Taken - Before her very Eyes (3 page)

“Yes, I know you had a lot of fun
with Daddy this weekend, but you have school today.” Summer glanced back to the
trash pile. A white sneaker protruded from the rubbish. The movement brought
relief. At least she knew exactly where the vagrant was.

“I can be sick of school.” She
peeked over the back seat. “Daddy said he’d take me to the zoo instead.”

“The zoo?” Summer caught the
brief sight of Sabrina before she disappeared again, then turned her attention
back to the trash pile. “I think school is more important than looking at
animals.”

Dean turned his head, following
Summer’s gaze. He took five steps onto the sidewalk and stooped over, gazing at
the white sneaker sticking out of the trash.

“Please, Mommy.”

“Um, no. You have school. Besides,
it’s too cold. The animals will all be hibernating.”

Dean took two more steps,
blocking Summer’s line of vision. What was he doing? Why is he even getting
near that man? Sure he always gave to charity and would never refuse a request
for loose change, but this vagrant was dangerous, she could feel it in her
bones.

Summer leaned out the window,
narrowing her eyes at Dean’s back. A low hushed voice caught on the wind,
drifting to her ears. The vagrant was talking to Dean. Probably asking for a
handout.

“Dean… Dean! What are you doing?”
The fear that the vagrant had instilled moments ago was replaced with a fear
for Dean’s safety. Why was he ignoring her call? Was he doing this just to
punish her for refusing to let Sabrina stay for another night?

“What? Yes Sabrina, Mommy’s still
here.” The phone beeped, sounding the low battery warning. “Darling, Mommy has
to go now. Hang up and wait in the car for Daddy to get you.” The phone beeped
again and Summer flipped the cover closed, disconnecting her tie to Sabrina,
then dropped it into the console.

“Dean! Get back here right—” She
paused, seeing the streetlight reflect off the gold chain around the vagrant’s
neck. It was the only thing visible as his face remained hidden in the shadows.
The image was wrong. A bum would’ve hawked the chain for a bottle of booze. So
why did this bum still have it?

The vagrant shifted and
disappeared back into the dark shadows. Dean leaned closer, bending over the
vagrant, listening to his conversation. He listened for a few seconds before
turning his head in Summer’s direction. His face looked different. Pale, shiny,
scared. She’d never seen him afraid before.

It happened so fast, but at the
same time like in slow motion. The shiny blade slid from the dirty shirt
sleeve. Streetlight reflected off as it arched up, straight toward Dean’s mid
section. Summer watched the polished blade and swore she could see her
frightened reflection screaming out a warning to Dean, but in reality she sat,
dumbstruck, unable to voice a single word, let alone one syllable.

The blade plunged through the
fabric of Dean’s light jacket, vanishing within his abdomen. The muscles on the
vagrant’s forearm bulged as he maintained the death grip on the handle.

Summer’s eyes darted from the
knife handle to Dean’s face. The vagrant seemed to be holding the knife deep
inside, adding insult to the attack. Dean’s eyes bulged wide as a look of pure
terror swept over his face, realizing the blade was still inside—still capable
of doing more damage.

Summer winced, sympathy pain
shooting through her body. She knew exactly what he was going through, knew the
pain of a blade slicing through her skin, flesh and even coming to a jarring
halt as it slammed into bone. In a flash, her mind retreated to that bright
summer day when she looked from the frightened face of a teenager, to the
handle protruding from her body. It didn’t matter if it was close to a vital
organ or not, because when the blade disappeared inside your body, you thought
about death—your own death.

Dean’s wide eyes locked onto
Summer as the vagrant ripped the blade from his stomach with the speed of a
professional hit man. Dean took an awkward step backwards, instinctively
pulling his hands to his stomach as the car keys fell from his outstretched
fingers, tumbling in the streetlight to the wet sidewalk.

As the vagrant sat fully upright,
he held the knife before his face, twisting it—almost admiring the way the
blood trickled down the razor sharp edge.

