by Kathy Macias
She’d had but one brief look at her captor’s face, but she could nearly imagine him sneering as he answered, his mouth still near her ear. “Julia. A beautiful name for a beautiful señora. I like it. It fits you. Julia. I can almost taste its sweetness in my mouth.”
She shuddered, and he laughed in response. “Ah, Señora Julia, it seems you look forward to our time together nearly as much as I do.” He kissed the tip of her earlobe then. “If you make it worth my while, Señora Julia, perhaps I will not hurt you quite so much.” He laughed again, and her stomach churned. Even if by some miracle she made it out of this alive, it was obvious she wouldn’t do so unscathed.
“All right then, Señora Julia,” the man continued, and she could tell he had stood to his feet and moved away from her side to look directly down at her from the front. “You have done good to tell me your first name, but no doubt you have a last, do you not?” Suddenly he was in her face, breathing his foul breath directly on her as he grabbed the front of her blouse and pulled her close. “Do not play with me, señora. I want your full name. All of it. Right now. And I want to know who you are, where you’re from, what you do. Do you understand, señora?”
Her full bladder, combined with her ever-increasing fear, caused her to lose control. Humiliated as well as terrified, she now sat in a warm puddle of her own urine, as tears coursed down her cheeks. “My name is . . . Julia Lawson . . . Bennington,” she said between sobs. “I’m from . . . Temecula, California. I’m a . . . widow. I teach high school English. I have . . . two children in college. I . . .”
Julia’s words drifted off now, as the reality of how much she had already revealed flooded her thoughts. If she caved this easily, this quickly, how much more would she do or say in an effort to keep him from hurting her?
“Julia Lawson Bennington. A very nice name, señora. You were very wise to reveal this information to me. Of course, we have much more to discuss, but first we must clean you up. I can’t have you sitting there all wet and uncomfortable, can I?” He let go of her blouse. “No, I cannot. I am a gentleman, after all, so I will allow you to clean yourself. You understand, though, that I must watch to be sure you don’t try anything foolish.”
The implications of his words hit Julia like a fist in the stomach, even as he began to untie her. When both her feet and one hand were free, he gripped her arm and squeezed until she moaned. “Do not think of trying to escape, señora.” He pricked the skin on her neck with what she was sure was a knife. She felt a trickle of warm blood run down into her collarbone. “This knife is my enforcer, and I keep it by my side at all times. Do you understand?”
Her blindfold was damp with tears by that time, but she nodded. It would be pointless to fight him anyway. Oh God, help me, she begged silently. Please help me!
Before long she found herself once again sitting on the hard wooden chair, but this time stripped and still blindfolded. Using a damp cloth he’d given her, she tried as best she could to clean herself. Throughout the procedure, which he encouraged her to drag out for reasons she didn’t even want to contemplate, he hummed and laughed and spoke various endearments to her, promising they would get to know each other much better as time went on. He was able to restrain himself from doing more only because he knew that El Toro or one of his men could return at any moment.
When she was finished, Hernando wrapped her in a scratchy wool blanket that smelled like a dog, no doubt the one she’d heard growling off and on. She hoped the dog wouldn’t be angry that she’d been given his blanket. But as her captor retied her to the chair, she realized she wasn’t going to be raped after all—at least not right now. That brought some sense of relief, but from the sound of his promises for the future, she imagined it wouldn’t be long.
“There,” he said, adjusting the blindfold that had remained in place while she cleaned herself. “You are now clean once again. You know, señora, if you had been patient, I would have given you a chance to relieve yourself properly. Keep that in mind for next time, will you?” He leaned down close to her. “Unless, of course, you would like me to wash you. I would be happy to do so any time you wish.”
Repulsed, she pulled back as far as the straight-backed chair would allow. She despised this man, hated him in a way she’d never imagined she could hate anyone. But her fear of him was greater even than her hatred. He was an evil man, and he had complete control of her. What would he do next?
“I have been thinking, cara,” he said, apparently sitting in front of her now. “It’s been a long day, and you must be very hungry. Would you like me to get you something to eat?”
Julia realized she hadn’t eaten since the tiny breakfast she’d purchased at the marketplace that morning. It seemed ages ago, though it was undoubtedly only hours. How many? She had no idea. And under normal conditions she would certainly be hungry by now. But these were not normal conditions, and the thought of food set her stomach to churning again.
Did she dare refuse his offer? Would that be the thing that upset him and caused him to be “not so nice,” as he’d warned?
She swallowed. “That would be . . . nice. Thank you.”
The man laughed. “Ah, so the señora is either very hungry or very smart.” She smelled his body odor again as he leaned so close their foreheads touched. “I think it is not hunger that drives you, so you must be smart, eh? You said you were a teacher, after all. All right, smart lady, here is what you must do if you wish to eat—not just now but ever again. Give me the names of your family, those who care enough to pay money to get you back. You said you are a widow, so there is no husband, but there are others, yes? Of course there are. You mentioned two children in college. And your parents . . . what about them? I imagine they will pay whatever I ask to get their precious Señora Julia Lawson Bennington back, safe and sound. Am I right?”
