Hunted: A Suspense Collection

by J. L. Drake

  I took off my apron and made my way to the front. I’m not sure why I was surprised to see Ruth, leaning against the rack of condiments. Officer Milby warned me she was going to come, but I guess I hadn’t expected her to turn up at my place of employment, and certainly not so soon. I smiled at her cheerily—secretly sick inside—not wanting to see or speak to her at all. I considered running out the restaurant doors, catching the next bus out of Flocksdale. If I ever managed to get back out of this town, I was never coming back.

  Ruth was wearing a red and green flannel shirt that reminded me of a Christmas tree, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. Some women look spectacular with messy hairdos, but I have never been one of them. As much as I wanted to run, I remembered Officer Milby’s instructions, and I walked up to Ruth with a pleasant expression plastered on my face.

  “How’s it going? Are you here to eat lunch?” I asked, trying to play it off coolly.

  “Actually, I wanted to check in with you regarding the plumbing issue and ask you about my son,” she said, a grave expression on her face.

  “Let me see if I can take my lunch break,” I told her, walking around to the back.

  I asked my boss if I could go on break. It was almost rush hour, and we normally had to wait until before or after the busy hours to take our breaks, but she said okay, looking at me again with that pitiful expression of hers. I wondered if Andrea was starting to regret hiring me in the first place. I was certainly turning out to be a burden, if I did say so myself.

  I grabbed a bottle of water and headed out to the lobby to talk to Ruth. She was already sitting at a small table near the back of the restaurant. I sat down across from her and took off my sweaty ball cap. But then I thought about my mother’s recent visit to the restaurant, and quickly slipped it back on.

  “Did my son show up to fix your toilet last night?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

  I nodded. “Yep, he did. He had to run a snake through it to unclog it and he replaced a part in the back, I think.” Lies. They flowed off my tongue so easily, which was disconcerting. Sometimes I frightened myself.

  “Is everything working fine now?” she asked.

  “Yes. No more problems,” I said.

  “I told Zach to call me last night when he finished, bringing me up to date, but he never did. Then his boss from the plumbing company called me at home this morning, said he didn’t show up at his first job site this morning with his usual crew. I went to Zach’s house, but nobody was home,” she explained, wringing her hands together worriedly.

  I stared at her.

  “I know you don’t know my son, but did he mention anything to you about where he was going?” she asked hesitantly. More lies coming…

  “Well, I didn’t want to say anything, Ruth…but you know my past with my parents, and I thought I detected alcohol on his breath. His pupils were also dilated. I got the feeling he might have been drinking and possibly high on drugs,” I stated matter-of-factly.

  Ruth looked at me, her expression unchanging. “That’s what I was worried about. I had a feeling something like this was going on…anytime he misses work, it’s usually because he’s getting high again.” She tossed her hands up in exasperation.

  “I’m sorry, Ruth. I know it wasn’t my place to tell you…”

  “No! Thank you for telling me, dear. I appreciate your honesty and your friendship,” she said, patting me on the hand. If you only knew, I thought miserably. I had no doubt that Ruth and I would never be friends, at least not in this lifetime.

  “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Hopefully, I’ll hear from Zach in a day or two after he’s done with whatever type of binge he’s on this time,” she said, gathering her purse and standing up.

  “Ruth…one more thing. There’s this guy I used to date in Albuquerque. His name is Jonathan. He came to town to see my new place and pay me a visit. He’s only staying a couple days, but I wanted to let you know.”

  Ruth still looked like she might cry about the news of her son. “Oh, that’s fine, honey. I don’t care about that. I’m glad you have someone to keep you company,” she assured me. I watched her leave, feeling a sense of relief that I’d gotten that over with, but overcome with dread. Eventually, Ruth would find out the real truth, or she may even be involved in what happened to me, and I didn’t want to be there when she did.

