One Week To Live

by Joan Beth Erickson

  “As I said, the place was uninhabited, but this week I noticed a white van parked in the driveway.”

  He remembered the white van spotted exiting Angie’s carport earlier. Was there a connection?

  “I thought the house might be rented out. I live down the road so I considered dropping by to introduce myself, be neighborly. However, every time I passed it, the gate was closed and locked.”

  “So what did you see today that was different?”

  “The gate was open and a guy was loading a blanket covered bundle into the van. I saw strands of blonde hair peeping out from the edge of the blanket. That’s what caught my attention. Why wrap a kid up like that on a hot day?”

  “Good point,” Dunning said, continuing to jot things down in his notebook.

  “Last night I’d read an article about an abducted little girl and saw a photograph of her. She had blonde hair like the hair I saw peeping from the blanket.”

  “The article is what made you report what you saw?” Brian asked, trying to suppress his “I told you so” look when Dunning once more glared at him.

  “Yes. The story touched me. I wondered if it could be the same person. That’s when I decided to contact both the Feds and the reporter.

  “Thanks for doing that,” Brian said. “I’m glad someone is reading what I write.”

  “You’re the writer?”

  “What did the guy look like?” Dunning asked effectively cutting Brian off.

  “Average. Short cropped brown hair, muscular build. When he stepped out of the house, he surveyed the area as if to make sure no one watched him. He then hurried to the van and put the blanket-wrapped bundle inside before taking another look around.”

  “Did you see anyone else in the van?” Brian asked.

  “No,” the jogger replied.

  Shit, he thought. Where was Angie?

  “Did he see you?” Dunning asked.

  “I’m not sure. When I spotted him coming out of the house, I ducked behind the wall.”

  “So, today, you decided not to be neighborly even though the gate was open.”

  “Yeah. I already told you I thought things didn’t look right. I didn’t want to get involved, but maybe I should have?”

  “No,” Dunning said. “The man might be armed. You did the right thing calling us.”

  “As soon as he put the youngster in the van, he tore out of the driveway in a cloud of dust, not bothering to stop and close the gate behind him. I thought that strange since he’d kept the gate shut and locked all week.”

  “Did you get the van’s license number?”

  “He flew out of here so fast I only got a partial number—343. It was a California plate.”

  If only Dunning had listened to Angie, he thought. Her house description was right on as were the numbers the jogger provided.

  ****

  Angie opened her eyes to hot, suffocating darkness. Where was she? She attempted to move but couldn’t. Her hands and feet were bound. She tried to concentrate, but the mere effort sent a wave of nausea through her drugged body.

  The air smelled dank. Somewhere in the darkness she thought she heard a whimper. She listened intently but heard nothing more. Was she imagining it? A child’s cries had haunted her since the day she’d given her own baby away. Before losing consciousness again, she heard muffled sounds in the distance. At the edge of darkness, a feeling of betrayal emerged. Why did he do this to her?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Friday night

  Glancing in his side mirror, he smiled. The lights of Las Vegas faded into the distance. He hated the town. Always had. However, it was the perfect place to carry out his revenge. People in Vegas loved a good show and soon they’d get what they desired and so would he.

  He’d been right about the heavy rain showers being a perfect cover for his operation. However, when he’d arrived at his destination, he’d been forced to wait to carry out his plan. A damn security guard hovered around the building entrance for some time bullshitting on his cell phone.

  When the man finally left, the forecasted rain cooperated. It came down in a deluge just as he wheeled his cargo into the building in two separate wheelbarrow loads. The few remaining workers were too busy dodging raindrops to question him. To them, he looked like every other worker on the site.

  He knew that much of the work had already been completed. The gelatin-based dynamite was placed in strategic locations throughout the defunct hotel. In a short while, the detonation sequence would start causing the building to collapse in on itself leaving a debris pile of masonry at least 30 feet high. Angie and Polly would be buried beneath it finally making his long-awaited revenge a reality.

