Revenge is Sweet (A Samantha Church Mystery) (22 page)

The digital photo showed the backs of Esther and April walking to the bus. David studied it for a moment and then looked at Sam. “That your daughter and her grandmother?” he asked.

Sam cast a sideways glance toward the screen, recognizing the familiar frame of her daughter’s slender body. She nodded, barely moving her head. “It’s them,” she said, returning her attention to her fists. “Can you open the next one, David?” she asked without taking her eyes off her hands.

David clicked on the next digital photo. The big yellow school bus took up most of the picture but Sam and David were able to see April with one foot already on a step inside the bus ready to enter. A small, unintelligible sound escaped from Sam’s lips.

“You okay with this?” he asked.

“Keep going.”

“They’re taunting us with three
more,” he said as he clicked on the third JPEG image.

The image was somewhat dark and it took David a few moments of study before he could determine the image he saw on screen. Then his face went smooth as he recognized the person. “It’s Wilson!” David exclaimed a bit too loudly. He quickly dropped his head, looked around the newsroom and lowered his voice. “Sam, it’s Wilson.”

Sam scooted her chair close to her desk. She studied the photo. Wilson was on the floor, spread eagle. He looked to be asleep, but David and Sam knew differently.

“Oh, look at him,” Sam said. She brought a hand to her mouth and covered it. “Bastards. What’ve they been doing to him?”

“Sam, it’s okay,” David said and put his hand lightly on her knee. “Wilson’s tough. He’s not going to give in so easily.”

Two more photos to go. David doubled on the image as they stared at the screen in unison. “What the heck is that?”
he asked rhetorically, but Sam answered. “It looks like a meat cleaver.” Sam swallowed hard, not wanting to imagine the possibilities.

David
doubled clicked on the final JPEG photo. He deliberately stepped in front of the computer screen to shield Sam from the initial image. She didn’t move to stop him. David studied it for a moment. “It’s your daughter. She’s in the same room with Wilson. He’s still out of it and looks like she’s waiting for him to wake up, and it looks like they wrote something on the photo, too,” David said and squinted as he studied it more intently. He looked at Sam and
asked, his frame now completely covering the computer screen, “Are you sure you want to see this?”

Sam nodded and he stepped aside.

David looked on as Sam examined the file. The words scrawled across the image of April stared back at Sam, taunting her:

pretty, pretty girl, maybe we’ll have some fun…

Then Sam straightened her shoulders. “I’ve seen enough,” she said. “Sons of bitches have them and they took a great deal of delight in letting us know.”

David looked toward Nick’s office. “I know Nick’s out the rest of the afternoon, but we’ll need to show him these photos first thing in the morning.”

David waited for Sam to respond. When only silence followed, he looked down at her. She was unavailable, clearly lost in other thoughts somewhere deep inside. Places he was unable to visit. “We’d better wait until we show these photos to Nick before we do anything else. Are you okay with that?” David asked.

Sam didn’t respond.

“Sam? You listening?”

“Yes, I heard you, David, we’re waiting ’til the morning to show Nick,” Sam said and her voice was mechanical, repeating what David had said as though she were a machine.

The emptiness of her response made David suspicious. He cast a sideways glance at her. “Sam, you’re not going to go and do something stupid are you?”

She looked at him and her laugh was harsh. “What am I going to do?” she asked. “They could be anywhere, David.”

David stood and rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. I know this is unimaginably hard for you.”

She forced a small smile, and put her hand over his and patted it several times. “I didn’t mean to be ugly with you, David, you’ve been nothing but helpful to me.”

David glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a story to finish before tonight. City council is holding a special session on that controversial housing development. I’m going, but I should be home ’round nine tonight, Sam, will you call and let me know you’re doing okay?”

“David, I’ll be fine. Really. I don’t need to bother you at night.”

David shook his head firmly. He wouldn’t hear of it. He was in the middle of this situation now and he would stay until the end. “No, Sam, I’d feel much better if you’d call. Please.”

