by J. L. Drake
Officer Milby stood up and walked outside, probably meeting the ambulance drivers. Seconds turned into minutes, and I wondered if something was wrong. No sounds were coming from Zach upstairs, and for that, I was grateful. I should’ve murdered that bastard when I had the chance, I realized.
As much as I used to have a crush on Officer Milby, and despite the fact that he said he believed me, he was the last person I’d wanted to see right now. He’d spoiled my plans. Officer Milby was a sworn officer, and he had to operate within the parameters of the law. What I’d been doing on my own was anything but that. I was holding a man captive and I’d nearly killed him. Not to mention the aforementioned dead body in the cellar of the house I was renting.
I lifted the cuffs up to my face, trying to bite at my fingernails again. Suddenly, the door flung open and Officer Milby came barging back in. He grabbed the one metal chair that was left at the table, and he slammed it down in front of me. The look on his face was deadly serious and I sat up straighter, my back stiffening with fear.
When he took a seat, we were nose to nose. I could smell that cologne of his, and something that smelled like peppermint mouthwash. We sat there for a few seconds, staring at each other, embracing the awkward silence in the room. “Where are the paramedics?” I croaked, my throat scratchy from screaming and fighting with Zach.
“I sent them away. I told them it was a false alarm. I told them you thought you were having a heart attack, but it turned out to be a panic episode.”
“But I didn’t hear any sirens in the driveway,” I protested, still in disbelief.
“I called them on my radio to save them the trip,” he explained matter-of-factly.
“But what about him?” I asked, pointing my chin toward the upstairs doorway.
“I have a first aid kit in my cruiser and some other medical supplies. I’m going to fix him up myself,” he said calmly. I stared at him like he was a werewolf from outer space.
“Did you see the knife in his chest?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.
“If you’d stabbed him in the heart, he would be dead by now. The blade is closer to his shoulder than his heart,” he said. It sounded like an insult. I tried not to take offense.
“You’re still going to have to take the knife out. He’ll bleed to death without a doctor to plug the wound and fix it,” I cried out desperately.
“So I guess you were planning on taking him to the doctor then, were ya?” he asked, standing up from the chair and looking at me haughtily.
“No. I was going to let him die,” I answered honestly.
He stared at me with a hardened expression, his hands resting steadily on his hips. He was dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a casual polo. I wondered why he was here out of uniform. “What are we going to do?” I pressed.
“You don’t know me as well as you think you do. Before I became a police officer, I was a first year med student at Brown. It broke my parents’ hearts when I joined the force.” With that, he walked back outside and came back in carrying a large first aid kit and a makeshift medical bag.
“Good luck,” I said, staring down at my hands.
“Oh, you’re not getting off that easily. You got me into this mess and now you’re going to help me.”
Chapter 52
I sat on the floor beside Zach’s outstretched body, my hands cuff-free and covered with plastic gloves. “Place your hands around the knife and apply pressure. I’m going to pull it out,” Officer Milby said, staring at me fixedly.
He was sitting on his knees, leaning over Zach’s other side. Zach’s ropes were now replaced with shackles, and he had a gag in his mouth. Despite the horrific things he’d done, I couldn’t help feeling inhumane. The tortured becomes the torturer…I didn’t like being on either end.
I took a deep breath. Placed my hands around the bloody knife wound, just as I’d been instructed. Officer Milby gripped the knife. “I’m going to count to three…” he said, focusing on the wound. Zach was conscious and his eyes were wide with fear. I wondered if his fear was comparable, or possibly worse than the fear I’d felt when I was strapped down myself in that horrible room in the house of horrors. At least he didn’t watch his friend die, I thought indignantly, as I heard Officer Milby reach “three.”
He jerked the knife out of Zach’s chest, pulling it out cleanly in one steady thrust. Blood flowed over onto my hands, but I held them still, awaiting Officer Milby’s instructions. He began shoving what appeared to be tampons inside the man’s chest. He worked quietly and methodically, despite Zach’s jerky movements and agonizing wails through the gag.
As quickly as Officer Milby had pulled out the knife, he was finished filling his chest. He cleaned the area with antiseptic wipes and covered it in heavy gauze and tape. By this point, Zach had seemingly passed out from the pain. I was relieved, unable to endure anymore of his muffled cries.
Officer Milby leaned over Zach, checking his vitals. He also treated the minor wounds to his face. “Did you kick him?” he asked, covering the cuts with tiny bandages.
“Nope,” I said adamantly. I was standing up now, staring down at Zach, wondering if he was as monstrous as I’d previously believed. Right now he looked pitiful, sleeping peacefully. It was hard to believe he’d played a role in the horrors of my childhood.
After Officer Milby was done treating the wounds, he looked up at me blankly. “You’ll admit to stabbing the man, but not kicking him in the face?” I couldn’t help it; I burst into a strange fit of inappropriate laughter. I wouldn’t swear to it, but I thought I saw Officer Milby smile too.
“How did you find me?” I asked. Officer Milby rolled his eyes and stared at me pointedly. “Mark,” I answered for him. I should have known.
