Nadia Siddiqui - Preyed Upon
Page 2
The alarm to the SUV was nestled between the key that belonged to a storage unit and a
key that disengaged a lock attached to the front door of her house. “Stay calm,” Tori
whispered; she raised her worried eyes, and saw that the stranger was still staring at her.
“Can I help you?” she called out, deciding to buy time while sliding her thumb onto the
alarm.
“Let it go,” the stranger finally spoke in a voice that vilified Tori's words.
Tori froze. My sister! This person is speaking about my sister! “Who are you!” she
demanded in an urgent voice. “What have you done with my sister!” The stranger grew
silent again, keeping his hands stuffed into the pockets of a worn leather jacket. Tori had
no doubt the man was hiding a gun or a knife or some other weapon on one, or both,
pockets. She didn't care. “What have you done with my sister!” she hollered over the
falling rain. When the stranger continued to stare at her with vicious, icy, eyes, she
dropped the box from under her arm and took a step forward.
“Don't,” the stranger hissed, glancing around to make sure there were no watching
eyes, and he pulled out an ugly Glock 17. “Don't,” he hissed again, allowing Tori time to
see the gun and then shoving it away. “Let it go or die.”
Tori felt hot tears mingle with the icy rain. She glanced around in desperation. The
employee parking lot was squished between the north side of the high school and the gym.
A sidewalk that attached the school to the gym at the back of the parking lot was separated
from the parking lot by a chain link fence. An open field used for football practice lay
beyond the sidewalk. Heavy woods lined the front street. The only chance Tori had for
help, besides sounding the alarm on her car, was if another teacher looked out a classroom
window and observed the employee parking lot. The only problem was that the row of
windows facing the parking lot belonged to her office, an empty art room, a meeting room
and a supply room. The chances of anyone peering out at the parking lot were nil. “Where
is my sister?” Tori demanded, ignoring her hot tears.
“This is your only warning. Let it go or die. Don't go to North Ridge.” The stranger
glanced around and then focused again on Tori. “Let it go. Don't try to be a cop.”
How does this guy know I'm moving to North Ridge to attend the academy? “Who
sent you to scare me?” Tori demanded.
The stranger, who was currently high on marijuana, shook his head. “I don't get paid
to answer questions,” he replied and then allowed Tori to see his gun one last time. “If you
see me again . . . you're dead.” Feeling he had conveyed the message he was hired to
deliver, he put the gun away, glanced around again, and then turned and walked toward
the front street.
Tori started to give chase but stopped when she reached her SUV. The stranger
walked into the icy rain. He had a gun. What could Tori accomplish by chasing him except
get herself shot and possibly killed. No. She had to think—and fast. Without wasting a
second she whipped her cell phone from the pocket of her rain jacket, captured a few
photos of the stranger walking away, and then called 911. “Yes, I need a cop out to
McDougal High School ASAP . . . I was met by a stranger in the employee parking lot
that—” Before Tori could finish her sentence the stranger broke into a full sprint, darted
out of the parking lot, and disappeared into the woods across the street.
“Mam?” a 911 dispatcher spoke. “Mam—”
Tori watched the stranger vanish into the rainy, thick woods and then bowed her
head. What good would it do if a cop showed up now? All they would be able to do was
take her report while causing the school to be placed under lockdown. “I'm sorry . . . it
was my mistake. The stranger is a friend. I guess I got a little spooked. Everything is okay.”
“Are you sure?” the 911 dispatcher asked in a voice that sounded relieved that Tori
was canceling her emergency. In small towns like Greenson, Tori knew, the local people,
who manned important positions, were more interested in reading a book than
performing their assigned duties.
“Oh yes . . . I forgot that my friend was going to meet me today . . . my last day of
school . . . I'm being taken out to dinner,” Tori spoke in a convincing voice. “I'm sorry to
have bothered you.”
“That's alright. Call us back if you have any more trouble,” the 911 dispatcher told
Tori and ended the call.
Tori lowered her cell phone, stared at the woods across the street, and then hurried
back to retrieve the cardboard box she had dropped. “Someone knows all about me,” she
whispered, scooping up the spilled contents and shoving them back into the wet box.
“Someone knows where my sister is . . .” Tori ran to her SUV, disengaged the locks, threw
the wet box into the back seat, and then took a second to look around. As far as her eyes
could discern, not a single person inside the school had witnessed the encounter. For a
few seconds Tori felt her heartbreak. She loved her job as a high school guidance
counselor. She loved her kids. She loved her friends and colleagues. She loved the high
school and what the high school represented in her life. “No more walking into the
cafeteria smelling cafeteria food . . . hearing students talking . . . sitting with friends . . .
no more football games . . . no more . . . long hours worrying about my kids . . .” A thick,
suffocating, sadness overtook Tori. She was walking away from a life she had spent four
years building, a life she had come to love and appreciate, a life she wanted to continue
into old age. Tori felt as if her life had suddenly been stolen from her and thrown into a
dirty sewer. “I can cry later. I have to find out what happened to my sister.”
