hers. “I’m Clara Simmons,” she said.
Hadley shook her hand and said feebly, “Nice to meet you,” then pulled her hand back and slide it into the pocket of her shorts. She felt the little knife in her pocket, the one Huck had given her, the one she always carried, even to the grocery store, even to clothing shops, even to restaurants. It was always there for her. He’d given it to her after a bad episode once she’d left the hospital. He’d told her it wasn’t much, but it might make her feel a little more in control. And it did. It was more of a token than anything, the knife, and had become, more or less, a good luck charm.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Clara said and smiled at her.
As soon as they entered, and Hadley had shut the front door, she suddenly began to shake, something she did often and without warning. The doctor had told her it happened because of all the trauma she’d endured and, with time, it would pass. It hadn’t yet and she couldn’t control it. Sometimes, she was embarrassed by it, like when it happened when she and Huck were eating dinner at a nice restaurant. She was embarrassed now.
Clara noticed this and touched her arm. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.
Hadley nodded. “It’s just something I do from time to time.”
Sloan eyed her, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I had that, too,” she said. “It will pass. But it’s utter hell, isn’t it?”
Hadley nodded and muttered, “It is.”
“Can we sit down and talk?” Sloan asked.
Hadley pointed at the couch and they all took a seat. She stared at Clara and said, “I’m so sorry to hear that he took both of you.”
“Listen, we’re not here to dredge up the past or to lay anything on you,” she told her. “It’s just we knew he had you, too. We’ve been watching the news and keeping track of it. We were so glad you made it.”
“Two others didn’t,” Sloan said.
“Oh, my God,” Hadley said and felt the shaking increase a little. “He had two others?”
She nodded, then glanced at Clara. “Yeah, he did,” she said.
“But how do you know it was him?” Hadley asked her.
“Oh, I know him like the back of my fucking hand,” she said and looked around. “This is a really nice house.”
“Thanks,” Hadley said but didn’t offer further comment.
They sat around for a few, long moments and none of them spoke. It was like the elephant in the room all of a sudden disappeared and none of them could remember why they wanted to talk in the first place.
“Well, this is awkward, isn’t it?” Sloan said finally.
“It is,” Clara said. “I didn’t think it would be this awkward.” She turned to Hadley. “When Sloan found me, she just came right up to my front door, knocked on it and told me she was going to find him. And she wanted my help. And we went right into it, didn’t we?” She turned back to Sloan.
“We did,” Sloan replied. “That was a long time ago. That’s why we’re here to talk to you, Hadley. We need help and we’d like you to help us.”
“They couldn’t find him,” Hadley said. “And I don’t really remember anything. I mean, I do, of course, but I’ve blocked a lot of it out.”
“Right, of course,” Clara said, nodding.
“What’s it been?” Sloan asked. “About a year? Since he took you?”
“Yeah, there or about,” Hadley replied, then waved her hand towards the kitchen. “Would either of you like something to drink?”
“A beer would be superb,” Sloan said.
“I wouldn’t mind one, myself,” Clara said. “If you don’t mind…” She paused, staring into the kitchen. “And where is your boyfriend?”
“How do you know I have a boyfriend?” Hadley asked. “And how did you know I was here? In Key West?”
“We just know things,” Sloan said. “We’re focused on finding this guy so we find things out and we know things. Sorry if it seems intrusive.”
“It does, a little,” Hadley said.
“Actually, most of this was on the news,” Clara said.
“Oh, it just seems odd complete strangers know things about me like that,” Hadley said.
“And we’re sorry for that,” Clara said and gave her a small smile. “Your boyfriend? Where is he?”
“I asked him to give me some time,” she said. “He went for lunch.”
Sloan nodded. “And what is his name?”
“Huck,” she said. “Huck Harding.”
“Cool name,” she said. “And he’s English, am I right?”
“You are correct,” Hadley said, starting to like both of them, though she didn’t really know why.
“How about that beer?” Clara asked and smiled.
Hadley nodded and got up, going into the kitchen and retrieved three beers from the refrigerator. Though she was still shaking, she managed to uncap them with a bottle opener then took them by the neck into the living room. As she handed each of them a beer, she held them tightly so none of the beer spilled out. Sloan eyed her.
“You’re like a waitress or something,” she said and took a sip of her beer.
“I waited tables all through college,” she told her, wishing the shaking would stop. She was getting very embarrassed by it.
“Cool,” Sloan said. “And what do you do? I mean, before all this happened? You were in hotel management?”
Hadley nodded and sat back down on the couch. “I was. For years. I really enjoyed my job but I don’t ever see myself ever going back to it.”
Clara and Sloan nodded at the same time that they understood.
“What do you two do?” Hadley asked them and took a sip of the beer, gripping the bottle tightly as she did so. Once she took a drink, she liked the way it tasted as it was cold and foamy in her mouth.
“I hunt serial killers,” Clara said. “Well, one specifically.”
Hadley nodded slightly then said, “So, what makes you think my abductor was also yours?”
“Let me guess,” Sloan said. “Black fucking hoodie, overly confident asshole, always wore a mask over the lower part of his face, right? Oh, and a dilapidated building? Some old dump that the world has forgotten about?”
“That about covers it,” Hadley muttered.
“It’s him,” Sloan said confidently.
“Also,” Clara said and gave Sloan a sideways glance. “He tends to stay in the shadows. There’s nothing really flashy about him. He’s just this average… Monster.”
Hadley nodded.
“Listen,” Clara continued. “I didn’t know him and she didn’t know him either. Did you know him?”
“He said my name right before he took me,” Hadley said.
They stared at her, then turned to one another, then back to her. Sloan asked, “So, he called you by name right when he took you?”
“He did,” Hadley said and felt a sharp pain go through her head. She moaned a little and rubbed it.
Clara stared at her, then turned to Sloan. “I don’t think she’s ready for this, Sloan.”
“Are you not?” Sloan asked. “I mean, if you’re not, it’s cool. I guess we should have given her some more time.”
“We should have,” Clara agreed.
Hadley stared at them and wondered if what they were saying was true. Was she ready for this or was she not? Did she need more time? And how much time did she need? She didn’t know.
“It’s fine, Hadley,” Clara said. “I me
an, if you don’t want to talk to us. If you want, we will stay. But if not, we can leave.” She turned to Sloan. “It’s only been about a year, Sloan.” She stood to leave, then turned to Hadley. “We thought that would be enough time for you. I don’t think it is.”
“No, no!” Hadley said and stood herself. “Sit! Sit! I want to talk!”
“Clara’s right, though,” Sloan said. “You might not be ready. This will be intense.”
Hadley thought about that, thought about the conversation she’d had with Huck earlier. She wondered each and every day when it ended, when all the pain and suffering was just a distant memory of something that had happened to her. She didn’t know for sure, but she had a feeling that these two women might be able to help her get over all this. And she wanted to. She hated being like she was, the nervous wreck, fearful of letting her boyfriend out of her sight, afraid to go out alone. If nothing else, talking with others who’d been through what she’d been through might help her cross some of the bad emotions off the list of crazy she’d been compiling since she’d been taken. And, really, she didn’t see what it could hurt.
“I’m ready,” Hadley told them.
They studied her without speaking.
“I’m serious,” she said. “I am ready. I am ready to get over this, to move on.”
“It won’t be that simple,” Sloan said. “And it could be detrimental to your progress.”
“I have to try,” Hadley said. “I want to try.”
“We just don’t want you to have a backset,” Clara said.
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Hadley said quietly. “I can’t seem to move forward at all.”