See Tom Run (27 page)

Basement windows, he thought.

He rolled himself over in an effort to get onto his
feet. After several head-splitting twists and turns, he was finally
able to get up onto his knees. He was certain he’d given himself a
hernia in the process. In a sudden surge of sheer determination, he
managed to get to his feet and stand upright—very wobbly at first,
then steadier once he backed himself up against a wall for
support.

Luckily for him, his captor had apparently assumed he
would be knocked out much longer than he actually had
been—otherwise he would have been more thorough restraining him.
Another thought occurred to him. Maybe he had been in too much of a
hurry to finish Tracy off at the time to bother doing a better job
on him …

Tom liked the first option much better.

The only thing he was sure of was that too much time
had already gone by since he’d been whacked out and he needed to
get moving instead of standing there reminiscing.

He eyed the nearer window and hopped over to it,
fighting to keep his balance. He peered out and could see light in
the windows of the adjacent house. But the tiny casement window was
simply too small for him to fit through.

He peeled his eyes across the room and could just
make out fine slits of light forming an L-shape along the
ceiling—the outline of a door, perhaps.

He hopped in that direction a few feet then suddenly
felt a jolt of pain as his left knee smacked into something hard
and sharp. Tom grimaced in agony as he groped around to feel what
he had run into. It was a table, probably a workbench.

Excitedly, Tom skimmed his bound hands along the
surface of the table, hoping to locate a tool of some kind. He
nudged a large tin can and before he could stop himself, knocked it
to the floor. The sound was absolutely deafening in the darkness.
Swearing at his klutziness, Tom stood still and held his breath,
praying that no one had heard.

A moment later, he moved to his right, continuing to
scour the tabletop. He came across a variety of objects: a block of
wood, a paper booklet, a pair of work gloves and a yardstick. He
needed something sharp enough to cut duct tape and none of these
items fit the bill.

He reached the end of the table and skirted around
the corner to continue his search on the other side. He ran across
a jar full of what sounded like nails or screws and decided to tip
the jar over in order to examine its contents. In the process, he
bumped into something that would work much better than a nail—

An electric grinding wheel.

Tom brought his wrists to the wheel and began running
them back and forth along the edge of the coarse wheel. The wheel
cut into his flesh but he knew that it was doing the same job on
the duct tape. After several minutes of slicing, Tom felt blood
trickle down his arm but continued slicing until he was finally
down to a single thickness of duct tape. He pulled his wrists apart
with all his strength. The ripping sound of the fatigued tape was
music to his ears.

His hands now free, he groped around on the table
until he found a utility knife under a pile of work cloths. He bent
down and sliced at the duct tape binding his ankles until he was
free.

He grinned victoriously. Then, without thinking, he
broke into a run and tripped over a box, causing him to fall hard
onto the concrete floor. The only thing that hurt more than his
elbow was the fact that his fall created more racket than the tin
can had. He rose to his feet painfully, held his breath and prayed
that no one had heard him. When it was safe to continue, he headed
toward the door at a more cautious pace.

As he drew closer, he could see the steps of the
stairway leading up to the door in the dim light shining through
the cracks. He grasped the railing and ascended the stairs two at a
time. Reaching the top, he brought his ear to the door and
listened. He heard nothing.

Tom turned the handle and pushed, but the door
wouldn’t budge. It was locked. His captor hadn’t done so poorly a
job after all.

He stood there for a minute, contemplating his next
move. He could try to kick the door open, but the noise would most
certainly alert his abductors. Could he somehow squeeze through one
of those casement windows now that he was freed? No, they were
definitely too small. His only option was to find a tool he could
use to pry the door open.

A thought suddenly occurred to him as he started back
down the stairs: there just might be a light switch somewhere. He
ran his hand along the wall until he located a switch plate,
flipped the switch and the basement was instantly bathed in
light.

That will certainly help.

Tom descended the stairs and took a quick look
around. The basement was larger than he had imagined and littered
with all kinds of clutter. Amidst the old rusted lawn tools,
cardboard boxes and tattered furniture stood the workbench he had
run into. He went over and began searching for a screwdriver or
similar tool he could use to pry the door open with.

Finding nothing there, he glanced around the room and
saw another table pushed against the wall on the other side of the
furnace. He headed toward it, sidestepping a threadbare sofa along
the way. As he passed the sofa, he saw what he thought was a pile
of old clothes.

Then he realized that someone was wearing the
clothes.

Bewildered, Tom moved cautiously toward the body and
saw a young girl of about eleven or twelve. She was wearing faded
denim jeans and a red nylon coat. The girl’s eyes were closed and
he thought at first that she was dead. He drew nearer and crouched
down, placed his hand on the girl’s forehead. It was warm and she
was breathing regularly.

Thank god, he thought.

But what in the hell was she doing here?

He examined the girl more closely and saw that her
ankles and wrists were bound in duct tape.

What in the hell is going on here?

The discovery of the girl prompted Tom to recall
something he had forgotten until now: the other man—the one he had
whacked with the lamp. There were two men involved in all of this,
not just one. Had the pair abducted Tracy and the other girls as
part of some kind of crime spree? If so, what was their motive? To
simply rape the victims then drop them off in an alley?

The concept of two men working in collaboration to
abduct and rape women seemed very unlikely. Then he recalled the
Hillside Stranglers, who tortured and murdered girls in Los Angeles
in the late 70’s and realized that it was plausible.

Tom placed his hands on the girl’s shoulders and
gently shook her.

“Hey, wake up!” he spoke in a hushed voice. “Can you
hear me?”

The girl made no response.

He tried again. “Wake up, girl! We’ve got to get out
of here. Can you hear me? You’ve got to wake up so we can get out
of here!”

She made a moaning sound and mumbled something.