“He didn’t even ask my first name. I just told him I was family and needed to send you a birthday card.”
“I have another question,” I said seriously. He raised his brows.
“Why do you keep tampons in your car? Are you worried you’ll get your period? And is that why you’re always in a bad mood?” I joked, unable to contain my laughter anymore.
“Now you’re pushing your luck,” he warned, grinning at me warmly. “Let’s let him sleep. You and I need to talk downstairs.”
“You’re not going to cuff me again?” I teased.
“Not yet,” he said, looking at me with a serious expression. “I need you tell me everything. Hold nothing back,” he warned. His stern voice and expression brought back memories of my father.
So, I did what Officer Milby asked me to. I told him the truth. All of it. Every last painful detail. It was the most honest conversation I’d had with anyone in my entire life.
Chapter 53
Telling Officer Milby the truth was a huge relief. I still had that steel ball of shame and trauma around my neck, but it got a little lighter that day. “I know you were scared, but why didn’t you at least tell me when you had the chance?” Officer Milby asked, pacing back and forth in front of me as I sat on the couch. I ran my fingers through my grimy hair, wishing I could take a shower instead of enduring Officer Milby’s grilling session.
“Because you’re the police. Duh,” I answered brazenly. He stopped pacing and looked at me sternly.
“You’re bull-headed, Wendi. I would have gone to bat for you. I would have figured this out without you having to take such extreme measures.”
“You’re going to bat for me now,” I pointed out. I don’t know why I was acting like such a brat, but I felt safe with this man, and I was being as honest as honest could get. I wanted him to help me. I needed him to help me.
“Yeah, I am going to help you, Wendi. But I’ll probably lose my job because of it. I’m not in Flocksdale on official business. I took time off to come down here and chase after you because I was worried about you,” he admitted softly, his face reddening with shame. My heart suddenly became soft as butter, seeing him be vulnerable for the first time since I’d met him.
I
looked at his everyday, casual clothes and realized he was really here just for me. “Thank you,” I said. I got up and walked toward him. He looked uncomfortable when I got close, and he took off for the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and bent down, peering inside dejectedly.
“You don’t have any beer? I could really use a drink,” he muttered, slamming it shut.
“I’m trying to stay sober, remember?” I teased.
His expression changed as he seemed to remember my past troubles.
“Sorry,” he said, turning around to face me. “And are you? Clean, I mean…” he asked, clearing his throat uncomfortably. I took another step toward him.
“I am,” I said, placing my hands on his chest.
We were standing nose to nose again, but this time he didn’t back away. I let my hands rest there on his chest, enjoying the feel of his chest muscles through his shirt. There was this strange static, a pleasant sort of tension, between us. I didn’t want to shy away from it.
But then he turned back toward the counter and the moment was broken. He said, “The reason I didn’t let him go to the hospital, and the reason I didn’t contact the local police, besides the fact that you look totally guilty, is because I’m leery of whom we can trust. If all this stuff you’re telling me is true, and I believe it is, we may be dealing with more than a couple evil boys and a depraved woman.”
“What do you mean exactly?” I asked, leaning against the counter beside him.
“I told you I looked into your story, and I found the missing report with your picture…Well, that’s not everything I found. Apparently, there’s a whole lot of young girls missing from this area. After hearing all the details tonight, I’m certain there’s some sort of serious trafficking ring, and influential people, such as the local police, who could possibly be involved.”
I considered what he was saying. “The skating rink?” I asked, chewing on my lower lip thoughtfully.
“Possibly,” he said, nodding his head. “It’s one of the places where this whole thing started. Or someone recruiting people from the plaza…After meeting those boys at those places, you were taken. It would be a perfect cover for something like that, but lots of people would have to be involved,” he added.
“The way you talk, it’s like you think there’s some type of conspiracy going on around here. But that seems a little farfetched, even after everything I’ve been through,” I told him, chewing on my lip thoughtfully.
“Well, something has to be going on. That many missing girls and nobody’s done anything about it. They haven’t called in the FBI and there are few details in the investigative reports I examined.”
“So, what do we do now?” I asked.
“Well, the first thing we need to do is get my police cruiser out of your driveway. I want to drive it up to a nearby hotel, go in and rent a room for a few days, and leave it parked outside.” The thought of him staying in a hotel, distanced from me, brought back that fear in my chest.
He must have realized what I was thinking because he took me by the elbow and said, “No, I’m not really going to stay at the hotel. I just don’t want to alert your neighbors or any of the other townsfolk. A police car in your driveway would be like a shiny, red flag. I’m going to stay here with you and we’re going to get this figured out together, and quickly. So, get your shoes on. We’ll discuss some ground rules and map out your story for Ruth on the way to the hotel.”
“Story for Ruth?” I asked, mesmerized by the hand still holding my elbow.
“Yes, the story for Ruth. She’ll come by sometime today, asking about her darling son and to check on the plumbing problems.” I thought about her “darling son” lying wounded and cuffed to the heavy radiator upstairs, and I thought about the blood on her carpet.
