by H. L. Wegley
He climbed to the top and stopped. Now what? He had a gun. The ammunition box still rode in his coat pocket. But first, he needed to resolve his questions about the gun’s usability. To do that, he needed a light.
The cell phone in his pocket was supposedly water resistant. It could be dead forever…like Jennifer.
He pushed that thought from his mind, knowing it would return to haunt and hurt.
Lee pressed the on button. The phone lit up and booted. There was no service here, but in the cell he had a makeshift flashlight for as long as the battery lasted.
He pulled out the gun, unlatched the cylinder, and removed the cartridges. After he had wiped away all traces of sand on the exposed parts of the gun, he ripped a shredded piece of fabric from his clothing, pushed one end through the barrel with a twig, and pulled it back and forth several times. He pointed the barrel towards his cell light. When he peered through it, the barrel looked clean. It wasn’t bent or dented.
Should he test fire it? Even with the noise of the wind, Trader might hear a gunshot. He couldn’t give up the element of surprise—surprise that he was alive and surprise that he had a weapon. He decided to assume the gun would fire and trust God for the results.
The windstorm gave him a twenty-four hour window to rescue the girls. When should he make the attempt? Where should he make it?
Jennifer said the exchange was scheduled for a beach about a mile north of the Hole-In-The-Wall.
Jennifer. Warm thoughts of her smile, her eyes, and her touch flooded his mind. He stifled them before they could derail his mission. He needed to pull himself together, to do what she would want him to do.
He took a deep breath, but choked on a sob before he could exhale. A growing anger rescued him from being completely overcome by the sense of loss. He would hold onto the anger. It drove both him and his plan forward.
With the gun, he could kill Trader and his henchmen. But to do that, he needed to separate the goons. Deal with them one at a time.
During any surprise attack, he must keep the girls safe. That was paramount. His best chance to free them was tonight, before first light.
Peterson’s team could be in the vicinity before daylight. But he couldn’t count on them. Too many uncertainties. He would take the girls and hide if any goons were left alive.
As Lee stood to begin his search for the trail, the surges of adrenaline were gone. He shivered from the wind and the wet clothing. He needed to keep moving.
He opened his cell and, shining the light downward, walked a line he thought paralleled the beach. Soon he discovered the small trail and some footprints.
He looked up into the dark sky. Thank You.
If he was truthful, only part of his heart felt gratitude. The feelings in the other part weren’t good, but they were now easier to justify, because killing Trader and freeing the girls were becoming synonymous in his mind.
He clenched his teeth and pictured himself taking Trader to the top of the sea arch, shooting him in a shoulder and a knee, and then shoving him into the surf to drown like Jennifer.
Like Jennifer? He wasn’t thinking like Jennifer. She couldn’t love a man filled with anger and hatred. He couldn’t allow himself to become such a man.
If freeing the girls required killing Trader, he would do it. But this was Jennifer’s mission, not his vendetta. Whatever he did must honor God and her wishes. He prayed it would also rescue the girls.
17
What would happen when she told Trader that she was awake? Jennifer hesitated before speaking.
Please show me what to do.
She lifted her head and spoke softly, “May I walk now?”
Trader jerked to a stop.
His partner flashed the light in Jennifer’s face. The gravelly voice spoke again, “Eyes wide open, boss. Let’s see if she can walk.”
“I think I can walk if—”
“You only speak to answer my questions.” Trader’s deep, harsh voice boomed out the order. It was a voice skillfully tuned for intimidation. “Do you understand?” He swung her down and set her on her feet.
“I understand.” She wobbled, and then caught herself as her sense of balance returned. But she was disoriented. “Which way are we going?”
“You didn’t hear me, did you? Only when I ask. Have you got that, you little…”
Jennifer shrank back in horror from the string of vile, demeaning words that exploded from Trader’s mouth. He crafted his words to shock, assault, intimidate, and to remove all sense of self-worth. He was good at it, and that infuriated her.
