I try to spit out the gag, pushing it with my tongue and my lips but he’s tied it too tightly around my mouth.
With the gag around my mouth, I know I’ve lost one of my only hopes against Drew. If I could keep him talking, then maybe I could convince him to let me go or give someone enough time to realize I’m missing.
Cory. I think of his serious eyes and sob again. Is he looking for me? Does anyone even know I’m missing? The thought that no one is coming to my rescue deflates my small bubble of hope and makes me cry harder. I rub my tears on the pillow to dry them, realizing I don’t have any early classes today. No one was expecting me anywhere, except Rachel who was going to come back past my dorm after her shift. Maybe she’ll call my mom if she can’t get hold of me. Will she notice anything’s wrong? My phone is at the station so she won’t be expecting to get through to me that way.
As my heart beats faster to the point I think I’m going to hyperventilate, I take in deep breaths to calm myself. The chemical smell of the room makes my nose burn. What the hell has Drew got stored here? I don’t want to think about it. I need to get myself under control. Losing it won’t convince Drew to let me go.
Where the fuck has he gone? Why would he drug me and take off? Maybe he’s out establishing an alibi for when it’s discovered that I’m gone. Maybe he’s out there trying to determine if anyone has reported me missing yet.
Another thought creeps into my head. Maybe he’s gone to buy things, things he might use to hurt me. The possibilities of the instruments he might bring back sends a shiver of fear through me. While we’d been together we’d never gone so far in a masochistic direction, but he’s more controlling now and more interested in inflicting real hurt on me.
I pull at my bindings again and moan with frustration when I get the same result. They’re not going to give. The waiting is the worst part. Time to think about what Drew will do to me when he comes back. Time to think about everything that I regret.
I still can’t see in the darkness. It makes me wonder if we’re underground somewhere that light doesn’t penetrate.
If the blow to the head hadn’t knocked me out I might have been able to figure out where I was based on the length of the car ride combined with the turns. But I wasn’t awake. I have no memory of how I got here no matter how much I rack my brain. I didn’t even come out of my unconscious state for a moment. Maybe he’d drugged me then too, not wanting to rely on the head injury to keep me quiet.
Has he at least cleaned my wound and bandaged it? But I know the answer to that even though I can’t reach up and touch my forehead. If he cared about me the way that he says he does he wouldn’t have left me alone with a possible concussion after knocking me out again with drugs.
The last tendrils of the drug are wearing off and my head is getting clearer. I wish I could sit up and look around. Is there even a light in this room? No matter how much I peer into the dark I can’t see anything. I don’t sense his presence and I’m both relieved and angry at that. But then I hadn’t sensed his presence in the room earlier either.
I try to say his name but it sounds like ‘glue’ around the gag.
I hate the desperate note in my voice. Would he answer if he is here? I stop all movement, strain my ears, close my eyes. I cock my head to the right, trying to pick up any sound in the room or beyond.
Nothing.
All I can do is wait.
And hope that I’m not going to die here.
19
CORY
I should be out on patrol with Simons but we’re still at the station, Simons helping the investigation and me in the gym burning off steam. Despite my sergeant saying I could shadow Jameson, they’ve banished me from the investigation room while they follow up other tips. It’s taking too long to get results back from the various databases and if I stay in the squad room with everyone I’ll lose it. Better to abuse a punching bag then say or do something that will get me suspended or fired.
I swing at the heavy bag in front of me, my fist making a satisfying thud when it connects. The bag moves slightly and I hit it again with my other fist. I punch the bag imagining it’s Drew’s face and that each blow leaves his face a bloody mess. I give it a few quick jabs a little further down like I’m punching Drew in the stomach. Then I go up high again for the face area.
All this waiting is driving me crazy. I hate letting other people run the searches and do the leg work when I should be helping. I should be out there looking for her. Maybe there’s a trail of some kind. Traffic camera footage that we can piece together to determine the route he took and therefore where they ended up.
I need to find Allyson.
Dad has been on the phone trying to find out what’s going on. But he’s not having a whole lot of luck either. Sergeant says we’re both too close to this. Allyson’s mom is a wreck. So much worrying that she can’t speak in coherent sentences anymore. Dad said that she’s been sitting, opening her mouth and then closing it again, almost as though she’s having an imaginary conversation. Crying. Outbursts of shouting that Dad needs to do something. That was when he called the doctor.
I can picture Dad waiting by the phone with his own cell phone out on the counter, prepared no matter what number they call him at to give him more information. Anything to support his fiancée. But there is no more information yet. Why can’t the database searches work faster? The more minutes that drag into hours that tick by, the less likely we are of finding her safe.
I hit the bag again, picturing Drew’s smug face. I imagine punching the smile right off him. I imagine him begging me to stop. Crying and pleading like the sick, weak fuck that he is. The bag jerks each time my fist connects with it and suddenly the bag isn’t enough. I have too much energy humming through my body to stay here. I need to be out there, pounding the pavement.
The waiting is killing me.
