by Charly Cox
‘Come on out, kid, because you know I’m. Going. To. Find. You.’ He enunciated clearly, his voice reaching new levels of distress with each word. He swallowed back the roar building up in his chest. ‘It’ll be easier if you don’t make me hunt you down. I know you can’t be far; I know you can hear me.’ He stopped moving and listened.
‘I know these woods far better than you. You don’t know what kind of wild animals are out here. Nighttime’s a dangerous place to be outside in these mountains.’ No, he wasn’t just going to kill the kid slowly; he was going to cut his eyes out and record the whole thing so he could also send it to Alyssa for her viewing pleasure.
Bishop peeked around and in all the nearby bushes and rock outcroppings. He cursed again. How had this happened? How had he let this happen? And how had the boy been able to move that fast? He was sick and weak, which is why when he’d remembered he’d left the boy in the living room, he’d decided to leave him be. It had never occurred to him that the kid could’ve seen the code to the control panel.
Finally giving in to his building anger, he let out a roar that had small animals scampering away. He never looked up.
* * *
Isaac shivered, from cold, from fear, and from battling the constant need to vomit. He rubbed his hands up and down his goose-pimpled arms, trying to chafe warmth back into them. He wished he had something other than his torn excuse for a shirt.
Pobiv had been directly beneath him. Directly. Screaming that he would find him. And Isaac had held his breath, willing the bile that had erupted into his throat to stay there. When tears sprang to his eyes, he’d pressed his face into the bark, afraid a teardrop might fall and land on Pobiv causing him to look up and discover him wedged in a vee of the tree. When a gust of wind picked up, Isaac had taken the opportunity to release his breath and take another.
An eternity or two passed before Pobiv had moved on. Isaac noted which way the man had gone, and then briefly considered returning to the house. He could run inside, find a phone, and call for help, while his kidnapper was out searching for him in the opposite direction.
He vacillated back and forth before ultimately deciding he couldn’t risk it. There was no guarantee he could even find the place again. Besides, even if he could he had no idea where to tell his mom to go to come rescue him. And frankly he wasn’t brave enough to stay inside the house long enough for someone to try to triangulate the call, or whatever it was they did.
He had to be tough; it was better to risk the cold and wet and darkness until he reached a safe place – wherever that might be – than it was to return to the lair.
After counting to sixty ten times – making sure he said ‘Mississippi’ after each number – he’d cautiously climbed down from the tree, biting back a scream when his ankle twisted on an exposed root, and then he trudged on for what seemed like hours. When he’d gone as far as he could before fatigue and weakness ordered him to stop, he found a ledge he hoped would keep him hidden from predators – of the animal and human kind. And then he stared up at the moon and stars, wondering how much time had elapsed since his escape. All he knew was: it was cold, dark, and getting darker fast. And he was lost in the woods somewhere. Going downhill.
He leaned back against the rock ledge and closed his eyes for just a second, his breath wheezing in and out. The snap of a twig and falling rocks had his head snapping up. He didn’t move so much as a muscle, not even swatting away the mosquito buzzing around his ears, biting at him. There was a tickle below his nose, and he prayed he wouldn’t sneeze, giving away his position.
Another noise almost directly above the outcropping he was sheltered beneath had him stifling a cry. He pressed himself harder against the frosty stone, wishing it was malleable so he could hide inside it.
He sat, alone, terrified and chilled to the bone, biting his cheeks to stop his teeth from chattering.
When two deer bounded down from the ledge and stopped mere feet from him, he couldn’t hold in his frightened yelp. Both mule deer turned their heads and sniffed the air around them. He cocked his head, listening, trying to determine if something – or someone – had startled the animals. If Pobiv was nearby, they would’ve kept running, right?
He’d never realized until now how noisy the forest was. The wind blowing through the trees and the canyons sounded like cars passing by, so much so that he couldn’t help but hope he’d see a car each time a gust of wind picked up. Squirrels and birds flitting in and out of the trees forced loose pinecones to fall and caused his heart to either stop or speed up so much he was sure it would fly out of his chest. All kinds of critters scurried across the forest floor, and they all sounded like rifle blasts.
His legs shook uncontrollably from the cold, from exhaustion, from fear, but he forced himself up. He knew he couldn’t stay in this spot much longer, but he didn’t know which direction to go, and he had no idea what he’d do if he didn’t find help soon. Exhausted or not, he had to keep moving.
But he was weak, and he was afraid his rib was cracked where the man had kicked him, so it took several tries before he could finally stand without collapsing back down. His nose was running, and he suspected he had a fever again. Or still. And his ankle throbbed. He wanted to remove his sneakers to check it out, but he knew he’d never get his shoe back on if he did. He settled for wiggling his toes. Then, he forced one foot in front of the other, telling himself he could rest after fifteen steps, twenty. Thirty.
He sidestepped to the end of the little cliff and steeled himself for being back in the open again. Don’t think. Just go. He took a deep breath and hobbled as quickly as his legs and lungs allowed.
It was harder to see, so he tripped over rocks sticking up from the ground and fell over fallen logs. Each time, he pushed himself up again, urging himself to keep moving.