She wanted to glare into his eyes, to stare him down, to show him what she thought of him.
Someone deep inside spoke inaudibly, saying, “No.”
She followed the prompting.
After sucking in a deep breath, she blew it back out, and then turned towards Trader, careful to avoid eye contact. She must emulate a sixteen-year-old girl, frightened, intimidated, and docile. Head bowed, she nodded.
“That’s better.” Trader’s voice relaxed. “Jacko, lead the way with the light. I’ll be the rear guard.”
Jacko stepped ahead of her on the trail.
She wanted to look around and memorize their path to the holding location.
Keep your face down, girl. She let her shoulders droop. Anything to appear subservient. But her gaze would rove, taking in her surroundings and memorizing every part of the trail.
The wind blew through her wet clothing and soon her teeth chattered. Her sudden chill brought a revolting thought. The warmth of Trader’s body had kept her from shivering while she rode on his shoulder.
Jennifer’s stomach churned. She almost vomited on the trail, but managed to reach the bushes before she demonstrated her feelings about Trader and his disgusting business.
“Are you sick?” Trader’s voice sounded menacing. “If you are—”
“I’m not really sick. Just swallowed too much seawater.”
“Forgot already?” Trader shoved her from behind, snapping her head backward.
She stumbled, but regained her balance. “No, sorry.”
“That’s better.”
Total submission to Trader. That’s the only thing he thought was better. As she took that thought to its logical conclusion, Jennifer feared for the girls in the shack and for herself.
When they came to the fork in the trail, Jacko led them down the north fork until they reached the shack, a prefabricated utility building with a single door and one small window.
“Ivan, open up.” Jacko banged on the door.
A large man with a gun in one hand opened it.
When Trader pushed Jennifer into the light, Ivan’s leering gaze roved over her.
“Where did you get a beauty like her on a night like this?”
“Caught her swimming by Hole-in-the-Wall. She was the girl with the man at the mill and at the Hoh River.”
Ivan’s grin disappeared. “She nearly shot me,” he growled. “Looks familiar, but I can’t seem to place her. Too young to be a cop, or a Fed. Maybe I saw her picture in the paper.”
If they realized who she was, her situation would likely go from bad to much worse.
Ivan’s dull, brutish look and hungry eyes told her his interest in her was fast becoming an obsession. He wouldn’t remember who she was. But he was still dangerous. He had the same look as the stalker, the one she was forced to shoot two years ago. Evil exuded from the man. Ivan was completely driven by the forces of darkness.
The thought of standing in the presence of such evil made her shudder.
Please protect me from these men, Lord.
“Boatman will be happy,” Jacko said. “Last time we were one short. We would have been one short again without this lucky find. We’ll definitely keep her away from her shoelaces.”
At Jacko’s words, Jennifer’s rage surged. She wanted to jump at him, plant her heel on his nose, grab his gun, and—
“Getting worked up, are we?” Ivan grabbed her wrist
s and crossed them. “These will calm you down, princess. Or is it queen? It’s hard to tell with you Asian girls.” He placed two sets of restraints around her wrists and cinched them tightly.
Jennifer studied the three girls huddled in the corner.
All three eyed her with interest.
They were beautiful young girls. One was about eleven, another thirteen or fourteen, and the third looked about fifteen.
Ivan checked her bonds, and then grabbed the back of her jacket and jerked her towards the three girls. “Sit down and be quiet. No talking from any of you, or else.”
Ivan sat on a stool ten feet away watching them. But his gaze kept returning to her, where it rested most of the time.
If I had my .38, Ivan would be dead. Her thought shocked her. She entertained thoughts of killing another human being and only felt satisfaction. How could she do that? She wasn’t like them. But maybe she wasn’t as far from it as she thought.
The Bible’s teachings about the fallen nature of man were a bitter pill for people to swallow, but in moments like these, they rang true, and she was thankful for God’s grace.
