Crazy in Paradise

by Brown, Deborah

  “I’m going to walk you into that weasley bastard’s office with a gun pointed at your back.”

  Weasel thinks the same thing about you, I thought.

  He got up and slammed out of the door. He stood on the porch, talking on his phone. I couldn’t make out his words. At least, I was getting out of here; he had no choice but to take me with him. Then I’d ditch him. Somehow. If he got me back here, he’d kill me for sure.

  He came in, big smile on his face. “I just took out an insurance policy.”

  “What?”

  “I hired a guy to watch your mom. If he doesn’t get a call by a certain time, he’ll kill her. If you try to get away, you’re a dead bitch and so is your old lady.”

  All he’d been doing every five minutes was threatening to kill me, and now my mother. What would happen when he found out there was no money. How many people would wind up dead?

  “When you get the money, then what?” I asked, keeping up the charade.

  “None of your business. Now shut up.”

  “You’re a stupid psycho!” I screamed in his face.

  He pulled out his stun gun, waved it in my face, then reached out and hit me on the shoulder, and my world went black.

  * * *

  The only way to determine night from day was through the hole in the stained sheet tacked up over the window., It was dark. I rolled over, and threw up in the trashcan, having a hard time focusing. The foul smell coming from the can made me sick again. Every muscle and joint in my body ached with every move. The mosquito bites had turned into welts, driving me wild with itching.

  “When are you going to stop doing that, Pukehead?” he said, throwing a bottle of water at me, hitting me in the arm, followed by a cold hamburger in my face.

  I tried to sit up, groaned, and collapsed again.

  “While you were out, I kicked you a few times, but you disappointed me. Didn’t make any noise.” He crossed the room, grabbed me by the hair, and shook me around. “Ever had someone beat your face so you can’t eat or see? Maybe later,” he smiled. “Tomorrow you need to look your best for our meeting at Whitman’s office.” He threw me back, my head hitting the wall so hard the trailer trembled.

  My vision blurred. Dried spit caked on my face. I was afraid to move. What was worse? His evil little smile or the laugh that sent shivers up my spine.

  “Eat the hamburger before you’re wrestling it away from the roaches,” he laughed as he left the room, slamming and locking the door.

  * * *

  Morning peeked through the hole. I tried to look out, but the glass was muddy with dirt. Today was the day. One way or another it would be over. Will had put a crimp in my plan to get away when he threatened my mother.

  Will opened the door and threw a hard muffin at me. “Got you a dress and some makeup,” he said as he tossed me a plastic grocery bag. Inside was a plain brown, tent style dress with two oversized pockets and long puffy sleeves. I remembered seeing a woman on television in a similar style dress. She was a cult member. I didn’t know anyone would manufacture these. Clearly, it was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen. I wondered if he’d stolen it.

  “Get dressed, and do a good job on your face. You’ll still be ugly, but I don’t want to see bruises.”

  I moved slowly into the bathroom. Black and blue marks covered my whole body. The worst were over both legs and arms. Red marks on my face had turned purplish. The right side bore the largest bruise, which I hoped I could cover with makeup. My hair was a gigantic, dirty rat’s nest, matching the rest of me.

  Every step was painful. The foundation did a fairly good job covering the bruises, although I looked like a circus performer. I put on the brown dress, large and baggy, but it concealed the injuries.

  Will checked me over and started laughing, “Too bad your boyfriend can’t see you now. He’d go limp.”

  I sat quietly in the chair, not wanting to give him an excuse to hit me again.

  “Put this in your pocket,” he said, handing me a piece of paper. “It’s the wire information you’ll need to send the money to my account. My gun will be jammed in your back at all times at Whitman’s office. You want to walk out alive, you’d better play your part well.” He threw my shoes at me. “Put these on.”

  I noticed he, too, had changed clothes, adding a moustache and glasses. Did he actually think no one would recognize him?

  “We’re leaving early so I can scope out the area. The guy staking out your mom’s place will tell me if she followed instructions or not.” He jerked me from the chair. “Give me your hands,” he directed, zip tying them.

