A Killer's Game

by Amy Andrews

Layne entered the en suite bathroom. Clicking on the light, it was as clean as the rest of the place. Reaching for the shower curtain, his heart hammered. He ripped it back in one fast swoop. Empty. Layne sighed in a heavy breath of relief. Going in for closer inspection, he noticed that there was no condensation on the curtain, in the tub, or on the tiled walls. If she did come back here last night, she didn’t take a shower this morning.

  Layne walked into the kitchen where Wilshire was poking around.

  Holding up the clean and empty coffee pot, Wilshire said, “either she’s super neat and tidy, or she wasn’t here this morning. No coffee in the coffee pot. No dirty dishes in the sink, and no drying dishes.”

  Layne ran his hands through his long dark hair. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Beds made. No water or condensation in the bathroom from showering either.”

  A steel gaze settled over Layne’s reddening face. “I swear to God, Wilshire. If I find out that Thorne has anything to do with this, you’re going to have to arrest me for assault and battery, because I’m going to kick his skinny piece of shit ass!”

  Whitten pulled his cell phone out, and started dialing. “I’ll call the Lieutenant and update her. Let’s get out of here.” Walking towards his partner, Wilshire laid his hand reassuringly on Layne’s upper bicep. “We’ll figure this out, partner. We’ll find her. Oh, and by the way, I couldn’t arrest you, if I were your accomplice. I’d be there, right along side you.”

  Layne nodded in appreciation and agreement, then reluctantly sulked behind his partner, out the front door of the condo.

  CHAPTER NINE - ESCAPE PLAN

  Tessa’s eyes fluttered rapidly, as the chloroform’s hold on her started to subside. Her gag reflex became initiated at her realization of the foul stench still lingering in her airways. With nausea washing over her, her saliva glands released a flood in her mouth, and she swallowed quickly and heavily. Her stomach started behaving like an involuntary muscle, tightening and heaving repeatedly, trying to spill it’s contents. It was not successful. Warm and salty streams escaped her eyes, and tickled the edge of her nose.

  As her consciousness fully resumed, her eyes darted around furiously in the darkness. Upon her brain registering the fact that she was bound and gagged, terror and panic spread through her like a wild fire. Her heart began to pound furiously inside her chest, and her breath came in short and fast through her dainty nose. The thumping in hear ears grew as loud as a bass drum, and a flash of internal heat consumed her entire being from her head to her toes. Her tank top quickly grew wet with perspiration between her breasts and under her arms.

  Being married to a cop for thirty years, she knew that panic was not her friend in this situation. She closed her eyes and imagined Lenny’s face. A calmness began to blanket her body and her mind. She could no longer feel the intense thumping in her chest cavity. She reigned in her breath, and took long, slow drags. In and out. In and out. If she were going to survive, she needed to think rationally and remain calm. She knew this, but the actual successful execution of it under the circumstances was…easier said than done.

  The last thing she remembered was jamming to Aerosmith on her iPod, while developing photos in her home studio dark room. Yes… She cleaned up the breakfast dishes after Lenny left for work. Then she went into the dark room to develop some black and whites she had taken of Lenny on his new bike. She was going to pick the most artistic one and blow it up into a twenty-four by thirty-six, with a custom matte and frame, as a gift for their thirtieth anniversary. Then….She remembered hanging the photos to dry, and….. Oh, God. The memory of the struggle with the man in the ski mask came flooding into her memory. She recalled him holding something over her nose and mouth., and struggling to breathe. She didn’t hear anyone enter the house or the dark room because she had her Dr. Dre Beats covering her ears.

  She decided that screaming was more likely little to no use…and she definitely did not want to attract any unnecessary attention. Besides, screaming wasn’t really an option with a band of duct tape running from cheek to cheek sealing her lips shut. She recognized the distinct smell of the gray tape.

  Kicking or running was also not an option, as her knees were bent at a ninety degree angle. Her ankles were crossed and bound together, and by extending her fingers, she could feel a thin rope conjoining her wrists and ankles.