  He’d wanted to stay, watch the crowd gather, and see all he’d done through to completion, but he couldn’t risk it. The fact that he’d been spotted when he’d left the house gnawed at him. It wasn’t until he’d placed his cargo inside the van that he’d noticed the kid’s blonde hair protruding from the blanket.

  What if the jogger saw it? Would he suspect something and call the authorities? That damn reporter’s articles were smeared across the newspaper’s pages all week. Every one of the stories featured a photo of the blonde-haired child.

  When he sped out of the driveway, had the jogger got the license plate number to go along with the van’s description? He might have. He should split town now using the lesser known roads and highways to make his escape.

  Heavy rain continued to beat down on the van’s roof. Fortunately, there wasn’t the wind that generally accompanied a desert storm. He’d overheard a worker at the demolition site say that if it became too windy, they’d cancel the implosion. That couldn’t happen.

  He switched his windshield wipers to high and kept his speed down as he negotiated the wet pavement, his high beams guiding his way through the growing darkness. He’d never delivered the seventh and last clue. Even if he had, they wouldn’t figure it out.

  Thinking about the coming event, he experienced an adrenaline rush. Whoever said revenge was sweet called it right. For all he’d been through, she deserved every last moment of suffering before the world caved in on her. The fact that his world crashed in on him after his son’s death was her fault. She’d soon pay dearly for her interference.

  A vehicle traveling toward him dimmed their lights and so did he. When it whizzed by, he noticed it was a police car. He kept track of the vehicle in his mirror. Suddenly, the car slowed, pulled to the side of the road, and made a U-turn.

  “Shit,” he muttered, seeing the flashing lights. He’d been made. He couldn’t get caught. If the cop wanted a high-speed chase, he’d give him one. He knew how to handle a car in a chase scenario. Ahead, the road snaked between mountainous rocky outcrops in a series of “S” curves. He increased his speed. He knew exactly what to do to elude the bastard.

  ****

  Waves of water tossed Angie about slamming her into bushes and boulders. Trapped by its power, she couldn’t escape. She woke with a scream lodged in her throat and struggled at the bindings encasing her feet and hands. Blinking, she tried to focus. There was no water, no rushing sound of it, and no feel of its wetness on her skin. There was only a hot, frightening darkness. She’d just experienced another vision that made no sense.

  She heard someone cry out, a keening sound that tore at her heart. Her child, she thought, fighting the drug-induced haze clouding her mind. Was it the baby who’d been torn from her arms? No, she thought. Her baby daughter was grown with a toddler of her own.

  The keening sob turned to a weak whimper. “Hello,” she called out. No one replied. She fought to clear her drugged mind, but things remained muddled, confused. Could it be her daughter’s little one, her grandchild? “Polly?” she called out.

  “Mommy,” she replied between hiccupping sobs.

  “I’m here, honey, don’t be afraid.” Thank God Polly was alive. Angie attempted to sit up, but failed.

  “I’m coming,” she yelled. How was she going to
find her way through the darkness with her hands and feet tied?

  “I’m scared,” Polly sobbed.

  “It will be okay, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a minute.” Polly wasn’t the only one who was frightened, but she couldn’t let her know that.

  Rolling onto her side, she inched her way toward the sound of Polly’s voice. She propelled herself across the floor by using her bound legs and arms as best she could. Shards of concrete dug into bare flesh.

  Where the hell was she? Her eyes hadn’t grown accustomed to the darkness. She still reeled from the shock of recognizing the person who’d abducted her. Why did he want to harm her? She’d done nothing wrong. Why choose Polly to be the pawn in his game? He must know she was her granddaughter, but how?

  She’d never thought of the man as a vindictive person, but obviously she’d misjudged him. She didn’t realize what evil acts brewed inside his mind until now.

