Taken - Before her very Eyes

by Faubert, Wade

  As much as Summer didn’t want to, she had to search the car for any sign of Sabrina. Fighting the urge to throw up, she bent and pressed the trunk release. It opened with a pop and Summer could see the light illuminating the area behind the car. She had to check—had to know for sure. Summer found it difficult to move. As much as she needed to know, she didn’t want to see her baby girl’s body sprawled out in the trunk of a car.

  Thinking about their trip to the library last week, Summer used the memory to busy her mind from thinking bad thoughts. Slowly Summer staggered along the length of the car, picturing Sabrina reading a page during story time.

  Summer kept her eyes focused on the trees in the distance as she slid her fingers along the car roof, but when her fingers touched the raised trunk lid, her good memory was replaced by reality.

  “Maybe this is all a dream?” She closed her eyes and stepped around the back of the car. “No, definitely a nightmare!”

  After taking a deep breath and counting to five, she forced her eyes open. They were barely more than slits when bile surged up her throat, causing her to gag. Her stomach churned. Her head pounded. She felt like she was going to faint. Unable to keep control any longer, she doubled over and lost her breakfast.

  The trunk was empty except for some shipping slips, empty boxes and the emergency kit she’d bought Dean last year. Summer couldn’t believe her reaction. She could understand if Sabrina had been inside, but to lose her breakfast from pure nerves was terrible.

  The wind blew the shipping slips, sending a few cascading from the trunk, out into the brightening morning. Summer bent and gathered a few from beside the car and noticed the set of fresh tire tracks. He had a getaway car stashed here. He drove slow, enticing her to follow, toying with her the entire way. He knew exactly which way she’d go and planned everything perfectly. But how would he know her moves. How…

  Summer stood, her eyes following the tracks around the bushes. She reached inside the trunk and grabbed the flashlight from the kit then followed the trail around the bushes and onto the ancient driveway. It appeared to be the remains of an old farmhouse, completely shrouded in overgrown trees and bushes. There were so many hiding places the kidnapper could be waiting behind, but she was sure he was long gone. Summer stared at the hanging shutters and smashed windows and couldn’t believe he’d led her here to this place when he could’ve easily just taken off and outrun her.

  His whole planning process seemed intent to get her here, to this old farmhouse. But why?

  Summer navigated the puddles in the yard and headed straight for the weathered front door. She knew there would be nobody living inside. Knew there would be no phone to call for help from, but still she had to enter. She had to know why the kidnapper had led her here. This had, after all, been part of his master plan.

  The stairs to the front porch sagged under the weight of her feet, dipping down, threatening to snap in two at any quick movement. She grabbed the handrail, then quickly let go as it tumbled off the side of the stairs. “This house needs to be condemned and burned, so why lead me here?”

  Summer turned, glancing back at the Mercedes sitting behind, illuminating the bushes, and wondered if she should go back for help instead. She was about to leave when a glint of metal at the bottom of the door caught her attention. It wasn’t the fact that something could still be shiny in this rotting mess, it was the colour that froze her to the spot. The gleam of gold caused the flashlight to shake across the porch. Summer grabbed the light with two hands and steadied it on the shiny metal. She felt her stomach lurch again and understood why she had been brought here.

  Slowly as if she was caged in a dream, she climbed the remaining steps and stood before the front door, eyes locked on the object as if it were some rare foreign artifact never seen before in the existence of mankind. But she had seen it before and she could never forget the first time she’d set eyes on it.

  Bending down, Summer plucked the badge from the soft bed of rotting wood at the base of the door. She knew it was hers even before she read the name. Knew the kidnapper had placed it there deliberately earlier this morning. But why? Why, unless…

  Summer gagged and fought back a dry heave. Could this be the place? Could this really be the hide out that John Scott had taken her to and… and…

  A shutter racked her body at the memory of that night. As hard as the cops had searched, they never found where John Scott had held her. She knew she’d been inside a structure. A rotting musty building, smelling of mildew, but she’d been forced to wear that hood, never privileged to even the sight of the place or her captor. Hell, the last thing she’d seen was that evil look on John Scott’s face when he’d stuck her with that needle.