I slipped on my black Keds and followed Officer Milby outside to the cruiser. I looked around nervously, but there was no one and nothing suspicious outside. Even if there had been, I somehow knew I’d be safe from here on out with this man by my side.
Chapter 54
It was nearly five in the morning when we climbed in the police cruiser. It felt strange sitting up front with him. I considered asking him if I could roll down the window and smoke, but that probably would have been inappropriate.
“Okay, first off…Ruth is going to ask you if her son came and fixed your toilet. This is what I want you to tell her—he did come by and he did the work, but you thought he looked either high or drunk. She’ll believe you, considering his history. Also, this will lower her suspicions about why he’ll be missing for a couple days,” he instructed. I nodded, amazed by Officer Milby’s ability to make up stories on the fly.
“That brings me to my next point. It’s possible that one of your neighbors saw my car parked outside last night. If they did, they might be the kind of neighbors that rat you out to your landlord. Therefore, if or when Ruth asks you about it, stick with the story about the panic attack. Tell her you called 911 because you thought your heart was going to explode. Act embarrassed about it, and she’ll stop asking questions.”
He thought for a minute and added, “Let’s just hope no one saw ‘Albuquerque Police Department’ written across the side of my cruiser. We’ll park close to the side of the building at the motel, and pray no one tries to read where it’s from. We can’t hide the fact that I’m here for long.”
“Okay,” I said, taking in all of the details. “What else?” I asked, racking my brains for any other missed details.
“Well, then there’s me. Ruth’s going to find out there’s a man staying at your house. Somebody will see me. So, let’s just tell her I’m an old boyfriend from Albuquerque and I’m visiting for the week. If she asks what I do for a living, tell her the doctor story I told you earlier—only this time leave out the part about me ditching med school and joining the police force.”
We pulled into the back parking lot of a dark, dingy motel called Maxine’s Hideout. It had been here all my life, and I remembered driving past it a hundred times as a youth. “I’ll be in and out,” Officer Milby said, climbing out of the car. He locked the doors behind him.
I sat in the passenger seat, watching him disappear through the doors of the guest office. Despite all of tonight’s excitement, I couldn’t stifle a yawn. I was exhausted. I looked at the clock on the dash. It was 6:03 a.m. It suddenly dawned on me that I had to be at work in less than three hours. I was going to have to call in today. I wondered if I was going to lose my new job over all of this…
Officer Milby jumped back in the car, holding a ragged key card for room sixteen. He grinned at me sheepishly. “I feel slimy just walking in that place,” he admitted. I told him about my work schedule.
“You have to go to work, Wendi. I know you’re tired, but you need to behave normally right now. We can’t give anyone cause for concern,” he explained.
“But I have to be there in less than three hours!” I protested.
“I’ll watch over you while you nap, and then I’ll wake you at 8:20,” he said matter-of-factly. Not only did I have less than three hours to sleep, but since we had to leave the police cruiser parked at the motel, we still had a twenty-minute walk ahead of us.
We walked through the streets of Flocksdale silently. Despite all of the evening’s drama, I was exhausted. I needed a nap, even if it was only for a brief period of time.
As we finally approached the house, I yawned again. “What are you going to do while I’m working?” I asked quizzically.
“Question our suspect. Duh,” he said, winking at me.
Chapter 55
With merely a half hour of rest, I stumbled into my morning shift at McDonald’s. My face was puffy from lack of sleep, and there were bluish-black circles under both of my eyes. Andrea looked at me, raising her eyebrows questioningly. Officer Milby had warned me that we didn’t want to raise suspicion, and the fact that I looked hung over this morning certainly didn’t help my cause.
“I had a hard time sleeping,” I to
ld her honestly.
“Do you want to work in the back today? Wash dishes and do some prep work?” she asked, sounding concerned.
“Sounds fantastic,” I said, trying my best to smile. If I’d been worried before about my new supervisor suspecting that I was using again, I was definitely concerned now. After this was all over with, I was going to have to get a new job.
I stood in front of the long, metallic sink, using a hose to spray food particles and condiment residue from the surfaces of the trays. One of them was covered in ketchup, and I watched the red, gelatinous substance flow down the sides of the tray and drip into the wide basin of the sink. It reminded me of Zach’s blood.
My stomach was tied in knots all day. I wondered about Officer Milby and Zach. What was going on at that house? It was such a struggle, going about my day like it was any other day, all the while holding onto the knowledge that someone was being held captive at my house. I wanted to just say, ‘Fuck it’ and walk out of there, but I had to stay the full day. I needed the money and I needed to behave normally, according to Officer Milby.
Around noon, a short, freckle-faced teenager came to the back to get me. By then, I was chopping tomatoes and onions at the prep table that stood near the walk-in freezer. Every time someone opened the door, I was hit with a rush of cool, crisp air, and it felt like a relief on my nervous, sweaty skin.
“There’s someone here to see you,” my young coworker told me, a singsong quality to her voice. Who the hell had come to my work to see me?