  Outside sat a black Audi coupe; a different car than the one used for the kidnapping. He certainly had excellent taste in stolen cars. He threw me up against the car, turning me to face him. “When I tell you what to do, you do it with no hesitation, or you’ll be painfully sorry.” He cracked his knuckles.

  Opening the back door, he pushed me inside. “Lay on the seat and don’t get up until I tell you.” He turned the car around and bumped down the dirt road, the bushes slapping the sides of the car. The ride to the main highway was a lot longer than I remembered.

  My body jerked with each pothole we hit. Finally reaching the paved road was a relief. I started to shake and shiver.

  Will held all the cards. He talked like a man with nothing to lose, who was willing to do anything to get what he wanted. He seemed to be looking for any excuse to kill someone, mostly me. I thought his plan was ludicrous, but he seemed confident. I mulled my options and decided if I had to, I’d run. Better to let him shoot me than beat me to death. I trusted my mother, and whatever plan she’d come up with. I wanted my mother and me to come out alive. If someone had to die, it needed to be Will.

  After endless cruising, he suddenly pulled into a gas station. While he pumped gas, he talked on his cell phone. “Everything’s in place,” he said as he got back in the car. “My man at Whitman’s office tells me all’s clear. The man who’s watching your mom says she’s at home alone. He’s just waiting for my call.”

  Chapter 33

  Will sang off-key the entire way to Whit’s office. Once there, he opened the back door, leaned in and cut the ties off my hands. He dug his meaty fingers into my cheeks and temples and pulled me eyeball to eyeball.

  “Do exactly as you’re told,” he warned. Then he jammed the muzzle of the gun into my stomach. “Understand?”

  Judging by the parking lot, Whit, Will and I were the only ones here. Will walked me into Whit’s office, his arm around my waist, the gun jabbing into my ribcage.

  “Hello, Madison. Will,” Whit said as came walking out. “Come back this way. Antonio is out today, but he left the papers for you to sign.” His voice was soft, friendly. He said Antonio! Maybe he will help.

  “Thank you for handling the matter on such short notice,” I said.

  “The transfer documents are ready for your signature. I have a couple of questions, and I need some additional information. Take a seat.” He pointed to the chairs in front of his desk. We sat. Could Whit not see how awkwardly Will had turned his body toward mine?

  Whit opened a file, taking out several sheets of paper. “Do you want this wired to your other account?”

  “No, I have a different one I’d like it wired to,” I told him. I pulled the paper Will had given me out of my pocket, and handed it over.

  “Sign on all the pages where I placed the sticky arrows. Then I can complete the transfer.” He pushed the papers across to me, along with a pen.

  I signed without even glancing at the paperwork, my thoughts in free fall. What the heck was happening? Either this was a well-organized scam on Will, or someone had put up a million dollars on my behalf. No one in my family had that kind of money. My stomach had twisted into a tight knot, and it hurt to breathe. Never mind the gun’s painful poke, reminding me he was in control. I handed the papers back.

  Whit began entering information into his computer. In mere minutes, he looked up smil
ing. “The transfer is complete.”

  “Before we leave, let me check to make sure everything went smoothly,” Will spoke up. “We wouldn’t want to have any problems. If there are any, you can handle them now.” He took out his phone and placed a call.

  Cold fear had settled in; my heart pounded. Now he’d discover I’d been lying all along. I had to get away. Now. Dumb instinct propelled me out of the chair, but he jerked me back so hard the chair wobbled.

  Will reeled off some numbers over the phone, which I assumed was account information. We waited for what seemed a long time, and he got a big grin on his face. He obviously got the answer he wanted: the transfer was complete. I didn’t understand, and at that moment, I didn’t care. Will got his money, and I wanted out of here.

  “Everything went smoothly,” Will informed us. “We can leave.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Whitman, for your assistance and thank Antonio for us,” I said, staring at him. Couldn’t he see the pleading on my face?