Drawing a ragged breath, Tori turned away from the high school, placed herself
behind the steering wheel of her SUV, engaged her seat belt, and then drove away without
anyone seeing her—sneaking away without giving her friends and colleagues a chance to
say goodbye. What Tori didn't know was that a few of her friends had organized a goodbye
party for her. Sadly, the party would be canceled.
Instead of driving to Maple Lane, Tori drove to downtown Greenson and parked in
front of a brown building that was tucked between Mae's Candle Shop and Greenson
Tuxedos and Gowns. The brown building Tori parked in front of belonged to Winds and
Rogers Brokerage Firm. She parked next to Matthew Rogers’ black BMW. “You had
something to do with my sister's disappearance,” she whispered, staring out the front
windshield and locking her eyes on the front of the brown building. An antique wooden
door sat between two windows covered with heavy brown drapes. The design gave the
building a vintage look. The door was chosen by Robert over Matthew Rogers’ objection.
Matthew Rogers was somewhere behind the door. “Play it smart,” Tori whispered as her
ears soaked the sound of the heavy falling rain. “If this guy is involved, you have to capture
him. Think the way a cop would think . . . get answers . . . think smart.
Tori took a few seconds to gather her thoughts and then stepped out into the rain,
carefully looking up and down a cozy downtown street lined
with two-story buildings
housing businesses, a street that Tori had fallen in love with and knew she would miss,
and then she walked into the brown building. A pretty, black-haired woman named Julie
was behind a glossy wooden desk typing out a text. Tori didn't recognize the woman. “Can
I help you?” the woman asked.
Yes, you can help me by taking down all of this awful art work and putting a nice
rug over this silly-looking marble floor. Tori thought this but held her tongue. “I need to
speak with Matthew Rogers.”
Heather Griffith put down a sparkly cell phone, quickly scanned the tan business
blouse she was wearing to make sure her style was more authoritative than the ugly rain
jacket Tori was wearing, and then placed her hands together. “Do you have an
appointment?” she asked in a voice that was far from pleasant.
“No,” Tori answered in a stern voice, scanned the front room, and then focused back
on Heather. “I don't believe we've met?”
Heather glared at Tori. She was very beautiful—and that was a threat. Heather was
an ambitious gold digger and didn't have time for competition. “We haven't met,” she
answered in a cold voice. “Who are you?”
“My name is Tori Whitfield. I'm Amanda's Whitfield's sister. Amanda Whitfield is
married to Roger Whitfield.” Tori narrowed her eyes. “That would make Roger my
brother-in-law,” she spoke, deliberately treating Heather as if the woman were stupid.
“Now, is Matthew available?”
Before Heather could reply, a wooden door sprang open. That door led into a hallway
lined with four offices. A thirty-five-year-old man wearing a fancy gray suit appeared.
“Tori?” Roger asked in a voice that sounded confused—Tori couldn't be certain? “What
are you doing here?”
Tori turned her attention to Matthew Rogers. He was a handsome man but short and
a little plump around the waist. He always wore a warm, friendly smile that seemed to
match warm, friendly eyes. Tori had never assumed the man was a threat to anyone, let
alone her sister. From what Tori had encountered with her own eyes it always seemed
that Matthew adored and cherished his wife and children. Now, as Tori stared into the
man's eyes, she began to wonder if she was seeing Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. “Can we talk?”
“Of course,” Matthew stated in a concerned voice and immediately led Tori back to
an office lined with lame art that cost more money than sense. Matthew hurried behind
an expensive desk and sat down.
“I'm leaving for North Ridge soon,” Tori told Matthew, deciding to remain stranding,
avoiding two green sitting chairs perched in front of the desk.
Matthew frowned. “Tori, I said it once and I'll say it again; I believe you're making a
mistake,” he said in a worried voice, quickly placing his hands on the desk. “I know you're
worried sick about Amanda, and so am I . . . but there's nothing we can do.” Matthew let
out a heavy sigh without taking his eyes off Tori. “I've cried my tears . . . I've worried
myself into an early grave . . . but now I have my two daughters to think about. As difficult
as it's been . . . and will continue to be . . . life has to move forward, Tori. I know that
makes me sound like a monster, but what else am I supposed to say or do?”
Tori examined Matthew's face. It appeared that the distraught man was being sincere
and authentic. But was he? Tori didn't know. “Amanda had a life insurance policy,” she
stated and then waited for Matthew to react.
A deep frown curved around Matthew’s mouth. “Amanda's life insurance policy . . .
well, yes, Amanda has . . . not had . . . a life insurance policy. Until she is proven to . . . be
dead . . . the policy cannot be collected. Why . . . would you bring that up, Tori?” Matthew
stared at Tori with confused eyes. “Are you insinuating that I had something to do with
Amanda's disappearance?”