He brushed away silent tears as he ignored the branches slapping him, cutting his arms and face, and leaving scratches that would make any cat proud. The pull on his body assured him he was still heading down, and he pushed his battered body beyond the limit.
He was fantasizing about a hot bath, a large turkey with green chile sandwich, and an ice-cold soda when he tripped, sprawling face first into a sodden pile of leaves. His ankle twisted again, and he bit back a cry of pain. He tried to push himself up, but when he put pressure on his wrist, he tumbled back to the ground, having injured it by landing the wrong way on his arm when he reached out instinctively to capture his fall.
Lying face down on the ground, his ankle and now wrist throbbing, Isaac sobbed, unable to stop, even knowing the noise could lead Pobiv to him. He just wanted his mom! Was that so much to ask?
Get up right now and move. His mom’s voice came out of nowhere, and with his good hand, he used a nearby tree to help him to a sitting position. Every single cell in his body hurt like hell. He leaned against the tree, trying to convince himself to move when he heard it. He held his breath and listened.
Yes, there it was again. A car. Not the wind this time, but an honest to goodness car. That meant there had to be a road nearby. He stood, gingerly putting weight on his ankle, testing that it was only a sprain. Convinced it wasn’t broken, he shuffled as quickly as he could in the direction of the approaching car.
The darkness was so thick now that he could barely make out his hand in front of his face, but he kept moving. Inch by slow, painful inch, he trudged up a small incline where he recognized the car, a little louder now, was coming from his left side. He turned his head. Yes! Bright headlights were coming his way.
Still, Isaac was a fan of scary movies, so he hesitated a fraction of a second, knowing this could be a trick, that Pobiv could be cruising the mountainside, looking for his escapee.
He counted to ten before deciding the possible benefits outweighed the risks. He couldn’t sit out here all night. He needed help, and he needed it now. He had to take his chances.
Making up his mind, he made his way to the road. Just as he stepped to the shoulder, waving his arm
to flag down the car, the unmistakable sound of footsteps directly behind him caused his stomach to clench. Pobiv.
He ignored the agonizing pain in his ankle and everywhere else, and not allowing himself to think of all the things that could go wrong, Isaac raced into the middle of the road, jumping up and down despite the damage to his feet, not caring if he never ran track again, and waved his arms frantically. The car would either have to stop or run him down. He prayed the driver saw him and would stop to help, not just veer around him, thinking he was some type of lunatic.
A bouncing light shone through the trees, and an enraged shout came seconds before the car slammed on its brakes, barely avoiding hitting him.
The driver yelled out, ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
That was as much as he got out before Isaac was at the driver’s side, clutching the door with a death grip, yelling and crying. ‘You’ve got to help me. Hurry. I was kidnapped, and I escaped, and he’s after me. Hurry. Hurry. You have to help me. Please, please, please. He’s after me.’
‘Okay. Okay. Who’s after you?’ The man reached down to unlock the back door as Isaac was already grabbing for the handle. The lock released, and yanking open the door, Isaac fell inside, slamming the door and crying, ‘Go! Go! Go!’
Something crashed into the side of the car, and both occupants swiveled their heads to see a crazed man erupting out of the forest, throwing his flashlight. A crack appeared across the passenger window, and the driver, looking through the rearview mirror at the terror on Isaac’s face, hit the gas, rocketing the boy to safety.
From the backseat, Isaac watched his captor standing in the road, arms raised, shouting something into the air.
He’d done it. He was going home.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Friday, April 5, 11:00p.m.
‘Alyssa Wyatt?’
Alyssa stilled. ‘Yes. Who’s this?’
‘Ma’am, I think I have someone here who wants to speak with you. Just a second.’
There was a rustling sound and something else before another voice came on the line. Brock and Holly stared at her, eyes wide and hopeful.
‘Mom?’
The breath left her body in a whoosh, and her knees gave way when she heard the voice on the other end of the line.
‘Mom, are you there?’ His voice cracked. ‘Mom?’
‘Isaac! Where are you? What happened? Where are you?’ The detective in her disintegrated; in this moment, she was just a mom about to be reunited with her son. Brock and Holly crowded around her to try to listen in. Alyssa could’ve put him on speaker, but she didn’t want to move the phone away from her ear for fear he’d disappear again.
‘Can you come get me, Mom?’
The line was full of static, and only bits and pieces made it through. ‘Isaac! Where are you? I can barely hear you; you’re cutting out. Try to tell me where you are!’
Holly wiped her nose on her red sweater and covered her mouth with both hands. Alyssa placed a reassuring hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Brock stood quietly, but anxiously, his foot tapping. He had a notepad in hand, and Alyssa wondered when he’d grabbed it.
‘… at… on… just a sec…’
Was that road noise? Was he in a car? Alyssa heard Isaac say something to someone else, presumably the person who’d placed the call. He must’ve turned his head away from the speaker because his voice was distant and warbled. Panic reared its head again; if she couldn’t hear him, she’d lose him again. She had a tenuous hold on her nerves as it was.
‘Isaac? Are you still there? Isaac?’
When he came back on the line, she could hear him a little better. He sniffled, sending an ache through her heart.