  Her shoulders were cranked behind her beyond what would normally be comfortable, and they were starting to ache. Her right shoulder and right cheek itched and burned slightly from rubbing against the low pile carpeting beneath her. Interlocking her fingers together for leverage, she tried prying her tape bound wrists apart. It’s sticking power was unforgiving. After several failed attempts, she decided on a different approach. Using a rocking motion, she was able to maneuver herself up onto her knees. The soles of her Sketchers, made contact with the top side of her tight quarters. Her mind started racing, as claustrophobia tried to creep in. All sorts of non comforting scenarios started invading her thought process.

  Am I in some sort of makeshift coffin? Oh, God. Am I buried alive? Is my air going to run out?

  With her face planted in the low pile carpet, and her arms resting on the top of her buttocks, she frantically started wiggling her shoulders and arms, like a piston. She quietly moaned in pain because of the awkward position she had to put herself in. And, her head hurt. It really hurt. That and the fact that her fingers were starting to get tingly and numb from restricted blood flow. She was making no more progress this way, than her first attempt. Being in this position did give her another thought, which sparked a glimmer of hope.

  She started thinking that she was fairly flexible, because she did do yoga everyday. If she could just get her wrists over the top of her butt, then she could curl all 5’2”of her into a tight ball. Knees in close to the chest, and slip her hands over the bottom of her feet. Then her hands would be in front of her in “prayer position.” She could then get bend forward to get the tape off of her mouth, then try to chew the tape off of her wrists. If she could get that far, then getting the tape off of her ankles as well as the rope that bound her ankles and wrists together would be gravy. She didn’t want to think about what would come after that. She needed to stay focused on one step at a time.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like footsteps. She went silent and still. Willing her ears to hear the muffled sound of shuffling feet not far from where she lay. Listening more intently, she heard the creaking sound of a door closing. The slamming of it made her jump slightly. The muffled shuffling of feet grew louder. Closer.

  It was equally terrifying as it was reassuring. If those were footfalls, then she definitely was still above ground. The sound grew closer and closer. Louder and louder. There was definitely someone walking towards her. She heard the ringing of a cell phone, just outside of where she lay, which came to an abrupt end, immediately followed by the sound of an object being hurled and shattering against the wall.

  Since she hadn’t yet executed her great Houdini escape, she decided it would be better to pretend to still be unconscious. Drawing her body in as tight as she could get it, She used all of her strength and balance to resume her original position. She was careful not to make a sound. The last thing she wanted to do was to fall over and create a loud thud, which would give away the fact that she was awake. She didn’t choose to play this game, but she had no choice, and since that was the case, she would control whatever aspects of it she could.

  After what seemed to be an eternity, but in reality probably only a minute or so, the jingle jangle of keys split the silence. Upon hearing the sound of metal upon metal penetration, Tessa contemplated the phrase, “scared to death.” A distinct click, pop…and a small crack of light fled into her prison. She glanced around wildly, and suddenly realized that she was in the trunk of a car.

  Having only seconds to peer outside of her trunk tomb, the man in the black ski mask loomed just outside. Her eyes were covered with darkness again, as she clos
ed them. Willing herself to remain calm, she pretended to still be under a thick blanket of unconsciousness.

  Even through her neutral shade Maybelline dusted eyelids, the fluorescent light filtered through them with the trunk now fully open. In her mind she kept chanting, “Lenny, please find me. Lenny, please find me. Please find me before it‘s too late.”

  She could tell her captor was standing directly in front of her, when the brighter light filtering through her lids dimmed slightly. Even though her eyes remained sealed shut, she could tell her captor was the man in the ski mask, because of his smell. Her olfactory recognized his distinct smell of pine mixed with English Leather. She had smelled the same scent on him, before he put that white cloth on her face. He roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her towards himself, causing her cheek to become even more rug burned.

  Panic seizing her brain made her want to do something…anything, to get the hell out of this predicament. But what? There was nothing for her to do, other than be at the mercy of this lunatic.

