My Everything (12 page)

Ben smiled at her indignation. “What did you do next?”

“I drove back out of the hotel lot and headed over to that adjoining lot, the one behind the fence on the other side of the bushes. I parked there.” Grace hesitated. “You know which lot I mean?”

“Yes,” he said, “I parked there last night.”

“I had to walk in the dark. I put my purse over my chest so my hands would be free. I grabbed my room key and the car key. You remember that old self-defense thing? You hold your key or your keys between your fingers?”

Ben nodded.

“So I did that with my car key, and I walked through the lot. I didn’t see anyone at all. I took the stairs, and when I got to the top, I leaned against the door and pulled off my high heels.” Grace’s small smile was self-deprecating. “My feet were killing me.”

“Did you go straight to your room?”

Grace looked down at the floor for a moment then she met his eyes. “No. I walked to your room. I stood there wondering if I should knock. I didn’t.”

“I wasn’t there,” Ben said.

“I figured,” replied Grace. “I turned around and went back down the hall to my room.”

“What happened next? Did you hear anything before you opened your door?”

Grace cleared her throat. “I‍—‌I wasn’t paying attention. My mind was wandering. If there was any noise coming from my room, I didn’t hear it.” Grace was silent for a moment.

“It’s okay. Take all the time you need,” Ben reassured her.

She looked at him. “That’s not it,” she said. “I was thinking about you, about us. That’s why I didn’t hear him. He must have been making noise, and I missed it.”

“Grace, you didn’t expect anyone to be in your room. This isn’t your fault.” Ben squeezed her hands. He wanted to take her into his arms again, but he needed to hear the entire story. She might be able to provide the link he sought.

“Tell me what happened once you opened the door.”

“I walked in and the door closed behind me. I stood there like an idiot wondering why there was a lamp on in the corner, wondering who had drawn the shades because I didn’t remember leaving on a light or drawing the shades. I thought maybe housekeeping had done it. Then it registered that my clothes were all over the floor. My dresses were torn up. My computer was smashed to bits.” Grace sucked in a breath before she continued. “You know that feeling you get, the bad feeling where the hair on the back of your neck stands up?”

Ben nodded. He didn’t want to interrupt.

“Well, I got that feeling, and I took a step back. As I moved I saw him out of the corner of my eye. At least I saw his reflection in that mirror they have in the entryway. He was pressed against the wall by the bed. As I reached for the door, he flew around the corner. I didn’t have a lot of time. I just reacted. My shoes were still in my hands. I ducked and whacked him in the side of the head with one. I must have caught him with the heel because he started bleeding. I was kind of crawling away and I glanced back at him. He looked stunned, like he couldn’t believe I’d actually done that.”

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Most people wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to do anything.” Ben brought her hands to his lips.

What he didn’t say, what he dared not say was that most people would be dead. She should be dead. He was not only proud of her, he was grateful as all hell. Somebody was watching out for her. Grace was a very lucky woman. He felt a sudden urge to sweep her up in his arms, get her as far from the hotel as possible and hide her away. But he had to hear her out. Angel’s life depended on it.

“Tell me what you didn’t tell the police,” Ben said.

Grace met his eyes. “He grabbed me and threw me against the door, that door between rooms, the locked door. He wrapped his fingers around my throat, and I couldn’t talk. He kept slamming my head back. He asked, ‘Where is he? Where the fuck is he?’ Then he said ‘Who the hell are you? His whore? McCall’s whore? Are you the reason she’s dead?’ He squeezed my neck tighter, and I knew he was going to kill me. I remembered the car key. I still had it between my fingers. I raked the left side of his face and his eye. He let go and I ran. I pulled the fire alarm as I ran by and pretty much fell down the stairs to the lobby. I think you know the rest.”

Ben dropped her hands and sat back in his chair.

“This has nothing to do with me and everything to do with your wife’s death doesn’t it?” asked Grace.

Her tone was mild. Ben would have felt better if she’d accused him.

Grace bumped her knee into his. “Knock it off,” she said. “You didn’t do this. I’m not blaming you. You didn’t kill your wife either. I want to help you. Let me help you. Ask me who I think he is.”

“What?”

“Ask me who I think he is,” she repeated.

Ben stared at her for a long time. Finally he asked, “Who do you think he is?”

“Someone who was close to her, who loved her. Someone who went crazy over her death. I looked into his eyes. I know what I saw. You may not want to hear this, but I’m going to say it. He’s somebody from her past, either a lover or a brother or who knows what. And Ben, he’s crazy. When he had his hand wrapped around my throat, I could tell. He’s insane, and he’s filled with rage toward you. He loved her, Ben, and he blames you for her death.”

Ben was silent.

“Ask me one more thing,” Grace insisted.

“What do you want me to ask?”

“Ask me what he’s going to do next.”

“You mean besides come after me?” Ben laughed mirthlessly. “What’s he going to do next, Grace?”

“Run home and lick his wounds.”

Stunned, Ben stared at Grace. Why didn’t he think of that? She was absolutely right.

“He made a huge mistake. He went to the wrong room, and he must have left fingerprints and blood all over it. He’s going home to figure out his next move and that’s how you’re going to find him. You don’t need to worry about me,” Grace said. “He won’t come after me again.”

