Dust to Dust: A Broken Fairy Tale (29 page)

His response is instant.

Holden: Alone?!

Crap, I should have known better
.

Me: Just on my way back. Have dinner cooking for Dad.

Avoidance is the best policy here
.

Holden: Are. You. Alone?

Crap.
“Safe and Sound” begins to boom from my phone.
Double crap!

“Yes, I’m alone, but I am just around the corner,” I lie. I have been so caught up in my thoughts, that I am at least three miles away from home now. I feel safe. The sun hasn’t set yet, although it surely will by the time I get home. Instinctually, I begin a light jog heading home.

I can feel his frustration through the phone, hearing the quiet deep breath he’s taking before speaking again. At least maybe he won’t unleash on me. I haven’t really given any thought at all that this run would be dangerous. I have to be more cautious now.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Camryn?”
Not really holding back, is he?

I pick up my pace. “I know,” I say, panting into my earpiece. “I wasn’t thinking. I lost a few thousand brain cells last night and was trying to recover some with the fresh air. Get the adrenaline pumping. You know, since I don’t have you here to get it going.”
Flirting will bring him down a notch.

“Not going to work, Cam,” he says firmly, but I can tell he’s smiling. “Just get that tight ass of yours home and call me the second you turn down our street.”

“Will do,” I huff. “I’m busting my ass to get home in twenty minutes. Call you then.”

“I have a surprise for you tonight. Are you going to be home all night or are you and Mr. D heading out?”

Stop talking and let me run!
“Staying in. Making dinner. Call you soon.” I take in a deep breath and hang up, knowing he will understand being a runner himself.

Holden: You didn’t tell me you love me.

I smile and rolled my eyes.

Me: Love u. Leave me alone!

Holden: Stop rolling your eyes. Love you more

Me: Shhh

Holden sends a few more texts while I am running, knowing he is disrupting my pace. Typical overprotective Holden. I turn the corner to our street and slow to a walk, stretching my arms above my head. I look up at the clear night sky, relaxing in the peaceful quiet that lulls this peaceful town into a cozy calm. My dad’s car is in the driveway, but the porch light is now off.
Thanks a lot, Dad.

I grab the hide-a-key from one of the fake rocks on the walkway and open the door, walking into a completely dark house. “Dad?” I call, feeling a nervous ping in my stomach.
Something is not right. I can feel it in every nerve.
The hair on the back of my neck is standing up. I slowly take out my phone, backing up to the front door.

I start to dial Holden’s number and call out for my dad again, turning to go out the door and look for those handy officers who seem to always be patrolling my house.

“Put the phone down or I’ll shoot his head off,” a deep voice instructs coldly.

I don’t need him to tell me whose head he is threatening to blow off.
Dad’s.
I quickly scan the street to look for any sign of the officers who have been my shadow since I arrived yesterday.
Where the hell are they?

I do the only thing I can think of and press the call button on my phone before tossing it face down on the couch. I don’t want him to see the phone is on, but hope Holden can still hear me.

“Please, just let him go. I will do whatever you ask—just don’t hurt my dad,” I yell, enraging the intruder.

The man comes around the corner, revealing himself and my terrified-looking dad. He was one of the biggest men I have ever seen, more like a giant. His broad, impossibly muscular body is covered in a rough looking black leather jacket. His dark curly hair hangs over his deep-set, menacing eyes. He glares at me, and then without a word, slams the base of his gun against my father’s temple, sending him tumbling like a ragdoll to the floor.

“Dad!” I say, running over to his side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something coming fast at me. Before I can react, something crashes against my head, turning everything to black.

M
y mind begins to work before my body. I can hear muffled voices somewhere close to me talking. My thoughts are disoriented as I try to figure out what is happening. I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. I become increasingly aware of my body as I start to gain my consciousness. My hands, tightly secured behind my back, tingle as if they are asleep. My head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds when I try to lift it and force my eyes open to make sense of what is going on. The voices seem far off now, so I put all of my concentration into opening my eyes.
Someone has my dad.

