Gone (11 page)

She and Joe should have known that. What a stupid, dangerous game they were playing. They never should have bought in to Howard’s threats. Never should have talked to him on their own. It was a mistake not to go to the police. No matter how many times she’d cried wolf in the past about seeing Joshua, the police were obligated to respond to a kidnapping or a child abduction. They’d have to help them. It was their job.

Marcie looked down at her car, submerged halfway up its front wheels. She had no idea where Joe was, if he’d managed to follow her at all. There was nothing she could do except wait. She thought for a moment about abandoning the money and heading back the way she’d come on foot. Eventually she’d find Joe or someone else.

But it was still raining, and the pink glow that had filtered through the clouds from the west was fading to a deep purple. It would be dark in no time. She had the flashlights, but how much good would they do if the rain increased. It terrified her to think that she might misstep and fall into the murky waters of the Maurepas swamp.

Feeling as old as Methuselah, she stood and climbed slowly back up the stairs. As she reached for the doorknob, a banshee’s screech wailed from inside the shack.

Chapter Ten

Marcie let out a startled shriek a split second before her brain identified the screeching as the walkie-talkie. She approached the device with a level of dread and horror worthy of encountering an alien. When she picked it up, static made it vibrate in her hand.

“Marcie?” a scratchy, staticky voice said. It was Howard. It had to be.

She cleared her throat, took a deep breath and, trying to sound strong and confident, said, “H-Howard?” She grimaced. Her voice was as tentative and squeaky as a terrified little girl’s.

“So you made it.” Howard’s slimy voice oozed through the speaker.

Marcie shuddered with dread. “Where...are you?”

He laughed. “You’ll know soon enough. Point is, I know exactly where you are and what you’ve been doing.”

Marcie glanced up and shone her flashlight into the corners and along the roofline. Did he have some kind of cameras set up? Was he watching her now? She didn’t care, didn’t have time to worry about his scare tactics. She wanted Joshua.

“Where do we meet?” she demanded, her voice more authoritative now. “And how soon? I want to get my child and get out of here.”

“Now you know you can’t do that, Marcie. Not with your car like it is.”

“You know— Where are you? Is Joshua with you?” Marcie’s anger ignited like the fuse on a stick of dynamite. “I have your damned money. Give me my baby!” She stalked over to the door and looked out. “Where. Are. You?”

“You sure are bossy, considering.” He laughed.

“Just tell me where he is. That’s all I want to know.”

“Don’t you worry. Rhoda’s taking good care of him. She’s all smitten with him for some strange reason. Poopy diapers and runny nose and all.”

“Howard!” Marcie growled through clenched teeth. “I want my child—now.”

“Soon enough. Soon enough. First, I’m going to have some fun.”

Terror flashed through her like a lightning bolt, sending tingling fear all the way to her fingers and toes. “Fun?” she repeated weakly.

He didn’t answer. Marcie looked out the door again, and saw an old, dirty green pickup approaching from the same direction she’d come from.

“Howard?”

“There you are,” Howard said. He stuck an arm out the window and waved at her. “Wave back. Say hi.”

The truck was loud. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard it, but there it was, lumbering up the muddy road, with Howard at the wheel. He waved again, then honked his horn. The earsplitting sound made her nearly jump out of her skin.

Then it hit her. The truck. The exchange. Maybe he had Joshua! She ran out the door and started down the stairs, her terror forgotten. She could deal with whatever Howard had planned for her, as long as she got her little boy back.

Her foot slipped on a step and she almost fell, but she caught herself on the flimsy rail. Suddenly out of breath, she stopped and regrouped. She had to be careful. She had to stay safe and sound for her baby. Before she got halfway down the stairs, the horn honked again. She stopped and looked over the rail. Howard gunned the engine and he rammed the pickup into the rear fender of her car. The car’s back end twisted until it was almost perpendicular to the road. As she watched, stunned, he backed up, shifted gears with a metallic groan, then rammed her car again. The impact didn’t do much damage to the bumper, but it forced the car a little farther off the road. From Marcie’s vantage point it looked as though it would nosedive into the swampy water any second.

She shook herself.
Joshua!
What if he was in the truck? Was he safe? Was he in a safety seat? Dear God, what if he wasn’t? He could be hurt by the collisions.

“Joshua!” she cried. “Howard! Where’s Joshua?” She rushed down the stairs, trying to see inside the truck, but couldn’t see anyone else. “Howard! Do you have Joshua?”

