Get to You

by Albany Walker

  I end the call, concealing my concern. No one should have been there the time we heard the door slam or last night when both Beau and I heard someone moving around inside.

  Beau isn't at all happy when I share the news that no one should have been downstairs to make the noises we both clearly heard. Soon after telling him, he pulls his phone from his pocket and curses repeatedly.

  "What's wrong?" He takes a few moments before answering.

  "Nothing," Beau replies, not looking at me.

  I turn and walk back to the front of the store, trying to process his reaction. He’s obviously upset about something, the vacant apartment or whatever he saw on his phone. I’m hurt that he is hiding it from me. I've given Beau almost every secret I have. I’ve let him fully into my life, yet he still keeps things from me, things that could directly relate to my situation.

  Beau doesn't stay in the back for long. He finds a seat near the front and watches people around him. We've been really busy the past few days. I think words gotten out that he's been in here a few times, because the new traffic is a bit different then my usual clientele. I swear I saw a man with a camera pointed at us this morning when I was opening up.

  Even with the old blue ball cap, I'm sure anyone that came here just because he might show up, could tell it’s him. Two young women sitting near the entrance not far from him notice immediately. They lean close to each other, exchanging words. Beau ignores the glances he receives and reaches back. His shirt rises, revealing the toned expanse of his abdomen as he grabs a book off the nearest shelf. He doesn't even look at the title before opening it and angling himself to face the entrance.

  The store continues to fill with young women. They start almost circling, giggling, and shoving one another towards Beau. He acts completely oblivious, but the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw clinches whenever one gets particularly brave, tells another story.

  All it will take is one to act, and it will be a total mess.

  I walk over to the largest of the groups, "Is there anything I can help you find?" A few shake their heads no, and others reply verbally. "We have a great new release section over here." I point over near the register, hoping some will take interest. "Then, there's the shelf of recommended reads from a few of our regulars. We have everything ranging from teen fiction to world history."

  It’s my last-ditch effort to keep them from converging on him. It backfires entirely. Their faces grow agitated, worried I'll make them leave. They look at one another, exchanging knowing glances; they're gearing up for something. The crowd edges closer. I'm lost in the middle.

  "Shit," I say as I’m elbowed to the side, nearly kicked out of my own store.

  "Beau," I shout over the beginning mumblings that are steadily rising. "Beau, can you go in the back?" The crowd pushes, and the twenty or so woman around me begins to frighten me.

  Shouts and yells erupt around me as the shoving intensifies.

  "Stop!" I hear Beau’s voice boom. "Stop it," he tries again. I feel a hand grab my arm and I instinctively pull away from it. Unfortunately, there is no room to retreat.

  "Don't touch me," I try to wiggle free from the strong grasp. I'm pulled back while the group in front me surges forward. I struggle to get free.

  I shout "Stop. Let go!" It doesn't work because the crowd is too loud. My voice isn't being heard over all the others. My cries can’t carry past them.

  My panic sets in as two strong arms wrap around my body. I kick back, hoping to dislodge whoever is holding me.

  "Beau!" I scream once. An elbow loops around my neck tightly cutting off the sound.

  My feet are lifted from the ground, my breath knocked out of me. I’m hauled back further into the store. Before I know it, I’m shoved out the back door into the alley. The door closes, and I finally push free of the stranglehold, but I have no hope of getting back in. I’m trapped. I run, but I’m quickly tackled to the ground. I scream. My breath comes quickly.

  Panic floods my body as I try to fight the person on top of me. A hand closes on my mouth, and my head is forced to the ground in a hard crack. Black dots over take my sight as a hand wraps around my throat, strangling my final scream.

  25

  Beau

  I look back down at the texts from Brian.

  Good as a ghost.

  Been MIA for months.

  I need to call him. I stay in the back to take the call, even as my instincts tell me to follow her into the main store.

  I growl into the phone, “Where the fuck is he, Bri?”

  He goes immediately into explanations, “No one in town has any idea where the sheriff is. He just stopped coming to work. When anybody would go out to the house, he wouldn't answer, even if he was home. No one knew if he was or not.” His voice lowers, like he doesn’t want to be overheard, “I found her house easily enough. What I found in it…” he trails off, "It’s some disturbing, unhealthy shit.” He pauses, “Beau, this guy needs to be put away."

  His voice sounds shocked by what he found. If it shocked Brian, then we're in trouble. I hang up the phone, thinking about how I am going to convince her that she needs to stop working until we find this bastard. I walk out of the back room, a conversation playing in my head.

  I look over to where she is standing at the register. Her back is to me. I curse under my breath. Why didn't I just tell her that her step dad is missing? The look on her face when she turned towards me has me sitting at the edge of the room, near the entrance. She may not want me near her, but I can at least keep an eye on every person coming into her store. I clench my jaw, all this time she's been in danger, the threat much more serious than we all thought.

  I pretend to read a book, hoping everyone would get the hint and fuck off. I can feel the desperation rolling off the people slowly surrounding me.