Tori stiffened. It was time to stand bold and smart. “Matthew, Amanda was last seen
in the area of Opryland Drive in Nashville around two in the afternoon. Amanda was in
Nashville with your mother and her two daughters. Your mother stated they were visiting
the Opry Mills Shopping Center. Your mother stated that Amanda dropped everyone off
and went to park . . . she was never seen again. Amanda's 2018 KIA Sorento was found
parked and deserted in the Opry Mills parking lot.”
“I know that—“
“Let me finish,” Tori stated in a determined voice. “My sister was never seen again.
She vanished between the time your mother walked her two daughters down to see the
river and the time she went to buy four tickets. At that time you were in Knoxville.”
“I . . . Tori . . . you can't be serious?” Matthew exclaimed in a shocked voice. “I would
never hurt my wife . . . or my children. I . . . went to Knoxville to meet Edwin Downing.
Mr. Downing was interested, and still is interested, in merging Winds and Rogers’
Brokerage Firm with his firm in Knoxville. Mr. Downing wants to merge many small firms
all across the south.”
“That's what you told the police,” Tori agreed, leaving Matthew hanging. If Matthew
was threatening her, she needed to set a trap for the man. “My sister has been missing for
seven months. That's enough time to play the victim, isn't it Matthew?”
“Tori—”
“And wouldn't it be very convenient if my sister turned up dead in the near future . . .
that would allow you to collect on her life insurance policy, wouldn't it?” Tori asked in a
sharp voice.
Matthew shot to his feet. “Get out of my office!” he demanded. “Go . . . sober up!”
“I haven't been drinking,” Matthew, Tori promised. “I was paid a little visit today by
a dangerous man who knew all about me. I have an idea who sent the visitor,” With those
words Tori turned away from Matthew, left his office and walked back into the front room.
Heather greeted Tori with a cold expression. Tori met her glare but didn't say a word.
I'll find you, Amanda Tori promised and then walked back into the cold rain and
prepared for a difficult and dangerous future.
3
ain fell on a brick ranch style home sitting under a dark, miserable, night sky.
The curtains concealed a horrible scene. Tori sat inside the home in a dimly lit
R kitchen stacked with boxes, resting at a round wooden table that had once been
covered with a pink and white table cloth covered with roses. Now the table sat
bare, like the kitchen. An empty, remote feeling of despair and sadness hovered over Tori's
heart. “Amanda,” she whispered, feeling tears drop from her eyes. “I—”
A hard shoe struck the back door of the kitchen. Tori jerked her head up, threw her
eyes at the back door, and heard another hard kick. She scrambled to her feet, snatched a
cell phone, dialed 911, and grabbed a Glock 19 off the kitchen table and escaped from the
kitchen. The back door burst open just as Tori ran away. The stranger, who had been
waiting for her in the employee parking lot at the high school, spotted Tori escaping and
gave chase. “Yes, there's an intruder in my house . . . hurry!” Tori yelled, running into an
empty living room that was lit by one lamp. As soon as her feet struck the living room
carpet,
she spun around, dropped her cell phone, and dropped to one knee just in time to
see the stranger barreling toward her holding a knife in his hands. Without hesitation Tori
fired off three shots. The bullets screamed into the air like heroic warriors and struck the
stranger in the chest. The stranger was thrown backward with tremendous force and
crashed into a small foyer like a rag doll. He grew very still as blood spilled from his chest.
“Mam, help is on the way . . . did I hear gun shots?” an anxious dispatcher asked.
Tori ignored the voice from her cell phone and cautiously eased over to the stranger
and looked down at a face that was wearing a black ski mask. The mask didn't hide the
strangers identity. Tori knew the stranger was the same man who had been sent to
threaten her—and sent one last time to kill her. She used her right tennis shoe to kick the
stranger’s knife away from his body and then she bent down on shaky legs. “You were sent
by Matthew . . . it has to be Matthew,” Tori whispered in a voice filled with anxiety and
fear. While it was true that Tori was the type of woman who always maintained control
over her motions, killing a man had a way of damaging a person's self-control.
Tori, assuming she was alone with the dead body, foolishly put her gun down and
used her left hand to pull the ski mask off the dead man's face. As she did that, a dark
shadow suddenly rose behind her holding what appeared to be fishing string. Striking like
a rattle snake, hungry to attack an innocent child, the intruder ran at Tori, slipped the
string around the woman's neck, and began to strangle her. Tori felt as if her entire world
has suddenly been punched out as her airways were viciously clamped shut. Out of panic
Tori grabbed at her throat as the man attacking her began pulling her body backward to
knock her off balance. The string or rope or whatever was wrapped around Tori's neck
was too tight to get her hands through—and to make matters worse, the attacker was far
too strong. Tori knew she had one chance to live. My gun . . . can't breathe . . . my gun . . .
have to get to . . . Struggling to stay on her knees instead of being yanked backward, Tori
knew she had to hurry. Her vision was growing blurry and her ability to stay conscious