by Jeff Shelby
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing here?” She motioned to the coop, her hand sweeping in a massive arc.
I didn’t actually know what she was doing there, but I had my suspicions. It looked like Vivian had been right about her stepsister. She’d staged her own disappearance and was now hiding out in a falling down chicken coop, subsisting on junk food and soda.
“This is where you’ve been the last few days?” I said, wrinkling my nose at the filth surrounding her.
“Not exactly the lap of luxury, is it?” She frowned, and I noticed that the speck of dirt on her nose was really her piercing, now covered in mud. “I’m so sick of being dirty. And eating all this junk!” She waved a hand at the shelf full of food. “How am I supposed to live like this? I haven’t had fresh food in days. Nothing but convenience store crap. And this stupid chicken has been pecking at me for days!”
On cue, the rooster let out a warble and pecked its beak through the chicken wire. Leslie shrieked.
It was my turn to frown. Why was she saying this so accusingly, as if we were somehow responsible for her situation?
I glanced at the other two people outside the coop, both of whose eyes were glued to Leslie. Shawn was staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost. The color had completely drained from his face and he glanced nervously at Tori and then back at Leslie.
Tori didn’t seem too terribly surprised by Leslie’s presence, which told me one thing: she had no idea she had just stumbled upon the woman Shawn was cheating on her with.
I took a deep breath. Things were going to get complicated, fast.
And ugly.
“Leslie,” I said, turning my attention back to her. “Your family has been worried sick. You’ve been reported as a missing person. Why did you run away?”
She stilled, and having been the target of prior attacks from her, I braced myself for a verbal assault.
It didn’t come.
She gave me a look, a mixture of surprise and confusion. “You think I ran away?”
Hesitantly, I nodded.
She shook her head, her dirty, stringy hair hair swinging wildly. “You’re wrong. Dead wrong.” She lifted a grimy, grubby hand and uncurled her finger.
“You kidnapped me.”
THIRTY FIVE
I don’t know who was the most surprised by Leslie’s revelation.
Shawn gasped.
I gaped.
And Tori frowned.
“Someone better explain what is going on here,” I finally said.
“You heard me,” Leslie spat. Her ire was back, her eyes shooting daggers, her mouth twisted into a vicious curl. “I was kidnapped. Held against my will. And fed really crappy food!”
“I bought you exactly what you asked for.”
I whirled around to face the two people standing behind me.
“It was you?” I asked.
Tori folded her arms across her chest. “Who else would it have been?”
“But…” My voice trailed off.
I’d thought it was Shawn. Been convinced of it, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“How?” I asked. “When?” And then, because I was still so confused, I added, “Why?”
“I saw her talking to Shawn a few days ago. Out on the street in front of that restaurant.” She shrugged as if she were sharing the most casual thing in the world, not details on how she’d managed to kidnap a girl and hold her hostage for days. “I figured she might have some information about him, so I followed her. Saw her heading toward the grocery store so I stopped and asked her if she wanted a ride.”
“You got in the car with her?” I asked Leslie. “Willingly?”
Leslie nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to walk?” She said it like a question, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
“Your stepsister’s house is two blocks from the grocery store.”
“It was hot,” she said. “And I have weak ankles.”
Unbelievable. I waited for Tori to continue.
“I didn’t take her to the store,” she said. “I brought her here. To talk. I just wanted to ask her a few questions. But she got all bent out of shape and demanded I take her back home.”
Rightfully so, I thought. “So why didn’t you?”
“Because I wanted answers,” Tori said, her eyes narrowing. “I wanted her to promise to tell me the truth when I started asking questions.”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “She wouldn’t even tell me what the stupid questions were. So I said no, I wasn’t telling her squat.”
“Okay…” I waited. “Then what happened?”
She wouldn’t promise so I stuck her in there,” Tori said, pointing to the coop. “Told her that when she was ready to answer my questions, I would let her out.”
“So you held her against her will?” I said it slowly, letting the words sink in. “You took her and kept her from returning home.”
“She got in my car willingly!” Tori practically yelled. But she was sweating a little, and I wondered if the realization of what she’d done was finally sinking in. “And then she wouldn’t listen. So I…I gave her a time-out. I didn’t kidnap her!”
“She’s not a two-year-old,” I pointed out. “Or a dog. You kept her against her will. That’s kidnapping.”
“I took care of her,” Tori protested, her eyes wild. “I brought her food and stuff to drink. She was never in any danger.”
“You brought me crappy food,” Leslie shot back. “And this building isn’t fit for animals, much less people.”
I think everyone was in agreement on that statement. “Open the door,” I told Tori.
Tori looked at the ground.
“Tori.” My voice was sharp. “Open the door. Now.”
She sighed and produced a key from her pocket. She twisted it in the lock and then swung the door open.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and I was surprised to hear what sounded like genuine contrition in her voice. “I just wanted answers.”
“Yeah, well I might have given some to you if you’d ever told me the questions,” Leslie muttered, brushing past her.
Tori’s eyes filled with tears. “I just wanted to know the truth.”
