The Baby Promise

by Tia Wylder

  And yet, the more I thought about it, the more sense it admittedly made. Pamela had always been shifty and shady while we had been together. In fact, more than once, Ryan had come to me and suggested that she was stepping out behind my back. But I’d never believed Ryan. I’d never questioned Pamela or asked what she’d been doing when she went out late without me, or took calls in the other room.

  I’d never had any reason to doubt Pamela. I’d always thought I’d known what was truly important to her – marrying a billionaire, and becoming New York’s. Most popular socialite.

  And all this time, she’d been sleeping with my father.

  Chapter 18

  Honey

  “Hello?” I asked, squinting as I felt my way forward in the darkness. “Peter, are you there?”

  Save for the sound of my voice echoing against the grimy, wet walls, there was no reply.

  I shivered. I had no idea where I was. I was cold and alone and soaked to the skin – what had happened? Had I somehow fallen into the sewers, or gotten lost in a subway tunnel?

  I wrapped my arms around my body and hugged myself tightly, desperate for extra warmth. Stepping forward, I gasped as my heel caught on the pavement and I went crashing to the ground.

  “Ouch!” I cried out, although more from surprise than pain. As I picked myself back up, I wiped my hands on my thighs.

  Odd – I was wearing a work dress. Had I left the office early? Did Nate know?

  It was very troubling that I wasn’t able to remember.

  “Peter, where are you,” I called loudly. “I’m scared! This isn’t funny!”

  The only sound I heard in reply was a wet dripping sound – droplets of water falling into the wet stone floor.

  “I’m scared,” I added. “Please, Peter, help me!”

  There was no reply. Nervously biting at my lip, I walked on, desperate to find help and sunshine and warmth.

  The dark tunnel was endless. As I pushed on, my feet began to ache, and my thighs grew sore with the effort. I braced myself with a hand against the slimy wall and kept walking on, even as I grew weary with the effort of it all.

  “Peter,” I called loudly. “What happened to me? Why am I down here?”

  This time, I wasn’t surprised at the lack of reply. I frowned – why was I already used to being lost, in this creepy underground chamber?

  What was really going on?

  That was when I heard it. A roar, a frightening sound that fills the tunnel. The walls began to quiver and shake, and dust and grime fell from the dark ceiling. I shrieked in fear as I felt something cold and wet land on my head before flapping away. Screaming, I tangled my hands in my hair and shook my head.

  When the roar stopped, I shivered again. Something about the silence was even more chilling than the loud sound had been – now it just felt like I was waiting to hear something even worse.

  “Honey….”

  At the ghastly sound of my name, I jumped and yelped again.

  “Hello?” I screamed. “Where are you? I’m right here, please! Somebody, help me!”

  “Honey……”

  “Please!” I shrieked again, dropping to my knees. Tears welled in my eyes, and even though I didn’t want to break down crying, I wasn’t able to keep them from falling down my cheeks.

  Then, the unearthly voice went silent.

  That’s when I felt it. A sharp pain, in my knees and legs. I gasped and collapsed to the wet ground, falling hopelessly into a puddle of grimy water as my body was wracked with agony. It felt like someone was stabbing me and binding me all at once. Even though I could see in the dim light that I was alone in the tunnel, I was suddenly filled with a horrifying knowledge that I wasn’t really alone. Someone else was there, and they were hurting me.

  Someone else was there, and they wanted me dead.

  “Peter!” I screamed, desperately hoping for rescue. “You’ve got to help me!”

  But the only other sound in the tunnel was the dripping of water and my own helpless sobs.

  “Wake up, bitch!”

  I shuddered, opening my eyes just in time to see a pale hand flying through the air.

  “What do you want with me,” I asked tearfully. “Please, let me go!”

  The man squatting in front of me cackled. “No way, girlie,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re gonna stay right here.” He licked his lips. “I just had to make sure you weren’t dead, or nothin’.”

  I tried to move. It was impossible – my legs were bound at the knee and ankle, and my hands were twisted behind me. My hands were painfully numb, and my wrists ached.

  “Please,” I said softly. My mouth was dry, and my tongue felt like sandpaper. “Please, untie me.”

  The man threw his head back and laughed again. “No way! Are you kiddin’ me? I’d get killed for that,” he said. He shook his head and snorted. “You girls, always wantin’ everything your own way.”

  Fresh tears welled in my eyes, and I began to cry again, sobbing helplessly as snot filled my nose and mouth. Hot tears dripped down my cheeks, and I dipped my head low until my hair hung in front of my face, desperate not to let this man see me cry.

  “Aw, come on,” the man said. “It ain’t so bad! You’ll get to go soon,” he added. “At least, I think so.”