Sam looked at David considering, what he had said. Then for a moment she stared off and focused on the white-faced clock, watching time tick away. Then she nodded, agreeing to wait for Nick’s return in the morning and to call David later tonight. David’s face relaxed into a satisfied smile.

Sam waited until David was fully absorbed in his story before she picked up the phone. The call to the officer at the Grandview Police Department was picked up promptly on the first ring. “Sergeant King, it’s Sam Church.” Sergeant Bud King was Rey Estrada’s old partner.

There was a moment of slight hesitation and the phone crackled in Sam’s ear.
“Sam, how are you?” he asked.

After an exchange of salutations and preamble, Sam asked her question. She turned slightly away from her desk and covered the mouthpiece with her freehand.

“Bud, what was the address to that house, the one the department uncovered after the drug smuggling operation came to light?”

“You mean the one with the meth lab hidden beneath it?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Boy, that was somethin’ wasn’t it?”

“Sure was.”

“Cost my partner’s life and everything,” the sergeant said.

Sam swallowed the lump in her throat remembering the morning Jonathan had stopped by her office to tell her about Rey.

“Doing a follow up story?” Sergeant Bud King asked.

“Not really,” Sam said into the phone, still covering it with her hand. “Just wanted to tie up some loose ends for a few notes in my files.”

“Sure, Sam,” he said and she could hear the slight hesitation in his voice. “For you and what you did for Rey, I can get you the info you need. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.”

“I know,” Sam said and smiled into the phone. “Thanks, sergeant, I appreciate it.”

“I’ll call you back in ten,” he said and Sam heard the click in her ear.

King called back ten minutes later, as promised. Anne was buzzing Sam’s extension. Sam glanced in David’s direction. He was still writing, unaware that she was looking at him. She picked up the line holding. “Sam Church.”

“It’s King. Here’s your address.”

“I bet you’re going to grow up to look just like your mother,” Wilson said to April, who now had grown a little restless and was pulling at a piece of thread that had come loose from the hem in her pants.

“No, sir,” April said, her attention now fully captured by the thread.

“Why do you say that?” Wilson asked, his voice pleasant.

April licked her thumb and index finger and was able to grab the thread and pulled. A long piece of thread continued to unravel from her pants. She pulled until she could not pull anymore and then used both hands to break the thread.

Satisfied, she glanced to Wilson. “’Cause everyone says I look like my Auntie Robin,” April said beaming, a smile that radiated her entire face. Wilson could tell the comparison was something April was clearly proud of. “In fact,” she went on, “I’m gonna be an athlete just like she was when I get bigger.”

After a moment, Wilson noticed that April’s face had fallen from the glow of feeling proud to distain. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I don’t want to be like my mom, anyway,” April announced. “She throws like a girl.”

“And you don’t?” Wilson said, not being able to keep from smiling.

“No, way,” April was quick to say. “My mom has a wimpy throw. I throw like my Auntie Robin did. She’s the one who taught me. She throws the ball hard and far.”

Wilson nodded. “I bet she threw the ball very well.”

April nodded and returned her attention back to the hem in her pants. There was silence a moment and April looked up at Wilson. “It’s cold in here,” she said and began to rub the sides of her arms. Her jeans, tennis shoes and the white turtleneck she wore beneath her fleece long sleeved top would keep her comfortable as long as she were moving around. The clothing wasn’t going to do her much good sitting on the concrete floor as her body continued to absorb the cold that rose up through the thin mattress.

Wilson patted the floor beside him. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you much comfort, April,” he said. “Because my clothes are pretty damp, but come sit next to me and I’ll see what I can do.”

April scooted next to Wilson. He tucked her under his arm, remembering what Sam had once told him about how much she had always enjoyed holding her daughter near her. About how tender and fragile her young bones still were.

“Grandma Church tells me that my mother is bad and
that no one likes her,” April said, looking up at Wilson. Their closeness allowed him to see the dark flecks in her eyes and how large her irises were. She would be beautiful, graceful like her aunt someday, he thought. And her mother, too, though she did not realize it yet.

“Your grandmother should know better than to tell you things like that, April,” Wilson said, chiding her slightly. “It’s not nice to talk about other people
like that. Would you like it if your friends at school said mean things about you?”

