Tag Archives: cabin;

Chapter Sixty–Six: Reprise

19 Jul
Now you know one reason my daughter's picture is here. But wait, there is more.

Now you know one reason my daughter’s picture is here. But wait, there is more.

So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.  Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.

So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.
Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.

Peaches tied Wilbur’s hands and feet securely. She also thought his name was Wilbur, because she had not yet looked at the ID in his wallet. Once she saw it had neither money nor credit cards, she quit looking. She went back behind the bush where she had gotten it, replaced the rifle in its waterproof container and rehid it. Who knows. It came in handy once, it might do so again.

She had no place she could go, no place she could take them, except back to the cabin where it all began. The cabin where she had discovered her true calling in life. Murder by torture. She smiled at the thought. The smile showed no hint of the evil lurking behind it.

In reality she wanted to go back. It had so many good memories, going back to her childhood, and recent memories. For her the cabin was where it all began. It was where she learned to play hide and seek, where she learned how to swim, where she mastered the art of jumping rope, and where she made her first kill.

On the way she stopped at another stash point and picked up a Smith and Wesson snub nosed .38 revolver. By the time they reached the cabin the light was fading and night was commencing.

Peaches was five foot seven and a half inches tall and athletic. Dragging L C Into the cabin, up the stairs, by her feet was not the easiest thing she ever did, but it was done in a decent amount of time. L C, equally as athletic, was heavy for her size and shape. Once inside Peaches rested a minute and took stock. Lonnie was going to be a different story. She decided to cut his feet loose and let him walk. Once decided she went into the kitchen, found a knife in the usual place, and headed out the door. Not looking at L C.

The minute L C found herself back in the cabin she began to try to formulate a plan of escape. She knew the layout by heart. The broken window, on the other side of the room from her, let out on the downhill side. Somewhere down there was a road. Feet tied together. Hands tied behind her back. Getting to the window would be a trick. Getting up and out the window would be another. Ballet and tumbling. She knew she was limber enough to slide her tied hands down her butt, past her legs, and get them in front of her. But what good would that do? And if Peaches came back and saw L C’s hands in front of her — There would never be another chance.

L C Pushed her back up against the wall furthest from the broken out window. Inch by inch by inch she pushed herself to a standing position with her back against the wall. Twice she almost fell over on her side, but managed to catch herself.

Lonnie walked into the room, followed by Peaches.

Peaches barely glanced at L C She shoved Lonnie down on his face, placed the gun on the floor beside her, and took out a rope to tie his feet.

L C took a deep breath. “Now or Never.” She told herself.

Rolling her head forward, letting her hands slid down her back, past her butt, below the backs of her knees, L C began to roll as the back of her neck came into contact with the floor, and her feet slid out through the rope. When she came up out of the roll her hands were now in front of her, reaching for the windowsill. Grabbing it she pushed herself through into another long roll.

Peaches realized L C had moved and looked at her. What she saw was L C’s tied feet disappearing through the window.

She grabbed the gun, ran to the window and fired two shots. She saw a shadow disappear amongst other shadows. She fired again, taking more careful aim. No result. Cussing, Peaches climbed out the window and headed downhill.

Lonnie saw Peaches climb through the window. He realized his legs had not been actually tied. They just had a rope wrapped around them. Not having L C’s limberness, Lonnie had an extremely difficult time getting the rope off and then standing. There was no way he could get his hands in front of his body.

L C kept rolling. She suffered scrapes and gouges, but she kept rolling end over end until she reached undergrowth. She knew no matter how fast she rolled a person on foot, running, could catch her. When she found a bush in the blackest shadow of the black shadows, she swung her body parallel to it and stopped. Behind her now she could hear her pursuer. Every part of her body ached. She could hear her own ragged breathing. To make herself as small as possible she curled into the fetal position.

Lonnie knew he could not go through the window as the women had. He backed up to the front door and managed to turn the knob and pull it open with his hands still behind his back. Once outside he ran wildly downhill.

Her pursuer was not running full-bore. She was trying to listen as she moved. She was so close she almost stepped on L C When she strained her vision she could almost see a darker shadow standing almost over her.

They heard the sound of a runner crashing through the brush and limbs at the same time. When Peaches raised the revolver from her side up to aiming position a light glinted off the tiny barrel. “She thinks it is me,” thought L C “It must be Wilbur.” L C was already in the fetal position, like a coiled spring. She judged where she was sure Peaches body was located and kicked outward and upward.

She felt her feet strike a soft body. The revolver went off wildly. Lonnie, unable to stop, or slow, his momentum, smashed into Peaches. The two of them went tumbling. The revolver fired again.

Lonnie lurched to his feet and blindly took off running downhill.

Peaches swore under her breath. Stood over L C And pulled the trigger twice. It simply clicked. Click. Click. On empty cylinders.

L C in spite of herself said, “I thought you only fired five shots.”

