Her tan was without line or break, and looked real instead of the result of a tanning bed, and Rothman wondered where and how she maintained it.
Her nails, on both her hands and feet, appeared manicured and were painted a bright green. Her lustrous red hair was tied back in a ponytail and Rothman reached down and freed it from the elasticized fabric ring that bound it, and as he did so, Swan shook her head from side to side.
She had made the motion to avoid his touch, but the action resulted in her hair billowing out around her sensually and made her appear even more desirable to Rothman.
He looked down at her face and took note of the scattering of freckles that littered her delicate nose and faded at the edge of her full, pouty lips. When, at last, he reached her face and gazed into her terrified blue eyes, he smiled, and climbed up onto the bed.
CHAPTER 6
Agents Brice and Dyer got out of the car and led the way into the Pines Way Motel’s office. The motel’s No Vacancy sign was lit, despite the fact that the only vehicles in the parking lot were Brice’s SUV and two police cars.
Jessica and her husband followed along behind the FBI as a van carrying five more agents arrived with Claire Rothman.
Sheriff Stevens met Brice and his entourage by the entrance and introduced them to two of his deputies, one of which was Joe Perkins.
“We’ll have the trap set within the hour. My brother-in-law owns a used car dealership and he’s sending over ten vehicles to sit in front of the rooms, to make it look as if there are other guests staying here. We’ll need two female agents to dress up in uniforms and play maids, while Perkins here will pose as a handyman, which will allow him to wander about without looking out of place.”
Brice gestured at Dyer.
“Special Agent Dyer will be in charge here while I keep watch on Mrs. Rothman at the safe house out by the lake. Dr. White and her husband will be joining me there.”
Dyer arched her eyebrows; she then stepped off to the side and asked Brice to follow her.
“What’s up, Robyn?”
“You’re putting me in charge of capturing Rothman, why?”
“Capturing Rothman is a career maker and I’m at the end of my career. You’re still young and you’ve got a lot of years ahead of you. If he shows up here and you bag him, from that point on you can write your own ticket in the Bureau.”
Dyer gripped Brice’s arm and gave it a squeeze.
“Thanks, John, I won’t forget this.”
“You deserve it.”
As they rejoined the others, Sheriff Stevens asked Brice a question.
“When are your other agents coming?”
“They’re on their way in now, along with Mrs. Rothman and a decoy Mrs. Rothman.”
Brice had just finished speaking when the door opened and Claire Rothman entered, following directly behind her was the agent made-up to resemble her and act as bait for her husband.
Sheriff Stevens did a double-take.
“Wow, you guys do good work, from a hundred feet away I’d have trouble telling them apart.”
Agent Dyer smiled.
“If Rothman gets to within a hundred feet of this motel he’s ours, now, let’s get ready.”
***
Once all the preparations were completed, Jessica and her husband left with Brice and settled into a room inside the safe house where Claire Rothman was being guarded.
He lay atop the bed and watched his wife as she combed her hair in the bathroom mirror.
“Claire Rothman’s story upset you, didn’t it?”
Jessica stared back at him by using the mirror.
“You have to admit, their story sounds much like our own.”
“Yes, but I have something that Rothman never had, I have you. You’ve not only been my wife, but also my therapist. I doubt that Rothman ever had anyone to vent to, to seek help and understanding from. The sickness inside him must have festered until he could no longer control it, or control himself. That’s where he and I differ. I am constantly aware and on guard against my desires, my compulsions, and I’ll never give in to them the way he has.”
Jessica walked out of the bathroom and over to the bed. She had showered and was now dressed in only her bra and panties. At her midsection was a slight swelling, the first outward sign of her pregnancy. She sat down on the edge of the bed and laid a hand against her husband’s cheek.
“How difficult is it for you? I mean, do you think about it often, about abducting women, abusing them... killing them?”
He sat up on the bed and took her hand.
“I don’t fantasize about such things; it’s just that, at times, something triggers a desire within me, this sickness within me that’s been there my whole life.”
“The time you told me about following that girl home from the bagel shop, of planning out in your mind how easy it would be to abduct her, that frightened me more than I let on at the time.”
“I’m sorry, but would you have preferred that I didn’t tell you?”
“No. That would have been far worse, and I never want you to feel as if you can’t talk to me, or that you need to lie to me... the way you did before.”
He shut his eyes and sighed.
“I’ve apologized for that more than once. Are you ever going to forgive me?”
Jessica kissed him on the lips.
“I do forgive you, I do, it’s just that it was the first time you ever lied to me, ever attempted to hide something from me, and it frightened me.”
“I’ll never lie to you again, and I only did it that time because I was trying to protect you and your brother.”
Jessica stared at him.
“What?” he said.
“I want you to do something for me.”
“Yes?”
“I want you to talk to someone about... your problem, someone besides me.”
“Do you really think that’s wise?”