April’s face darkened. She began to search for another piece of thread. “No, but … it’s true. She’s a drunk.”

The word wounded Wilson. “Did your grandmother tell you that, too?” he asked, trying to keep the emotion from his voice.

April nodded. “And my dad always said so, too.”

He began to stroke April’s hair gently. No wonder Sam couldn’t get a break with her daughter. As if her own shortcomings weren’t enough, she had to contend with other people’s ignorance and shortsightedness.

“Why don’t you ever want to see your mother again, April?” Wilson asked.

“’Cause she came to see me over the weekend …”

Wilson interrupted April. “Just this past weekend?”

“Uh huh,” April said.

“What was so bad about that?”

“The first night she came she promised that she was going to take me home and I got so excited ’cause I thought that’s why she had come to see me. I don’t like living with my Grandma Church. I did make a new friend at school and her name is Laurie, and I’d miss her if I left, but I want to come back here and go to my old school, ’cause I still like it better. So when my mom was getting ready to leave, I brought my suitcase in her room to help me pack and she said she was going to take me home someday, but not today.”

A stab of pain pierced his heart. “Is that why you’re mad at her?”

April nodded.

“Look at me,” Wilson said and he gently touched April’s chin and turned her face toward his. “April,” he began gently by saying, “You’re right. Your mother does have some problems, but she really does love you. Very much.”

Wilson held April a little tighter. “And I know from many conversations we’ve had,” he went on, “That your mother wants nothing more than to have you with her all the time. But the only way she’ll ever be allowed to have you back is for her to be able to make some positive changes in her life. She knows what she has to do. Do you want to know how I know?”

April nodded without speaking. Wilson could tell she was getting warmer wrapped in his arms. He was silent for a moment as he collected his thoughts. Considering deeply whether to reveal the secrets of his own past to this innocent girl.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

He could feel her nodding against his chest.

“Well,” he began hesitantly. “When I was about your mother’s age I had the same kind of problem she has. I used to drink a lot and it got me into trouble and once I almost lost my job.”

“Why?”

“Why? Well, because, like your mother, I had a very hard time trying to control how much and when I drank. It was never just a little bit. Just a little bit always became a little bit more and a little bit more until it was too much. And by then it was always too late. And, like your mother, I wanted to stop more than anything ’cause it was hurting the people that I loved most in my life.”

Wilson rested his chin on top
of April’s head. He began to sway lightly back and forth. “I know your mother has tried many times to get a handle on how much she drinks,” he said speaking softly. “She hasn’t had it very easy, April, because it is not a very easy thing to do.”

“But you did it.”

A small smiled spread over Wilson’s face. “Well, yes, I did. I took my last drink when I was about your mother’s age. And it wasn’t easy for me either, but I did have the help of a good, good friend. For that I’ve always been grateful. I haven’t had to call on that good friend for many years now, but they were there for me when I needed someone to talk to who wouldn’t judge. And I know if I had to call them again, I would be able to and that’s a great comfort to me.”

Wilson was silent a moment as he thought, keeping his eyes focused on the door. “April, I tried many times to stop, but for some reason it was a lot easier to go back to drinking than to stay away from it all together.”

Wilson was quiet as he though a moment more. He continued to sway with April softly back and forth, back and forth. “It’s not an easy thing for anyone to do including me,” he said finally. “And it doesn’t help matters when the people in your life who are supposed to be there to care about you and support you fail to do so. And I know it’s not easy for them either. It’s very hard to continue to give love and support to someone who constantly lets you down.”

“Do you think my mom really wants to stop drinking?” April asked and her voice was getting distant, heavy with sleep.

“More than anything else,” Wilson said. “But it won’t be easy, April, because it’s one of the hardest things you could ever do. But I can tell you what you can do to help your mom.”

Wilson was quiet a moment, taking note that April’s eyelids were getting heavy and her breathing slower.
“Do you want to help your mother, April?” he asked.

The little girl nodded.

Wilson spoke softly. “Then don’t listen to what other people like your grandmother or classmates or anyone else says about her. Make up your own mind and don’t give up on her just yet. Do you think you can do that?”