  The memory of her brief encounter with him before he drugged her lingered. She’d never forget the hatred burning in his eyes. Since it appeared to be revenge he sought, why hadn’t he already killed them? What tortures did he plan before he ended their captivity and their lives? Her fear increased.

  Brian had sensed she was in danger all along. He’d worked hard to keep her safe, and she’d foolishly run away from him. Her reason for dashing out of his apartment that morning seemed foolish now.

  A single tear trickled down her cheek when she thought of never seeing him again. No, she told herself, she couldn’t think of that right now. She should only think of Polly.

  She continued to slither her body across the rubble-covered floor, forcing herself to ignore the cuts and scrapes she suffered en route. She needed to reach Polly. Why hadn’t her visions led her to her grandchild sooner? Now that she’d found her, she was determined to save her daughter’s little girl if it was the last thing she ever did. The thought that it might be sent a wave of fear through her. Fear she fought to control.

  When she reached the whimpering child, she wanted to hold her, comfort her, but she couldn’t. She needed to free herself first.

  “Mommy,” Polly cried.

  “Yes, honey.” She wouldn’t tell the frightened girl that the woman next to her wasn’t her mommy, but a stranger who happened to be her grandmother.

  “I can’t move,” Polly cried out, her sobs now verging on hysteria. “The ropes hurt. Untie me, Mommy.”

  “I can’t, honey. I’m tied up, too.”

  She heard a man’s voice in the distance. She couldn’t make out what he said. Was their captor back to finish them off? She struggled at her ropes tearing flesh in the process. Maybe she couldn’t save herself, but she’d save her granddaughter. Free her and tell her to run.

  ****

  He watched Joe pull up to the curb in front of the adobe house. He shouldn’t be here, but Brian was glad he was. Dunning would have his hide for this one. When his friend got out of the car and approached the man, Brian joined them.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Dunning demanded, glaring at Joe.

  “They’ve called the posse in,” Joe replied. “You might want to keep this case all to yourself, but you can’t. You don’t have the manpower to pursue a white van across miles of desert.”

  “How do you know the kidnapper’s left town?” Dunning said.

  “Oh, he’s left town all right. The first thing we did when we heard about the van was to send our men out to patrol the roads leading out of Vegas. It paid off.”

  “You found him, where?” the special agent said.

  “He’s been spotted on a back road in the Red Rock Canyon area.”

  “Was he stopped? Does he have the child and Ms. Martin with him?” Dunning then asked.

  “I said a patrolman spotted him. When he saw the patrol car, he took off, but we’ll catch him. There aren’t that many roads in the area he can escape on.”

  Dunning’s partner joined him. “They’ve seen the van.”

  “I know,” he replied, his answer abrupt. He glanced at the sky. “At least the damn rain’s stopped. The search should go easier.”

  “As long as we aren’t plagued by flash floods,” Joe said. He looked to the distant mountains. “It’s stopped raining here, but storms are brewing over the higher peaks. They could spark flash floods in desert canyons miles away.”

  “Well let’s hope for the best,” he said, before heading for his car.

  Joe started for his car then turned back to Brian. “You want to join me?”

  He looked over at Rita who hadn’t budged from her car since they’d arrived. “Yeah. Let me tell Rita she’s released from chauffeur duty.”

  “Chauffeur duty?” Joe said.

  “Yeah, long story.”

  Rita didn’t want to go home, but he insisted she should. He promised to update her on any developments via cell phone.

  “You better,” she called out before taking off.

  “I wish we knew if Angie and Polly were with the man,” Brian said, settling himself in the passenger seat of Joe’s car. “Not knowing is killing me.”

  “It will be over soon,” Joe said.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “As a cop, I’m as cynical as they come, so telling you to think positive goes against the grain. But that’s exactly what I’m going to instruct you to do.”

  “Joe, what if….”

  Joe cut him off. “Let’s not go into the ‘what ifs.’” His cell phone rang. “Maybe it’s the news we’ve been hoping for.”

