Stepping Stone

by Dakota Willink

  He slapped a clammy hand over my mouth.

  “Shut up you stupid bitch!”

  I scratched and clawed, but all I could think of was the people. Somebody had to see what was going on.

  The tour group.

  I screamed, but it was muffled against his damp hand.

  “Hey!” I heard somebody yell from my right.

  Oh, thank god.

  I strained my head towards the voice, my savior from the crazed lunatic, but what I saw made the ground feel like it was falling out from under me.

  No. Not him. Not him of all people.

  “Fuck you, Trevor. Just help me get her into the car.”

  This can’t be happening.

  I struggled to free myself, straining with every muscle in my body, but was overpowered by the two men.

  “Help!” I tried to scream again, but my cry earned me a harsh blow to the side of the head.

  “Krystina, shut up!” Trevor hissed.

  The world was spinning. My arms burned from the struggle, but I didn’t really feel it. It was as if I was numb as they dragged me, kicking and screaming, down the alley. There was a car that had been backed into the entrance that I had come through, effectively blocking any passerby from seeing what was happening. The car trunk was open and waiting.

  No. Please. No.

  My head smashed against the rear bumper as I was tossed into the trunk. My vision blurred and I felt something warm slide down my face.

  Blood.

  I tried to scream again, but was silenced when a strip of duct tape was slapped over my mouth. Zip ties were fashioned around my wrists, before Trevor reached down into the trunk and removed my purse that was still slung around my neck.

  “No funny business,” he warned.

  By taking my purse, he had also taken my phone. Any hopes that I may have had about calling for help vanished.

  What is happening? Why is this happening?

  The trunk was slammed shut and everything went dark. The car engine roared to life. I could hear the two men talking in the car. It was somewhat muffled, but not enough that I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Is this asshole going to pay up with out question?” I heard Trevor ask. “I don’t want cops involved in this.”

  “Oh, he’ll pay. No question about it. Stone goes to great lengths to protect his privacy. This will be no different. We struck gold when I found that video on his phone,” he laughed in the most sinister of ways. “And here you were just hoping for a bank account number. Trust me. This is better. He won’t want that released.”

  “I don’t see why we had to nab Krystina, though. It complicates things.”

  “We need her. She’s our insurance policy in case he tries to resist.”

  “Charlie, are you sure?”

  “Don’t be a fucking chicken shit. I was married to his sister for seven years. I know him well. He’ll pay. The sucker always pays.”

  Charlie? Justine’s ex-husband? Bank account numbers?

  The car turned left and I was slammed roughly against one side of the trunk.

  Think, Cole. Think.

  I tried to remember the make and model of the car that they put me into, but I was coming up blank. I listened to the sounds outside the car, hoping it may help me to determine where we were. All I could make out was the sound of the tires against the pavement and the occasional horn blaring. At the very least, the sound of car horns told me that we were still in the city.

  “Make a right up here. We need to get on I-78 towards Newport,” I heard Trevor say.

  “The warehouse is safe?”

  “Yeah. My father’s company never uses that one anymore.”

  “Good. Nobody will notice her stink for a while then,” Charlie said.

  My stink?

  Then the realization dawned on me. I knew exactly what Charlie meant by my stink.

  Things like this don’t happen to real people! I have to get out of here.

  Feeling like I was living in a terrible B rated movie, I began to beat at the lid of the truck. I kicked against it and beat with my fists until my knuckles were raw and burning.

  “What do you mean her stink?” Trevor questioned, voicing the same thought that I had. I stopped thrashing to listen, hoping beyond hope that my assumption was wrong.

  “Her corpse, numb nuts. After a while, I don’t think it will smell very pretty,” Charlie laughed.

  My heart was racing out of my chest as I struggled to find more air than I even needed. Panic consumed me, burying itself into the recesses of my brain until I couldn’t think.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? We aren’t going to kill her!” Trevor exclaimed.