  Will stood up, digging his fingers into my arm and dragging me to my feet. He put his arm around me and pushed me toward the door.

  “If we can be of any more help Ms. Westin, please call,” Mr. Whitman said to me in a business-like tone, his smile sympathetic.

  Why wasn’t someone jumping out of the bushes to save me? I panicked when I realized no one was coming to my rescue. I dragged my feet, not wanting to leave the building with Will.

  “Did you forget about our little talk? Do what you are told. Start walking,” Will spit in my ear.

  “You got what you wanted. Leave me here.”

  He shoved me into the side of the car. “Get in the car, lie on the back seat, and don’t get up.”

  I shoved with all the strength I could muster, but I got only a couple of steps before he caught me by my hair, pulled out the gun and held it to my cheek. He opened the car door and whacked me on my temple with the gun. I felt a flash of pain, crumpled to the ground and then passed out.

  I came to on the backseat of the car. My head throbbed, my eye was swollen shut. Blood was trickling down my face. Will was speeding, weaving and veering in and out of traffic recklessly. He’d never intended to let me go, I realized. He’d talked too much about killing me, and always with that smile. A sharp turn threw me violently off the seat, and we were on the familiar bumpy road again, where every pothole sent pain screaming throughout my body.

  He slammed on the brakes, came to a stop, threw open the car door and dragged me to the ground. “Get up!” he screamed.

  I stared dumbly at him, numb. No way was I going back into that trailer. “Are you hard of hearing?” he demanded and kicked me in the thighs and calves.

  I rolled away and stumbled to my feet. Pure adrenaline launched me at him kicking and clawing, rolling in the dirt. But he had eighty pounds on me, and slugged me in the face. Before pulling me up the stairs, he kicked me several more times, then dragged me into the trailer by the hair, yanking out a chunk of it in the process.

  “Stop,” I whimpered. “I’ll do what you say.”

  He bent down his face so that it was inches from mine. “I told you so.” He spit at me, and threw me in the bedroom. I hit the wall and slid to the floor.

  “If you make one sound, I’ll come in and beat you.” He closed and locked the door.

  I crawled onto the bed, closed my eyes and put my hand in my mouth so I wouldn’t make a noise that would bring him back. How long before he managed to kill me?

  The window suddenly shimmied in the frame, the sheet fell to the floor and Fab stood there. A hallucination, no doubt. But she knocked again a little louder, and this time waved. She was definitely real. She motioned me over to where the window didn’t quite close.

  “Go hide in the bathroom,” she whispered while pointing across the room. “Stand behind the door and leave it open. If he comes in, kick it shut in his face. Go. Now.”

  Leaning heavily against the wall, I concentrated on merely standing, then inching toward the bathroom. Suddenly an explosion shook and rocked the trailer side to side. The blast threw me across the bathroom, as the trailer settled in a tipped position. Someone was screaming. I heard breaking sounds and then silence. Unable to move, barely able to care, I lay on the floor.

  The door opened. Zach stood in the doorway. “You’re safe, Madison.” He crouched down beside me.

  He eased me up, helping me to stand. I tipped a little, took a step forward, and passed out cold.

  Chapter 34

  An unfamiliar face loomed over me, and I screamed, thrashing away from him, but my arm was tied to a railing with a tube running to a machine.

  “It’s me, Axe,” he said, touching me lightly. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

  “Where am I?” My eyes were open, but everything appeared blurry and out of focus.

  “Miami Hospital,” he said, brushing the hair from my face. He had a gentle touch and a cool hand for such a big man. “Zach is outside pacing the hall, driving the doctors and nurses crazy. Spoon took your mother to the cafeteria for tea.”

  I tried to smile, but pain shot through my face. “She must be upset to agree to tea.”

  “I think he snuck her in a cigar.”

  “Did he also sneak in some Jack?”

  “Madeline’s a handful all right. She and Zach have been sitting by your bedside this entire time,” he reassured. “Zach’s going to be disappointed he wasn’t here when you woke up. I came in for breaks.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Not long. Once we figured out you were missing, Zach acted like a crazy person, determined to get you back.”

