The Girl Who Was Taken

by Charlie Donlea

  This journey to West Bay was Nicole’s first meeting. Her only association with the club prior to her abduction had been through e-mails with Casey and the chat rooms where they sometimes went back and forth all night typing about the latest abduction in the news. Nicole obsessed with Casey over the details of these disappearances, her fetish for missing-persons cases birthed in childhood when Julie disappeared shortly after her ninth birthday.

  There had been commotion and crying and hysteria that summer, and Nicole remembered going with her family to Colorado for the final time. Julie was not there, and no one would come right out and say where she was or what had happened to her. Instead, the adults used big words and promised one another Julie would be back. But besides in her dreams, Nicole never saw her cousin again. Thoughts about what happened to Julie became a festering curiosity Nicole secretly harbored. Livia had never showed much interest in their cousin. Julie was an only child and there was never a reason for Livia to tag along on the week-long trips out west, so when Julie disappeared it was sad and disturbing but affected Livia in a different manner than it had Nicole. A freshman in college then, Livia was older and smarter and understood things more completely than Nicole. What Livia never comprehended, however, was the loss Nicole felt after Julie was gone. Julie had no siblings of her own, and with ten years separating Nicole and Livia, the cousins considered each other sisters. There was a mutual understanding that they were learning things together, not simply being taught by an older sister or parent. And when Julie was gone, so too was Nicole’s accomplice. She was left by herself to figure it out.

  The Cuttys never talked about Julie, and only lately had Nicole’s mother reconnected with Aunt Paxie. The sisters’ relationship was difficult for Paxie because seeing Nicole was a reminder of every milestone missed with Julie. With no one willing to answer Nicole’s questions, she took to the Internet for information about Julie. Years had passed, though, and what little she was able to find about her cousin’s disappearance was neither interesting nor pertinent. What Nicole did manage to locate was an online community just like herself—people obsessed with abduction and not afraid to talk about it. They spilled their secret thrill when someone went missing, offering theories about who took them and what was happening to them.

  One night she met Casey in a chat room, and after two months of private messaging, Nicole was initiated into the Capture Club while she smoked a joint in the park. It was the craziest thing she’d done in her short life, trusting a stranger to abduct her and blindfold her and stick tape across her face. It was traumatic and thrilling. She still got chills now when she thought of that night. Like a gold nugget hidden away in a tiny satchel, those thoughts were all hers. New and unripe, they played over and over in Nicole’s mind. The sense of danger that told her she had taken things too far. That she had allowed her fascination to overcome her judgment. In the dark of night, alone in her bed, she held on to the moment when she sat still and frightened in that shed behind Coleman’s Brewery and felt real terror. She finally was able to relate to all the girls she had read about. She finally knew how Julie felt. For a brief moment, Nicole had reconnected with her old friend.

  She parked, as instructed, at the train station and followed the freight tracks for half a mile out of town until she saw the old Coleman Brewery building down in the Cove. She took a path that led through the brush and down the gentle slope, hearing a train approaching from the north, running wood down from Canada. She wondered if this was the path they had dragged her through while the burlap sack was over her head. She made it to the intersection in front of the abandoned brewery just as the train chugged behind her, blocking the light that came from the streetlamps situated on the far side of the tracks.

  A hundred years after the beige bricks of Coleman’s Brewery were laid, they still stood. Mostly. She noticed one area toward the back of the building that was crumbling. Likely, it was where deliveries used to happen and one too many trucks had backed into the delivery bay and banged the foundation to rattle the bricks and jar the rebar, loosening joists to the point that a generation later the walls sagged and cried away the bricks.

  Never having met anyone from this group before the other night when they all stood with flashlights under their chins and stared into the shed, Nicole wasn’t sure what to expect from her first Capture Club meeting. She walked to the front entrance, past the debris on the ground—fast food Styrofoam and beer bottles. From inside she heard voices. Through a small atrium first, then past the open door, Nicole found a decrepit-looking room she assumed had once been a tavern. The waist-high bar still stood in the spot patrons used to sit and receive drinks across mahogany. No stools now, but Nicole noticed the group had brought two long folding tables and a dozen mismatched chairs. Two Igloo coolers held cold beers.

  She spotted Casey standing near the head of the table. He smiled when their eyes met.

  “Our lost girl has returned home!” he shouted.

  Everyone looked toward the front of the brewery and cheered when they saw Nicole. She smacked her gum like this was the reception she had expected, then raised her hand. Casey came over and hugged her.

  “Welcome to your first meeting. You’re in for quite a treat.”

  The way he touched her, grabbed her like she belonged to him, sent a current through her body. He was so different from the boys at school, who broke eye contact if held too long, and who would never commit to anything for fear of rejection. Couldn’t even take what was offered, like Matt the other day on the boat, too scared to act even when she was prepared to give herself to him. Casey, she was certain, took things even before they were offered.

