Escape, Dead End

by David Antocci

  She longed to be a mother again, to dry tears after a skinned knee, to go shopping together at the mall, or go to the park. It was the simple things she missed the most. She needed to get back to living the life that a mother and daughter should live, not this life of clandestine visits.

  After she toweled off, Abby sat on the thick comfortable sofa and called JJ. She always had a difficult time reaching him at his office, but she hadn’t heard back from him in weeks. She figured he could use an early morning wake-up call.

  “Do you have any idea what time it is?” his groggy voice said from the other end of the line.

  “It’s time to get to work.”

  He sighed as he sat up in bed. “How have you been, Abby?”

  “I’m good. I’d be better if I knew where Bryce was hiding so I could end his life and get on with mine.”

  “Abby, please, you know you can’t say stuff like that to me. I can’t track him down knowing that you’re going to kill him.”

  She stifled a laugh, “But you will. Unless you have some sort of strict moral code you’re living by these days.”

  Silence.

  She smiled and said sweetly, “I won’t kill him, I just want to tell him to leave me and my little girl alone. Forever.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Seriously, where are we with this?”

  “I’ve got other cases I’m working on.”

  “For ten months? What kind of a fool do you think I am? You found me faster. If you wanted to find him you would, so what’s the deal?”

  “There’s no deal, Abby. He’s long gone. I’ve tapped every resource I have. I’ve even got a couple informants that my brother, Ace, met with personally. No one has any idea if he’s even alive, never mind where he’s hiding.”

  “Someone has got to know something!”

  “If anyone does, you’re talking about his inner circle. Gaetano Rosso, the head of the family, maybe a few others. I don’t have anyone who can get info out of someone that high up in the food chain.”

  “Well, keep trying, I’m running out of patience.”

  3

  ABBY GLANCED AT the screen of her ringing phone to see that her sister, Sarah, was calling. “Hi, Sar.”

  Her sister whispered as she peeked through the drawn curtains of her dining room window, “They’re back.”

  “The same guys?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’m looking at them right now.”

  Abby immediately felt a sinking sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Who the hell are these guys?

  Sarah and Ava had never moved after what had happened on the front lawn of her house so many months ago. Abby had wanted them to, but Sarah didn’t want to pull Ava out of school. Abby wasn’t a huge deal in Canada like she was in the States, and even the Stateside media interest disappeared a few weeks after she had been “killed”.

  Everything had been quiet and ordinary, until the past few days.

  Sarah called Abby several times over the course of the week. She had noticed them for the first time on the way home from the grocery store with Ava at the beginning of the week—two large men sitting in a late-model American car at the end of the street. She didn’t think anything of it until later that day when she saw the same car on the other end of the street, and then the next afternoon they were parked in front of her house. They weren’t even trying to be discreet.

  Abby ticked through the options in her head. “You’ve called the police?”

  “Yes, and they said there’s nothing they can do. An officer went over to talk to them the first day, and they told him they were on a lunch break and just relaxing and talking in the car. He tells me there’s no law against that and to have a nice day.”

  “There’s no one else that will listen?” Abby asked, agitated.

  “I’ve tried, Abby. I’ve called every afternoon for the past four days. Yesterday, the officer didn’t even go over to the car. He just came and pounded on my door, told me that no one is breaking the law, and I’ve become a nuisance. He said the next time I call they’re going to cite me for wasting the officer’s time.”

  “That’s a thing?”

  “In Canada, yes.”

  Abby thought a moment. “You know where my box is downstairs?”

  “I’m not going to bring a loaded gun up here. I don’t even like having it in the house.”

  “Well, I wish you would, for Ava’s sake.”

  “She’s nine years old, Abby. I’m not going to teach her that guns are the answer to trouble.”

  “No, they’re not the answer, but an even playing field is always nice. In case you forgot, her father tried to shoot her—through my chest—on your front lawn less than a year ago. He’s still out there, and so are all his friends, and they’ve all got guns.”

