“Dude, is she all right?” the TSA officer asked. He rocked back and forth on his heels looking at me.
“She’s fucking fine,” the other man shot back. He wore jeans, a white cut-off shirt, and a baseball cap. I shifted on the bed to get a better look.
“She’s looking at me.” The TSA officer crossed his arms around his chest, ducking his head to his chin.
“Don’t worry. She’s so high she won’t remember shit.” Cap guy waved his hand in the air, brushing away his buddy’s concern.
“I don’t know about this.”
“Fuck you.” Cap stepped forward. “We had a deal. Do you have the stamp or not?” His hand reached for the bag. Taking out what was requested, he then took his passport from his back pocket.
“Who is she?” the TSA officer asked as Cap stamped his own passport.
“The less you know the better.”
“You saw me. You were in the photos. You know who took me!” I slammed my hand on the counter. The world around us stopped. He knew who I was. From the corner of my eye, I saw other officers approaching.
“Braelynn.” Peyton laid his hand on my shoulder, attempting to calm my outrage.
“You were fucking there.” I reached for my cell phone. My fingers trembled as I slid it across the screen, locating the pictures. “That’s you.” I lifted my phone for him to see. “You were there. You know who took me.” I looked at Peyton to show him the picture before looking back at the TSA officer.
“Who was the bastard who took me? Who?” My voice strained as I cried out. My hands shook and cold sweat pooled at the back of my neck. I couldn’t stop the images from running through my mind.
“What are you giving her?” the TSA officer asked, his eyes still locked on mine. My lips parted to beg for help, but my body didn’t have the strength. My hunger was burning for the drug.
“Heroin. Sometimes acid so she trips out and her minds gets so fuzzy she won’t remember a thing.”
“Is she an addict?”
“Fuck if I care. After this she might be, but until I’m done I get to shove my dick anywhere I want and I never hear her complain.”
“Dude, that’s sick.”
“Nah, man. Try it.” He pointed towards my limp body. “Even though she’s out of it, her pussy hugs your cock like no other. Fucking priceless! Her cunt is the best fucking lay I’ve ever had. There’s lube on the table if she gets dry.”
“Look, I got to get back.” The TSA officer shook his head, slowly backing out of the room.
“You sure I can’t change your mind about her?” The TSA officer shook his head, eying my scrawny body one last time. “Fine, here’s the other half for your trouble.” Cap handed the TSA officer a large manila envelope.
Peyton took my phone in his hands to study the picture.
“He…he…he was there.” I looked back at the TSA officer before looking back at Peyton. “He was there when I was taken. When I was repeatedly drugged and raped.” I looked back at the TSA officer. “You saw me lying there and didn’t do anything.”
Peyton locked eyes with the TSA officer, and he bowed his head to evade Peyton’s glare. “You son of a bitch!”
“We’re going to need you both to come with us.” an officer behind me called. Three officers stood together, hands propped at their waists, waiting for my next move.
I looked over at the TSA officer who had his head bowed. “Please tell me who took me.”
“We need you to come with us. Now!”
Peyton guided me to where the officers had indicated. I had an out of body experience walking towards that tiny office, the memories still reeling in my mind. Tears soaked my shirt as they fell off my cheeks. I sat on a heavy steel chair behind an interrogation table that was bolted to the floor.
“Officers, the man out there knows who took me. He knows!” I cried out.
Peyton moved to stand behind me. “Officers, my name is Peyton Haas. I’m a defense attorney here in New York City. My girlfriend was kidnapped last year. She has no recollection of what happened to her during the week she was missing, but there was a missing person report filed with the NYPD, and I can give you the number to the therapist she worked with. We have proof that man out there was in the photographs in the missing persons case.”
One of the officers left the tiny no window room. I sat on the cold hard plastic chair as Peyton paced behind me.
The door behind Peyton flung open, and in walked my rapist’s accomplice and the other office.
“We have you in a couple of pictures from that week and I remember seeing you. I remember being there. So please for the love of God I’m asking you to tell me who was behind it all.”
For the first time since my outburst, he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking directly in my eyes.
“Gonzales?” one of the officers asked.
“You’re right, Braelynn.” He handed me my passport, his eyes lowered when he looked in my direction. “I was there, and for the past year I’ve felt like scum. I should’ve said something.”
“You fucking asshole!” Peyton launched himself towards Officer Gonzales but was held back by the other officers in the small room.
Gonzales’s eyes stayed locked on mine. “I wasn’t man enough to stop him then, but I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
“You’re going to fucking jail!” Peyton yelled, struggling against the officers’ restraining grasp.
“Who took me?” I didn’t care how sorry he was and how he felt like scum, I had one question for him. One simple question. Wiping my tear-stained face, I took a deep breath. “That’s all I want to know.”
His eyes left mine and landed on the steel table. “It was Drew Seymour.” My world shattered and the floor under me vanished. That son of a bitch had made me one of his victims.