  She started thinking that he obviously didn’t want to kill her, or she would already be dead. Common sense said that he was taking her somewhere, or was she already there? Otherwise, why put her in the trunk of a car? But why? Was he kidnapping her? Was he taking her somewhere else to kill her?

  Being on her stomach, with her head towards the man, she peered out with her right eye. It was towards the carpet, and the hair falling over her face would offer good enough cover for her not to get caught. She kept her left eye closed.

  Tessa could make out that he was thin and lanky. He was wearing the same get up that he was wearing earlier. All black. Black pants, black t-shirt, blue latex gloves, and a black ski-mask. She couldn’t identify her attacker, because his features were hiding behind the mask. There was something that was familiar about him, but it escaped her. The only thing she knew for sure was that he was a thin and wiry white male….and he had a gun strapped onto his right hip. A Beretta? She couldn’t get a good enough look.

  He’s going to shoot me in the back right here in this trunk, then dump my body somewhere, she thought.

  She watched as he started moving his hand towards his right hip, but she couldn’t bear to witness him unsheathe it. She was already in a state of torture, knowing she was taking her last breaths. She closed her open eye, and whispered a silent prayer. She prayed that it would be quick, and that she wouldn’t suffer. She also prayed for her husband. She knew that he would fly off the rails. He would turn in his badge, which she wanted him to do, but not because he was trading it in for the life of a revenge bent renegade mercenary. His mind would snap and he would become the Special Ops soldier she met so long ago. She just prayed that he could accept the facts of life and be able to live out the rest of his days in peace. She knew the chances of that were slim to none, but she could still pray for it.

  In her silent prayer, she barely noticed the tugging on the rope that laced her wrists and ankles together. She heard a sawing noise. To her surprise, the man in the mask had cut the rope, and freed her bondage. She let her legs freefall limply.

  “This is going to be so much fun,” he said in a maniacal tone.

  He closed the trunk, again sealing Tessa in darkness. She heard the car door open, and the engine roar to life. She heard the distinct sound of an electric garage door opening in the closed space. She blinked slowly, and thanked whoever was listening, that she was still breathing.

  As she felt the car roll in motion, she wasted no time. She not only felt the vibration of the road, but the entire car was vibrating with bass. The man either had an obvious kinship with rap music, or was just using it to mask her possible screams, so that no one would hear her.

  With the rope now cut, She made quick work of slipping her hands over her butt and getting them in front of her body. She reached up and slowly started working the sticky gag from her lips. As the tape pulled on her skin, and peeled free from her face, she took a deep breath through her mouth, and did a facial calisthenics routine. The tape around her ankles was wound around several times. She felt around and picked desperately at it, but couldn’t find the start or end of the tape What was she thinking? That it was just going to peel it off like a banana peel? She painstakingly had to rip piece by piece. Little by little, the tape was coming off in small strips.

  Completely freeing herself from the sticky shackles, Tessa moved her open palms around the trunk floor. She was searching for something. Anything. A tire iron would be nice, she thought. After working the entire area, her hands came upon the slim rope that was used to tie her ankles and wrists together. She flung the rope out of her grasp, like a child throwing a temper tantrum. She immediately regretted it, as an idea hatched. She frantically felt around in the darkness to find her one and only string of hope.

  In the darkness, a spark of victory consumed her, as she felt the nylon rope beneath her fingertips. Grasping it with her outstretched fingers, she pulled it in, and balled it in her hand. Tessa maneuvered her body in the trunk, so that her head was facing towards the front of the car. With her left hand, she grasped the nylon loop that was sewn onto the back of the rear split bench seat. Using her right hand, she pushed on the seat, trying to disengage the seat lock. If she could get the seat to fold down, she could crawl out of the trunk and into the rear passenger seat. She had several failed attempts at gently nudging on the seat. A raw emotion surged through her, and she palm punched the seat with force. She cringed as a loud pop echoed through the trunk. She held onto that nylon loop like it was her only lifeline, keeping the seat in its upright position. She decided it would be a good idea to wait a few minutes in case the driver heard the noise. She lay there barely breathing, with her ears on high alert.