“I didn’t before today, but as I was listening to Claire Rothman I realized something. I realized that if just one other person had known about her husband’s proclivity towards abusing women, that maybe, just maybe it never would have escalated to where it is now.”
He nodded.
“I don’t like it, but I do see your point, it’s just... who would we trust with this, one of your colleagues?”
“I was thinking of Dr. Harven.”
“The man you’re interviewing next week for your book? Why him? You don’t even know him.”
“True, but I’ve been reading about his work and theories for weeks, and he’s been studying these impulses you have since before we were born. I also learned recently that he has successfully treated juvenile males who have displayed tendencies much like your own.”
“Alright, but I thought you said that he was retired?”
“He did recently give up his private practice, but I’m hoping that once he hears our story, that he’ll want to help us.”
“Are you certain that it’s a good idea to reveal our past?”
“Yes, baby yes, I never want to be Claire Rothman, and I never want to lose you. Will you do it? Will you speak to Dr. Harven?”
“Yes, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you, we’ll fly to Texas next week to speak to him.”
“I thought he lived in Florida?”
“He has a vacation home there as well, but he lives in Texas.”
“Jessica,”
“Yes?”
“I’ll never be like Rothman.”
Jessica climbed fully onto the bed and lay in his arms.
“I know that you’ll never be like Rothman. You’re a better man than he is.”
“I’ve more of a reason to be,” he said, and placed a gentle hand atop her stomach.
***
Victoria Belle dumped her stolen Honda in the parking lot of a Burger King, before walking across the highway to a hotel. The hotel was doing a brisk business, as several news organizations had chosen it to house their people in while th
ey chased the Rothman story.
Belle walked in and sat in the lobby where she could still see the parking lot. When a news van from a neighboring state pulled in the lot and parked, Belle studied its occupants.
The female reporter was a few inches shorter and somewhat younger than Belle, but her hair was dark and her face shaped the same. The cameraman that walked alongside the reporter was black, skinny, and even younger than the reporter, barely out of his teens, Belle guessed.
Once the two had checked in at the front desk, Belle rose from her seat and followed them to the elevators. She was wearing a floppy hat, in order to keep her face hidden from the building’s security cameras,
While on the elevator, she got a look at the reporter’s key card and discovered her room number, and assumed that the cameraman would have a room close to hers. When they reached the proper floor, Belle left the elevator and walked off in the opposite direction from that taken by the reporter.
She waited near the ice machine for twenty minutes, twenty minutes that she figured would allow enough time for the reporter to make any check-in calls to a boss or lover, and then she walked to the reporter’s room and knocked on the door.
Sally Anne Wilkes, of Channel 17, Kentucky, opened her door and smiled at the beautiful woman in the hall.
“Hi, can I help you?”
Belle zapped her with a Stun Gun and watched her fall to the floor. As Sally Anne began to recover from the shock, Belle got her on her feet and led her to the bathroom, where she blasted her again, before pushing her into the tub.
When Belle removed the knife from her purse, Sally Anne’s dazed eyes grew wide, but after the blade sank into her throat, Sally Anne’s eyes closed forever.
As Belle went through the dead reporter’s purse, a knock came at the door and Belle walked over and stared through the peephole. It was the cameraman. She opened the door and he sent her an embarrassed grin.
“Sorry, I must have the wrong room.”
“No, you’re looking for Sally Anne, right? She stepped out for a moment.”
The man walked in and Belle closed the door. When she turned around, she could tell that he’d been looking at her ass.
“Do you like what you see?”
“I... didn’t mean to stare, sorry,”
Belle walked over to the bed and began unbuttoning her blouse.
“Come here,”
The young man walked over with a silly grin on his face. Belle reached back to the nightstand and grabbed the Stun Gun.
The man cried out, as she thrust it against him. “Hey!”
She blasted him with the gun and he fell face first onto the bed. After giving him a second blast, and then a third, he seemed totally incapacitated.
Belle opened her large purse, removed handcuffs and duct tape, and then grinned at the man on the bed.
“Let the games begin,”
CHAPTER 7
Rothman sat at the foot of Kaye Swan’s bed and watched the news.
The television station was showing photos of a motel ten miles away, this, they interspersed with earlier footage of his wife, wearing sunglasses, and walking into the motel alone, as a horde of reporters shouted questions at her.
Rothman smiled. He knew that the staged footage of the woman on TV was not his wife, no matter how much she resembled her. No, his wife had not simply checked into a motel. The FBI had her somewhere else, somewhere more hidden and secure than a motel off a back road.
They were setting a trap, as he knew they would once they learned of his promise to come back for Claire. What they didn’t realize was that the trap was his. They now had to divide their forces in order to guard both his wife and their decoy, and Rothman was betting that there were far more agents guarding the decoy then there were guarding his wife. It was a weakness in their strategy that he was going to take advantage of, and soon.
The sound of whimpering came from behind him. He turned to look at Kaye Swan, and saw that she had struggled so much against her restraints that both wrists were bleeding.
