Captured Again

by L. L. Akers

  There wasn’t a lock on the interior door to the kitchen. She had to think of a way to keep whoever made that noise away from her. Gabby knew her fear was getting the best of her, probably pushing her into a state of panic, but she didn’t think it was paranoia. She had seen the dragonfly with her own eyes; it was real. What if it was René? What if he’d heard she was all alone now and had come back for her?

  Gabby jumped up, opening the cabinets over the washer and dryer, looking for a way to secure the interior door. Soap, fabric softener, clothes pins... dammit! Nothing! Nothing that can help! She carefully placed the gun and her bag on the floor in the farthest corner and opened the dryer door. Putting both her hands in it and grabbing onto it, she pulled it away from the wall as far as she could.

  It was almost far enough to block the door.

  She climbed up over it, getting behind it in the space she had made, and jerked the plug and a strange crinkly hose out of the wall and pushed the dryer some more. Then she worked on the washing machine, one little push at a time, struggling to push it from behind until it blocked the door to the garage. There, both doors blocked, Gabby thought. No one can get to me now.

  She crawled back over the washer and dryer into the space left, which barely was enough room for her. Exhausted from the fear and adrenaline, and physically overexerted, she lay down, panting, with her purse bunched up under her head and her knees pointing at the ceiling.

  Gabby looked up and around. She was surround by walls of metal and paint, all closed in. As her body calmed down, her mind realized... René was able to get her trapped in that box after all.

  CHAPTER 22

  “Emma, where are you?” Dusty asked again. “Slow down and speak calmly to me,” Dusty instructed her over the screech of his radio.

  “I’m at Gabby’s house. She’s locked in the house, inside her laundry room, all closed up and having a panic attack!” Emma shouted. “She won’t open either door and keeps telling me to just leave. She’s afraid someone is in the house and doesn’t want me to go in.”

  “Emma, I’m on duty. Has she called 9-1-1?”

  “No, Dusty. She’s afraid if she’s wrong, they’ll think she’s crazy and send her back into the hospital. She says she’ll just wait him out,” Emma explained. “Can’t you come out here and look around... secure the house and the perimeter, and... I don’t know—that thing the cops do on TV?”

  Dusty sighed.

  “What, Dusty? I heard you sigh. Isn’t this your job?” Emma snapped.

  “Emma, I’m a city cop. Gabby lives in the county. If one of you will just call 9-1-1, they’ll send someone out. I’m on duty and that’s not my jurisdiction. I’m sorry!”

  “Forget it, Dusty. We’ll deal with it. Do. Not. Call. The. Police. Am I clear on that?” Emma asked brusquely.

  “Emma, I’m not trying to upset you. I want to help you. Please call the police, or at least let me call it in,” Dusty pleaded.

  “No, Dusty. I’m not risking sending my sister back to the hospital. She’s been making progress. I’ll clear the freakin’ area myself, or whatever the hell you call it.”

  “Emma! NO! Wait... Emma!”

  “I’m still here,” she answered evenly.

  Dusty blew out a breath of relief. “Where exactly are you?” he asked.

  “At the end of her driveway, sitting locked up tight in my car. Gabby insists I not go down there... to her house. She told me to stay away.”

  “Well, at least one of you has your head on straight. Don’t move. I’m coming.”

  “Thanks, Dusty,” Emma said, swallowing back a sob.

  So she wasn’t as tough as she was making herself out to be. She was scared to go into that yard or house all by herself too, but she would have—with or without Dusty. She couldn’t stand the thought of Gabby holed up on the laundry room, afraid to go out or in and staying there all night. She wanted to get to her sister and help her face this—together. She rubbed her hand against her heart, wishing for the thousandth time Olivia was with her, but she hadn’t even thought about calling her first. Dusty was the first person she thought of when she hung up with Gabby.

  Hope he’s ready to be a hero, Emma thought.

  Emma saw Dusty’s patrol car pull in just behind her. She rolled down her window and watched him as he got out, putting his hat on and adjusting his belt, heavy with all that cop stuff, and walked toward her car. He looked just like he did the night he pulled her over, except that night his blue lights were flashing. Emma’s heart melted watching him walk, knowing under all that cop business he was just Dusty... a nice guy—and hot and ruggedly handsome.