Summer heard muffled screams fill
the night. They were unmistakeably those of her child. She broke the trance
with Dean, and fighting a new level of nervous spasms, she dared to glance to
the car ahead where Sabrina had been watching the whole time. Summer’s stomach
fell. She wished for Sabrina’s sake that she wouldn’t have seen this act of
violence. God knows she’s been through a lifetime’s worth in the last five months.

Sabrina’s face was red, her mouth
wide open airing a high-pitched scream into the night. Tears were streaming
down her cheeks as she bounced wildly in the back seat. Even at six years old
she seemed to know exactly what had happened to her father.

“Sabrina needs me. She needs her
mother,” Summer muttered, shaking helplessly behind the steering wheel, unable
to gather her usual strength and deal with the situation. Normally she would’ve
jumped out and subdued the perpetrator. After all, she is a cop—a cop who’s on
stress leave for the last five months because she can’t control her stupid
emotions in situations… situations like this.

In slow motion, with every muscle
jerking uncontrollably, Summer turned back to watch Dean. Her body was
rebelling. It seemed to be fighting her every move. Frustration was building as
she had to battle her own mind for control of her muscles. Dean had fallen to
his knees, one hand clamped to the hole in his flesh, squeezing with everything
he had, trying to keep his soul from escaping. His other hand was inches from
his face, fingers rubbing the thick blood as he no doubt tried to comprehend
what had just happened.

The vagrant drew the blade across
his shirt sleeve, wiping the blood off before sliding it back into his pocket.
He dug in the bag beside, pulled out a black object and slipped it on his head.

A ski mask.

He yanked it down, adjusted the
holes, then slowly climbed to his feet as if nothing had happened. Summer
watched as he stood, realizing that he wasn’t actually a homeless person, but a
killer waiting to strike.

He glanced over. Holding Summer’s
gaze, he bent to the ground before Dean and carefully plucked the keys from a
shallow puddle. Straightening, he flipped the keys up, catching them in midair
and gave her a wide smile. A grin of arrogance. A grin of superiority.

Her head flipped from the keys,
to the red Mercedes. The red Mercedes, which held her only daughter.

“No,” Summer gasped as the
attacker walked slowly toward the Mercedes. He acted as if nothing had
happened. Nobody was bleeding to death behind. Nobody was watching as he
prepared to steal the car. He even seemed to have a slight bounce in his step
as he headed straight for the door of the Mercedes.

Hands shaking uncontrollably,
Summer cursed while stabbing for the door handle. How she wished she had her
control back. After a few tries, she finally managed to grasp it and pull the
handle. She pushed against the door with all her might and it swung wide open,
causing the attacker to stop with his fingers on the door handle of the
Mercedes. He glanced back and Summer saw the smirk through the mouth hole in
the mask.

“No!” she screamed, convulsions
taking over. “Leave… her… alone!” Reaching out a shaking hand, she gripped the
window sash then pulled her trembling body from the car. She watched helplessly
as he jumped behind the wheel and started the Mercedes.

Sabrina screamed so loud that
nothing came out as she cowered into the farthest corner of the back seat,
clutching her hands protectively before her. Summer lurched toward the car,
fighting her nerves every inch. She could see the terror in Sabrina’s face.

He was waiting. Daring Summer to
come closer.

She lunged forward, reaching out
to the car.

Sabrina found her voice and
started screaming hysterically.

Something snagged Summer’s pant
leg.

She jerked her leg free.

The engine revved.

Another high-pitched scream
erupted.

It was back, gripping her leg,
preventing her from getting closer.

She lunged as the tires spun on
the wet pavement. Her outstretched fingers brushed the wet cold metal as the
Mercedes tore out of the parking spot and down the road.

Summer glanced down, spotted the
bloody hand clenched to her leg and realized that Dean was dying.

“He…” Summer croaked, pointing a
trembling finger in the direction of the Mercedes, “took Sabrina.”

Tears cascaded down Summer’s pale
cheeks, falling to the damp concrete below.

“Go!” Dean released her leg. He
stared down at the bloodstain spreading from under his hand. “Go, after her.”

“I… can’t?” She glanced at her
shaking hands. “I just… can’t!”