  After placing the badge in her pocket, Summer reached out and turned the doorknob. The squeal of rusted hinges echoed through the house, sending a flurry of tiny feet running for cover. Summer swept the light across the entrance room and saw the set of fresh footprints in the thick dust on the floor. They headed straight for the stairs and Summer ignored her training and followed them blindly, knowing where they were heading. Half of her didn’t want to see where she’d been held captive, but the other half—the cop half—needed to know for sure. She needed to answer one of the many questions from that night. Needed to finally put to rest the nagging mystery of where that bastard, John Scott, had beat and raped her.

  These stairs, although squeaking and worn, were in better condition that the ones on the front porch. Summer climbed carefully, placing her foot in the exact spot the kidnapper had taken earlier. The grime covered window in the room straight off the stairs was now glowing red as the early morning sun broke free of the horizon, illuminating the old farm house and taking some of the mystery and seclusion away. An old fashioned cast iron bed sat squarely in the middle of the room with straps of cord still hanging from the head and foot boards, each covered in dried blood.

  Summer stood at the threshold of the room, unable to enter as memories flooded her mind. Her throat suddenly felt raw and swollen. She remembered how much she’d screamed and cried that night and even though it seemed like a life time ago, fresh tears were flooding her eyes, spilling down her cheeks at the sight of her cage.

  Over in the corner in a pile of chewed blue clothes, a nest of newborn mice were squirming. Summer recognized the city issued blue uniform and knew if she’d rustled the mice from their nest, she’d find her name stitched on the front pocket.

  The footprints continued inside the room and ended at the side of the bed, then retreated. A white envelope had been laid out directly in the middle of the bed, on the dried bloodstain. Summer knew it was the ransom note. Knew she had to get it and read his demands, but just the thought of stepping foot inside this room was too much to handle. Her heart was racing, her palms sweating as every muscle in her body began twitching at the thought of getting close to that bed.

  One shaky foot entered the room and froze in the kidnapper’s footprint as the mice scattered into their hiding places.

  “I… can’t?” Summer wrapped her arms around her body, squeezing her shaking chest, trying to control the tremors inside. “I…” She saw the white swatch of silk underwear in that mouse nest and concentrated on building her fury at the memory of being dumped naked in the ditch to die. She found a trace of hatred for John Scott, grasped onto that thread and closed her eyes, taking two more steps into the room. One last step and Summer slowly opened her eyes. The white envelope sat on top of the crusted hard bed sheet, with her name printed carefully on the front. It looked so beautifully done, so inviting, like a wedding invitation, but she knew what was inside was anything but a cordial invitation to a party. It was an invitation to her horrid past.

  Summer reached out a trembling hand, plucked the envelope from the bed then turned and raced from the room. Feeling lightheaded, she stopped momentarily at the top of the stairs and knew she had to get outside.

  With the cool morning air cleansing the musty smell from her lungs,
Summer leaned back against the wall and tore open the envelope. The paper inside was thick and expensive. As she slid it out and started to unfold it, she expected to see an amount for the ransom, but there wasn’t any. The kidnapper wasn’t demanding any money at all. All that was printed was one perfectly scripted line. One simple demand. One that could cost her life.

  Chapter 5

  Summer limped down the front stairs, her right foot aching with every step she took. In the time she’d been inside the farmhouse the weather had changed completely. The rain had ceased and the sky was turning a brilliant rosy glow, chasing away the dark clouds to the east. As the sunshine caused every last raindrop, which clung to the leaves of the overgrown trees to sparkle like gems, Summer marvelled at how everything could look so beautiful when inside she felt like such shit.

  Hobbling down the broken driveway, Summer wondered if she’d sliced the bottom of her foot wide open, because it sure as hell felt that way right now. She rounded the car, eyeing the soaked boxes and papers inside the trunk then slammed the lid closed.