When it’s happening to someone else you don’t think the waiting is hard. I’ve told other victims, families of victims to just be patient and let us do our job. That we were doing everything we could to find their loved one. Fuck, did I really say that to people? No wonder they gave me looks of hatred and disbelief. Until it happens to you, you have no idea what it’s like.
My breathing is heavy now after punching the heavy bag for so long. It doesn’t give me nearly the same satisfaction as clocking Drew would, but even when we find the bastard I won’t be able to do that. He’s not worth getting suspended or fired over. If he resists arrest, though, I can use all the force necessary to bring him in. For the first time in my life, I pray for a perp to resist arrest.
If I don’t find Allyson, then my dad’s new life will be destroyed. His new bride, if she still goes through with the wedding, will be distraught. The relationship will become strained. She’ll withdraw into herself. I know she won’t be able to deal with the grief of losing her only daughter.
I can’t think like that.
We’re not losing Allyson. Not on my watch. Not on my dad’s watch.
Drew’s a college kid but he obviously has deep emotional problems to resort to kidnapping. My fists clench tight and I hit the bag harder, this time, making it swing away from me.
I take off my gloves and make my way to the locker room, eager to get back and find out what’s going on. Simons would have come and told me if they were ready to leave but maybe there are some leads. I quickly rinse off in the shower, don my uniform again and stride back to the squad room.
The moment I walk in Detective Jameson smiles and stands.
“We’ve got three possible addresses as a first step,” he says holding a piece of paper up.
I reach out to grab it but he snatches it back. “You calmer yet?”
“I worked it out. Tell me about the addresses.”
“You don’t sound calmer to me.”
I glare at Jameson and take a deep breath. “Trust me, I’m calmer. Let’s find her.”
Jameson points to the first one on the paper. “Drew’s family’s
address. His childhood home. His mom and dad are still living there.”
I shake my head. “There’s no way he would take Allyson back to where his parents are. How is he going to explain his way around holding her against her will?”
“We’ll send a unit over there. His folks should be aware of what he’s been doing with the photos and threats. They may have more information or other possible addresses. What about this one then?” Jameson points to the second address. “His parents have a cabin about an hour from here.”
I study the paper, trying to think about what I would do in Drew’s position. An out-of-the-way cabin would certainly meet the objective of being more difficult to find but something about the idea doesn’t sit right with me.
“This guy, Drew. He’s just a fucked up college kid. As much as he obviously has some kind of psychological problems, he isn’t a serial killer yet. Is he really gonna drive her up to his parent’s holiday home?” Detective Jameson looks at me like I’m crazy.
“That’s exactly what I think he’d do. The kid’s a sicko.”
“Maybe, but he also wanted Allyson back. What if all this is his attempt to get some time with her so that he can convince her that they are meant to be together?”
“Seems pretty extreme.”
“Guys can get extreme about girls, especially when they feel like they’re humiliated. He didn’t like that Allyson dumped him. I think he wants her to change her mind.”
“Well, the third address is his fraternity one.”
I study the address and my heart races. “That’s not far from Allyson’s dorm.”
Jameson shrugs. “I’ll send another unit over there but I think we should head up and check out the cabin. I bet that even if she isn’t at the frat house someone will have seen Drew. We can get an update en route.”
I rub my hands over my face to take a moment to clear my head. I hate having to make a call like this. If we spend the time traveling to the cabin and Allyson’s found on campus, I’ll kick myself for not being there. But I’m already on thin ice and if I kick up a stink, Sarge is going to boot me off the case.
“Okay, let’s go,” I say reluctantly.
In the squad car with Jameson, my mind buzzes with thoughts. What are we going to find there? Drew obviously has issues. I remember the way he was holding Allyson’s wrist, tightly, prepared to use his strength against her. I suddenly feel sick when I recall the pictures of her and Drew. How rough he was with her. I don’t know what I think about it all. Did she like what he did to her? I find myself concerned for the first time about what might be driving the kind of preferences we have. I know I like the feeling of control and power. But I have to know that it’s a willing surrender on the part of the woman. I could never get off on really forcing someone. That shit is fucked up. I wonder what drives Allyson’s desire to play like she did. Could it be some fucked up psychological issues from her past? I don’t feel like mine is based on something bad, but it would be wrong to feed emotional demons if that’s what’s behind it all.
I sit back in the passenger seat watching the road zip past as Jameson maneuvers the car through traffic toward the cabin. Though we’re breaking the speed limit we’re not going fast enough for me. I wish I’d managed to get behind the wheel before Jameson, or ridden with Simons. The lights are blazing on top of the car but the siren is off so we don’t alert Drew to our approach. Two cars follow us.
Whatever happens, next I’ll try to be a friend to her, to be a proper stepbrother. I’ll look out for her, make sure I vet whatever men she dates to make sure she doesn’t get into trouble again. I’ll get her whatever help she needs after this. I just hope Drew hasn’t had the chance to do anything bad.
I sigh and rub my face again, my hand encountering more stubble that I normally like on my chin. I need to shave, have a hot shower but not until I find Allyson safe and sound.