  “We have to. She wasn’t supposed to see you, remember? Our cover is blown.”

  “Fuck, man. She only saw me because you couldn’t stick to the game plan. I told you that she was a fighter. But who cares if she saw me anyway. I’ll just find an alibi like I always do.”

  “No. You don’t know Stone. He’ll crack any alibi you come up with. We do this my way. The girl has to go.”

  “This is total bullshit, Charlie. I didn’t sign up for murder. I was just looking for some extra cash.”

  “Yeah, must suck to be cut off from your trust fund,” Charlie sarcastically commented.

  “Screw the trust fund and screw you. I’m out. Pull over.”

  “Hell no. You ain’t backing out now pretty boy. I need your connections to pull this off.”

  “I said pull over,” Trevor asserted.

  Yes, pull over!

  I listened, waiting to see how Charlie would respond. My heart was racing a mile a minute as I silently pleaded that Trevor would somehow talk him out of his plan. It was ironic, really; that the man I hated more than anyone could potentially save me from a madman.

  The car jerked suddenly to the right, then to the left. I could hear the two men yelling, but I couldn’t make out their words over the squealing of the car tires.

  There was a loud crunch, and the sound of crumpling metal reverberated through the car. I had barely registered the fact that we crashed, when my body was slammed forward and then back. I was like a ping-pong ball, suspended in the air at times.

  The car is rolling.

  My arms flailed as I tried to reach for something to hang onto. My head hit the lid of the trunk. My vision blurred, then all went black.

  ****

  “You need to make a left at the next intersection,” Gavin said to Hale and me through the Porsche Cayenne’s PCM mobile communication system. “The GPS signal ends on 4th Avenue near 29th Street.”

  “Traffic is backed up. It looks like an accident up ahead,” I observed. I glanced at Hale. He was craning his neck in an attempt to see around the cars that were lined up in front of us. The only things that we could see were brake lights and the flashing lights of emergency vehicles.

  Based on the location that Gavin had originally given me, Hale and I tracked Krystina’s phone into an alleyway. She wasn’t there, but we did find the remnants of a recently spilled cappuccino from La Biga. Once I saw that, I went on high alert. I immediately knew that something was very wrong. Since that moment, we had been on the line with Gavin, who was updating us on the movements of her phone.

  “You’re only about a thousand feet away from the signal of both phones,” Gavin informed us.

  On impulse, I reached for the handle of the passenger door.

  “Fuck this,” I said and got out of the car. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Call it instinct, but for some reason I was driven to walk on ahead to see what the hold up was.

  “Sir, wait,” Hale interjected as he scrambled out from the drivers seat to follow me.

  “I’m going to see what’s going on,” I called out over my shoulder. “Something isn’t sitting right with me, Hale. Stay with the car.”

  Rather than do as I instructed, Hale followed me up the street. I didn’t insist that he stay back because I could see the wor
ry that was written on his face. He was just as concerned as I was.

  As I got closer to the accident, I could see that a car was flipped up onto its side. It was a tan Chevy, and it didn’t look good. Blood was splattered all over the inside of the windshield, obstructing any view of who might be inside. There was a man standing with his back to me near the wreck. A police officer appeared to be questioning him. As I approached, I realized the mans voice sounded familiar. I took a closer look at him. Instantly, the pit in my stomach plummeted.

  It was Charlie.

  This can’t be a coincidence.

  “That son of a bitch,” I sneered.

  “Mr. Stone, we shouldn’t assume anything just yet,” Hale warned, but I wasn’t really hearing him.

  The air seemed to buzz as my pulse pounded in my ears. Without thinking, I sprinted to close the distance between Charlie and me. When I reached him, I spun him around. His shirtfront was saturated with blood, and I couldn’t tell if it was his or someone else’s. There were a few sizable shards of glass embedded in his forehead, gruesomely distorting his left eyebrow. His eyes were glazed as he focused on me. When he realized that I was standing before him, he looked horrified.