  He approached her window and bent over, speaking low. “You pull over to the right. I’m going to drive around you and go down to the house. I’ll secure the area. Do you still have a key to get in?”

  “I do. But Dusty, Gabby’s got a gun. She’s never used one before and she’s really scared and nervous. She doesn’t know you. I need to go in with you and tell her it’s me in the house or she might shoot.”

  “Damn, Emma. Don’t you think you shoulda told me that on the phone? Shit!” Dusty took off his hat and slapped it hard against his leg. “How do you know all this anyway? Did you get out of the car and talk to her through the door?” Dusty asked.

  “No. I talked to her on my cell. I was just calling to check on her while I was on my way home from working late. She has her purse and her phone—and a gun.”

  “Geez... Emma. I wish you woulda told me that. If she’s spooked and shoots me—or anyone else—I could really get in trouble for not calling this in.”

  Dusty ran his hands through his hair, pacing to the end of Emma’s car and back again.

  “Call her,” he said, pointing at Emma’s phone. “I’m not going down there until I talk to your sister.”

  Emma quickly swiped her phone and chose Gabby’s contact. Twinnie #2 flashed brightly on the screen and Emma switched it to speaker phone.

  “Emma, go home,” Gabby whispered as a greeting. “I don’t want you here. Go!”

  “Gabby, this is Officer Rowan. City police officer. I’m with your sister, Emma. May I have permission to check the grounds and secure the home?”

  “What? Who is this? Where’s Emma?” Gabby asked frantically.

  “Gabby! I’m here too. I’m okay. I’m with Dusty, or, uh, he’s with me. He’s the cop I went out with, remember? I told you about him. He’s here and he’s going to check the yard and the house. DON’T SHOOT HIM!” Emma yelled toward her phone that Dusty was holding just outside her window.

  “But how will I know it’s him?” Gabby asked. Emma could hear the fright in her tone. “What if someone is listening to you all out there and tells me he is Officer Rowan and I open the door to him?”

  Dusty looked at Emma and raised his eyebrows.

  Emma smiled and waved Dusty toward her, holding her hand out. He handed her the phone and she took it off the speaker. “Gabby, I’m going to whisper something to Dusty. When he speaks to you, you’ll know it’s him. So then you can open the door, okay?”

  There was a long pause on the phone. “Gabby? Did you hear me?”

  Gabby had thought of something else. “How will he get a key?”

  “I’ve got one, Gabby. Olivia made us an extra key in case of emergency. We can get in.”

  There was another long pause. Then Gabby answered, “Yeah... okay. Send him.”

  Dusty leaned into Emma’s window and she put her hand on his left cheek, holding him there while she whispered into his right ear, taking an unnecessary second so she had a chance to hold his scent for an instant longer.

  “Okay, Emma. Now you roll up your window and keep the doors locked. If you see anyone other than me, honk your horn. Okay?” Dusty whispered back to her in a serious tone but holding his warm hand over hers, capturing it against his face.

  “Yes, sir,” Emma answered seriously.

  “Gabby?” Dusty asked after securing the perimeter and clearing the ho
use. He was standing off to the side of the laundry room door, still aware that Gabby was an extremely frightened, untrained young lady, holding a gun—probably pointed in his direction. “Gabby, there was no one here. I checked everywhere. You’re safe. You can come out.”

  “Who is it?” Gabby screamed. Dusty could hear the fear she tried to hide beneath her loud voice.

  “Umm... It’s Dusty. The munchkin sent me,” Dusty said, cringing in embarrassment and so glad Emma had talked him out of calling this in. He’d rather his comrades, whether they were city or county, didn’t hear that.

  “What munchkin?” Gabby asked hesitantly.

  Dusty was so glad Emma knew her sister well and had prepped him for this. He’d never have been able to think up an answer to this second test question on his own. He rolled his eyes, even if only for his sake, before he said, “The one with the wonky dragonfly tattoo.”

  He wondered why they thought of it as wonky. He’d seen it, and there wasn’t anything wonky about it—whatever wonky meant. He’d have described it as beautiful, maybe the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen on a woman, but maybe it just had to do with the woman it was on.