Denials and explanations swirled through her mind, but she sensed he would not receive them well. Still, she had to at least make one attempt to dissuade him from asking the impossible. “My family has no money—not much, anyway. My children are in college, and my parents are elderly.”
He pressed his forehead harder against hers. “They own a home, don’t they? Everyone in the United States owns a home. You do also, yes?”
Tears once again pricked her eyes. “Yes.”
“Very good. And what about when your husband died? Surely he left you a big insurance policy.”
The policy Tom had left was far from large and had long since been used to help pay college tuition for Tyler and Brittney, but she knew the man did not want to hear that. “Yes,” was all she whispered.
“Very good, señora.” He pulled back from her. “Now, what are your parents’ names, and how do I reach them?”
WHEN THE PHONE RANG in the middle of the night, Marie shot up to a sitting position, eyes wide open and heart racing. It wasn’t that the ringing had awakened her, as she’d done nothing but toss and turn, pray and cry, since she and John had come to bed a little before midnight. She was almost certain Tyler and Brittney weren’t sleeping either, but somehow John had managed to drift off.
She grabbed the receiver from the stand beside the bed, fully aware that any call at that hour couldn’t be good news. But in this case, wasn’t it possible? Wasn’t there at least a chance that it was Carolyn or Frank Barnes calling to say they’d found Julia and she was all right?
“Hello?” Her voice sounded more like a desperate cry than a greeting.
By that time John had switched on the light beside the bed and he was sitting up beside her, an anxious look on his face. “Who is it?” he whispered.
She shushed him with a wave of her hand, straining to hear the voice at the other end, praying it was indeed good news.
“Señora Lawson?” a man’s voice asked.
Marie swallowed. “Yes. Who is this?”
“It is not important who I am. What is important is that your daughter is here with me. And she is safe . . . for the moment.”
Marie
gasped and John snatched the phone from her hand. “Who is this?” he demanded.
Marie watched as John listened, his face going pale. She saw his jaw twitch. Whatever the man was telling him, it wasn’t good.
“But that’s . . . that’s impossible,” John said. “We don’t have that kind of money.”
He listened again, and this time she saw tears pop into his hazel eyes. She shivered next to him.
Finally, after only a few brief words of ascent from John, he hung up. He raised his eyes to hers and shook his head. “They want a million dollars. A million dollars, Marie. Where are we going to get that kind of money?”
Marie felt her eyes widen. “What are you talking about? Who wants a million dollars?”
“The people who kidnapped our daughter. They said we have three days. Then he’ll call us again and tells us where to wire the money. Three days! It might as well be three years.”
The reality of his words were beginning to sink into Marie’s heart, as well as her mind, and she felt herself trembling. “What will happen if we don’t send it?”
His jaw twitched again. “He said . . .” A sob escaped before he could finish. “He said we will get Julia back either way, but if we don’t pay the money, it will be in pieces.”
A cry escaped Marie’s lips, and she fell into John’s arms. By that time Brittney and Tyler had come to the door and were waiting for an explanation.
“Was that call about Mom?” Tyler asked, standing in the open doorway in his pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt, with Brittney peering over his shoulder. Both looked like frightened children.
John nodded and patted the foot of the bed. “Yes, it was about your mom. Come and sit down, both of you. Please.”
ITZEL PULLED THE COVER OVER HER HEAD and tried to cry silently, but the house was so small that it was only a few minutes before her abuela came to sit on her sleeping mat.
“What is it, Itzel?” The old woman pulled the covers back and peered down at her. Itzel knew her abuela could see her because the moonlight shone through the window, and Itzel could see the frown on her abuela’s face.
Itzel swallowed. “It is nothing, Abuela. I . . . I had a bad dream.”
The grandmother nodded, and her forehead smoothed out. “Bad dreams. Yes, children have them often.” She shrugged. “Old people too, like me.” Her frown returned. “But never do I cry about them, and I have never heard you do so either. So what is the real reason you are crying?” She leaned down slightly. “Do not lie to me, little one.”
Itzel sighed. No matter how hard she tried, she never seemed able to hide anything from her abuela. This would be no different.
“When we went back to the marketplace today, I . . . saw something.”
“What did you see?”
Itzel swallowed. “I saw a mean man. I saw him yesterday too.”
The old woman looked surprised now. “And how do you know he is mean?”
“His face. He looks very mean. And he says bad words.”
Abuela nodded. “So, he is a mean man. Is that what scared you and made you cry? Do you think he will hurt you?”
Itzel imagined he might if he could, but that wasn’t why she was crying. She shook her head. “No. I am crying because he had my teacher in his car.”
This time the old woman looked genuinely confused. “What do you mean, Itzel? Are you talking about your teacher from La Paz? She was with this mean man?”
Itzel nodded. “Yes. But I do not believe she wanted to be there. She had a rag in her mouth and something over her eyes.”
Frowning once again, the abuela sat up straight. “You are not making sense. I think you are making this up.”