  Chapter 56

  When I walked inside my home, I heard the unmistakable sounds of metal clanging against stone. I stood still in the doorway, wondering if the house was still safe. Surely, Officer Milby didn’t let our prisoner escape?

  But then I heard the sounds of metal scraping again. They were coming from the cellar below. “Officer Milby?” I called out.

  “I’m downstairs,” he answered in a tired, gravelly voice.

  I ventured down a few steps, my heart lurching with fear. Officer Milby was standing in a small clearing of dirt, maybe fifteen feet in diameter. He was digging up the basement floor! The area he was excavating was underneath the space where the washer and dryer had sat. He’d scooted the appliances out of his way.

  He stopped digging and stood there, holding that shovel, looking at me tiredly. My eyes traveled around the room and I saw something that made my heart stop and my breath catch in my throat. Flashes of white and yellow objects, skinny yet long—bones.

  “Is it her?” I asked, choking back the tears that were inevitably coming. I shook my head back and forth, not wanting to believe it could possibly be Claire down in that dirt.

  “I found a bone that looks like a pelvis, and it has a distinct shape to indicate that it is most likely from a female…” But I was already racing back up the stairs, taking two at a time. I kept running, straight up to the second floor. Zach was still lying there on the floor, his hands and ankles shackled. There were food wrappers and empty bottles of water lying next to him.

  “Are you kidding me? You were actually feeding this pig?” I screamed, and then I started hitting and punching at Zach again. “Who killed her? That plump, manly bitch! I know she did it! Who is she?” I bellowed, digging my nails into his fleshy cheeks.

  Zach jerked back and forth, screaming, trying to escape my attack. I shouted wildly, a blood curdling, animal-like scream that frightened even me. I felt Officer Milby’s thick arms grab me from behind. He wrapped them around me and lifted me off my feet, carrying me back down the stairs.

  I tried to fight against him, kicking out my feet like an ill-tempered, unruly child, but then I finally went limp, accepting failure. When he let me go, I cried into his chest, beating my fists against him. He led me over to the couch, still holding me close.

  I don’t know why, but I felt like I was losing my best friend all over again. I didn’t want to believe the harsh reality—that she’d been placed in the ground like a family pet…worse than a pet—like she was nothing, no one. The thought of her body being down there all this time, lying dead in that filthy dirt, was too much for me to bear. I pulled away from him, holding my head in my hands.

  When I was calm, Officer Milby went back downstairs quietly. “I want to do this right. I’m collecting every bit of evidence I find, and digging up the entire floor to make sure I don’t miss anything,” he explained solemnly.

  I should have helped him. It was the right thing to do. But I sat there on the couch, feeling dead inside, immobilized by my own devastation. I didn’t turn on the TV or go upstairs to check on Zach. I just sat there, remembering that night in the house of horrors after Claire died, when I thought my body was going to grow as one with the couch beneath me. Maybe if I sat here long enough, it would finally happen this time.

  Chapter 57

  After hours of staring at my dull living room, I got up to get something to drink. When I opened the refrigerator, I was surprised to find it filled with food. There was deli meat, Swiss cheese, ground beef, and fresh carrots with ranch dipping sauce. I opened the cabinets and stared at the shelves, which were filled with bread, chips,
condiments, and canned soups.

  I prepared sandwiches and placed a handful of carrots beside them on paper plates. I stood at the doorway to the basement, worried that if I entered, I’d lose my appetite completely.

  “You want to come up and eat?” I called down, grimacing at the sounds of digging.

  Seconds later, Officer Milby was standing upstairs, covered in grime and filth. His hands were covered in dirt and his face was smudged as well, like he’d been taking a nap in an old chimney chute. He scrubbed his hands in the sink with a small bottle of hand soap that I know I didn’t put there. He saw me staring at it. “I got dish soap, shampoo, body soap, toilet paper, cleaning supplies, food…”

  “Look, if you’re trying to lecture me or make fun of me, just save it. I’ve been waiting to get my first check. I spent all the money I had moving into this place. And all the while, my dead friend was lying down there in the dirt…”

  I turned away from him; I didn’t want him to see my tears again. I took small bites of my sandwich, trying to focus on its taste instead of the pain that burned in my chest. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me from behind. My body tensed instantly.