Peyton
I watched as Braelynn’s body began to shut down in disbelief. She had been sitting upright, ready to find out who kidnapped her, but when she heard Drew’s name she sagged back in the uncomfortable chair, her body limp with incredulity. My rage and need to kill Pedro with my bare hands for not stepping forward sooner vanished when I heard him speak.
“Drew Seymour.” He let the words flow out of his mouth. I closed my eyes, hoping that I had heard him wrong. The scum who came to my office the day she was committed to a 5150 was the same asshole responsible for it.
“Fuck!” I shouted.
“Sir, if you don’t keep quiet, we’ll have to restrain you,” the officer holding me said.
Pedro ignored my outburst and began to tell us the story. Though it looked like Braelynn tuned him out once she’d heard Drew’s name, he continued. Apparently, he’d met with Drew in a warehouse in Brooklyn to stamp his passport. That’s where Braelynn lived for a week. Once Pedro Gonzales was taken into custody, he gave the authorities everything he had on Drew, including the text message that had the address for the warehouse. The only question Braelynn had for Gonzales as the other officers took him away was why. Why had he helped a rapist? Her voice was like a child. The fear I heard broke my heart the same way as when she woke up on that hospital bed. Gonzales’s response didn’t shock her; like every other one of Drew’s victim, Drew was blackmailing him.
Since I had represented Drew, I had to stay away from the case so as not to cause any further conflict of interest. We sat in the small room until the authorities were called and I spoke with Officer Walsh.
Howard Goldstein’s telephone number flashed on the screen of Braelynn’s cell phone as we drove home from the airport. Her hands shook as she pressed the send button. Braelynn had last spoken with Howard, her professor in law school, when she was in rehab. Shortly after she sent him an email apologizing for what happened and letting him know how truly sorry she was.
“Howard Goldstein.” His voice came through her cell phone speaker. Braelynn held her chest, her palm closed in a tight fist. Taking a deep breath, she let the words flow, her mouth moving a mile a minute as she e
xplained everything that had happened.
Officer Walsh had enough information from Gonzales to charge Drew with unlawful imprisonment, kidnapping, custodial interference, and kidnapping in the first degree. The prosecutor wanted the maximum penalty if the case went to trial. If Drew were convicted, he would serve twenty-five years with no parole in one of the worst federal prisons in the United States.
But we still didn’t know who had posed as Braelynn for a week. Braelynn insisted on knowing who had helped Drew. Howard and I both suggested that the District Attorney offer Drew a deal. The plea bargain he offered demanded Drew’s full confession and in return his sentence would be reduced to twenty-five years with parole in a better prison. He took the plea.
I tugged on the door to Howard’s office. He sat at his desk with his head lowered, reading what I assumed was a brief. I understood why Braelynn saw him as a mentor; I did too. Howard was one of the good guys, humble and honest. He had chosen to remain in a smaller firm because his true passion was teaching. His head popped up when he noticed me walk in. I didn’t say hello; I had come with one thing in mind. I needed to see Drew’s confession.
“I want to see it.”
“Haas, you know I can’t disclose it.” He pushed the paperwork to one side when he spoke. His voice was of a concerned friend.
“Drew was once my client. I represented him. I have the right to see it.”
“Haas,” he said my name calmly, “look at what you’re asking me to do. I could lose my license for showing you this.”
“He took her because of me.” My voice sounded desperate. “He had an inkling that she and I had something. He did this out of spite.” My hands ran through my hair, calming my frustration. This was all my fault. “I love her, Howard, and I wasn’t there to protect her. I couldn’t protect her from the monster that was my client. She lost everything, including herself, because of me. So I’m begging you. I need to see it.”
Howard released the trapped breath that had been stuck in his lungs and turned his computer monitor towards me. “You’re not going to like this,” he mumbled, clicking through his files until he found it.
The file opened on the video enlarger and Howard pressed play with his mouse, making the screen come to life. Drew sat across a beat up desk in his orange jumpsuit with his head hung low. The prosecutor activated the video recording device and asked him to state his name for the record. Drew looked up without a bit of remorse in his eyes and began his confession.
“My name is Drew Tyler Seymour.” His face lacked emotion his eyes remained glued to the camera as if he knew I would be watching. “This is my confession for the kidnapping of Braelynn Wolf.” He paused for a second before the side of his mouth curled up into a faint grin. “I targeted Braelynn. I knew exactly who she was when I took her. I had a lawsuit against me and she was the intern on the plaintiff’s case. When she became involved in my personal life, I took matters into my own hands.
“For the first few weeks I learned everything there was to learn about her. Who her family was, where she grew up, and who her friends were. I studied her. Stalked her. I had to wait for the perfect opportunity. I followed her home from work one night—I’d waited until it was a late night for her. She left Howard Goldstein Esquire after eight o’clock the night of the fourteenth of May. I had rented a car under an alias and parked it a short distance from her house. I had followed her and her routine, so it was easy to know where she would be. She had worked late that night and didn’t take the subway like she had on the other days. I trailed behind her with an empty wine bottle. Once I made sure the street was clear of any cars or pedestrians I struck her on the back of her head. She fell to the ground, her purse and phone fell at her side. I took the phone and her belongings to the car first. I needed to make sure she was unconscious before I brought her to the car. I then dragged her body to my car and lay her against the back seat.”