  For an hour Nicole stood by Casey’s side as he took her around to each of the small factions and introduced her. She met guys with long hair and tattoos, girls with shaved heads and pierced everything—from noses to lips to eyebrows. They all drank canned beer and talked about random kidnappings from around the country. A college freshman was missing from Georgia and her boyfriend was suspected. A high school junior’s body had just been found in the Florida Everglades. Another newlywed had gone missing from a cruise boat, and on and on. After she and Casey made it around to each group, he took Nicole’s hand and pulled her into the barroom, sat her at the table as everyone gathered around and slid chairs to take their spots. Casey sat at the head of the table. Behind him was a chalkboard illuminated by a droplight, its large metal cone looking like a dog’s surgical collar. A long extension cord ran to a gas generator outside. The hot summer night was thick with humidity, no breeze inside the old brewhouse.

  “Okay,” Casey said from the head of the table. “Listen up, people.”

  Slowly, everyone quieted and took seats.

  “First, she’s already done the tour tonight but let’s formally welcome Nicole.”

  Everyone applauded and cheered.

  “As we all know, Nicole took the overnight challenge, and despite pissing herself . . .”

  A couple howls and a few screams of laughter.

  “. . . She passed with flying colors. So Nicole caught a glimpse of what it’s like to be abducted. It’s something we’re all fascinated with, good or bad, creepy or not. Is it a fetish? I don’t know. Is it morbid? Probably. Would people outside the club understand? Fuck, no! Are they all liars who are just as intrigued as each of us? You bet your ass!”

  Casey stood from his spot at the head of the table and picked up a piece of chalk. He tapped the chalkboard several times. “New business. For the last week we’ve spotlighted Reagan William Beneke. Serial killer from west Texas. Copped to sixty-four kills, implicated in thirty-eight. All women, snatched from Louisiana and Texas. Mostly young women, teens to late twenties. Stalked them at night, usually meeting them at bars and then seducing them. He took them to his house where he . . .” Casey looked around the room. “Use your imagination. When he was done, he strangled them and buried them in a Louisiana bayou, admitting to authorities that some of the bodies were taken by crocs. Th
is accounts for the discrepancy between how many he copped to, versus how many were found.”

  The club listened with focus.

  “From his confession, corroborated by witnesses during his trial, we know he never took a victim by force. They all willingly followed him home. This reminds me of someone else who deployed a similar tactic. Anyone?”

  There was silence in the barroom until Nicole finally spoke. “Dahmer.”

  “Yes,” Casey said, pointing at Nicole. “Jeffrey Dahmer. Though he was completely psychotic and morbid in the manner by which he killed his victims, the way he took those victims is fascinating. Dahmer and Beneke lured their victims. Allowed them the choice to go with them, never taking any by force. So let’s open tonight’s discussion with this: What’s a greater thrill? Brute force, or the soft hook?”

  They talked for an hour about Dahmer’s first victim, a hitchhiker who willingly climbed into the car and, later, entered Dahmer’s house where he was eventually killed. They moved to his other victims, mostly men picked up at gay bars and brought home to Dahmer’s grandmother’s basement. All his victims willingly followed Mr. Dahmer to his home—their eventual place of death. This type of take, Dahmer’s version and Reagan William Beneke’s version, was a different variety of abduction than the club was accustomed to. Up to this point, their mock abductions and initiations were done by force. Hood over the head, grab-and-drag style. Fast, efficient, and frightening.

  “So Dahmer used his charm and his brains to get his victims to come home with him. Once they were in the basement, he drugged them and abused them and, ultimately, killed them. This club is interested in the hunt. I want us all to remember how slick Mr. Dahmer was in his approach. How charismatic he and Beneke were.” Casey smiled as he stood by the chalkboard. “This will prove vital in the days to come.”

  A hushed anxiousness came over the Capture Club. Casey was planning the next abduction of a new member, and they all stirred with excitement.

  Casey stared at Nicole. “The other night was a thrill for us to shove you in that shed out back. As a new member, your next stage is to turn the tables and become the abductor. Where you enjoy the thrill of stealing someone from the street, taking them to your own hideaway, and having them all to yourself. It’s almost better than being the victim. Up for it?”

  The crowd collectively trained its gaze on Nicole.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Good. We’ve got four prospects. All have confirmed their interest in the club.”

  “Guy or girl?” Nicole asked.

  “Three guys, one girl. Preference?”

  There was a bit of hesitation as Nicole’s mind wandered to the dark closet in her dreams, Julie’s eyes wide and peering from within. “Girl,” she finally said.

  Coleman’s cleared out as the club’s members slowly dispersed, dropping empty beer cans to the ground and leaving Casey packing up his computer and stowing away the generator. Nicole stayed behind, sipping a Miller Genuine Draft.

  “I get to be part of it, right?” Nicole said.

  “The take? Of course.” Casey rolled an extension cord around his arm.

  “What will we do with her?”

  “Bring her back here, leave her in the ruins for a while.” Casey gestured toward the back of Coleman’s where the bricks were crumbling. “We could use the shed out back, where we put you. But I think we’ll mix it up a bit. I’ll throw an old mattress in the back room, make it look like we’re going to have lots of fun with her.”

  “You gonna moan in her ear?” Nicole said, sipping her beer with a seductive look in her eyes.

  Casey stopped packing. “That wasn’t me.”