  “You said she’s safe now that he thinks you’re dead.”

  Abby sighed. “She is. Or she should be. He had a reason to kill me, to keep me quiet. Killing her would just have been icing on the cake. He’s a sociopath, but he’s not an idiot. He’s been in hiding for what, almost two years now? He showed up only to tie up some loose ends. He’ll stay ‘dead’ if he’s smart, but that’s not my point. At least consider keeping the gun handy, OK?”

  “No, Abby, I won’t consider it. I don’t even like it in the house.”

  Then it’s a good thing you don’t know what else is down there, Abby thought. Over the past several months that she had been sneaking in to visit Ava, Abby had amassed a small arsenal of handguns and other trinkets.

  “Ava gets her report card next week,” Sarah said, changing the subject. “She says it should be all A’s. Isn’t that great?”

  “It is,” Abby said vacantly.

  “You OK?”

  Abby was silent a moment, “Yes, I’m fine. Tired, that’s all. It’s a lot of work here; a lot of physical work.”

  “Well, Ava is looking forward to seeing you this weekend. Are you still coming tomorrow night, as usual?”

  Abby stared at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall. She usually left after therapy was done in the afternoon, reaching her sister’s house around midnight. “Maybe I’ll come tonight instead.”

  “No, Abby, we’ll be fine.”

  “They’re waiting for me, you know. They’ve got to be Bryce’s guys. Why else would he have them there? Could he know I’m still alive?”

  “We buried you, Abby. It was all pretty convincing—and it was all over the news.”

  That it was, Abby thought. There had been a full-fledged funeral and burial. All the news outlets covered it. It was a pretty huge story, and elaborately orchestrated by Robert and his money.

  “At least tell me you’ll keep a gun by the bed tonight?”

  Sarah smiled. “Yes, Abby, I’ll keep a gun by the bed tonight.”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “I am. We’ll be OK one more night. Tomorrow night, just come as usual.”

  “I’ll be there. And I’m hoping those two fat bastards in the car are still hanging around, too.”

  Sarah thought a moment before admitting, “Me, too, Abby. Me too.” She knew what her sister was planning, and knew there was no alternative.

  ***

  “Rinse your dishes and put them away if you’re done,” Sarah reminded Ava as she cleared the pots and pans from the stove.

  “Yes, Auntie,” Ava said, smiling, but almost rolling her eyes.

  As was their typical ritual, they both cleaned the kitchen table after dinner. Ava didn’t help to get dinner ready, as she was usually completing her homework, but Sarah expected her to help clean up after.

  Sarah looked out various windows of the house over the course of the night but saw no sign of the men in the car. Maybe they’re taking the night off, she thought, amused—albeit morbidly—at the thought.

  After the dishes were put away, teeth brushed, and pajamas put on, Sarah and Ava sat on the couch to watc
h a little television before bedtime. Ava’s therapist had advised Sarah that organization and structure would go a long way toward helping Ava feel safe again and get through what had happened. “Knowing what to expect, and when to expect it, helps put the mind at ease,” she had advised. Despite Ava’s traumatic upbringing, nothing can prepare a little girl for seeing her father shoot her mother in the chest only a few feet away from her.

  Sarah did the right thing, and they were in a psychologist’s office not forty-eight hours after the incident. Maybe it was her young age, or the fact that her father’s psychotic actions were not unprecedented, but Ava worked through things fairly well and was a relatively well-adjusted girl.

  Still, Sarah rarely deviated from structure and schedule. At eight o’clock sharp, she announced, “Time for bed, little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl. I’m almost ten! Can’t I stay up just a little while longer? Please?” A test, Sarah thought.

  The therapist told her, “Especially in the face of a test, it’s important not to give in. Stay firm. Asking to stay up longer is a test of the boundaries, and it is important for a victim like Ava to know that boundaries are there.”

  Despite wanting to give in, Sarah fought the urge and resisted. “Not tonight, sweetie. You still have school in the morning. When your mom is here, we’ll talk about having a new bedtime for you. How does that sound?”