  ****

  With the police car in pursuit, he rounded a curve and spun off onto a side road killing his lights as he did. He didn’t kick up a telltale dust cloud because the side dirt road remained damp from recent rain.

  The police car sped by. His reprieve would be short-lived, however. Once the cop realized the van he pursued was no longer ahead of him, he’d turn back. To avoid the cop’s detection, he needed to escape farther into the desert away from the main road.

  Switching on his parking lights, he crept along letting his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness beyond the lights. Slowing to a stop, he grabbed his flashlight and exited the vehicle. When he swept the light’s beam across the surrounding landscape, ghostly arms of yucca plants and cholla cactus appeared. The pungent scent of creosote bushes filled the air. Ahead sat a narrow canyon, the perfect place to hide from his pursuer.

  Returning to the van, he started to drive the rock strewn dirt trail leading into the canyon. Overhead lightning bolts seared the ink black sky and teased mountaintops. A deer darted in front of him. He swerved and careened over a boulder at the side of the trail. Without getting out, he knew he was in trouble.

  Things weren’t going the way he planned. Planned, what a joke. He’d been so focused on revenge, he hadn’t planned his getaway. Normally, he organized every detail of an undertaking allowing no room for mistakes, but not this time.

  Getting out, he used his flashlight to survey the damage. The right front tire was flat, the rim bent. He could hike out. However, with a flashlight already growing dim, walking through the unfamiliar desert in the dark would be foolhardy. He needed to wait until morning.

  He returned to the van. Lightning bolts played tag with the mountaintops overhead and rain once more pelted his windshield.

  Settling in, he soon dozed, exhaustion replacing his determination to flee. It had been a long week, but soon he’d be done with it. He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping when a loud roaring sound woke him. Switching on his headlights, he saw the source of the noise. A wall of water rushed toward him.

  “Oh my God,” he shouted. He needed to escape the approaching floodwaters before being overtaken. He’d seen what a flash flood could do to a vehicle stranded in its wake. He leaped out and ran. He realized he made a foolish move too late. The rising waters boiled around his legs and he lost his balance. The river of water carried him downstream along with rocks, mud, and other debris. A tree branch sailed by an
d he grabbed for it. It eluded his grasp. Caught in the current, he tumbled. Something slammed into the side of his head and all went black.

  ****

  Using a small shard of broken concrete, Angie worked at the rope binding her hands. Thankfully, her hands were tied in front of her rather than behind her back. As she worked, sweat dripped into her eyes. The rope began to loosen. She attempted to pull her hands free, bruising her wrists further, but she didn’t care. She desperately wanted to escape this hellhole and save Polly.

  She heard loud footsteps overhead and people shouting. Who were they and why did they yell at each other? Hoping it wasn’t her abductor, she tried calling out for help. The sound of the voices faded. They hadn’t heard her.

  Hope bloomed when the rope loosened further. Holding her hands up to her mouth, she used her teeth to tug at it and finally shed the wrist bindings. She pulled her knees up to her chest and used her freed hands to untie the rope around her ankles. All through the process, Polly alternated between loud sobs and sniffling cries that tore at her heart.

  “It’s okay, honey. I’m going to untie you now.” Just as she did, Polly struggled to her feet.

  “You’re not my mommy. I want my mommy.” Trying to run, she stumbled and fell, her sobbing returning in earnest.

  Angie scrambled to her feet.

  “Stay where you are, Polly. I’ll carry you.”

  “No. You’re not my mommy. You’re with that bad man.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m your grandmother.” The words slipped so easily off her tongue.

  “My grandma’s dead,” the youngster announced. “I want my mommy,” she repeated, more hiccupping sobs accompanying her words.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll take you to your mommy, I promise. I’m not with the bad man.”

  Polly continued to cry. Feeling around in the dark, she found her granddaughter, scooped her into her arms, and held her close. Polly struggled for a minute, then settled down. “It’s okay, baby. Shh. We’ll find your mommy.”