  I should have made her go home as soon as I ended the call with Brian. More importantly, I shouldn't have dismissed her when she asked me what was wrong. Then maybe I'd be standing next to her watching her help customers instead of being dismissed to the side, in the middle of this shit storm.

  Sammy's expression is sad as she walks in between a group of young girls, trying to distract them. She's swallowed up, before I can tell her what a bad idea it is.

  I hear her call to me, asking me to go to the back, but my slightest movement sends the group in to a frenzy.

  "Stop," I bellow, trying to get them to let her out. When she doesn't emerge from the crowd, I push my way back through the masses, trying to reach her. They push back, making it impossible for me to move forward.

  The shouting is deafening with each voice over laying the others. I swear I hear her scream my name once, but I'm overrun by the bevy of woman.

  It's a good fifteen minutes before the last of them are ushered out the door. Thank goodness Jess was smart enough to call the police when I couldn't get them under control.

  I finally look around, realizing I haven’t seen Sammy since the whole mess started. I think this might be the event that makes her realize she could do much better than a jaded asshole that brings her more trouble when she already has enough to deal with.

  I stride to the back, thinking it unusual for her to not be front and center when there's something to deal with in the store. I've never seen her hide away when there's a problem relating to something she loves. She's a fierce protector, even if she doesn't realize it. She really must be tired of my shit.

  Her office door is open, there's an overturned chair on the floor, but no sign of her. Immediately my heart starts to pound. Where is she?

  I rush to the employees’ lounge. It’s empty as well. That has me running out to the front, yelling her name. She'll pop up any second, I tell myself. My hands shake as I rush through the nooks and crannies of the store, yelling her name.

  I've caught the attention of her friend Jess and the blue-haired girl, both looking at me like I'm crazy.

  "Have you seen her? Where is she?"

  Jess shakes her
head, "Not since before, you know, when she went out into the mob."

  "Did you hear her holler for me?" She shakes her head no. "It doesn't matter. Get that cop back in here," I order, already dialing Brian.

  I yell, "She’s gone" into the phone, before hanging up and calling the detective that's working on Tasha's case.

  "This is Chris Huntington, I need your help."

  None of the cops think it's a big deal she gone. I hear the jealous girlfriend remark thrown out just as much as the needed air, or give her time, she'll be back.

  They don't know her. She’d never leave her store or me when we both needed her.

  Cortez and Hall show up, and I take them to her office to explain everything. When I sit down, my hand moves her mouse. I see the front of the store from a few different angles. It's then that I remember the cameras.

  I call the security service and I tell them what's happened. They assure me a hard file of today's footage will be stored and walk me through the process of rewinding the feeds.

  I see something that makes my blood run cold.

  I rewind it back to the very first moment he touched her. I can see her face clearly as she tries unsuccessfully to pull away. She has no idea that the person tugging on her is her tormentor. Her mouth opens as she says something, and his hands wrap around her waist.

  I can see the fear in her eyes when her mouth falls open again, and I know what she's yelling. She’s yelling for me. Her mouth forms into a sream, and he grabs her by the neck.

  I'm less than a hundred feet away, and I had no idea. I had no idea that the woman I love was being taken right in front of me, while calling my name. Anger and fear are the driving forces that have me slamming my fists into the desk.

  The detectives review the same footage, and both quickly issue a missing person report and a possible abduction.

  The word "possible" sends me into a tailspin, screaming for them to find her.

  Jude and George close the store. Within minutes, we have every person out of the store as it is swarmed with police.

  I call Brian back and explain what I saw.

  “It’s was him. Darryl took her.”

  26

  Samantha

  Time moves strangely, I have no concept of the hours or minutes that pass. When I wake up, I am bound with zip ties and laying on the floor of a utility van. I smell grease and dirt over the sharp metallic odor of my blood that has pooled under my cheek.

  Lifting my body, I turn, wincing from the pain at the base of my skull and the sticky blood that pulls on my skin, as I frown at my surroundings.

  My right cheek is aflame. I was hit while unconscious or dropped carelessly, hitting my face. I taste blood at the corner of my lip, the sting I feel there is familiar.

  The drone of an engine tells me we're on the move, but I have no idea to where or how long we've been moving. My only clue is the tacky blood, making me think only hours have past.

  I keep my breaths even, hoping he doesn’t realize I’m awake. It doesn’t matter though. I’m still trapped.

  Hours later, the van finally stops. I lay still, hoping for a chance to escape.

  The utility door slides open, and my breath leaves me in a whoosh. Darryl is standing in the door frame. He stares down at me as the interior lights shine on his face.

  The years fall away and I’m a young girl again, shaking and terrified of what he’s going to do next.

  “Please,” I croak. “No.”

  He reaches in, grabbing me by my upper arm. I scream, kicking at him, and he lets me drop to the hard ground. Jagged rocks dig into my side and back as I hit the dirt. A cloud surrounds me from the impact making me cough. Dirt and blood mix as I fight his hold.