“Idiot.” Peaches yelled. “This isn’t the old west. It’s a Smith and Wesson. It only holds five shots.”

Peaches pocketed the revolver and began to hunt for something to club L C With. L C figured kicking out from the fetal position worked once it might work again. She did. It did. She heard a yelp of pain.

L C began dive rolling downhill again. She did not hear any sound of pursuit.

She kept rolling and rolling endlessly until she finally rolled out onto an asphalt road, was suddenly splashed in a glare of headlights, and heard the squealing of brakes that were being desperately applied, then the squeal of tires sliding on the asphalt out of control.

© 2015 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Sixty — Five: With Nowhere To Go

28 Jun

Now you know one reason my daughter's picture is here. But wait, there is more.

Now you know one reason my daughter’s picture is here. But wait, there is more.

So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.  Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.

So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.
Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.

 

 

 

 

“Looks like the car stopped in the middle of nowhere, on a back road, just inside the city limits,” Delavera frowned at her equipment which consisted of the GPS finder and her nine-inch smart tablet.

“ETA?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes. Depending on the road.”

“She could switch cars and be anywhere.” Morgan was not happy.

“Maybe her and her boyfriend are playing huggy bear smacky mouth.”

“Never heard that expression before.”

“Want to know a good Spanish word for it?” Delavera looked innocent.

“I know a good Spanish word for it.”

“Ahh. I thought maybe you know more Spanish than you let on. Are you holding out on me?”

“Lets say if we ever meet a Mexican who can’t speak English I’d rather have you talk with him than try it myself.”

Eventually they found the abandoned car.

Delavera spotted the flash drive under the driver’s seat. There was another wedged tightly into the back of the seat. She plugged them into her nine inch smart tablet. One contained nothing. On the other she accessed the only file it contained. They listened without a word from the beginning, “Fancy meeting you here. Peaches Pardot,” To the end, ”It wasn’t murder, honey, it was a mercy killing.” Which was where the conversation was when Lonnie fumbled the recorder and dropped the flash drive under the seat.

For the first time since they had met each other Delavera lost all pretense in her attitude. “My God. She is out there somewhere with a murderer and it is almost dark.”

By the time the tow truck arrived it was.

 

 

© 2015 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty — Seven: The CIA

15 Feb
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

 

 

For a long time L C had time to lay and think. She had nothing but time and discomfort. She had never heard of Cody Daggit. His listing in the newspaper was a one inch column. The information given was consistent with what would have been expected. Known druggie found dead of a drug overdose. L C had not seen it.

 
The murdered man had gotten around. The police thought he was her fiance, Nathaniel Norman. This guy, who kidnapped her, thought he was a CIA agent named Mr. Penn.

 
In the newspapers he was known as Peter Johnson.

 
It was beginning to work out in her head. Peter Johnson had hired a druggie named Cody Daggit to wire the cabin with surveillance equipment. Peter Johnson told the druggie he was a CIA operative. He also told the druggie the cabin was a safe house for the CIA.

 
That meant somewhere there were videos of L C and Nathaniel that were extremely intimate.

 
The police could not find any person named Nathaniel Norman. He did not exist. They also said Peter Johnson was the real owner of the cabin. So Peter Johnson had his own cabin wired by a druggie who was part techie geek.

 
Great.

 
Why?

 
Worse, Cody’s drugged out brother was going to wake up soon. He thought she was CIA. He thought the CIA had killed his brother. Why had he kidnapped her? What did he hope to gain? What did he plan on doing with her?

 
When Lonnie groaned into wakefulness L C was still trying to figure out how she could use any of this information to her advantage.

 
Eventually he propped her chair up so she was sitting upright in spite of the fact one of the legs was broken off. Lonnie took the gag out of her mouth. It was wet and yucky. He tossed it into a corner. He studied her carefully as though trying to make up his mind to something.

 
“I wish you wouldn’t look at me until I’ve at least brushed my hair and teeth.” L C said, as pleasantly as possible.

 
“Not very tough for a CIA agent are you?”

 
L C did not know what to answer so she said nothing. They held each others eyes. When she said nothing he nodded. “Just like Cody said about Mr. Penn. Neither confirm nor deny.”

 
He went back to the couch and sat down.

 
L C added this bit of information to the puzzle she was trying to form in her head. She was sure when she had enough pieces in enough places it would all make sense.

 
“What happened to the dog?”

 
“Left it on the front seat in the middle of an intersection. Figure someone report it. Or a cop come by. Figger the dog’s owner’ll take care of it.”

 
“What do you plan on doing with me?” For a split second Lonnie noticed she spoke clear and perfect English even though she was under duress. Everybody he knew would have said, “Whadda ya gonna do wi’ me?” It proved to him that CIA training must be pretty spectacular.

 
Lonnie thought about that for a minute. Everything had been so clear last night. Today. Well today shit was wearing off. He didn’t have the edge he needed. He wanted to go get what he needed but he didn’t want to leave this CIA agent alone for too long. No telling what resources she might have.