I glanced at Shawn. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows up to his hairline. He was watching in nervous anticipation and his feet danced on the ground, a sign he was nearly ready to take flight.
“The truth about what?” Leslie snapped.
“About Shawn,” Tori said with a howl.
Leslie stopped. She’d walked past me and was now standing directly in front of Tori.
“You know Shawn?” Leslie asked.
Tori nodded and I realized that they’d never even gotten the most basic information out of the way.
“He’s my boyfriend,” Tori said softly. “And I think he’s been cheating on me.”
I watched as Leslie’s entire frame stiffened, like someone had just attached a steel pole to the length of her. “What?”
“He…he disappeared a while ago,” Tori said tearfully. “Told me he had some stuff he needed to take care of and that he’d be back. That was weeks ago. He…he kept in touch via text, but only when I texted him first.”
Leslie was staring at Shawn. He looked like he was frozen in place, too horrified to move.
“Shawn is your…boyfriend?” Leslie asked.
Tori nodded.
Leslie folded her arms and faced Shawn. “Is this true?”
He was practically dancing a jig now. “I can explain.”
Tori’s eyes narrowed. “You two know each other?”
My earlier meeting with Tori hadn’t left me with much of an impression of her, other than that she appeared to be a jilted girlfriend. What I was quickly surmising was that she wasn’t terribly bright, either. How could she have seen the two of them together outside the Wicked Wich and not considered there was some sort of connection between them?
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“I can explain,” Shawn repeated, his voice desperate. “Just let me explain!”
“I’m his girlfriend, too,” Leslie said flatly. Her eyes were on the man who was withering under her steely gaze. “Or make that, was.”
“Leslie,” he began, but Tori let out a gasp and all eyes turned to her.
“You lying snake,” she seethed, her eyes narrowed to slits. “I knew you were cheating! I knew it!”
“Tori,” he said, holding his hands out. “Hang on a minute.”
“Does he hum the James Bond theme song after sex with you?” Leslie asked.
Tori's eyes widened. “Yes! Oh my god yes!”
“It's so annoying,” Leslie muttered.
“It is!” Tori said, her hands on her hips. “It bugs me almost as much as when he eats Cheez Whiz out of the jar.”
“Oh, yeah, I totally hate that, too,” Leslie said. “It's gross.”
Shawn winced. “Look, I can explain. I mean, not about that stuff. But I can explain about...this.”
Leslie took a step toward him. “I think I've heard enough of your explaining.”
Tori slid in next to her and smacked his chest with the palm of her hand. “Me, too.”
“Girls, come on,” he said, taking a step backward. “Let's just cool off and talk about this.”
Leslie looked at Tori. “Does he make you watch reruns of...”
“The Dukes of Hazzard?” Tori said, nodding. “All the damn time.”
“And then he wants you to wear Daisy's shorts?”
“He bought me a pair.”
“Me, too.”
It was like watching a fire being lit. The girls were very quickly figuring out how badly they'd been played. And how unoriginal Shawn had been with each of them.
Tori slapped his chest again. “You idiot.”
He took another step backward. “Ah, come on!”
Leslie's foot shot out, connecting with his shin. “You come on, moron.”
He winced, reaching for his shin. “That hurts!”
Tori made a fist and buried it in his ribs.
“Ow!” he yelped. “Come on!”
They stood there and he was like a cornered cat. There was nowhere for him to go. The coop was behind him and the girls were in front of him. It looked like all of his escape routes were blocked.
He lunged forward quickly, trying to slide between them and run past. But Leslie grabbed him around the neck and Tori caught him around the waist. His arms and legs flailed, but he was no match for the girls and their anger. They dragged him toward the coop and then shoved him into it. His feet caught on something and crashed down to the ground on his stomach.
And the rooster crowed loudly, stuck its head through a hole in the fence, and pecked Shawn right on the nose.
The girls and I stood there for a moment, everything finally quiet after a loud and raucous few minutes.
Then leaves crunched and a figure appeared by the willow tree.
Sheriff Lewis yanked his pipe out of his mouth and glared at us. “What in tarnation is going on here?”
THIRTY SIX
“Sheriff, thank goodness you’re here,” I said.
I never thought I’d utter those words and mean them, but I did.
I didn’t know how he’d found us, or what information had led him to the abandoned farmhouse past the Konrath’s, but none of that mattered. He was there and we could finally put the kidnapping/missing person case to rest. Mikey was off the hook and the real perpetrator would face charges and, later, her day in court.
I didn’t want that for Tori—part of me felt sorry for her, especially with all of the trouble Shawn had caused her—but facts were facts. She’d kidnapped Leslie and even though her intentions had never been to harm her, she’d still broken the law.
Sheriff Lewis frowned. “Figured you’d be the last person happy to see me.”
I had the decency to feel a little embarrassed by his comment. It was no secret that I didn’t think too highly of him or his investigative skills, but it didn’t make me feel too good to know that I wore those feelings on my sleeve.
“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m glad you’re here.” His timing really couldn’t have been more perfect.