But Howard was gunning the engine and didn’t hear her. She remembered she was still holding the walkie-talkie, so she pressed the button.

“Where’s Joshua?” she cried. “Where is my son?” She ran down a few more steps, just as her car groaned and moved slowly forward. Howard gunned the truck’s engine again.

“No, wait!” she cried, reaching the bottom step and running across the pier to the road.

The truck’s gears ground loudly as Howard shifted into first. Marcie was almost across the road when he pulled forward, spraying mud. She kept running as he eased past her car without so much as tapping the fender and sped up. She was parallel with the passenger door, but still an arm’s length away, when he passed her.

“Hey, Marcie!” Howard yelled into the walkie-talkie and waved out the window at her again. She stopped pumping her arms and legs and struggled to breathe as she whispered to herself over and over again, “He doesn’t have Joshua. He doesn’t have him. Rhoda wouldn’t let him take the child without her.” She swallowed. “He doesn’t have him.”

She stood in the middle of the muddy road, her chest heaving with its efforts to get enough oxygen as the truck headed deeper into the bayou, away from civilization. As he disappeared from view, Howard waved one last time.

She watched the truck’s tail until it disappeared around a bend and the sound of its motor faded. He would come back. She knew it. But the minutes passed, the sun went down and the sky began to darken, and all she heard were the calls of birds as they settled down, the occasional moan of an alligator and the whispers of the evening breeze rustling the leaves.

As dusk stole color from the world and turned everything gray, she turned around and trudged back to the house. She looked at her car. Now the car was facing the opposite direction and the wheels were totally submerged in the murky water. She couldn’t see the right front tire at all.

She’d already decided that there was no way of getting the car back on the road, but now, after watching Howard ram it again and again, and knowing that he could have stopped the truck at any moment and confronted her, panic crawled up the back of her throat. Maybe she hadn’t abandoned all hope of getting her car back on the road. But now, she knew it was hopeless. She was stuck in this death trap of a cabin, on this deserted road, stranded and helpless. The promise that Joe had made to her, that he would be close by in case anything happened, was fading as fast as her belief that she would ever see her child again.

It was truly dark now, and the relaxing, tranquil sounds of the swamp during the day were turning ominous. The quiet groans of the alligators now echoed through the darkness like moaning ghosts. The bird calls that were interesting and beautiful during the daytime now sounded predatory.

Marcie wasn’t sure she had the strength to climb back up the stairs to the house. She finally made it, though. When she slammed the door, she examined it for a lock. There was a laughably ineffective push lock in the knob. She tested it to see if it worked. It did, but Marcie knew that even she, as tired as she was, could kick it in with scarcely any effort.

She looked down at herself. She was soaked and the bottoms of her jeans and her tennis shoes were covered with mud. To her surprise, she still held the walkie-talkie in her hand and the little green light was still on. She was tempted to press the talk button and vent all her fear and frustration and anger at Howard by screaming and cursing at him. But all that would do was make her sick, and if Howard was anywhere near Joshua, he’d hear her. She didn’t want that to be his first introduction to her. She put the walkie-talkie back on its charger and stood there staring at it, not really thinking of anything, for a long time.

Wet droplets drizzling down her back and numbness in her toes reminded her that she was wet and getting colder by the moment. If she were going to be able to rest at all, she had to dry off somehow. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes, because she hadn’t thought about being stranded or caught in the rain.

After taking off the mud-caked shoes, she stripped off her wet jeans and set them aside. With all the rain, the bucket that was sitting on the stoop might be three-quarters full by now. She went outside, shivering in her wet wool peacoat and underwear, and quickly rinsed out the jeans and cleaned as much mud as she could off her tennis shoes. It was no longer raining, although at this point that didn’t mean much. The road was impassible, her car was out of commission and she was already soaked.

Back inside, she tested the space heater to see if it worked. It did. She twisted the knob until it clicked twice. Sure enough, the wires began to turn orange and she heard a fan kick on, blowing warm air her way. Turning the cot onto its side, she used it as a drying rack, hanging her coat and jeans on it and setting her tennis shoes in front of it. For a moment, she stood in front of the heater, shivering as the warm air drifted across her chilled skin. She chafed her arms and held out one foot and then the other to the heat, until her toes began to tingle as the numbness faded.