  I gripped his shirtfront, not caring how injured he was. My gut was telling me that he knew where Krystina was.

  “Where is she you fucking worm?” I hissed through gritted teeth.

  “Sir, please!” yelled the police officer. I ignored him and tightened my hold on Charlie’s shirt.

  “Alex, I – I didn’t. I don’t – I don’t know,” Charlie sputtered. I reared back a fist.

  “Don’t lie to me! I tracked her phone to this location. Now where is she?”

  “Sir, let go of him now!” the police officer insisted as he tried to separate me from Charlie. “This man is injured and he needs medical attention.”

  “Mr. Stone,” Hale said from beside me as he put his hand firmly on my shoulder.

  “He knows where she is!” I growled and tried to shrug off Hale’s hand. Rage boiled hot and fierce, as I wanted nothing more that to slam my fist into Charlie’s sniveling face.

  “Alexander, please. You have to come with me now,” Hale insisted. His use of my first name gave me reason to pause. Hale never called me by my first name.

  I loosened my grip on Charlie, only to see his expression change to one of panic as he focused on something behind me. I released him completely and turned around to see what he was looking at. The fire department was near the back of the smashed vehicle, attempting to pry open the trunk. I could see that there was someone inside. I looked at Hale. He no longer looked worried, but afraid.

  I walked towards the car, feeling as if everything were moving in slow motion. As the lid of the trunk opened inch by inch, I could see what looked like a mass of chestnut brown curls.

  No. It can’t be her. It can’t be her.

  I repeated the chat over and over again as I continued to put one foot in front of the other.

  When the fire department finally got the lid completely open, it was as if time momentarily stood still. Krystina, my beautiful angel, lay lifeless in the trunk. Blood covered one side of her face, matting her hair to her forehead. Zip ties were around her wrists, slicing through her tender skin.

  “Angel,” I whispered. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded breathless and full of fear. Grief crushed through my heart. I couldn’t feel anything other than overwhelming devastation.

  No. Please, no.

  All at once, everything seemed to speed up, catapulting me into a frenzy of people rushing around and shouting orders.

  “We need a medic over here!” I heard somebody yell.

  I found myself by Krystina’s side, trying to smooth her hair away to find the source of the blood, only to be pushed away by emergency medical technicians.

  “Please step aside, sir,” one of the EMT’s said to me.

  I watched as they fastened her limp body to a long spine board. They cut the ties at her wrists and began to move her towards the ambulance. I felt helpless in the surreal turn of events.

  A cold numbness spread through my veins.

  I did this. This is my fault. I should have protected her.

  Memories flooded through me. Krystina’s expressive eyes and breathtaking smile. Her laughter that could brighten even the bleakest of moments. Her response to my touch. The memories choked me until I thought I couldn’t breathe.

  “Mr. Stone,” Hale said quietly. “We should leave to go to the hospital now. It’s going to take us a while to get through the traffic.”

  I looked at him, noticing how stricken he appeared. It felt as if we were living in a different reality.

  I struggled to find stability and shook my head to clear it. Seeing Krystina so pale and broken had gutted me, but I would be of no use to her this way. I needed to find strength. I had to think rationally and find some measure of control within the chaos.

  “No. I can’t leave her. I’m going to ride in the ambulance with her. Follow me to the hospital.”

  “Yes, sir,” he responded with a nod.

  “And call Allyson Ramsey on the way. She needs to know about this. You can get her contact info from Laura,” I added as I move to climb into the back of the ambulance.

  As soon as I was in, the doors slammed shut. The sound of sirens could be heard from overhead. I looked down at Krystina, so colorless and still, and I had to fight off the panic that was still threatening to overtake me.

  She’s a fighter. She’ll be okay.

  She had to be. Because now that she was in my life, I knew that I could never survive without her.