He quirked a bushy eyebrow. “Wasn’t countin’ on that reaction considering the call I got was about you.”
“Me?”
He nodded. “Got a call about reckless driving. Caller had the license plate number and it matched a vehicle belonging to you. Said you’d pulled off into McMahon’s old farm.”
“Reckless driving?” I’d been known to drive fast in DC—you’d get run off the road if you didn’t drive at least ten miles over the speed limit on the Beltway—but part of living in the country was taking the time to slow down, in all aspects of my life. Driving included.
“Look, Sheriff, I don’t know what the reckless driving call was about but there’s something else you should—”
He ignored me. “Reckless driving is a serious offense, Ms. Day,” he informed me, pulling a pad of paper from the back pocket of his uniform. “Can’t have people going too slow on these country roads.”
I blinked. “Too slow?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Caller said you were crawling along at about five miles an hour. The speed limit out here in 45. Creating dangerous driving conditions for other drivers is something I take very seriously.”
“Sheriff, with all due respect, there is something else going on here you should know about.”
“Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?”
I sort of was. But I forced myself to stay calm. “No, sir. I just wanted to—”
He finally noticed the people standing around me. “These your friends, Ms. Day?” He glanced inside the coop, his gaze seemingly missing the fact that Shawn was locked inside, focusing instead on the trash that had accumulated on the ground. “You having some sort of party out here? This is private property, you know.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Sheriff, I appreciate the fact that you’re concerned about trespassing and reckless driving, but there is another crime to investigate here.”
The sheriff looked at me, the frown still etched on his face. “Oh? And what’s that, Ms. Day?”
I pointed to Leslie. “Her.”
THIRTY SEVEN
Sheriff Lewis squinted at Leslie. “Who are you?”
I groaned. Out loud.
I couldn’t help it.
“She’s the girl who has been missing for days,” I told him. “You know, the girl who you organized search parties for? The girl who you think is Mikey’s lover?”
Leslie snapped to attention. “What?”
I continued. “She’s been here all along.”
The sheriff’s expression morphed from one of confusion to one of enlightenment. “Leslie? Vivian’s stepsister? Well, I’ll be doggoned. You’ve been hiding out here? What in tarnation were you doing that for?”
I threw up my hands. “She wasn’t hiding out. She’d been kidnapped! By her!” I pointed at Tori.
The sheriff looked at the girl standing next to Leslie. “Who are you?”
Tori hung her head. She stubbed the dirt with her foot, digging a small hole with the toe of her shoe.
The silence built. I glanced at Shawn, locked in the coop, bits of broken Oreo littering his hair. I turned my attention to Leslie. She looked unsure, a puzzled frown on her face.
“Her name is Tori,” Leslie said slowly. She met the sheriff’s gaze and kept her eyes on him. “She…she’s my friend.”
I don’t know who was more surprised by this statement. Shawn let out what sounded like a squeak, Tori snapped to attention, and I almost fell over.
“Your what?” I asked.
She glanced quickly at Tori, then at Shawn, her eyes narrowing a little as she glared at him. “My friend,” she said, more firmly this time. “I had a fight with my boyfriend and I came out here to get away from him. She…she brought me food
and stuff while I tried to sort things out.”
The sheriff tucked the pad of paper back in his pocket. “Well, now, you’ve had a bunch of people pretty worried, Missy. You can’t just run off and disappear without telling people.”
“I know,” Leslie said. “And I’m sorry.”
She didn’t actually sound sorry at all.
“Wait a minute,” I said, holding out my hand. “That’s not what happened. Tori brought her out here because she wanted to ask her some questions, and held her against her will. They are not friends. They both were involved with him”—I pointed at Shawn—“and neither one knew about the other.”
No one refuted my claims.
“This is not just a case of someone running away,” I said. “And despite the fact that Tori said she didn’t mean to hurt anyone, the fact remains that she committed a crime by holding someone against their will.”
The sheriff stroked his moustache. “Is this true?”
His question was directed to Leslie.
She looked at me. Her tough façade was gone, replaced by something I couldn’t quite identify. A little regret, perhaps, and maybe a touch of sadness. It was hard to tell.
“No,” Leslie said. She looked defiantly at me. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I came out here on my own.” She let out a breath. “Besides, even if you do decide to press charges, I won’t cooperate. So there.”
The sheriff stroked his moustache some more, apparently deep in thought. “Looks like a squatter’s camp to me,” he said.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered. Then, louder, I said, “Well, what about him?” I pointed at Shawn. “He’s locked in the coop right now. Isn’t there a crime against that?” I was so angry at the girls standing in front of me, I was bound and determined to get them on the hook for something.
The sheriff stepped forward and wrapped his hand around the lock. “Hmm, does look like it’s locked.” He glanced at Shawn, who was watching the back and forth with what looked like a mixture of horror and fascination. Every once in a while, he’d turn his attention to the rooster, who was now scratching at the dirt surrounding the fence, looking as though he was trying to claw his way under. “What are you doing in there, son?”