“So this girl is your stepsister?” Jameson asks, breaking the silence and pulling me away from thoughts that would send me spiraling into more anger.
“Soon to be stepsister,” I say. “If we can get her back.”
“We’ll get her back. You’ll be able to dance with her at your dad’s wedding.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “The wedding’s gonna be postponed, I’m sure. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to celebrate after something like this.
“Life goes on,” he says philosophically.
“We need to get her back safely first. Whatever happens after that can be worked out later,” I say.
We’re driving up a dirt track, dense forest on either side. Jameson has slowed down significantly as we make the approach, wanting to minimize the crunch of the tires on the stony ground. As we pass a small cabin nestled into the trees I strain to get a good look at it – where the doors and windows are – planning how we might access a similar property. A call comes in over the radio.
“Negative at both addresses.”
“Shit,” Jameson mutters and my heart sinks. That’s two of our main leads out of the picture. If she’s not at this address, then this is going to become a full-on man-hunt. State-wide media coverage. It’ll be out of my hands entirely.
“The cabin is about 300 yards that way,” Jameson says as he brings the car to a standstill. “We need to travel on foot now.”
I’m out of the car and jogging up the path, as the others park and begin to follow. Jameson is a big guy so he’s further behind, wheezing a little at the pace.
As the cabin comes into view I take a concealed position behind a large trunked tree, and look around. The truck from the CCTV is parked at the side. The windows in one of the rooms are boarded up from the inside with what looks like flattened boxes.
“You,” Jameson points to two of the officers. “Take the back of the house.”
The officers nod curtly and begin to run around in a wide loop of the property.
“You two,” he says. “Stay in front while the rest of us go into the building. If that rat tries to jump ship, it’ll be down to you to catch him.”
They nod and head off in separate directions, making a tighter loop so that they end up in the undergrowth on either side of the front of the cabin. Jameson, the last two officers and I follow one of the officers, then make our way towards the front door. I’m crouched low so as not to alert anyone who might be looking out of the window. Drew may be alone, but maybe not. Jameson tries the handle and it turns but the door doesn’t open. “Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. There’s a window open in a room to the side. I nod towards it, thinking it might open wide enough for me to get through. Probably not wide enough for Jameson but I could open the front door from the inside. I stay in the shadows, peering into the room to check for occupants. It’s empty. I begin to pull the window outwards, slowly so as not to make any noise. The gap is narrow but I contort myself, pulling a leg through and turning my shoulders until I’m in the right position to slide in. It’s musty inside and I can smell a faint underlying chemical odor. It doesn’t feel homey in the cabin at all.
I tread softly as I make my way towards the room’s open door, drawing my weapon as quietly as I can. I need to be ready in case Drew is in the hallway. The house is so quiet but I catch the sound of woman’s voice, somewhere close. It’s a moaning sound, filled with frustration.
Allyson?
My heart is pumping so damn hard, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The hallway is empty so I move backward, gun pointing into the cabin until my back hits the front door.
If Allyson is here, she’s alive. I find the key with my free hand, turning it slowly and quietly, eyes blinking to keep a focus on the dark interior of the cabin. Behind me, Jameson turns the handle and pushes the door slowly. The hinges squeak slightly, and I draw in a shaky breath.
Jameson and the other officers enter behind me, weapons drawn.
This is it.
20
ALLYSON
The room isn’t dark anymore. I glance around quickly, taking in how
close my surroundings are and how sparse. Wooden walls and no pictures make it feel very functional, like a cabin out somewhere remote that’s only used for weekends. My heart sinks as I imagine the dark forest that might surround me, outside the walls of my prison.
“So you’re awake,” Drew whispers in my ear. His hot, moist breath makes me recoil.
“Nnnooo,” I moan against the gag. It has become sodden in my mouth.
The curtains are still drawn but they’re not thick. Now that I can see I’m pretty sure Drew has fixed cardboard over the windows to block out the sun. I look around again, trying to get my bearings. The door is in the far corner, distant enough that I mentally calculate my chances of reaching it are small. I’m still restrained and not able to go anywhere, but that doesn’t stop the eternally hopeful fragment of me from considering my escape anyway.
I know Drew’s watching me look around but I don’t give a fuck. This could be my only chance to find something that might help me. There’s a lamp on a low table next to me; something I could pick up and swing at him if I ever manage to get my hands free. There’s a vase of dried flowers on another chest nearer the door. I look at the window again, covered by floral curtains, and wonder who the hell owns this place. It looks like it’s been decorated by someone’s grandma.
Drew is sitting on the edge of the bed and he strokes my arm, down the length of it in a long leisurely way, setting the nerve endings off and making me shiver. In the dark the fear was overwhelming. Without sight, I felt totally powerless. In the light, I’m hit more with a sense of revulsion. Drew grins at my reaction and trails his finger back up my arm, enjoying the torment and control, maybe delusional about why my body is reacting the way it is. Does he think I’m aroused?
ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance Page 13