Trader walked towards her. He grabbed her head with both hands, forcing her to look into his eyes.
Jennifer glanced at his eyes, and then dropped her gaze. He obviously wanted to read her emotions. She couldn’t allow him to see the contempt and defiance.
“Old lady, have I got your full attention?” He relaxed his grip on her head.
She nodded, remaining silent.
“Good. Now tell me why you and the guy were snooping around the old mill and why you came to Rialto Beach after giving us the slip?”
The slip? She almost laughed. That was an understatement, a euphemism to avoid acknowledging the humiliation they had caused him.
She knew this moment would come, but felt unprepared for it. “I…I was only along for the ride. My boyfriend kept that mostly to himself.”
“OK. But remember, this is all your doing.” Trader spoke calmly. “Her pain is your fault.” He walked to the huddle of girls, pulled out a stun gun, and shoved it into the eleven-year-old girl’s back.
The girl screamed. She collapsed on the floor, shaking and sobbing.
Jennifer barely managed to stifle her sobs.
Please help this young girl. Give me wisdom and words. Show me what I need to do.
Trader’s large, meaty hands forced her to look into his eyes.
Jennifer’s streaming tears helped masked her anger, her defiance, and her desire to kill him
“Old lady, you did that to her. Look at me!”
She looked into his eyes. They were angry eyes, but lifeless. Trader was a walking dead man, and he didn’t even know it. “Dead in trespasses and sins” became more than simply a phrase in her Bible. It became death incarnate, and it stood in front of her.
“Good. I’ve got your attention. Now, why were you and your boyfriend snooping around the old mill, and why did you come to Rialto Beach?”
“I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone. But I’ll tell you, if you won’t hurt her again.”
“You’ll tell me without condition. Start talking, and if I believe you, maybe the outcome will be a little less…shocking. If not, we’ll see if something else might be more apropos.” Trader turned to Ivan. “Which one of these dogs do you want, Ivan?”
Without hesitation Ivan said, “Her.” His mutilated index finger, cut off at the first joint, pointed at Jennifer.
She felt the urge to vomit again.
“We’ll see,” Trader said, obviously toying with her emotions. “Why did you to come to the mill and then to the beach?”
“My boyfriend is a new reporter for the Tribune. He researched a story about a missing girl from our area. He said he found evidence linking missing girls to something on the peninsula. He didn’t want to get scooped, so he decided to come out here to investigate. He asked me if I wanted to come along and help him.” Jennifer could see he was thinking, considering the plausibility of what she’d said. She had fabricated the story on the fly, and now prayed there were no obvious holes in it.
“Suppose I accept your story, as far as it goes.” He studied her face. “I still have no explanation of what led you down Mora Road, or who was the source of the information.” He looked at Jennifer and then at Ivan. “If your story is true, you’re still holding back information. So perhaps I should grant Ivan’s wish.”
Please give me the words.
“My boyfriend got a partial description of a van that might have been used to take a girl near Seattle. He has a friend who lives part of the time in the village, you know…La Push. They were talking, and his friend mentioned seeing a van like that near Rialto Beach. Said he saw it by the bridge more than once. Then his friend told him about one of the fishermen from the village coming in late one night. He saw a large boat offshore, a few miles out from the Hole-in-the-Wall. The fisherman saw the boat on the same day his friend saw the van parked by the bridge.
“My boyfriend also talked to people who live along Highway 101 from Lake Quinault to near Forks. He described the van and asked if anyone had seen it. I saw a map that he drew. It had some circles on it. One circle covered an area southeast of Kalaloch and the other was around the area where we are now. We came over to check out those areas. That’s all I know.” Jennifer had just told more lies than she could ever remember doing. But she lied with a clear conscience, and she lied without compromising the true source of their intelligence or her identity.
But…did Trader buy it?