  “I’m coming out,” Gabby yelled back through the door.

  Dusty heard the sound of scraping and pushing. “Wait! Where’s the gun, Gabby? You’re not still holding it, are ya?” he asked seriously.

  The door swung open before Dusty could get an answer. He jumped back even farther, hitting his head and nearly crawling up on the cabinets. He wasn’t sure what to expect.

  “Chill out, cowboy. Here’s the gun,” Gabby calmly said, holding it out to him. “See, I even have the spittin’ end pointed at the floor.” Using her other hand, she wiped the sweat off her upper lip.

  Dusty looked at Gabby, amazed to see the splitting image of Olivia and an exact replicate—although taller and bigger—than Emma. Three girls in one family blessed with that long, chocolaty-colored hair and those eye-popping blue eyes. For a moment, he felt sorry for their father, whom he’d never met. It must’ve been hell keeping the boys away from their house, Dusty thought. Then he noticed her shaking. He could see she was putting on a brave front for him. There were tear marks streaked down her face and her makeup was smeared around her eyes. She was pale, sweaty, and looked like she’d had a rough night. He pretended not to notice.

  He took the gun and popped the magazine out, then pulled back the slide to clear the chamber, but it was already clear. Damn, she wasn’t even locked and loaded, probably didn’t know how to load the first bullet. He shook his head. Good thing there really wasn’t anyone here. He’d have to talk to Emma about giving Gabby some pointers if she was planning on keeping the gun.

  “Ma’am, your little sister’s out in the car. I’m going to go get her,” Dusty said as he turned around to head back through the house to the front door.

  “No! Wait—don’t leave yet!” Gabby blurted out, catching his uniform in her fingers.

  Dusty turned around to see fresh tears start to fall. This woman was scared to death, and this wasn’t just any woman; it was Emma’s sister. He stepped back and looked down at her, seeing her trembling starting to ratchet up. Aw, what the hell? I’m not here officially, dammit. He leaned in and wrapped her in his arms and held her tight, resting his chin on her head. Gabby clung to him.

  “There’s something about you—so familiar and comforting,” she whispered. Then she crumbled in his arms, limp and exhausted, unable to stand. Dusty picked her up and carried her into the den and laid her on the couch.

  “Gabby? Listen to me,” Dusty asked in a soothing voice, smoothing her hair back away from her face while squatting down beside her. “I’m going to reach into your purse and find your phone, the one you were talking to Emma on. I’ll call her and tell her to come on down to the house now. I’ll just step over to the front door and watch her walk from her car to the door. It’ll be fine. It’ll take just a minute until she’s here, and I’ll have my eyes on both of you,” he patiently explained while gently pulling her purse over her head, then reaching in to find her phone.

  He called Emma and gave her instructions, then made his way to the door, keeping his eyes locked on Gabby’s, feeling as if she was clinging to him with her eyes. When he saw headlights flick on and move down the driveway, he switched his gaze to watch Emma safely walk from her car to the front door and then rush in to her sister’s side.

  A short time later, he was carrying Gabby to bed, under the orders of Emma, who had already given Gabby a sleeping pill with a cup of hot tea and held her hand until she’d fallen asleep on the couch.

  Emma removed Gabby’s shoes and tucked the blankets around her after Dusty stepped away. He turned back just in time to see Gabby’s eyes open, barely, and hear her say, “Thanks, Jake. For saving me...” before nodding back to sleep.

  CHAPTER 23

  GABBY woke up with a heavy heart, no—a fractured heart, as if she were reliving that day, only this time fully awake with no medication to numb the pain. Her memories had flooded into her mind while she was sleeping and assaulted her the moment the sun peeked through the blinds, unmercifully nudging her to get up and face what she had been pushing away for far too long.

  Grudgingly, she stripped off yesterday clothes, sour with the sweat of the terrifying panic attack she’d had the night before, and thought back to the young officer that Emma had brought. She wondered if she’d imagined it or if he really did resemble Jake. Maybe that’s what finally released my memory? Or maybe I imagined the resemblance. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to remember what was real anymore, except the funeral. She remembered that clearly now—too clearly.