  Without bothering to wipe the water from the seat, Summer slid behind the wheel and closed the door. She sat there staring through the tiny gaps in the bushes at the old farmhouse.

  “Why here? Why did John Scott bring me here?” Summer shook her head. How did he know about this place? Either he’d grown up around here or someone else had told him about it. And if the kidnapper is working for someone else then who’s really behind all this.

  After backing the car from the alcove, Summer shifted gears then sat staring out across the farmland at the highway below. She knew the chance of finding Sabrina was slim. He could be long gone in either direction down the 401, or he could be hiding close by to check on his demands before letting Sabrina go, but would he release Sabrina unharmed like he said he would? Summer knew the answer that a cop would think, but she refused to give in. Hell, right now she was a mother, not a cop.

  “Don’t worry, baby,” Summer whispered as she started down the road, heading toward the city. “I’ll get you back.”

  The drive back to Chatham seemed to take forever. Summer expected to see cops crawling all over the place, but then again she had not given her location before the phone had died. She reached into her purse and grabbed the phone. She had half a mind to toss the useless thing out the window and watch it smash into pieces for all the good it’d done. Summer lowered the window then paused, realizing that the kidnapper might try calling this phone, but it’s dead. She made a mental note to get it charged as soon as possible.

  The morning traffic was starting to build as Summer turned onto Richmond Street. She wondered if anybody had come to Dean’s aide, or even if he’d managed to call for help. For all she knew he could be lying dead in a pool of blood right there on the downtown sidewalk. The thought of losing him was too much to handle right now. Sure they were separated, but she needed him now more than ever. He was the last thread to her unravelling life—the only thing that held her from falling into obscurity right now. Without Dean… Summer swallowed hard, refusing to finish the thought.

  Up ahead a police cruiser sat behind the damaged car that she’d slid into during the chase. She glanced at the officer investigating the scene and he returned her stare, then reached for his radio. It was Jones, the newest recruit. Summer considered stopping and sending Jones off on the search for Sabrina, but she needed to check on Dean. Besides, thirty seconds more wouldn’t make a difference in finding Sabrina.

  As Summer neared the end of the street, she saw the lights of the cruiser snap to life. Jones was giving pursuit, chasing after her. Summer suddenly realized that she was driving the kidnapper’s car right now. Maybe Jones was following her, hoping to be of service when she stops downtown. Or, maybe he didn’t recognize her and thought she was the kidnapper?

  The sirens wailed behind, bouncing off the buildings as they neared the downtown core. The way the cruiser was tearing down the street, racing to catch up, Summer believed she was the one who was wanted right now. There was no way in hell she was going to stop for Jones. He’d have to run her off the road and Summer knew he didn’t have the balls for that.

  Summer ripped the Mercedes around the last corner, gunned the engine as it straightened out, then slammed on the brakes sending the car sliding sideways down the road toward the barricade of police cars blocking the crime scene.

  “Shit!” Summer said, shaking nervously from the adrenaline rush. She jumped from the car as the cruiser came sliding to a stop, inches away. There was a confused look on Jones’ face as Summer dashed around the other side of the car, limping down the road toward the crowd of onlookers.

  The officers broke free of the crowd, guns drawn in her direction, but seemed to stop as one when they saw who Jones had been chasing.

  “Summer?” Nate Long said, holstering his gun and rushing down the rain slicked road toward her. His arms were out, waiting as always to give her support.

  Summer met him halfway and allowed herself to be caught in his embrace. His strong arms had never felt so good as he lifted her off her feet with ease. She choked back a sob. The last time he’d held her in his arms, she’d been naked, battered and bruised. Left for dead.

  Summer squirmed until Nate set her back onto the ground. He wasn’t the type of man to openly express his feeling in public and that’s what made Summer so grateful that he was there for her. Just the feeling of his arms around her body was more soothing than a bullet proof vest and she knew she’d never forget that feeling as long as she lived.