“Old lady…” Like bullets from an assault rifle, his mouth belched out a long burst of gutter language. The words assaulted her mind and emotions, as Trader intended. “You’re either the best liar I’ve ever met, or you’re telling the truth. Either way, too much has been compromised to far too many people.” Trader turned towards the man called Jacko. “We need to attend to some other business. I’ll finish dealing with her later.”
Finish dealing with her later? She couldn’t let Trader’s statement paralyze her with fear.
Jacko and Trader discussed the storm’s disruption of their plans. They needed to charge their cell-phone equipment and would use their van and SUV to charge the batteries for the next exchange, scheduled for sometime after midnight on Monday.
That meant she had to keep the girls safe for possibly twenty-four hours. But how could she do that when she wasn’t allowed to talk to them?
Before Trader and Jacko left for the vehicles, Trader stepped outside and called for Ivan to follow.
Ivan stood outside the door, holding it partially open. “Watch the girls closely, Ivan.” Trader was angry and loud. “Notice I said watch, not touch. Do you understand?”
“Of course. I’m not stupid, you know.” Ivan’s words came embedded in a growl.
“We’ll not debate that now.” The tone of Trader’s reply was caustic. “But remember this, if you go out for any reason, tie them to the steel ring. And, Ivan, we always deliver unspoiled goods to Boatman, otherwise we don’t get paid. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Come on, you know me. I look sometimes, but I want to get paid, too.”
“If you don’t do as I say,” Trader’s voice rose, “you will get paid, Ivan. You most certainly will get paid. Now, we’ll be back in about two and a half hours. Can you handle things here for that long?”
“Yeah.” Ivan backed into the shack and slammed the door, his body language sullen.
Jennifer glanced at the dim lantern providing the only light in the shack. Maybe she could use the poor light to her advantage.
A heavy layer of dust and dirt covered the plywood floor. She scooted a few inches away from the oldest girl, opening up a square foot of floor space between her and the girls.
Ivan sat across the room, moping and oblivious.
She drew her right index finger across the floor. It left a visible line. She wiped the dust. The line disappeared.
The blonde girl watched each movement
of her hand.
She scrawled out, “I’m Jenn.”
18
When Jennifer finished writing her name, she looked up into the blonde girl’s beautiful blue eyes.
The girl’s expression was hopeful, as if resurrected. The dead hopelessness had vanished with a single word…hope.
She looked at Jennifer, studied her face. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her head dipped once. The girl’s hand casually wiped out “Jenn,” and, over the next minute, replaced it with “Katie.”
Jennifer read the name and mimicked the covert nod. She glanced at the girl’s face again.
Katie’s expression brightened at the small victory of exchanging names and there was a fire in those intense blue eyes. When their gazes locked, Jennifer felt a bond form between them.
Katie wiped out all of the writing over the next minute or so. Then she drew an arrow pointing to the girl who appeared to be about thirteen. Her finger wrote “Kirsten.”
Jennifer met Katie’s gaze and dipped her head.
Kirsten scanned their crude blackboard on the floor.
Katie drew an arrow pointing towards Jennifer and wrote “Jenn.” She held Kirsten’s gaze.
Kirsten nodded
Over the next few minutes, Katie drew another arrow towards the youngest girl and wrote “Melanie.” After Jennifer read it, Katie wiped out the final four letters leaving, “Mel.”
Jennifer acknowledged the shortened name.
This was a critical moment. Jennifer fired a short prayer heavenward, and then wrote, “Help coming.”
Katie’s face lit up, then tilted towards the floor, obviously trying to hide her reaction.
Kirsten also tried to mask her excitement, but she had apparently attracted Ivan’s attention.
Staring at Kirsten, Ivan rose to his feet.
Jennifer dragged her hand across the floor, wiping the writing away.
Ivan approached them carrying two large nylon ties. He stopped and his eyes roved over Jennifer for several seconds. “All of you, slide over to the post. You’re going to get hitched.” He chuckled as he gestured to a steel ring attached to a large post. “I’m going out for a few minutes. Put your hands up here.”