“That’s it, snap out of it! I’m not going to hurt
you!”

The girl moaned again and her eyes fluttered open for
a moment. Then she immediately shut them.

“No! Please don’t hurt me!” she cried.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I want to
help you. What’s your name? My name is Tom.”

She opened her eyes reluctantly and stared at Tom.
Her expression showed fear and suspicion.

“How do I know that you won’t hurt me? Those other
men scared me really bad!”

Tom tried to comfort her by gently taking hold of her
hands. “Those men are the bad guys and they have locked us down
here for some reason. I came here to find someone they kidnapped
but they caught me. You have to believe me, I’m not making this
up.”

“Promise?” the girl said with pleading eyes.

“Scout’s honor,” Tom replied with an encouraging
smile.

“Okay, I think I believe you. You seem too nice to be
bad.”

“We have to move fast, uh—what’s your name?”

“Molly. Molly Barnes.”

“Okay, Molly, let’s get you untied so we can get out
of this place.”

Tom helped her to sit up and said, “Did they hurt you
any?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. Just when they
pulled me into their car.”

“What exactly happened?” Tom asked, pulling the
utility knife out of his pocket.

“I was walking home from Kristi’s house earlier this
evening and all of a sudden a car pulled up beside me. A man jumped
out and pulled me into the front seat. Another man was driving.
Then the first man got in next to me and told me not to scream or
he would hurt me really bad.”

“Had you ever seen either of these men before?” Tom
asked as he began cutting the duct tape from Molly’s wrists.

She shook her head. “No. I was so scared! I started
to cry and the one man yelled at me to shut up then put his hand
over my mouth. We drove around for a while until we came to this
house. The man driving the car got out and watched while the second
man took my hand and told me not to struggle or he’d kill me. Then
he pulled me out and led me up to the house.”

“There. Now, your ankles,” Tom said. “What happened
after that?”

“Once we got inside, the men suddenly started acting
like, kind of nice to me. They asked me if I wanted anything to eat
or drink and I said no, and that all I wanted was to go home. They
told me that I could go home in a little while, after they got done
doing what they had to do. I asked them what that would be and one
of them laughed and said that I’d find out soon enough. That really
scared me, the way he said that, and I started crying again.”

“You’re free now,” Tom said, making the final slice
of the duct tape.

The girl smiled at him. “Thanks, Tom.”

“You’re welcome. So what happened after that?”

“They both got really mad again when I started
crying. One of them told me to sit down and be quiet while the
other one went into the kitchen. He came back with a glass of Coke
and offered it to me. I told him I wasn’t thirsty and he told me to
drink it anyway, or else he’d force it down my throat. So I took a
drink.

“I thought it tasted funny and I asked him what was
in it. He said nothing but good old Coca Cola. I didn’t believe
him, though. Then the other man turned on the television and we all
just sat there for a while. Then …”

Molly looked confused as she struggled to recall.

“And then I—I don’t really remember what happened
after that.”

Tom saw a red flag. “You can’t remember anything at
all? Are you sure?”

The girl looked past Tom with a vacant look in her
eyes. “I can’t remember! I guess I just fell asleep then.”

“And you don’t remember anything else that happened
until I woke you up?”

“No, nothing,” she said uncertainly. “It was like, a
big blur. I mean, I think I was awake on the sofa but I don’t
remember what I was doing. It was sort of like a dream that I can’t
remember.”

This disturbed Tom and had dire implications. He
hoped that what he was thinking wasn’t true. That the men had
drugged her with something and that was why she couldn’t recall
anything.

But now was not the time to be worrying about this.
He had to find a way to get them out of this basement and find
Tracy.

“Can you stand up?” he asked.

“I think so.”

Tom put his arm around the girl’s waist and helped
her up onto her feet.

“How do you feel?”

“A little wobbly,” she replied. “But not too
bad.”

“Good, let’s see if you can walk.”

Molly took one step then suddenly froze.

“Shit!” she cried.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m bleeding—I must have started my
period.”

“Are you sure—I mean, that it’s just that?”

She gave Tom a troubled look, realizing what he may
be getting at. She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know for sure.
The time is about right, though.”

“Listen, Molly. You need to check yourself out. I’ll
go to the other side of the basement and wait for you, okay?”

“I’m scared, Tom! What if those men did something to
me?”

Tom faced her and gently held one of her small hands
in his. “Try to calm down, Molly. I don’t know how to say this but
what ever happened has happened and there isn’t much we can do
about it now. The important thing is that you’re still alive and
that we get out of this place ASAP. Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly. “Go away and I’ll look.”

Tom headed across the basement to the other side of
the stairwell and waited nervously. He wondered what this poor
child may have gone through at the hands of these two assholes. His
pity turned to anger as he thought about them upstairs now and how
he would love nothing more than to shoot them both in the
balls.

His thoughts shifted to Tracy. What in the hell has
happened to her? Had she been drugged and raped? Was she still
alive or unconscious?

“Okay, Tom,” he heard Molly call.

Tom emerged from around the stairwell and went over
to Molly.

“I think everything is all right,” she said with an
embarrassed smile.

Tom couldn’t hide his relief. “That is the best news
I’ve heard all day.”

“But my mother is going to kill me! She told me never
to walk alone at night and I disobeyed her.”

“This isn’t your fault, Molly—and I’m sure your
mother will just be happy to see you again. What do you say we get
out of this place?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Help me find a screwdriver and we’ll be on our
way.”

CHAPTER 24

The door leading out of the basement was old and
warped. Molly held the flashlight while Tom wedged a screwdriver
between the door and the jamb, its tip pressed firmly against the
metal latch bolt. After several attempts, he finally managed to
create a space great enough for the latch to clear the hole in the
jamb, allowing him to push the door open.