  “Will?”

  “He’s in jail, and this time he won’t be breaking out.”

  My eyes filled with tears. “I wish he was dead.”

  “Zach had to talk me out of killing him. He didn’t want me to be the one to end up in prison.”

  I reached out and touched Axe’s cheek. “You’re a good man. Tell my mother I love her.” My whole body hurt, so even talking made me tired. I shifted to my side and drifted off. I didn’t want to remember why I was here. Or anything else.

  * * *

  Someone kept pulling on my arm. “Leave me alone,” I tried to beg, but my throat was dry; too dry to swallow. I wanted to stay in my safe place. I opened my eyes slowly. Mother and Zach stood over me.

  “Welcome back,” Zach smiled leaning into me. I flinched and pulled away from him.

  “Oh honey, I’m so happy you’re finally awake,” Mother said, beginning to cry.

  “Water,” I croaked.

  Zach took a cup from the bed tray and held it while I sipped through the straw.

  “Don’t cry.” I struggled to get my arm free. “Why is my arm tied to the bed?”

  “When they brought you in, you were so seriously dehydrated, that you needed an IV to replenish your fluids. When the doctor decided to ease off the pain meds, the next day you became restless. He didn’t want you ripping the line out,” Zach explained, untying my arm. “If you start to get agitated again I’ll hold your hand.” He walked around the bed and untied the other one.

  The hospital room smelled like disinfectant. There was a small window in the corner, and with the shade drawn, who knew if it was day or night? “Where’s Axe?”

  “I sent him home. He needed to get some sleep. He relieved Madeline and me for a few hours each night, so we were able to catch a quick nap.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Three days. You were sedated the first day, while they determined the extent of your injuries, and then the doctor made the decision to let you wake naturally.”

  “Jazz?”

  “Don’t you worry about Hairball,” Mother said, kissing my cheek. “That nice girl Fab is taking care of him.”

  Zach raised his eyebrows, looked at me, a smirk on his face, since he had probably never heard Fab described as a ‘nice girl’. I tried to smile, but moaned instead. I put my fingers to my puffy and pain
ful cheeks.

  Doc Rivers walked in, wearing a white coat. “I’m happy you’re awake, Madison. How’s my patient?”

  “He shot me, didn’t he?” I started to cry.

  “No, my dear, he didn’t shoot you. I just stopped by to check on you,” he said, wiping away my tears. “Are you getting the star treatment I prescribed?”

  “Everything hurts. All over. I’m thirsty.” I tried to reach for the cup and my arm barely moved; it felt broken.

  “Besides being dehydrated, you’d been severely beaten,” he explained. “In spite of the injuries you sustained, there were no broken bones, and all your organs are healthy. I promise no long-term damage. You’ll need to give yourself time to heal. At first you’ll be a little slow moving around, recovering from cuts and bruises, but the pain should subside quickly. I predict a fast recovery. You’ll be good as new.” He patted my hand.

  “I’ve asked a hospital counselor to stop by and talk to you, to help with your emotional injuries. Talking to a neutral party will speed the healing process. Once we get you up and walking, you’ll be allowed to go home. A few days at most. We’ll take this on a day-by-day basis.”

  The whole time he talked, he listened to my heart, and checked me over in a general way. He looked at my chart and made notes of his own. “Everything looks good. If you need me, call anytime. I make house calls.” He leaned down and tenderly kissed my cheek.

  “Thank you, Doc,” I said.

  “I’m going to talk to the doctor,” Mother said, walking out the door after him.

  Zach squeezed my hand. “You’re safe now. Will Todd is headed to prison for a long, long time.”

  “Are you sure Will won’t get out of jail?” I asked, with panic in my voice.

  “I’m positive. Right now he’s in maximum detention due to his escape. Even his court appearances will take place in his tier by video feed. He’ll have to serve his sentence on kidnapping and attempted murder charges here in Florida, and then he’ll be released to Georgia.”