  Ava, as always, lit up with the thought of seeing Abby. “Sounds great! I’ll see you in the morning!”

  Sarah gave her niece a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be up in a little while to check on you. Have sweet dreams.”

  As she walked away, Ava chuckled a bit at that expression. “I will, Auntie. You know, you don’t have to say that every night. I’m really not a little girl anymore.”

  Sarah smiled as Ava turned and trotted out of the room. “No,” she said to herself, “you’re certainly not.”

  ***

  Something woke Sarah just after two a.m.

  Like every other night these past few days, it took her a few moments to realize where she was. Sitting up, her neck a little sore from having fallen asleep in an awkward position on the couch, she stretched before turning off the TV.

  She checked the front-door locks, and then peeked out the dining room window to make sure that neither the car nor the two men were anywhere to be seen. Satisfied that everything looked in order, she sleepily walked up the stairs in what had become a nightly ritual over the past week.

  She opened Ava’s door to look at the lump under the covers. She smiled to see Ava sleeping peacefully though she was a bit shocked at how cold the room was. Fall always came a little early this far north, and notwithstanding Sarah’s constant reminders to shut her window before bed, Ava insisted otherwise.

  Sarah shook her head and rubbed her arms as she crossed the room and shut the window. It had to be just above freezing outside, and the chilled air gave her goose bumps as the breeze fluttered over her skin when she pulled the window closed. The poor girl must be freezing, Sarah thought, seeing that Ava had pulled the covers up over her head.

  As she leaned over to adjust the covers and give Ava a kiss on the cheek, a hot wave of panic washed over her as Ava’s body completely compressed. Ripping the sheets off the bed, a wave of nausea overtook her. Nothing more than pillows lay stretched across the bed, arranged in the rough shape of a small body. Ava was gone!

  Overcome by panic, Sarah raced around the house, throwing open closet and bathroom doors, “Ava?!”

  After tearing through the house in mere moments, Sarah realized the worst and grabbed the phone with her trembling hands.

  ***

  Abby sprang into action and was racing through the backwoods of Maine at a breakneck speed in her little import inside of two minutes after her sister called her. She had barely dressed, and her hair was a mess, but none of that matter to her. Two hours into her six hour trip, and she had been cursing herself the entire time. I knew I should have gone tonight.

  As the gray light of dawn started to threaten the horizon in her rearview mirror, Abby told herself to get a grip. If I go crazy and do something stupid, Bryce wins, and who knows what happens to Ava. She had to stay sharp and think clearly.

  Even though Sarah had promised to call her with updates, and they had just gotten off the phone twenty minutes ago, Abby dialed her again. She needed to stay calm, to keep focused, and to feel like she’s part of the situation.

  “What’s the status, Sarah?”

  “Nothing has changed here, nothing new.”

  Abby cursed the steering wheel.

  The police were not taking the situation seriously, and this frustrated Abby and Sarah to no end.

  “This happens all the time,” a female officer had assured Sarah an hour earlier. “Kids run away. We’ll keep looking, but she’ll turn up by breakfast, as soon as she gets hungry.”

  The police were doing pretty much that—just looking. They were searching the neighborhood, knocking on doors, the usual first steps when a child goes missing.

  Abby knew that by the time the police got around to it, Ava would be long gone, hidden deep in the Canadian wilderness or flown out of the country on a private plane. She slammed her fist into the steering wheel and pushed down harder on the gas pedal.

  ***

  The fatter of the two men secured the duct tape around Ava’s wrists a bit tighter once they found a safe place to pull over a couple miles down the road. With her arms bound behind her and a gag in her mouth, she looked up at her capture helplessly, with terror in her eyes. He felt bad for her, he really did, but business was business. He stroked her soft brown curly hair with his meaty hand and spoke through labored breathing. “Don’t worry, honey, we’re just bringing you to your daddy. Everything will be fine.”