Much of the damage occurred when he raped her as she fought in vain against it. He had used both the lube and the condoms and, in truth, her resistance only served to heighten his arousal.
When he had finished using her, he looked into her eyes and saw hate looking back, a hate so strong that it brought back memories of his father.
Rothman shut off the TV and walked over to the right side of the bed, the side closest to the door. He took out his knife and showed it to Swan.
“I’m going to remove the tape from over your mouth. If you scream or call out, I will hurt you. Do you understand me?”
Swan nodded her head fiercely, that yes, she understood, but once the tape was off, she filled her lungs with air and let out an ear-splitting scream.
Rothman slapped the tape back across her mouth and went to the windows. Outside, the only movement came from a man on a riding mower across the street and four houses down.
He walked back over to the bed and stared down at Swan. “I said that I would hurt you if you screamed, and I am a man of my word.” He then plunged his knife into her thigh.
Swan’s eyes bulged and she arched her back high as a muffled groan leaked through the tape.
When Rothman withdrew the blade, Swan seemed to deflate a little as she lay sweating atop the now bloody sheets and panted through her nose.
Rothman gave her about a minute to recover from the shock and then informed her that he was going to remove the tape again.
“If you scream this time, I will permanently disfigure you.”
He ripped the tape from her mouth and she remained quiet.
“That’s better. Now, I’m going to ask you a few questions. If you lie to me, if I even suspect that you’re lying to me, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”
Swan licked at her dry lips and swallowed before giving him a weak, “Yes.”
“Good girl, now, when is your husband expected home?”
“Between six and seven o’clock, depending on which train he catches; he works in the city.”
“Very good, are you expecting anyone else?”
“No, oh wait, there’s, there’s the mail, the mailman. But he usually just tosses the mail through the slot in the door.”
“If you’re missed anywhere, will they come here to look for you? You already have three messages on your phone; two are from your mother.”
“No one will come, probably not until tomorrow,” Swan said, but then she shed tears as her face contorted. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Normally the answer to that question would be yes, but you’re fortunate, I need you alive, although, not in one piece, so you’d best behave.”
Swan sniffled. “I’ll do what you want. I want to live.”
“Smart girl,” Rothman said, afterwards, he reached over and cut through the rope that bound Swan’s right arm. “I’m freeing you from the bed but I’m not letting you go, not yet. If you do what I say, I promise that you’ll live through this and see your husband again. If you attempt to flee, to cause harm to me or to get help, you’ll be of no use to me and I will kill you. Am I understood?”
“Y, y, yes...yes,”
“Good girl, now we’re going to leave this room and you’re going into the bathroom to treat your injuries, while I wait in the hall with the door open.”
Swan nodded her understanding and he motioned her towards the hall. As they passed her robe, which was still lying on the floor, she reached down to pick it up.
“Uh, un, leave it right there.”
While still bent over, Swan turned her head and stared up at him, and for just an instant, he saw the hate in her eyes again.
Rothman reached down, grabbed her by the neck, and slammed her hard against the bedroom wall. As he pressed her face into the wall, he whispered in her ear.
“I know you hate me and I don’t care, but you keep your little looks of disgust and anger to yourself or I will cut your eyes out.
”
“I’m sorry,” Swan said, but it came out as little more than a grunt, as her lips and teeth were being crushed against the wall.
Rothman yanked her back and then shoved her out into the hall.
“Go to the bathroom and clean up, and then we’ll get something to eat.”
Swan walked obediently into the bathroom and nearly shut the door out of habit, but she caught herself and left it wide open.
After showering again, Swan placed a large bandage to the wound on her leg and then began applying ointment to her wrists. As she was doing that, Rothman’s cell phone rang. It was Victoria Belle.
“I got your message.”
“I’m sure by now that you’ve seen the news?”
“It would be hard to miss, you’re everywhere, but tell me, are you safe?”
“I am for now, but before I do my disappearing act I have to go back for Claire.”
“That’s going to be tough. Why didn’t she leave with you?”
“She was in shock. Not only had she just found out about me, but her mother had also been killed.”
“You could have forced the issue?”
“Not with her, never with her,”
“Ah, true love, you poor bastard,”
“I called because I need your help. Will you help me?”
“I’ve already begun. I’m in town, posing as a reporter. I whacked some slut from the next state over and took her press credentials and news van. She looked enough like me so that I can get away with it.”
“Thank you, I mean that, but aren’t you afraid that someone in town will recognize you?”
“There’s a chance of that, but not much. It has been nearly twenty years.”
“Can I reach you on this phone?”
“Yeah, but if I don’t answer, it means I’m on the run and you can reach me on the other phone.”
“Right,” Rothman said, as he glanced over at Swan, who stood naked in the center of the bathroom, while staring at the floor.
“I’ve been spying on the Feds, and you’ll never believe it.”
The TAKEN! Series - Books 5-8 (Taken! Box Set Book 2) Page 28