“How did you persuade Mr. Gonzales to stamp your passport?” the prosecutor asked.
“Gonzales and I had made our acquaintance in Las Vegas a few years back. He owed a couple of bookies money due to bad bets, and they were willing to go after his family if he didn’t pay. The salary of a TSA officer is fifty-two thousand dollars. That wasn’t enough to cover what he owed. I told him if he helped me out I would pay his debt and not tell them where he worked and lived. And if he didn’t help, I would hand him over.”
“According to the case that was opened for Ms. Wolf by Officer Walsh, Ms. Wolf’s driver’s license and credit cards were used throughout Manhattan. They even have her checked into a hotel. Also, the rape kit came back with no DNA.”
“I paid a visit to an old friend, Helen Acuna. Like Gonzales, she owed me a favor. I gave her a large lump sum to act like Braelynn for a week. There was no DNA because I made sure to bathe her and clean her out properly.”
Howard moved the mouse across the screen, closing the window before Drew continued. I sat in the chair with my head hung low. There would be more to the interview than I saw, but Howard had stopped it.
I left Howard’s office without a word. I was the reason she had lived in hell. Drew had gone after her because of me.
I replayed the video in my head as I rode the elevator up to my home. The images of Drew’s cold-hearted statement played on a loop. The elevator doors slid opened and I was greeted with Braelynn’s beaming smile as she sat on a barstool. Her hair was tossed up and held together with a pen. Her smile was bright as if she had no fear in the world. But it had been over a week since she’d left the house. She was scared. Her nightmares had returned and her wailing screams made it impossible not to lay awake at night, watching in misery as she tossed and turned.
“You’re home early.” She hopped off the stool and met me in the foyer. Her booty shorts were cut so high on her legs that they showed the faint crimson marks from the flogger. She begged for the pain. At times, I would find her in the playroom, waiting for me on her knees. It fed my desire for her and it changed me as a man, knowing she needed this painful act from me. She trusted me to cause her both the pain and the pleasure her body needed.
Braelynn rose up on her toes, kissing the tip of my chin. “Wanna play?” Her hands lowered to my crotch, grabbing my lifeless cock. I wanted her more than ever, that had never been a problem between us, but I couldn’t get Drew’s imagine out of my mind. “Hey...” She pulled away. Her dark green eyes that had been so bright moments before changed with a blink. “Tell me.”
“Braelynn, it’s … it’s nothing.”
“We don’t do that. We don’t keep things from one another.” Her tiny hands reached up and brushed my face. “What has you so down?”
“I saw Drew’s confession.”
Fear, hurt, and pain flashed across her eyes. “Oh,” she replied softly.
Grasping her hand, I moved towards the living room “It’s my fault,” I finally said as I sat on the couch. Braelynn straddled my lap and sat on my knees.
“How is what that sick fuck did to me your fault?”
“He did it because of who I am.” I shook my head. The history I had with Drew ran deeper than I liked to admit. We had been cut from the same cloth.
“Peyton, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“He knew we were seeing each other.”
“That has nothing to do with you.” She cupped my cheeks. “His actions and his sick, disgusting mind are in no shape or form your fault. He’s sick.”
“Braelynn, his anger for me is deeper than you can imagine.” I held her small hands that framed my face. Her eyes looked deep into mine, looking for her answers.
“Then tell me.”
“It’s a long story.” I closed my eyes. Turning my face into the palm of her hand, I kissed it. “Drew and I have history together, unwanted history. He kidnapped you to prove a point. It had nothing to do with the case. He took you and made sure you couldn’t remember who you were to damage me.” I held her small hands in mine and bowed my head over them. I could
never forgive myself for what had happened to her.
“Look at me.” She pulled her hands away and bracketed my face with them. “This was not your fault. Whatever issues you two may have had in the past, they’re over now. I’m here, I’m safe, and I’m with you. He’s in jail and will stay there for the next twenty years.” She tried to sound strong, but I knew she couldn’t sleep with me close by.
“Your nightmares have returned and you haven’t left the house since we came home from Italy.”
She took a deep breath, shutting her eyes as she exhaled. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll leave the house, but can we call for a visit at Dr. Miriam’s office first? I’ve canceled three times with her. I want to talk to her about my dreams. I’d like you to be there.”
My hands cupped her rosy cheeks, my lips crashing over hers. She was stronger than I had expected. But I hoped the demons hidden in my closet weren’t going to come out again and destroy her.
Braelynn
Kennedy had already been in California a week before the rest of us were traveling out there. I had left Peyton in his office and rushed home to pack for the trip west before he came by to pick me up for our appointment with Dr. Miriam. We had been there three times together.
The first appointment Peyton attended, he couldn’t meet my eyes. Once I began to explain my fear of what had happened to me, his hands balled into fists and his head hung low for the remainder of the session. This last session was easier, at least for me. Dr. Miriam focused more on our relationship together and how it made me stronger.
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