‘I’m here, Mom. Can you come get me? I’m so scared.’ His words were whispered, almost inaudible. ‘He’s going to find me and take me again and I don’t want to go back I just want to come home so can you please please come get me now?’ Everything came out in a rush, in one long sentence.
Listening to her son’s voice shake through his fear, Alyssa’s detective skills kicked back in, strengthening her protective maternal instinct. She stood straighter. ‘Of course, baby. Of course, we’ll come get you. Just tell me where you are. Dad and I will come get you. And Holly. I need you to do something for me, okay? Can you do something for me?’
‘Y-y-yeah, okay.’
‘I know you’re scared, baby, and I’m going to come get you, but I need you to calm down so you can tell me where you are, okay? The person you’re with now, the one who called me – he’s safe, right?’
‘Yeah, he’s safe; he, he helped me.’
‘Okay, tell me where you are.’
Holly had her phone out, GPS navigation open, ready to type in whatever address Alyssa repeated. As it turned out, it was unnecessary because Isaac told her they were in a car heading to the police station located on Lomas Blvd.
She and Holly raced to the garage while Brock stopped long enough to grab the car keys. By the time he made it to the garage, Alyssa already had the garage door open and Holly had opened the driver’s side door for him, before sliding into the backseat. Seatbelts weren’t fully locked in before Brock shot out the open garage door, racing toward their son.
‘Mom? Don’t hang up, okay? Don’t hang up.’
Alyssa’s heart broke, hearing her son’s tormented cries. Whatever had happened, they would get past this, but first she had to get to her baby boy. ‘I won’t hang up. I’m right here. I’ll stay on the line until we get there, I promise.’
‘Okay. Hurry, Mom. Please hurry.’
Alyssa glanced at the tense look on her husband’s face as he drove, and she pressed the speaker button on her phone. ‘Baby, why didn’t you call me yourself instead of whoever’s driving?’ She hoped to distract him with the question, but she was also curious. And despite that fact that this person was helping her son, she was suspicious.
‘My hands were shaking too badly, and I kept misdialing.’
Alyssa died a little inside at the anguish in her son’s words.
‘We’re coming, buddy. Just hold on,’ Brock said, a tremor making his voice vibrate. He slammed the gas pedal down harder and accelerated well past the speed limit.
People were just going to have to get out of their way because there was absolutely no way in hell she was telling him to slow down. When he flashed his lights and ran a red light, she knew he was on the same page.
She turned her head when she heard Holly on her cell phone, talking to Cord. Holly raised her eyebrows to ask if she was doing the right thing, and Alyssa reached back to pat her daughter on the knee. She smiled, mouthing the words, ‘Good thinking, sweetie.’
Fifteen long minutes later, they squealed to a stop in front of the Lomas substation nestled just a few short blocks from the Sandia Mountain foothills. The front of the building was ablaze with light.
‘Isaac, baby, we’re here. We’re getting out of the car right now, and –’ That was as far as she got before the front door crashed open, and her son came stumbling down the steps, supported on both sides by two officers who seemed to be simultaneously assisting her son while keeping an eye on the perimeter, just in case. The phone was pressed to her ear, and she shoved it into her pocket as she ran to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as Isaac’s body crumbled into her own.
Holly cried, embracing her brother from behind. Then Brock wrapped his strong arms around all of them, cocooning them together.
Alyssa glanced up to see a tall, muscular man standing on the steps, along with several officers. The man appeared to be wiping a tear from his eye as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.
Not a minute later, Cord sped into the parking lot, tires squealing, screeching to a stop, and barely turning the engine off before jumping out and running to them.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Friday, April 5, 11:30p.m.
‘I shouldn’t have gone with him. I know he had a uniform, but I should’ve asked questio
ns. I should’ve known something was up when he told me to leave my phone.’ The tremor in Isaac’s voice twisted Alyssa’s insides as he apologized for the hundredth time. His family, along with Cord, surrounded him as he tried to give a detailed statement of everything he remembered.
Cord broke in this time, placing a comforting hand on Isaac’s shoulder. ‘Isaac, man, like your dad said, no one’s blaming you here. In fact, I would’ve done the exact same thing, right down to leaving my cell. You were worried about your mom, and that’s what was forefront in your mind. You need to let that go, so you can help us find this guy. Okay?’
Isaac’s head dropped forward, and Alyssa turned to one of the officers. ‘Can we get him a blanket, please?’ She asked as though it were a question, but she knew it sounded more like a demand. When one of the cops returned with a heavy wool blanket, she thanked her. ‘Go on, sweetie,’ she encouraged him as he gripped her hand. Since they’d walked into the police station, he hadn’t let go… not that she would’ve let him. The only exception was when the police had pulled him into one of their conference rooms so they could photograph his injuries.
Alyssa’s jaw had clenched, and her muscles had tightened as each cut, scrape, and bruise was revealed, and the blood roaring through her ears made it difficult to concentrate on what was being said. It wasn’t until Brock grabbed one of her hands that she realized she’d been squeezing her fists so tightly that her fingernails had left bloody, crescent-shaped marks all over her palm.