The reality of my situation hits me like a freight train with that one thought. Until now, I couldn’t make sense of what is happening, and why my hands are behind my back, or why I can’t open my eyes. I remember now. I had just gotten back from my run. I had a bad feeling when I walked through the door and then I tried to call Holden.
Oh God, I hope he heard something. I hope he’s gone into Rambo mode and has all of Ocean County heading here.
I hear my dad’s name and am instantly reminded of the helpless look of his bloodied and bruised face. I remember the defeated look on his face when the man walked up with a gun to his head. I feel sick just thinking of him like that, the worry, the heartbreak, the fear! My beautiful daughters’ innocent faces assault my thoughts. I can only thank God that they are not here with me now, facing the paralyzing fear that is beginning to take over. I can’t let it, though. I can’t let fear take over or I’ll lose. I’ll never get out of this alive if I act carelessly.

This cannot be happening.
I can feel my body becoming my own again, and slowly and carefully begin to open my eyes to get a hold on my surroundings. I have no idea if I am still at my dad’s house, or if I’ve been taken away. I look through the slits of my eyelashes, afraid someone is here with me, just waiting for me to wake up so they can beat me, kill me, do whatever they have in mind. It’s dark, but I can tell I am still at my dad’s. I look at my hands to see that I am tied down to his favorite chair in the living room. I don’t see my dad anywhere. The large driftwood coffee table is right in front of me, covered with splatters of blood. I’m not sure if it’s mine or my dad’s but the fear I have been trying to suppress is threatening to choke me. I try to focus on my daughters while I look around the room for any sign of my dad or the intruder. I can still hear muffled voices in the distance, but can’t tell if one was my dad or not. The sound of my heart is pumping in my ears, making it difficult to focus. I silently repeat the Hail Mary, and quietly try to lift the chair I am secured to so that I can try to find my phone that could still be on the couch or get the attention of the officers who could possibly be outside, thinking they are keeping me safe. I rock my body back and forth, trying to get the momentum I need to lift this enormous leather chair. I am trying my best to be careful, constantly looking in the reflection in the sliding glass doors that will give me warning of someone coming around the corner. The squeaking of the leather makes me cringe and silently curse my dad for choosing such a noisy fabric. It is the one item in the house that is truly my dad’s. My mom had never let him decorate one part of this house, with the exception of this damn chair. If I had been tied to any other, I could have been up and out the door by now.

In the midst of my frustrating attempts of getting up with this chair, the man who had a gun to my dad’s head turns the corner into the living room and is heading my way with death in his eyes. I stop in my tracks and stare him right in the eyes, not wanting my fear to show. I want to memorize every inch of his malevolent face in case I do get out of this and need to identify him. He is much older than I thought when I first saw him earlier, maybe fifty. His oily curly hair is stuck to his pock riddled face, either from grease or sweat, I’m not sure. He lowers his dark, almost black eyes to me and lets out a taunting laugh.

“Ah, look at you. Beautiful little lady.” He slowly paces towards me, each step making bile rise in my stomach.
Think, Camryn. Think!

“Who are you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even. “Where is my dad?”

“Oh, I plan to let you get to know me
real
well, sweetheart.” He rubs his hand across my face, causing me to flinch away.

“Where. Is. My. Dad?” I repeat slowly, putting emphasis on each word. I will not let him intimidate me.

He pulls a gun out of his stone washed jeans and points it at my head with a crazed look in his eyes. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear another word from you.” He presses the barrel of the gun into the temple of my forehead, forcing me to close my eyes.
This is it. I am going to die today.
I am not going to cry. I am not going to give up.

He laughs again, deep and menacing. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make it good for you.” He takes out a smelly blue and white bandanna, tying it tightly around my mouth and making it hard to breathe. Eyes burning into my skin with wicked desire, he leans over and licks my face. His rough, sticky tongue slowly traces from the base of my chin, inching up towards my ear. I turn away, trying to remain calm and think of a way to get the attention of the officers who are sure to be back out front by now. Holden has to have tried to call me back by now. His overprotective behavior has to be for a purpose other than to drive me crazy. He has to save me. He’s always saved me. My throat tightens up at the thought of his face, and a tear threatens to betray me.

Pock Face (that’s what I’ve decided to name him) torturous assault is interrupted by voices outside the front bay windows.
He came.
We both look at each other with opposing expressions: mine victory, his defeat.
Or is it?
A devious smile crosses his face and he walks over to the entryway, pressing his back flat against the wall, with his gun cocked and ready for whoever was coming to save me.