Ben shuddered. He’d make sure there was no repeat of tonight. “It’s Angel,” Ben said, relieved to finally say the words out loud. “The son of a bitch has Angel.”

My Everything◊J. R. Barrett

Angel sat in
the dark, her back propped against a cold concrete block wall.

He’d left hours ago. Usually he had the decency to allow her to get up and move every few hours or so, take her to the bathroom, bring her a drink of water. She tried to stretch out full length, to ease her cramped muscles, but the closet was tiny, not even as wide as she was tall.

Angel didn’t know what she would do if he didn’t come back.

Die maybe.

At least he hadn’t tied and gagged her this time, not that there was anyone who would hear her if she did scream. And he hadn’t drugged her. Thank God.

Angel had never imagined what terror actually felt like until she woke up, her arms and legs bound with nylon climbing ropes, duct tape over her mouth, no memory of what had happened and no knowledge of where she was or who she was with.

The feeling was nothing like watching a horror movie. Horror movies were fun because everybody knew the scenes were faked and you got to scream along with your friends just for the heck of it. This was no horror movie, it was a nightmare.

Tears filled Angel’s eyes. They spilled onto her cheeks. Her poor mother and father must be sick with worry. And Robbie, what about Robbie? The last thing she remembered was the man hitting him with the butt of a gun. When he’d dragged her out of the car, she’d seen Robbie slumped over the steering wheel. Angel couldn’t believe it had happened near Shoal Creek Boulevard. It was dark, but there must have been traffic.

She couldn’t even remember where he’d appeared from. Maybe he’d been hiding in the back seat. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember. The one fact she couldn’t forget, the one thing burned into her memory, was that before he dragged her out of the car he stuck a needle into her neck.

Angel had no idea how much time she’d lost.

She’d come around two days ago in the back of a van, tied and gagged, lying on a bare mattress.

Panic stricken, she
discovered the inside of the van was padded with foam rubber. Angel didn’t know if that was for her protection, to keep her from clawing her way out, or to keep any noise she made from being heard. She looked around desperately for some means of escape. Her first thought was that she’d been kidnapped by one of those sex slave rings or by a serial killer, and her heart turned to ice. Then he spoke. Angel wasn’t even aware he’d been sitting by her feet the entire time, watching her. She pulled her legs away from him.

“I don’t want you,” he said. “I’m not a rapist, and I’m not a murderer, and I won’t hurt you. I don’t want you,” he repeated. “I want your brother.”

Angel’s eyes opened wide. “My brother’s dead,” she wanted to shout, but she could only make squeaking sounds from beneath the tape.

He looked her over from head to toe as if she wasn’t even a human being, as if she were a sack of potatoes or another inanimate object. Then he took a deep breath.

“He’s not dead,” he said, the bland tone of his voice both terrifying and confusing. “He’s very much alive, and I guarantee he will come for you. After I kill him, I’ll let you go.”

Angel felt sick to her stomach. She was afraid she’d vomit into the tape and then aspirate and die. She’d heard of people doing that. He seemed to realize what she was feeling because he reached toward her face. She jerked her head away from his hand.

He said, “I’ll take the tape off if you promise to be quiet. If you scream or make any noise, I’ll have to drug you again. In about an hour, we’ll be somewhere you can use the bathroom and get something to eat. Do you understand?”

Angel nodded. When he ripped the tape from her mouth, she clenched her teeth together to stop from screaming. Despite the pain she kept very still. She did what her big brother had taught her to do whenever she was scared‍—‌stay calm and make a mental note of everything. He’d said it would help her feel more in control.

So Angel noted what the man looked like, how much he weighed, what his voice sounded like. She listened closely to see if he had any kind of accent. She studied his hands, his clothes. When he cracked the door to the van to slide out the back, she strained to see anything that could tell her where she was, anything at all.

It was dark, but during those few seconds the door was open, she heard cars and trucks whizzing by as if they were near a freeway. She sniffed at the air as he climbed outside. It didn’t smell anything like Austin. She smelled something slightly metallic, sulfuric; there was a salty quality to the outside air. She tasted it as it passed over her tongue. It smelled like Disneyland. She could swear she was in Anaheim. She’d been there just a few months ago during spring break.

Yes, the air smelled like Disneyland. Then he closed the door.

Angel heard him lock it from the outside. Fighting panic, she struggled against the ropes, trying to get into an upright sitting position. She realized he must have been holding some sort of light because now that he was gone the back of the van was dark as pitch.

It took all her willpower to concentrate over the smell of fear, her fear. Angel tried to focus. Outside sounds were muffled, but she could still hear a little. With her back pressed against the side of the van, she both heard and felt him get into the driver’s seat, close the door and start up the engine. She felt the van move. First he backed up. Angel knew because she pitched forward onto her face. Then he drove at a steady pace, rapidly picked up speed, and veered slightly to the left. She figured they must have merged onto a freeway.

Her hands were tied behind her back, but she braced herself against the wall and held herself in a sitting position. She decided to make the most of the darkness and explore. Maybe he’d missed something, a screw, a sharp edge, a plastic fork, anything that she could use to cut her bonds now or for a weapon later.

As the van moved, Angel had made a slow, difficult, exhausting circle. She checked every wall, felt along the edges of the mattress. She even managed to balance upright momentarily and check for a light on the ceiling with the top of her head. All she found was what felt like more duct tape where a light had been.