  CHAPTER 27

  I sat by Krystina’s bedside in a silent vigil, hoping beyond hope that she would wake up. Twenty-four hours had passed since the car crash, each hour bringing on a new level of anger and rage that I had never before experienced. I wanted to hurt someone. Anyone.

  “Krystina, please,” I spoke to her still form. I pushed aside the intravenous line that was pumping fluid into her veins and took hold of her limp hand. The cuts and bruises around her wrists were beginning to scab over and were turning purplish red in color. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the plastic ties that were ripping apart her beautiful skin when she was found.

  I pressed my lips to her delicate fingers, kissing each fingertip with reverence.

  “Alex,” said a female voice. I looked up. Allyson was standing in the hospital room doorway.

  “What?” I barked. I blinked back the water in my eyes, hating the fact that I was in such a vulnerable state.

  “Justine wanted me to tell you that Charlie is out of surgery and he’s come to. The police will be here soon to talk to him.”

  “Fine. Let them handle it. If I talk to that motherfucker right now, I’ll kill him.” I turned back to Krystina. She was the only thing that mattered to me at that moment.

  “Justine thought that you might say something like that,” she said quietly. “You should know that she already spoke with him. You might want to hear what he has to say before the police do.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him. He can tell the police anything he wants. I’m done. I’m done with it all.”

  Done with the lies. Done with hiding. Screw everything. This is my fault.

  “Well, then you should also know that Elizabeth Long is on her way up with Frank. They’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

  Son of a bitch.

  I was sick and tired of having to deal with people. Elizabeth Long may be Krystina’s mother, but to me she was just someone else interrupting my time with my angel.

  “Fine,” I snapped. “Anything else?”

  “No, that’s all,” she said sadly. “I’ll leave you be.”

  Allyson left the room and anguish over took me once more.

  “I’m so sorry that I didn’t protect you,” I whispered. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so hell bent on keeping secrets, none of this would have happened. Please wake up
, Krystina. I love you so much. I didn’t even realize how much until now. I need you, angel. Please.”

  I lowered my head down to the mattress and pressed her palm to my cheek. Regret consumed me. Regret over the past. Regret over not protecting her. Regret over never telling her that I loved her. She had to wake up. I needed the chance to set things right.

  I looked up when I heard a commotion in the hallway. Elizabeth Long came busting into the room with her husband in her wake.

  “Oh, no!” she exclaimed once she laid eyes on Krystina. “My baby girl!”

  She rushed over to Krystina’s bedside.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Long,” I said stiffly. I was annoyed by their presence, although I knew that I had no right to be. Krystina was their daughter and stepdaughter. They deserved to be here, perhaps more than I did.

  “Alexander,” Frank Long said with a nod. “Allyson didn’t have many details for us when she called. Please, tell us what happened.”

  “I don’t know much either,” I said and shook my head. “I only know that there was a car accident. Krystina was found in the trunk of the car. The passengers in that car were Charlie Andrews and Trevor Hamilton.”

  Elizabeth Long snapped to attention at that.

  “Trevor?” she repeated incredulously.

  “Yes. Why Krystina was in the trunk is unknown as of right now.”

  “Who is this Charlie person?”

  “My sister’s ex-husband,” I explained in a stoic tone. “I suspect that he may have been the reason for everything, but that is also unclear.”

  “Yes, but –,” she began, but was cut off when the Krystina’s neurologist entered the room.

  “Dr. West,” I greeted and stood to shake his hand. “This is Frank and Elizabeth Long, Krystina’s stepfather and mother. Mr. and Mrs. Long, this is Dr. West, the neurologist assigned to Krystina’s case after she was brought in.”

  Dr. West was one of the first physicians to evaluate Krystina’s condition. I researched his credentials almost immediately, and found that he was knowledgeable and extremely thorough. That, combined with his on the hour visits to her room, gave me enough reason to believe that Krystina was in highly capable hands.