  Unlike earlier when he’d touched me, this felt more intimate and different somehow. Finally, I turned in his arms, facing him. A few years ago, I tried to kiss him, but he batted me away then. This time he would have to kiss me himself, I thought stubbornly. And that’s when it happened. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine. For a moment we just stood there, enjoying our first real kiss.

  It seemed so wrong, kissing him here with the prisoner upstairs and my dead friend below. Not to mention his dirty face and hands. What a wonderful moment to have a sexy encounter, I thought wearily. But he kissed me again and again, tender and sweet.

  His lips were soft and sensitive, but needy and hungry all at once. I never wanted the kissing to stop. I didn’t care about the bad timing or the grime on his skin. But he finally took a step back, his face reddening.

  “I guess you can stop calling me Officer Milby,” he said, rubbing the area around his mouth. His mouth was pink and splotchy from kissing. I wanted to kiss him again.

  “Okay, Jonathan,” I said, grinning up at him. But slowly my smile started to fade as I remembered the bones in the basement. “What did you find?” I asked, grimacing. “I’m ready to hear it.” I motioned with my hands in a “give it to me” gesture.

  “Two skull caps, the pelvic bone I told you about, and a bunch of random, small bones. It’s not just Claire down there. There may be three or four bodies, maybe more…I can’t be certain until I take it to a crime lab and have it all examined. The only good news is that we’ve finally found them. Their bodies can hopefully someday be returned to their families. The bad news is that the bodies are so badly decayed that I wonder if DNA testing is even possible.”

  “So, we may never even know who they are. And there’s no evidence of who actually did this to prove my story,” I answered gloomily.

  “That’s why we’re going out tonight to get our own evidence,” he replied firmly.

  I raised my eyebrows skeptically, wondering what exactly he had in mind.

  Chapter 58

  Jonathan wanted to scour the neighborhood, and with my help, gather as much information about possible suspects and crime scenes in the neighborhood. That all sounded well and good, but what good did it do us when we didn’t have a car? Jonathan’s police cruiser was still parked in the lot of Maxine’s Hideout. As though reading my thoughts, he said, “I have a rental car parked down the street. How do you think I got all the groceries and the shovel?” he asked, smiling at me goofily.

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Okay, let’s go,” I said, grabbing my backpack. “First, let me check on our prisoner and take a five minute shower,” he said, taking off upstairs. I didn’t hear any talking going on, and he reappeared less than ten minutes later, his shirt still damp from his freshly washed hair. He smelled like fruity girl soap mixed with his own natural, manly scent. I took a deep whiff of him, fighting the urge to kiss him again.

  “Zach still hasn’t talked, by the way,” he said, breaking my longing stare.

  “Not even a word?” I asked, disbelievingly.

  “Nope. Besides his initial accusation toward you, he’s refusing to speak with me. I think he knows that I don’t believe his bullshit and he’s not too eager to incriminate himself at this point.”

  Jonathan slipped on a light jacket and we left the house, making our way toward an old Ford pickup down the street. It was parked underneath a hazy street lamp, and it certainly looked like it belonged there. I doubted that any of the neighbors were too worried about an old truck parked in the street.

  The truck looked like it’d been through the ringer, with a row of dents down its side and a faded paint job. I started to make a joke, but then Jonathan warned, “Don’t you say anything bad about my Ford. I begged for this at the rental place.” He grinned at me cheerily and I made a zipping motion across my lips.

  I climbed in the passenger seat beside him. The inside of the truck was just as worn out as the exterior, but somehow, it seemed to fit Jonathan perfectly. The first thing he did was open up the glove box to reveal a set of expensive looking binoculars and a pair of Maglites. He also had a couple boxes of ammunition and a handgun in there. I’m not normally a huge fan of guns, but I felt relieved seeing it there.