A quick, soft knock comes at the door, followed by three rapid knocks. Pock Face’s stance instantly relaxes and he glowers my way. “I’m not done with you yet.” He licks his lips slowly. “Not by a long shot. The last thing you’ll ever feel is me inside you.”

I swallow hard, trying to make sense of everything. My heart is pounding with anticipation, worried Holden is going to be walking in to an ambush. There are voices outside and that means whoever it is, is not alone. If it is Holden, I have to do everything in my power to save him from walking straight into the intruder’s gun. I have to save him, just like he is trying to save me. Just like he’s always saved me.

I take in a deep breath and yell at the top of my lungs, “Holden, no!” just as Pock Face is opening the front door.

He shoots me an annoyed look that says so much more, and steps aside, smiling broadly. “You’re early.” He bends down and is hugging someone. Someone very small. Not Holden—no, not even close. My head feels heavy with confusion.

What.The.Hell
.

Mary Waters is glaring at me over Pock Face’s shoulder with a disapproving smirk.

She looks away, ignoring the fact that she just walked into my house to see me tied to a chair with a gag around my mouth. Instead, she casually looks around the room. “Where is Bobby? I saw his car in the driveway. I told you to make sure he wasn’t home. You’ve complicated things.”

Pock Face holds up his hands in defense, seeming like a little boy. “He just showed up, Mrs. W. He’s back there.” He leans in and whispers something in Mrs. Waters’s ear.

I cannot for the life of me make sense of what is happening right now. I’ve always known that the Waters family has “connections” and are not to be crossed. But Mary Waters? She’s always been a bitch, but I never pictured her involved in something like this.

She turns to me, taking off her camel cashmere shawl, and sits on the sofa across from me as if we are at a family gathering. Family gatherings like the many we have spent here, in this house, with my family, and hers.

She crosses her legs, and leans back casually. “The only reason you are alive right now is because I need you to do something for me first.” She gives me a disgusted smirk. “No one is going to save you this time, Camryn. Not Holden, not your dad, not even the sheriff you have following you. Did you know they were called away to an emergency moments ago?” She looks down at her watch. “Huh? Looks like we don’t have much time.” She motions to Pock Face to go across the room from where we are sitting, and gets up and follows him over to the sliding glass doors, where they begin talking in quiet whispers.

The strain on my shoulders and hands tightly bound behind the chair is making it hard to think straight. I am completely physically helpless right now, and the fear is almost suffocating. Sophie, Ellie, Holden…I have to focus on their faces, reminding me to do whatever it takes to get out of this situation. No matter how hopeless things can seem, I have to remember not to give up…if not for me, for them.

I can’t make sense of anything she’s said to me so far. At this moment, I am glad to have the gag in my mouth so I don’t have to respond to any of her crazy comments and can just listen and try to make sense of what is happening and figure out how the hell I’m going to get out of this. I knew writing the article could cause some negative reaction, but I thought from Jake, not Mary? This seems so out of character for someone with such prestige as Mary Waters. Mary was never one I would describe as kind or friendly. In public, she plastered a forced smile that never matched her eyes. No, her eyes held a coldness to them that always made me feel uncomfortable. But this is so extreme…so unimaginable!

Pieces of things Jake has said to me over our encounters start to come together. He said he didn’t want to do what he did to me. He said he was forced to do it. I remember his office was covered in pictures of him and his dad. Not one of his mom.
She is fucking crazy. He ran away because she is crazy.
As pieces to the puzzle begin to click into place, I start thinking of a way to stall her so I can get myself out of here. Sooner or later, Holden will worry when he doesn’t hear back from me. Even if he didn’t hear anything when I threw the phone on the couch earlier, he’ll worry that I haven’t called back. He’ll have someone here in minutes if he thinks something is wrong. I never wished for Holden to overreact more than I do right now. The room where I sit seems so closed off from the rest of the world right now. I have always thought about what I would do if there was ever an intruder in my house. I never thought I’d actually be experiencing it…I always figured I had my “horrible life moment” and the rest of my life would be free and clear of this type of nightmare. But right now, I am powerless to do anything. My freedom is mere feet away, and I am trapped, with no one having any idea of the terror happening behind closed doors. I can’t move. I can’t scream. I can do nothing but think and wait.