  At the mention of her father, Ava’s eyes became as wide as saucers as he slammed the trunk shut.

  4

  SARAH WATCHED ABBY pace the kitchen like a caged animal as she poured two cups of tea and set them down on the island. “Abby, why don’t you sit down and have some tea? Wind down a little.”

  “I’m not having fucking tea,” Abby shot back.

  Her mind was racing and immediately started making connections. Tea always made her think of Robert. The first time she met him on the island, he made her peppermint tea. Of course, Robert, the island, and damned near everything else brought her thoughts back to Eric.

  She stopped, body tense, and closed her eyes trying to push his image from her mind, but it was no use. It didn’t help that she was at the scene of the crime. There he was, smiling, crashing broken to the ground, body jerking as Bryce put two bullets in his chest.

  Sarah watched her poor sister, her body wound tight and rocking slightly. She wanted to hug her but was a little scared. Abby had thrown a fit when she arrived fifteen minutes ago. She punched a hole in the foyer wall before breaking down in tears on the floor. Sarah worried that, mentally, her little sister was becoming unhinged. Years of fighting just to stay one step ahead of Bryce and his mob family were finally catching up with her. With Ava gone, Abby appeared to be going over the edge, and Sarah didn’t want to wind up collateral damage if she did.

  Abby concentrated on her breathing and pushed Eric from her mind. She needed to think about Ava, no matter how much it drove her mad. She’d be damned if her daughter suffered the same fate as Eric. She needed to find a way to stop Bryce because the police never would.

  She thought about how she would exact her revenge on that bastard, and sooner rather than later. She could picture herself shooting him or breaking his neck. No matter what steps she took to end his life, the image of his dead body calmed her and allowed her to sigh her first easy breath in hours.

  Sarah smiled and gestured to the tea. She smiled again when Abby nodded and took a sip.

  Abby stared at the flower garden in the back yard through the French doors. “It’s been almost seven hours. She’s gone. Long gone.”

  Her
lip quivered a bit as she was about to speak, so Sarah simply nodded her head as her eyes glassed over.

  Abby was emotional but had moved past crying. Tears weren’t going to get Ava back. She was calculating, trying to determine exactly what Bryce’s next move would be. At last Sarah broke the tension. “The detectives will be here in a half hour. They’ll help find her, right?”

  Abby laughed. “Just like they found Bryce after he murdered Eric and shot me on your front lawn?” She shook her head, “I’ll be gone before they get here. Don’t tell them a thing. Useless, Sarah—they’re useless. Crimes get solved either when someone confesses or the facts drop in their lap. We tell the police everything and my face becomes the lead story on every news station in North America. Bryce may think I’m alive, but he doesn’t know it for a fact. I still have surprise on my side, and I have to go after him. Alone.”

  “How? Do you know where he is?”

  “No,” Abby shook her head. “But I know who does, so I’ll go after them. They’re hiding him, and they’re going to pay, too.”

  “Abby,” Sarah’s hand shook, and she had to put her tea cup back on the saucer, the china rattling upon contact. “Abby... these are dangerous people.”

  She smirked, “Not as dangerous as me.”

  ***

  With some effort, Abby pried open the storage bin under the basement stairs. Inside sat a large metal box with a combination lock. After dialing in the code, it popped, and she smiled.

  She took out what had become her favorite handgun at the shooting range—her Combat NCO .45. It was a big gun made to finish the job. Not like that little 9 mm Bryce shot me with, Abby thought. JJ let her borrow his when they snuck off to the shooting range together a few months back, and she immediately fell in love. It was about as accurate a gun as you could get, and its silencer meant her victims would never hear death coming. She loved the feeling of power in her hands when she held it.

  It had a hell of a recoil, though, and being a small woman she had to be well-set and braced to handle it. It wasn’t a gun she could whip out unprepared and fire one handed if need be. The thing would send her whole arm flying backwards if she tried that. She knew this from a rather embarrassing experience at the shooting range. The old-timers had gotten a kick out of it, though.