  I swallowed hard and looked around the small, windowless room. It was unfurnished, but I could tell that it was in a very nice building. The wooden floor gleamed with a toffee-like shine, and the walls had been freshly painted with a coat of ivory paint. The baseboards were dark blue, and they matched the trim around the edge of the ceiling.

  “Where am I?”

  The man laughed again. “Sorry, sweetheart, can’t tell you that,” he said, shaking his head. “I got this for you, you want it?” He held up a bottle of water.

  I nodded, too weak to move my lips. The man stepped closer, and I wrinkled my nose – up close, he smelled unpleasant and faintly of a sewer – but when he uncapped the bottle of water and held it to my mouth, I drank greedily.

  “Not so much, I can’t have you piss yourself while I’m gone,” the man said, chuckling as if this whole thing was one big game to him.

  “Are you going to leave me alone?” My voice trembled.

  The man nodded. “’Fraid so,” he said. “Boss wants me to…check into a few things.”

  His words filled me with terror. “Please, don’t hurt Peter,” I begged. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  The man grinned. “We’ll see about that,” he said, getting to his feet. “We’ll see about that.”

  I sighed and leaned against the wall. The man capped the water – it was one of those fancy, designer bottles of water, with big Hawaiian flowers on the label – and set it down on the floor. Then he wiped his hands on his thighs and left the room, closing the door silently behind him.

  I pressed my ear to the wall and listened, desperate to find out where I was being held. From the nice design of the apartment and the fancy water, I guessed it was someplace ritzy.

  I’d been here for days, and this was all I could surmise.

  I’m a stupid failure, I thought to myself, sighing deeply. The urge to break down in tears again was overwhelming, but I bit my lip until I tasted blood and the tears dried from my eyes.

  It had all started after the wedding. Peter had to get back to work – we’d had a fancy lunch at one of New York’s most expensive restaurants – and he’d dropped me off at home. That was when things went a little fuzzy. As I was walking up the stairs, someone had grabbed me from behind and dragged me into the backseat of a car. A man had given me a glass of water, and then I’d somehow fallen asleep.

  When I’d woken up, my killer headache told me that I’d likely been drugged. And now, I’d been alone in this room for days, weak with hunger and want of water. I had a feeling Pamela, Peter’s vicious ex-girlfriend, had something to do with this.

  But what? What could Pamela possibly want with me?

  All I knew was
that I had to get out. As quickly as I could, I scooted towards the wall and pressed my back against it. It was painful and hard, but I managed to get enough friction between my bare feet and the floor to push myself up. Sweat dripped down my face from the effort of it, but I was finally on my feet.

  Now it was just a matter of dealing with these ropes. Gritting my teeth, I started rubbing my wrists together. It burned like hell – I could practically feel my flesh rubbing off with the pressure of the ropes – but eventually, the knot loosened and I shook one of my hands-free. They were so numb it felt like I was wearing big, clumsy oven mitts, but I rubbed my hands against each other until the feeling started to come back. Leaning down, I fumbled at the ropes binding my ankles, then worked on the ropes around my knees until my legs were freed.

  When I’d managed to get rid of the ropes and knots, a burst of adrenaline exploded in my chest. I felt a surge of excitement as I crept quietly towards the door, putting an ear to the wooden surface and listening. This is it, I thought. If they catch me, I’m done for – there’s no way I can fight one of those men and win!

  I knew there was no going back. Wrapping one of my throbbing hands around the doorknob, I pushed it open. When I saw what was on the other side of my tiny cell, I gasped.

  The apartment was beautiful. Everything was furnished in silk and gold and polished wood. It looked like a showroom, or like a billionaire’s apartment from some improbable movie.

  My heart sank. I hadn’t wanted to be right about Pamela, but this practically confirmed it.

  I darted across the room, looking frantically for the front door. My ankles were bleeding from where the ropes had rubbed against my skin, but there was no time to worry about cleaning up after myself now. If I wanted to live, I was going to have to act fast.

  Think, Honey, think! I ordered myself as I began running down the hall. My body was tired and weak from days of no food and little sleep, but I used every ounce of my adrenaline rush to sprint down the hall. The front door loomed ahead of me – just a few more steps, and then I would be free!

  When I heard footsteps on the other side of the door, I froze. My heart sank and my eyes filled with new tears as I glanced around in a blind panic, looking eagerly for a place to hide. But there were no other rooms off the hall, and I was in clear view of the front door when it swung open.

  Pamela was standing there, her hands full of shopping bags. When she saw me, her jaw dropped, and the bags fell to the ground.

  “You bitch,” Pamela said, narrowing her eyes and stepping closer. “How the hell did you get out? Did he help you?”

  “No,” I said. I was frozen to the stop as if my feet had suddenly turned into giant blocks of concrete. “Why did you kidnap me? Just let me go, please, and I swear I won’t call the police.”