Looking at the pink wool blanket she’d brought with her, she considered whether she had the nerve to strip completely. She was already barefoot, with nothing on her lower half but her panties. If anyone—and by anyone she meant Howard—forced their way into the house, she’d hardly be any more vulnerable wrapped in a blanket than she was right now. She still had nothing to use as a weapon.

Weapon.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. She’d completely forgotten that after Joe had moved out, she’d bought a small can of pepper spray to keep in her purse, for those times when she came home late at night. Or when being alone in that big house, without him or Joshua, made her feel exposed and helpless. She went over to her purse and dug down in it until her fingers closed around the cylindrical shape of the pepper spray. Pulling it out, she examined it with the flashlight. It was a narrow spray can about four inches long. The spray button was on the top and it had a wristband for easy carrying. She slipped it over her wrist. At least now she wasn’t totally helpless. If Howard tried to attack or hurt her, an eyeful of the spray might stop him.

Letting the spray can dangle by her wrist, she grabbed a protein bar and one of the water bottles she’d stowed in her purse, and sat over by the space heater. Then she peeled off her damp sweater and her silk undershirt and draped them over the upturned cot.

Soon she was warm and cozy in her pink wool blanket and sitting in front of the fire. She drank half the water in one long swallow, then chewed a couple of bites of the protein bar. It wasn’t the tastiest supper she’d ever had by a long shot, but she could feel the bar hit her stomach and figured that by morning she’d be glad she’d eaten it.

By the time she finished, she could barely keep her eyes open and her muscles and joints were aching. At least her feet had finally warmed up. Not wanting to take down her makeshift drying rack, she left the cot where it was and lay down on the floor. She eyed the ratty wool blanket that had been provided for her, but immediately rejected it.

She dragged her purse and the tote bag full of money over near her, and then wrapped up in the blanket like a mummy, using her purse for a pillow. She closed her tired eyes, but after a few minutes, she had to give up. She couldn’t go to sleep. Her mind was racing too fast. The events of the past few days ran amok in her head.

Joe, looking irritated and grim when he’d opened the door of his apartment to her—had that been a few days ago? The detective standing next to Joe in their living room, both of them acting as if they had no idea how much they looked alike. The little wooden table and chairs in Rhoda’s house, and the small blackboard with the name
Joshy
written on it. The blue-and-white plastic block she’d picked up, with the
J
in red on one side and an image of a little boy on the other. Her child, her little Joshua, with his wide dark eyes and the little widow’s peak in the center of his forehead, in the child seat in the back of the Nissan.

Sighing, she turned over and scooted just a little closer to the heater, then closed her eyes again. She started singing “Danny Boy” in her head, her usual lullaby that worked better than anything else to help her fall asleep. But soon, her back, facing away from the heater, was getting chilly. She wondered if it would hurt to turn the thermostat up to high. Maybe she’d do that. She pulled her knees up to her chest and stuck her hands inside the folds of the blanket. After a while, if she were still cold. She shrugged her shoulders and tried to relax, then tucked her chin into the blanket and began humming “Danny Boy” again.

She heard a noise.

She didn’t realize she’d been asleep until she jerked awake. What was that? She lifted her head and felt the heater on her face.

She heard it again. It sounded like someone—or something—was scratching around the foot of the stairs.
Howard!
Her pulse hammered in her temples. She grabbed her cell phone and started punching in 911 before she remembered that there was no service out here. Still, she looked at the display optimistically. It still said
no service.
She tried speed-dial one, tried texting, even tried 911 again. But nothing happened.

In a few seconds, she heard the noise a third time. It was fainter, as if the creature making it were moving away. Or had realized they were making noise and were trying to be quiet. No animal would do that, would they? She could almost hear Joe’s rational voice in her head.
Sure, if they were being chased by a predator.

Somehow she didn’t think the creature down there would be classified as prey. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she deliberately dismissed it.

And surely it wasn’t Howard. Why would he bother to sneak? He hadn’t been cautious this afternoon. No, he would probably walk right up the stairs, clomping in heavy shoes on every step, and push the door in, because that tiny lock on the doorknob wouldn’t keep out a raccoon, much less a man who looked like he topped two hundred pounds easily. With that thought in her head, she began imagining that the scratching and rustling were actually the creaking of the stairs as someone crept up them.

As quietly as she could, she pushed herself to her feet and reached for her undershirt and sweater. She pulled them over her head, breathing as carefully and steadily as she could so she could keep listening. She slipped on her tennis shoes and her coat, leaving the jeans, because they’d be much too hard to put on, especially quietly.