  “Nate, he spiked my tires then dumped his car.” Summer fought to catch her breath. “He’s got Sabrina.”

  “I’m so sorry. I heard the call come in and I… I can’t believe it happened. But why? Why Sabrina?”

  Summer shook her head as fresh tears filled her eyes.

  “He was waiting for us—for Dean to arrive with…” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to say the name again. It was almost as if saying her name would condemn Sabrina to death.

  “Don’t worry.” Nate raised her chin. “We’ll get her back.”

  “Jones! Put it out on the wire. The kidnapper has switch vehicles.”

  Officer Kyle Jones looked surprised that of all the cops standing around, he was the one Nate had chosen to make the call. “But what should I tell them to look for?”

  “I don’t know? Give me a few minutes, but for now, a man with a little girl—every man with a child—boy or girl!”

  “Dean?” Summer pulled back and stared up into Nate’s blue eyes. Eyes she had looked into many times before. Eyes that seldom showed any signs of fear. Loving eyes that seemed to be looking deep inside. Deep into her soul whenever he spoke. “Where’s Dean?”

  “He’s in the hospital.” Nate pulled her close, squeezing tight. “In the OR.”

  “Is he going—”

  “He’s lost a lot of blood.” Nate shook his head. “Luckily the knife didn’t hit anything important. Looks like a few stitches and some rest and he’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Nate kissed her head then held her out at arm’s length. “I’m not a doctor, but I’ve seen worse come through.” He stared for a moment then ushered her toward the nearest cruiser, noticing her limp. “You’re hurt?” He gave her foot a queer glance. “Where’s your other shoe?”

  “I lost it.” Summer glanced down at her muddy sock. “I think I might have cut my foot, too.”

  Nate scooped her into his arms and headed toward the ambulance on the other side of the crowd. “Change of plans. Let’s get the paramedics to look at that foot while you warm up.”

  Summer felt her face flush. She tucked her head down, refusing to look at the crowd of onlookers as Nate carried her like a bride over the threshold, to the ambulance. Sure he’d been her partner for the last two years and they had been very close. Close enough to spur rumours around the station, but they had only been partners—close partners.

  Summer heard th
e ambulance door open and a second later Nate set her on the stretcher.

  “I’m fine,” Summer insisted, pushing herself back and sitting up. “It’s probably only a scratch or a small cut.”

  The paramedic donned a pair of gloves then slid off Summer’s mud covered sock. “Well, let’s have a look.”

  Nate pulled out his note pad. “Tell me what happened to Dean and Sabrina.”

  “Sabrina,” Summer muttered. Her body began to shiver despite the increased warmth inside the ambulance. “He took her. He was waiting for Dean and he took her.”

  “Where? Which direction did they go?”

  “I chased him down Howard line. He’d set a trap and my car got stuck in the cut through.” Summer shook her head. She felt the hot tears burning her eyes. “It was all a setup. He led me to the place… the place John Scott had held me.”

  Nate’s eyes were studying her closely. “How do you know it was the same place?”

  Summer dug in her pocket and withdrew her old badge then dropped it into Nate’s palm. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed as the sight of the badge brought back memories that he’d been hiding away.

  “It was the right place.” Summer closed her eyes. She could see every step she’d taken inside that place. She could still smell the rot and mildew as if she were lying on that bloodstained bed right now instead of this stretcher. She opened her eyes and saw the angry look of hatred in Nate’s eyes. “Trust me. It’s the place.”

  Nate turned to Officer Jones, who was standing just beyond the side of the door. “Take Stevens and Malroy out to the cut through on Howard line. Find Summer’s Volvo and secure the scene. I want the entire place searched and the farmhouse down the street processed for evidence.”

  Jones looked nervously around at the group of officers who weren’t busy processing the scene of the attack, then to the detective standing close by. “But what about Detective Grimshaw. Shouldn’t he be involved?”