  Pamela laughed. It was a pretty, musical sound that sent a chill of fear through my heart.

  “Good luck,” Pamela said, shaking her head. She opened her purse and pulled out a small handgun. The sight of it made me shiver.

  “Please!” I yelped. “Please, Pamela, don’t hurt me – I’m pregnant! I’m carrying Peter’s child!”

  Pamela smirked. She held the gun in the air, aimed it straight at me, and released the safety with a small metallic click that filled me with terror.

  “Then I have even more reason to kill you,” Pamela said angrily. “You stupid bitch, you thought you could steal my man? I’ll show you,” she added in a vicious tone. “I’ll kill you!”

  I cried out and darted to the side as Pamela began running towards me. The hall was narrow, and I barely managed to dodge her. A shot rang out, and I dropped to the ground, frozen in fear.

  “I’m going to make you pay!” Pamela yelled angrily. “I can’t believe Peter would do this to me!”

  Shrieking in fear, I hauled myself off the ground and took off at a sprint for the door. Just as my hands wrapped around the knob, another loud shot rang out, and I screeched in alarm.

  “You’re not going anywhere!” Pamela yelled angrily. I heard her footsteps advancing on me.

  This is it, I thought. I’m done!

  To my surprise, I felt the knob of the front door turn in my hands. Stepping backward in shock, I gasped when the door swung open.

  Peter was standing there, red in the face. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he was drenched in sweat. When he saw me, his face went white.

  “Honey!” Peter yelled. “Come with me!”

  Before I could reply, Peter wrapped his big hand around my wrist and yanked me through the front door. Two more shots rang out behind us, and I cried out as Peter pulled me free to safety.

  “I’ll deal with her,” Peter growled. “You stay here.”

  “Peter!” Pamela yelled. “You bastard, what are you doing here?”

  I couldn’t hear Peter’s response. Seconds later there was a loud crash. I was shaking with fear and adrenaline, but I peered inside Pamela’s front door and saw Peter and Pamela, tussling on the floor. The gun was mere inches away from Pamela’s hand, and as she reached for it, Peter slapped her across the face.

  “Stay down,” Peter growled. “You’re not getting up anytime soon!”

  Pamela howled in rage. It was a desperate cry, a cry that was almost painful to my ears. My heart leapt into my throat as I watched her and Peter struggle for control. Finally, Peter clipped Pamela once more across the jaw, and her head fell slack at the neck. She collapsed to the ground and Peter pinned her down.

  “Honey, don’t worry,” Peter yelled over his shoulder. “The cops are on their way, and I called my private investigator!”

  All I could do was nod. I couldn’t believe he was here – that he’d come to save my life.

  “Peter,” I said weakly. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

  “Just hang on, Honey,” Peter yelled. “I promise, just a few more minutes and everything is going to be okay!”

  I slumped against the wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the polished wood of the hallway. Peter and Pamela were quieter now – there was no more yelling – and I heard a metallic click as Peter took the gun in his hands and removed the clip, tossing it over his shoulder.

  When I heard the roar of sirens down below on the streets of New York, I realized I couldn’t take it anymore. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I surrendered to the peaceful sea of black.

  --

  “Honey? Honey, wake up!”

  I groaned and blinked as an unfamiliar, harsh voice barked in my face.

  “What?” I groaned, rubbing my eyes with both hands. “What’s going on?”

  When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was in a brightly-lit room. Harsh fluorescent lights beamed down from the ceiling. I groaned again – I had a killer headache, and I was starving.

  “You’re in the New York City police box,” a man said. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, but rather a creased white shirt and dark trousers. “And you’ve got some questions to answer.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of fear – what was I doing here? I hadn’t done anything wrong!

  “Don’t worry,” the cop said. “I’m Detective Mikkelson, everything’s going to be okay.”

  I nodded again.

  “Would you like some water?”

  “Yes, please,” I said gratefully. “Thank you.”

  Detective Mikkelson handed me a glass of water. It was warm and tepid, but I drank the whole thing.

  “Your husband is worried about you,” the detective said. “He didn’t even wanna let you come with us.”

  “Oh,” I said weakly. “Where is he? Is he here?”

  “He’s waiting for you,” the detective said. He sighed, then sat down and took out a small notebook. “So, I got some questions. As soon as you answer all of ‘em, you can go home. Sound good?”

  “Okay,” I said. I cleared my throat. “What do you want to know?”

  “How do you know a Miss Pamela Green,” the detective asked. “You friends?”
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  “No, not at all,” I said slowly. I sighed. “She’s my husband’s ex-girlfriend. They were together for a few years before they broke up.”

  “I see. And any idea why she’d want to hurt you?”

  I swallowed nervously. I wasn’t sure – should I tell the detective everything, about the plan Peter and I had made? Our contract?