April nodded. Wilson stopped talking and for a long time there was silence in the room. It was all he was going to say. He wasn’t one to lecture and certainly didn’t plan to start now. He didn’t know and couldn’t even begin to speculate how much of what he had just said she would understand, much less retain, but he wouldn’t second guess. He would just leave the conversation at that.

April stayed wrapped in Wilson’s arms for what seemed hours. He was getting a cramp in his good foot the way it was positioned under her, but he didn’t want to move for fear of waking her. At least his sore foot had stopped throbbing. For that, he was grateful.

The only light in the room came from the bare bulb overhead and the room felt dank like a tomb, but he felt strangely content. The small amount of heat that emanated from April’s sleeping body and the fleece she wore gave him some warmth. He wrapped his arms a little tighter around April and followed her into sleep, hoping that it wouldn’t be long before they would be found.

The sound of the door to the small room being opened startled Wilson from sleep. He did not know how much time had passed since he had fallen asleep, but he noted quickly that he was still holding April tightly and the sound hadn’t awakened her.

Fuzz Face was
now standing at the door, the shadow from his big frame falling on their faces. He stepped aside to reveal Juan standing behind him.

“Hey, fellas,”
Wilson said casually, as if greeting old friends.

Fuzz Face stepped aside and Juan
walked slowly into the room. Wilson noticed one of his hands was hidden in his coat pocket, the other behind his back. Juan brought his hand around, and Wilson caught sight of a shiny object that glistened off the light in the small room. It took Wilson only a moment to realize what Juan held in his hand.

“What are you going to do with that?” Wilson asked, his voice hollow, trying
, but failing to keep the fear from registering in the sound of it. Fuzz Face entered the room as the twins filled the doorway. Juan motioned to Fuzz Face with the meat cleaver he held in his hand. “Get the girl out of here.” Juan said, directing his order to Fuzz Face, who did as he was instructed. He took April from Wilson’s arms and handed her to one of the twins. All the while, April did not resist.

Moments later the twin returned to the room.
In his hand, Wilson noticed he held the tape recorder that the kidnappers had used the last time they forced him to make the recording they had sent to Sam. That recording, of course, had been a lie. Wilson could feel his heart as it began to beat hard against his chest, with the revelation that this time whatever they had planned to do to him wasn’t going to be an act.

Juan
shook his head back and forth and said, “Tsk-tsk, Mr. Cole, you’re a very bad boy, a very bad boy for trying to leave here without permission. For that you will have to pay and pay dearly…”

His voice trailed off, to let it have the desired effect
. He went on, “We were going to use this on the fat girl first, but we’ll make sure it’s good and clean when the time comes for Samantha Christine.”

As
Juan waited for the twin to prepare the tape recorder, he pulled up the left sleeve of his jacket to reveal the watch he was wearing. “Nice watch, huh?”

Wilson
recognized it instantly. “That’s my watch.”

Juan waved him off. “Don’t worry, Mr. Cole, you’re not going to need it anymore.”

The twin pressed the ‘record’ button and Juan nodded to Fuzz Face and the other twin. Before Wilson knew what was happening, Fuzz Face grabbed him by the neck and forced him face down firmly on the cement floor, pressing his face hard against the floor. Wilson cried out as pain shot through his broken nose.

“You fucking bastards!” Wilson yelled
as the other twin jumped on his back. He helped Fuzz Face grab Wilson’s left arm and spread it out on the floor, the palm of his hand flat against the surface. Wilson tried with all the strength he could manage to pull his arm back and lift the twin off his back, but in his weary condition, he was simply no match for the two men. He closed his eyes and resigned his position.

“Like I said, y
ou won’t be needing your watch anymore,” Juan said as he brought the meat cleaver high above his head. Seconds later, Juan brought the cleaver down hard over Wilson’s wrist, where his black Omega watch once rested so evenly against his skin. Wilson screamed; the thickness of it captured perfectly on the tape recorded message.

Juan’s instructions were simple. “Send it to her,” he said.