“No!” Itzel’s protest came out as a cry, and she dissolved into tears. “I am not . . . making this up,” she protested between sobs. “The mean man has . . . taken my . . . teacher away. “
The old woman gathered the child into her arms. “I do not understand what you are saying, little one, but we will talk about this more in the morning. For now you must get some sleep.”
Itzel doubted that sleep was possible, but she would honor her abuela’s wishes and try. Surely tomorrow, when they talked about it again, her abuela would know what to do.
CHAPTER 23
RAMON AWOKE WITH A JOLT to the sound of pounding on his door. He was shocked to realize he’d finally fallen asleep, even if it had been in his chair beside his bed. The last he remembered was when he and the Barneses agreed to catch a few hours of sleep and resume their efforts in the morning. He had returned home and sat down to pray for a few minutes before going to bed. Apparently that’s as far as he’d gotten.
The light was just beginning to penetrate the window, so he knew it was still early. The pounding continued, along with Frank Barnes’s voice calling his name.
His head cleared now, he rushed to the door and yanked it open. Surely this meant that Julia had returned or they at least had good news. But the look on Frank’s face told him otherwise.
“What is it?” he asked, as he stepped back so his friend could come in. He closed the door and readied himself for the blow he imagined was about to come.
“She’s been kidnapped.” Frank’s pale blue eyes were red-rimmed, his face ashen. “We just had a call from her parents, telling us they’d heard from the kidnappers in the middle of the night.” He paused, and Ramon saw the man’s Adam’s apple slide up and then down again. “They . . . they want a million dollars. And they have three days to figure out where to get it.”
Ramon felt his eyes widen. A million dollars! He imagined Julia had a nice home in the States and lived a relatively comfortable life. But a million dollars? Who had that kind of money?
He backed into the rocking chair nearest the front door and nearly collapsed into it. “A million dollars?” He stared up at Frank, connecting with the man’s hopeless expression. “In three days? Impossible.” He shook his head and buried it in his hands. “It is a death sentence.”
He heard Frank pull up another chair and sit down beside him. “That was my first reaction too. Carolyn and I have been talking about this and praying since the Lawsons called us a couple hours ago. It’s still hard to believe. We know these things happen in the cities all the time, but not here. True, the locals don’t welcome us, and we’re well aware of the dangers of living here, which is why we warned Julia not to go out alone. But kidnapping for ransom? I’ve never heard of it happening here, have you?”
Ramon groaned and shook his head. It made no sense. He didn’t want it to be true, and yet he sensed it was.
Frank laid a hand on Ramon’s arm. “As unbelievable and hopeless as it sounds, we have to remember there is nothing impossible with God. We need a miracle, Padre. We must gather together for prayer.” He squeezed Ramon’s arm. “It’s our only hope.”
Ramon raised his head. He knew his friend was right. None of them had any possible way of gathering together anything close to a million dollars, particularly not in three days. And though he knew nothing of Julia’s financial means or that of her family, he couldn’t imagine how they could do so either.
Frank was right. They needed a miracle. And though they couldn’t produce one, they served a God who spoke creation into existence.
He nodded. “Yes, I will come to your home right away.”
“We’ll be waiting for you,” Frank said, then rose and walked out the door.
HERNANDO COULDN’T WAIT for the morning to come to an end. El Toro had announced he was leaving by noontime, so at last he would be able to implement his plan to enjoy his captive to the fullest. Until then he was biding his time, though pleased that he had managed to gain the needed information so easily and to contact her family.
You have no idea how much I am going to enjoy the next few days with you, Señora Julia—and how much you will despise them. But you have no choice, do you? Once El Toro leaves, I am in charge. It is obvious that you are not a courageous woman, so you will do whatever I say. And perhaps, if your fa
mily delivers the money, you will go free. Then again, I may decide it is too dangerous to turn you loose so long as I am still living here. We will just have to see what happens, won’t we?
He sat on an old stool beside the door to the shed where his captive remained tied to a chair. He had spent the night there, sleeping on the old mattress, and checking on her periodically. Occasionally he saw that she had dozed off, but most of the time he heard her across the room moaning or crying—even praying a time or two.
With the sun almost directly overhead, he smirked. Praying. Ha! Does she think some imaginary God is going to come on a white horse and rescue her? She is mine now, and soon she will understand that she goes or stays, even lives and breathes, at my command. I have been her god from the moment I caught her in the forest, and I alone will decide her fate.
The back door to the house opened then, and El Toro stepped outside, followed by his two henchmen. Without thinking, Hernando smiled. They were leaving now—at last.
Hernando rose from his perch and stepped toward the three men, more than ready to bid them farewell.
“So you are leaving now,” he said.
El Toro squinted down at him. “You are glad of that, no?”
Hernando lifted his eyebrows. “Not really, no. I just meant—”
“I know what you meant. Once I am gone you will be able to do what you want.” El Toro’s jaw twitched, and he lifted a meaty finger directly in front of Hernando’s face. “I think you forget your mission here. It is not to enjoy yourself with the woman, but to make sure you get the money for El Jefe.”
Hernando felt his eyes go wide and his cheeks flame. “I have not forgotten. Not at all. That is why I worked so hard to find this Americana and bring her here. I have already contacted her familia, you know that.”