  He’s eerily silent as he hauls me up. I stumble, tears tracking down my face. He drags me through tall grass, over sandy red dirt. My body freezes up. I haven’t seen soil like that in seven years. He’s brought me home.

  “No, no.” I howl, refusing to believe I’m so far away.

  My throat is sore from my continued screams, and my eyes continue to scan my surroundings as he drags me up a gravel driveway to an old house. He throws me up a few steps and onto a sagging porch. I scramble up the remaining few, trying to regain my bearings. It’s unfamiliar. I’ve never been here before.

  There’s nothing but an empty field and a dilapidated barn in the distance.

  He pulls me forward as he crosses the threshold. I fight his grip on me. I know if I enter that house, I won’t be coming out. I twist myself, slamming my body against the door frame.

  He lets me drop to the ground as he gets me inside. My head bounces off thin carpet. The sore spot at the back of my head gives a sharp ache. My vision fogs over briefly.

  “Wake up!” Darryl barks. My eyes threatening to close, snap open. “I told you! I told you that I would find you.” He reaches forward, grabbing my face with his hand. He squeezes my cheeks, and I cry out in pain.

  He shoves me away with a quick jerk.

  “I can’t even look at you. You let him touch you. You fucking whore!” He screams bending down close to my face. I roll away, trying to escape his alcohol soaked breath.

  “You’re mine!” He screams again.

  I feel a burst of pain on my side.

  I wake up alone in the room, my zip ties removed, but trapped.

  A wide slot is cut in the bottom of the door. Small plates of food and drink pouches have been sent through regularly. With no windows and the sliver of light, I count the days by plates. Two come through with what feels like hours of time in between.

  At first, I don’t eat, too afraid of what he might try to feed me, afraid he might drug me. I quickly grow weak. I decide if I have any chance at survival, I need some strength and my wits. I force down a few bites from each plate.

  I spend hours feeling around my makeshift prison. There is a toilet against the wall and one small bed shoved into the corner.

  I spend most of my time reliving each moment of my abduction and wishing I could have reacted differently. I can't believe how easily I let myself be taken in a room full of people. The thought sickens me. Darryl was indeed stalking me. His anger at me evident. I should have taken the flowers more seriously.

  I haven’t seen him since the first day in this house. I know he’s watching me. There’s a camera set high in the corner of the room, its red light blinking down. The little light is easily spotted in the dim room.

  Why didn’t I go to the police? Why did I think I was safe? I hope Brian and Beau can help the police find me now.

  I shudder, thinking if this happened just a few short months ago, no one would have the first inclination where to find me, but now at least I have hope.

  Hopes a fickle bitch, I think days later. My aches have turned dull. I’m more sore than anything. My only real pain comes from my fist and foot. I hurt myself a couple hours ago when another tray of food was slid under the door. I lost my shit knowing another day had come.

  I beg Darryl to let me. I barter, marking crazy promises just to be set free.

  Angry when he doesn’t respond, I scream and beat the hell out of the door, throwing my body at it and exhausting myself for the effort.

  I don’t get a single word in response.

  The waiting is killing me. I'm going out of my mind with all the possibilities and scenarios. I almost think it'd be better just to get it over with.

  I can't even fathom what he wants from me. What is he planning?

  I feel like I’m underground. The walls are thick and cool to the touch. The single overhead light is never extinguished, making it impossible to determine if it’s day or night. A chill that I can’t escape, fills my bones.

  I sleep when the exhaustion won’t let me do anything else.

  Surely a week has passed since I've been locked in this hole. I've counted seventeen meals and I'd estimate there were maybe ten before I started keeping track. I gouge my nail into the hard-packed dirt floor every time one is slid under th
e door.

  I'm going to rot in this room, never seeing the sunlight again. I’ll never see Beau's gorgeous green eyes again. I’ll never tell him I love him or thank him for helping me live in the moment.

  Rita's words haunt me. Her dreams of me living my life and not letting anyone choose what I make of it, plague me often. If I'd only listened.

  Some days I feel like the only thing I can do is cry. Others, I'm so angry it feels like I could bust the door down with my rage. In between these days, I return to the begging. I plead to be let out, to be free. I bargain, promising not to tell anyone where I was. I’ve screamed for so long it feels like my throat is bleeding. I get no reply. Not. One. Word.

  I stop eating. I only drink the barest minimum when I feel like my throat will split. I’m hardly ever awake anymore. When I am, I pray for sleep to take me. I’m not even fighting anymore because there’s no point.

  A noise wakes me.

  A shuffle just outside the door.

  “Hello?” I try to call. It takes my voice a few tries before the word actually comes out.

  “Jessica,” my eyes fall closed at the name. I haven’t heard it in years.

  “Darryl.”

  “You haven’t been eating.” His statement doesn’t require an answer. “Is there…” he trails off shuffling at the door, “Is there something else you want? I remember how much you used to like that cinnamon cereal.” He sounds just like he used to, after a night of drinking. After he’s either called me by my mother’s name or slapped me around. He sounds like he’s trying to apologize for his behavior.