“Summer, you have to.” Dean’s
voice was strained. He was going into shock. She’d seen this many times before.
She knew how to deal with victims, but she couldn’t figure out how to deal with
her own fears.

“We’ll call the police.” Summer
glanced up and down the street, searching for anybody to help. “They can stop
him. They’re good at that.”

“I’ll call.” He snagged her
trembling hand and pulled, managing to get to his knees. “But you have to go
after him!”

Summer clenched her eyes closed,
hoping to make everything disappear. She couldn’t imagine giving pursuit in her
condition. She could barely manage to fight rush hour traffic. Her head was
spinning. She knew Dean was right. Someone had to go after them. But not her.
She couldn’t do it.

“You’re bleeding.” She touched a
finger to the dark patch on Dean’s jacket. “You… need help.”

“Sabrina needs your help. Go!
I’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Go!” Dean’s voice broke. His
chocolate-brown eyes were pleading. “He’s getting away.”

“But, I can’t. Not after what
happened. I just can’t!” Her stomach twisted into knots just thinking about the
time with John Scott. How she’d emerged from his care with fears she never
imagined possible before. Her chest heaved and a shuttered cry escaped her
trembling lips.

Pulling himself to his feet, Dean
placed his weight on Summer and, stumbling like a drunk, forced her back to the
car door. “Don’t tell me you can’t. You have to. If
you
don’t, then
nobody will save our little girl.”

Summer staggered at the door,
fighting against Dean’s weight until he shoved her roughly inside.

“The police—”

“Please, Summer, let the past go.
You can’t change what happened, but you can change what will happen.” Dean
reached through the window and touched her shoulder. She realized this was the
first time in a long time that his touch hadn’t caused her to jerk away. Summer
chalked it up to shock and drew a deep breath. The smell of blood filled her
nostrils. His blood. The same blood that coursed through Sabrina’s body.

Down at the far end of the
street, the tail lights of the Mercedes were fading. Either her sense of time
was failing her or the attacker was waiting for her to follow.

“Summer… please…” She glanced at
Dean and saw tears in his eyes—real tears. He’d never shed a tear as long as
she’d know him. “Go… save our baby.”

Summer watched as the tears
trailed down Dean’s sweat covered face. His chocolate eyes were melting and it
broke her heart to see the pain within them. He’d only come close to tears when
Sabrina was born. The moment the doctor placed the small bundle in his arms he
turned and blinked away the emotions. It wasn’t like him to admit that he was
only human, but as he stood on the sidewalk in the cold rain, bleeding from the
knife wound, she was sure that hiding his emotions was the last thing on his
mind.

Drawing a deep breath, Summer
forced herself to look away. The taillights of the Mercedes were now only faint
dots in the darkness. Relax. Settle down, she thought. Sabrina’s watching out
the back window, waiting for me—Summer glanced at her jittery fingers and
almost laughed—to rescue her.

She reached down and shifted the
car into gear then tightened her trembling hands on the steering wheel until
her knuckles were bright white.

Seeing Dean stagger back from the
car, she slowly pulled from the curb, cutting across the empty lane and
gradually accelerating down the road. The Mercedes’ taillights winked once then
disappeared out of sight, around the corner.

The raindrops doubled in size,
landing through the open window like a hundred cold, wet slaps against her
face. After fumbling with the button, the window sliced through the assault,
streaking Dean’s blood down the entire window as it rose. She turned her head,
trying not to look as the rain washed it quickly away. High speed pursuits had
always been so easy, but now it was more than she could bear. Add in the
factors of rain—and finding the fucking switch for the wiper blades—and this
was downright impossible.

She wanted to scream. She wanted
to lash out and strike something—anything! When she approached the corner, she
knew she’d have to trust her instincts. There was no time to slow down and
cautiously manoeuvre around it like an old person with failing eyesight.
Instead she’d need to push herself—challenge her years of training to overcome
the emotionally crippling disease John Scott had planted in her mind.

Summer held her breath and turned
the corner at a high speed. She nervously waited, praying that her hands would
obey and prevent the car from crashing into the buildings across the road. The
tires slipped and the car began going into a full out slide. Her heart pounded
so hard she was amazed it didn’t burst.