  She snatched clean clothes from her closet, not bothering to even consider what she grabbed. Almost mechanically, she stepped into the bathroom, piling the clothes on the counter. She twisted the water on and then turned, waiting for it to get hot, staring into the mirror at her reflection as it morphed into Olivia staring back sternly.

  “I get it now, Olivia! I remember!” she screamed. “Oh God, I remember. Please, just stop looking at me that way!” she screamed at herself, slamming her hand onto the mirror, slapping her own face and leaving a spider-web design of broken glass still adhered to the wall. She crumpled naked and defeated to the floor.

  Tap, tap, tap. “Gabby, are you okay?” Emma asked. “Who are you screaming at? What was that noise? It sounded like glass breaking.”

  Gabby continued to cry, not wanting or able to answer her little sister. How could she tell her she finally remembered everything, that this was all her fault, and the guilt was hers to own, but not the grief—the horrific, unbearable grief. That had been thoughtlessly hoarded, stolen by Gabby’s selfishness. All the attention that Gabby had needed in the past few months had robbed that grief from others who rightfully owned it, too. They probably hated her deep down.

  “Gabby, answer me,” Emma yelled through the door. She again thumped her knuckles against the door, louder and faster than before. “If you don’t answer, I’m coming in!”

  Gabby couldn’t answer. More of her undeserved grief choked her with its persistence, not willing to let Gabby give any of it away, to share it with anyone. It was a harsh and greedy master and she its unwilling host. Her heavy sobbing turned into bawling moans, and Emma quickly opened the door. She gasped when she saw Gabby lying crumpled, naked, on the floor.

  “Gabby! What is it?”

  “I know, Emma. I... r-r-remember... now,” Gabby wept.

  Emma dropped to the floor, to Gabby’s level, and gently lifted her face, looking into her eyes—eyes identical to Olivia’s and her own.

  “You do, Gabby? You remember. Wait. What do you remember?” Emma asked hesitantly.

  “I r-r-remember... the... f-f-funeral... and everything,” Gabby forced out around her wailing while pushing away Emma’s hand. Emma didn’t have to indulge her delusions anymore or pretend... or dance around the truth. Gabby expected her to be relieved that she was no longer her b
urden at the very least.

  “It’s okay, Gabby. You’ll get through this. We did—we do... every day, and it gets easier.” Emma grabbed a towel from the rack for Gabby and covered her with it. “Gabby, I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry. This has always been Olivia’s area so I’m winging it, big sister. I’ll tell you like Olivia would if she were here. Buck up. Get in the shower. It’ll make you feel better. Then put on your big girl panties and come out. We can talk then—when one of us isn’t naked. This just feels weird, even if it is you.”

  Emma took her arm and pulled her up, surprising Gabby with her strength. Gabby offered no resistance but no help either. She was clinging to the towel, finally covering her nakedness, though her soul felt bared.

  Gabby watched Emma walk determinedly out of the bathroom and firmly shut the door. She reminded her of a mini-sized Olivia. Was that where her little sister was finding this strength—by emulating Olivia? How could she so calmly handle this, knowing it was Gabby’s fault and Gabby had avoided facing it by blocking it out for six weeks?

  Gabby stepped into the shower, letting the water run down her face, the tears repeatedly playing a game of chase with the water streams, not deterred at all. She allowed herself to continue to cry just the time it took to wash, top to bottom, and then sucked in a huge breath, held it, then let it go.

  She dried and dressed quickly, then jerked the comb carelessly through her wet hair, pulling hard at the tangles. She tried to avoid looking at the shattered mirror, but she couldn’t help it. One glance up and she saw dozens of miniature Gabby/Olivia meshed faces in the cracked glass, looking back at her. Her chin quivered as she closed her eyes forcefully, not wanting to see her face or Olivia’s. Not that Olivia would blame her; she knew she never would, but she knew that the three-minute head start Olivia got down the birthing canal had always made her think she was the big sister, the strong one, the one that always had to pick up the pieces, but she wasn’t here to pick up the pieces now. This was Gabby’s responsibility, and like the mirror, her life was shattered and barely held together. She had to be the strong one now, to do this on her own, without Olivia.