  Nicole stood and walked over to him. “Gonna grab her chest?”

  “Wasn’t me, either.”

  “No?” Nicole moved closer. “Kinda wish it were.”

  She was up against him now, their faces inches apart.

  Casey glanced at the door. The last of the members had gone. He dropped the extension cord and grabbed her by the waist, pulled her into him.

  “Don’t tease if you can’t deliver.”

  Nicole dropped her beer. It hit the ground and spouted fizz. She put her hands on the back of his neck. “I’m not a teaser.” She pulled his face to hers and kissed him.

  Casey’s hands were all over her, and after a minute he pushed her backward onto the table. Her earlobe was in his mouth when he whispered, “How old are you?”

  Nicole grabbed his face and looked into his eyes. “You duct-taped my mouth and threw me in a shed overnight. This can’t be any more illegal.”

  He pushed her farther onto the table. Besides their voices and their moans, the only noise came from the generator outside that gave life to the single, isolated bulb that cast the brewery in shadows.

  CHAPTER 17

  August 2016

  Two Weeks Before the Abduction

  Diana Wells was good and buzzed. A nineteen-year-old freshman at Elizabeth City State University, getting into bars was never a problem. Her fake ID said she was twenty-two, the picture was close enough, and it hadn’t failed her yet. The ID came from a friend’s sister, and Diana flashed it to bouncers with confidence. She didn’t like that it listed her fake self as 160 pounds. She was 145 since cutting carbs this summer, and could again fit into the skinny jeans from Christmas.

  Out with two friends tonight, the flirting had started an hour before. First, the guy ordered them a round of lemon drop shots and waved when they all looked over. Then, he’d said hi on the way to the bathroom, ignoring all of them but Diana. With her two best friends, both size two and the ones who usually captured guys’ attention, Diana loved the spotlight tonight.

  He was older. Maybe a grad student, and Diana was happy to expand outside the circle they always hung with. It was a drag to see her two friends flirt with a group of guys and casually pick the ones they thought were cutest. Diana was left with the scraps. The quiet guys who also hung in the shadows and waited for the end of the night to see what was left. Diana was it.

  Tonight, though, things were different. She was finally living the college social lifestyle, crushing on a guy who was into her from the beginning, not by default.

  He was with another couple, a guy and a girl who were sitting next to him at the bar. They both were obviously in on what was happening.

  “Are you going to talk to him,” one of her friends asked.

  “I don’t know,” Diana said. “He looks older.”

  “Probably a grad student.”

  In the middle of their discussion, he waved his arm, inviting her over. Diana’s eyes widened, and he waved harder. He gave her a look. Come here. I gotta beg you?

  Her friends laughed and pushed her out of their circle. “Go! Lover Boy calls,” her friends teased.

  Diana, drink in hand, walked shyly toward him.

  “I’ve only been buying you drinks all night,” he said when she was close enough.

  “Thanks for the shots,” Diana said.

  “I’m Casey,” the guy said.

  “Diana.”

  The bartender lined up four shot glasses and poured them full with a sticky red concoction.

  Casey pulled them over. “Fuzzy navels. Here.” He handed a shot to Diana.

  The couple next to him grabbed the remaining shot glasses and held them up.

  “These are my friends,” Casey said. “Nate and Nicole. This is Diana.”

  “Cheers,” Nicole said, and they all tilted their heads and slammed the shots.

  “I’m so friggin’ buzzed,” Diana said. She took the shot in one swallow and laughed. “God, that’s good.”

  “I could drink these all night,” Casey said. “Or those lemon drop shots.”

  “Yeah,” Diana said. “Those are good, too.”

  “Sit down with us.”

  Diana took a seat. They had to yell over the music. “You go to school here?” Casey asked.

  “Yeah. You?”

  Casey nodded. �
��I’m a grad student.”

  “Really?” Diana asked. “In what?”

  “Math.”

  “Oh God! I hate math.”

  “Me too,” he said.

  Casey ordered more drinks and they talked for thirty minutes. He was so unlike the other guys she’d met at school who talked mostly to their friends and never directly to her. Casey asked all about her. When Diana had to use the bathroom he went with her, then waited when he was finished so they could walk back together. After another twenty minutes, Diana’s friends came over.

  “We’re taking off,” they said.

  “Okay,” Diana said.

  Casey cocked his head to the side. “Total drag. But if you’ve gotta go, maybe we could hook up next week or something.” Casey looked at his friends, then back to Diana. “Unless you wanna hang for a while here. I’ll make sure you get home okay.”

  Diana smiled at Casey, then looked at her friends. “I’m gonna stay for a while.”

  It felt so good to be here at the end of the night, to be the one staying behind to talk with a guy while her friends headed back to the dorm.

  “Cool,” her friend said. “See you when you get back.” Their faces carried smirks as they walked away.

  “If you gotta go, that’s cool,” Casey said.

  “No,” Diana said, brushing a hand at her friends. “They’re just going to get burritos.”

  Casey held up his beer and Diana clinked her vodka. “Cheers,” he said.

  Diana took a sip. God, he’s gorgeous.