  “Where to now?” I asked eagerly.

  “I’m going to ride up and down each street. I want you to point out any houses you recognize, think you might know for certain, or any that cause you suspicion or general unease.”

  “Gladly,” I said, pulling my seatbelt across my lap.

  I immediately pointed out the spot on my own street where I’d gotten inside the limousine with the man named Jed. Moments later, I also pointed out the narrow dirt road where I’d been dropped off wearing the blindfold after being kidnapped.

  That’s when I remembered the ten minute time frame that I’d timed out in my head. “The house where I was held captive was exactly a ten minute drive from where they dropped me off, right here,” I told him. Jonathan looked at me, confused.

  I explained to him what I meant, and how I’d counted the seconds in my head. Just as I had earlier, he pointed out that it was possible the driver had driven in circles to confuse me and throw me off from the real location. “I know,” I said, nodding. “I already thought of that.”

  “However, I don’t think your captors were that smart.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, furrowing my brows at him.

  “Because they let you go,” he said softly. “They definitely underestimated your tenacity and resiliency.” I smiled to myself, enjoying the flattery. “And I don’t think they took the time to drive in circles to confuse you,” he added.

  Jonathan suddenly stopped the truck, pulling over to the side of the dirt road. “What speed do you reckon you were going?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “How fast was the car going that you were traveling in?” he asked patiently.

  “How should I know?” I asked, frustrated.

  “Close your eyes and think about it,” he pressed me. I did close them, thinking back to that hellish day. I was scared to death, only a child, and I didn’t believe they were truly letting me go. I was certain they were taking me somewhere to kill me. It took forever for them to stop, and I remember that it felt like a slow, torturous drive…

  “We were going really slow,” I said finally.

  “About this slow?” Jonathan asked, and I realized the truck was moving again. I kept my eyes closed.

  “A little bit faster,” I said. He picked up speed.

  “Tell me when it feels right,” he urged.

  “Now,” I said, moments later. I kept my eyes closed, riding in silence, trying to focus on the speed and vibrations of the vehicle.

  Minutes later, Jonathan stopped the truck again. I opened my eyes. I didn’t recognize the s
treet we were on. “Where are we?” I asked, looking at him nervously. “If your driver came from this direction and stayed in this neighborhood for ten minutes approximately, then the house where you were held captive should be nearby, probably on this street.”

  Chapter 59

  “What’s the name of this street?” I asked, my breath catching in my throat. It felt like something heavy and horrible was lying on my chest, making it impossible for me to breathe comfortably. “This is Clemmons Street, three streets over from where Zach supposedly lives on Weston,” he stated.

  It all made perfect sense. I thought about my phone conversation with Ruth, her telling me that her ex-husband, Hank, and stepdaughter, Jennifer, moved into a house in the same neighborhood as her and her boys: a street named Clemmons Street. I’d looked for it that day in the rain, but when I saw the tarp-covered limo on Weston Street, I’d run away as fast as I could.

  Jed had taken us to Hank’s mother’s house initially, and that’s where we gave Jennifer the drugs, but it made perfect sense that she and Hank—aka Garrett—would bring me to their own home. But someone had buried the bodies at the house Ruth lived in back then with her two sons…

  I considered everything that I knew so far, and that’s when I realized—James and Zach must have done the burying. They made the two young boys do all of the risky endeavors—luring in the girls and disposing of their bodies afterwards, all the while the adults got to have all the fun and make money off of me. I was overcome with feelings of disgust and hatred. Somewhere, deep down, I almost pitied the two boys. They were kids too, being taken advantage of and used by adults who they thought they could trust. Just like me and Claire.

  I still wanted to kill Zach for what he did, even if it wasn’t completely his fault. Nothing could bring my friend back, and someone had to pay for what was done to her.