  The throbbing music changed into another bass pounding tune. Being that he didn’t pull the car over, and he didn’t turn the stereo down, Tessa decided it was now or never.

  Closing her eyes, she very slowly inched the seat back down. Inch by inch. It didn’t make a sound, at least not one that was audible over the pounding bass speaker. With the seat back extended all the way down, Tessa got up on her elbows and used her forearms to painstakingly inch her way out of the trunk. With her body halfway out behind the drivers seat, she kept her head down, but looked around. It was late afternoon, but she had no idea what time it was, or how long she had been out. All that she could see of the driver through the rear view mirror, was the top of his head. He had very short hair. Buzzed hair.

  Slithering her legs completely out of the trunk, she kneeled and sat on the soles of her feet, in the back seat. Crouching down in position, she took the rope and wound it a couple of times around each of her trembling hands. The driver was completely oblivious to her presence.

  Taking several deep breaths, she gave herself a small pep talk. As she raised up, her sapphire eyes met with the surprised look in his icy blues, in the rearview mirror. In a quick jump rope move, Tessa swung the rope over the headrest and the man’s head, coming to settle in the crook of his neck. Kicking her feet from beneath her, she firmly planted her soles on the back of the driver’s seat as she leaned back and pulled as hard as her quaking body would let her.

  Her hands became bright red, as the rope cut into them. The Lincoln started swerving all over the tree lined road, as the driver started to lose consciousness, and control of the vehicle. Her body swayed with the momentum of the barreling steel as it went left to right, swerving all over the nearly deserted road. With a sudden jarring impact, she was thrown to the passenger side of the car, causing her hands to lose grip on the rope. Immediately following the collision, the ear piercing pitch of grinding metal rang through the car as it did a dance with a guardrail. Glancing out the window, Tessa saw the warm glow of sparks flying everywhere. She heard a loud bang, and the car went into a tailspin.

  Hanging on for dear life, she wrapped her arms around the passenger side head rest, as the car spun around and around. Her dizziness was interrupted when the side of her head smashed int
o the passenger rear window.

  The swirling black Lincoln crashed through the chain link fence that lined the entirety of the Alley, and came to rest against an Australian Pine. Battered and broken, it’s engine simmered with white smoke billowing from below the hood.

  Bobby Thorne had had both arms resting on the steering wheel of the battered Lincoln, with his head tucked neatly in between. Turning his face to the rear seat, he saw that Tessa was slumped in the backseat. Down for the count, for the second time today. He took a moment to rub the front of his neck, and check it out in the mirror. His Adam’s apple was bright red, but other than that, there wasn’t a distinct ligature mark running horizontally across the width of it. He turned the ignition key, but the engine made only a clicking sound. He hastily made several more attempts in quick succession to get the engine to turn over, but it refused.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!,” he exclaimed, as he pounded his fists on the steering wheel. This was not part of the plan. He was awestruck at the fight this little bitch had in her. He was going to have to come up with something quick, if he wanted this to go a little more smoothly when she woke up. He quickly surmised that his only option was to proceed on foot.

  Snapping his duffle up off of the passenger seat, he exited the car, leaving the door wide open. There were no other cars in the immediate area, but he could see some headlights approaching in the distance of the flat, split highway, from the same direction he had just come. He set the duffle on the trunk lid, and returned to the open driver’s side door. Grabbing her by the feet, he hastily maneuvered Tessa’s limp body out of the back seat, and pulled her up into the front. Sliding her out of the door, he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Her dead weight wasn’t enough to slow his stride. He slung his duffle over his other shoulder, and took one last look at the crumpled metal, and kicked the rear quarter panel. “Fucking piece of shit!” As the approaching headlights grew larger, he estimated they were several miles in the distance. He needed to get out of here before anyone spotted him. With any luck, they wouldn’t be a rubber-necker, and just keep on driving. He jogged off of Alligator Alley, into the thick cover of the Everglades, with Tessa’s body flapping like a leaf in a windstorm.