 
“Why the CIA kill Cody? He learn too much? Why did Mr. Penn give Cody an overdose?”

 
“CIA didn’t kill Cody.” L C Wasn’t sure why she told him that. She only knew it was the best thing to say. If this guy, Wilbur, thought she was CIA then she did not want him thinking the CIA killed his brother.

 
“Then who did?”

 
“The same person who killed Mr. Penn. That is his Spy Name. His cover name was Peter Johnson. Mr. Penn tried to save Cody. But he was too late.” L C could tell she had Wilbur’s interest. Her mind was working at frantic speed, hoping to say the right things. Hoping he wouldn’t get some idea in his drug induced fantasies to kill her.

 
Lonnie, who had forgotten he had pretended last night to be Wilbur Daggit, Cody’s brother, was interested. He wanted to hear more. If the CIA hadn’t whacked Cody, then there was still a chance he himself might work for them someday. Be a hero. Like Cody. But he would try to be more careful than Cody and not get killed.

 
“So who did kill Cody?”

 
“That is one of the things we have to find out.” L C didn’t care about an overdosing druggie named Cody, but she did care about finding Peter Johnson’s murderer. Anything to prove herself innocent of the crime she did not do.

 
She watched Wilbur closely as he mulled things over in his mind. He reached behind the couch. Pulled out a brief case.

 
“That’s Nathaniel’s.” L C burst out in surprise.

 
“You recognize it.”

 
“Yes.”

 
“It has some stuff in it. I think it is in code. Can you decipher it?”

 

“Can you untie me?”

 
Lonnie studied her closely.

 
“No. I want you to look at these papers. Tell me what they mean.”

 
It wasn’t easy to do. Him holding up one paper at a time was difficult to keep track of the papers she had seen before.

 
“Look, Wilbur,” she said at one point, pausing him to stop and almost correct her before he remembered. She did not know him as Lonnie. She knew him as Wilbur. “This is almost impossible. If I could at least spread them out on the floor.”

 
Something about her not knowing who he really was enabled him to release her more easily.

 
So he untied her.

 

 

 
© 2015 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty — Five: And Lonnie Makes Three

7 Dec
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

Lonnie did not turn the pickup lights on. He traveled over the hill in near darkness. He would like to have gone faster but felt being unseen was the best card he could play in the situation.

 
Patience did not come easily. Luckily the pickup was new, silent, and dark colored. There were a lot of back roads up here, they led in a lot of directions. If it were not for he fact he had a prisoner stashed in a closet in the safe house going over the top of the hill would not have been the most reasonable thing to do.

 
On the other hand, simply because it would be unreasonable, it would also be unexpected.

 
Coming at the house, not uphill from the road, but downhill from the hill itself, Lonnie coasted the last two miles. Catching the person in the ninja suit by surprise. They had been listening for an engine, not the small hiss of rolling tires.

 
“Keep quiet,” said the breathy voice, “or I will shoot you first.”

 
L C’s heart began to race.

 
Footsteps could be heard on gravel, up the creaky steps, across the porch. The front door opened. Steps entered. The door was not pushed shut. Steps sounded down the hall, around the wall, and proceeded to the closet. There was fumbling. The closet door opened.

 
Frantic movements followed. A man’s voice cussed.

 
“She is behind you.” A breathy voice said.

 
Lonnie stepped back and spun around quickly trying to find the source of the voice. So Quickly he collided with L C and the chair she was tied to. He tried to grab hold of it to steady himself. Instead he grabbed L C’s face. She pulled it out of his grasp, pulling off the blindfold in the process.

 
Lonnie, chair, and L C crashed to the floor.

 
L C did her best to keep her wits about her, to try to understand where she was and what was happening. Lonnie just groaned.

 
“That is pathetic,” said the breathy voice.

 
Lonnie struggled to rise up. When he did so the voice continued, “I have a gun. I will use it. Don’t try anything smart or you will die before we have a chance to chat.”

 
Lonnie began to shake. Starting with his chin and finding a home somewhere in his knees. Wild eyed he searched the darkness for the source of the voice.

 
“Pick her up.” Lonnie looked around. There was some lighter patches of dark. He searched them.

 
“In the chair fool. Pick her up.”

 
Lonnie moved, bumped the chair with his foot. Struggled to set L C upright. Eventually he succeeded.

 
“Tell me,” ordered the breathy voice, “who you are and why you are here.”

 
“My, my name. My name is Wilbur Daggit. I’m Cody Daggit’s brother. You people killed my brother.”

 
There was a pause before the breathy voice continued. “You people? Explain?”

 
“I know you people are with the CIA. I know you had my brother killed. I know this is a safe house. I followed all of you here. I know. I know.” Lonnie began to sidestep back and forth, one side to the other. “Cody was working for Mr. Penn. A CIA agent who brought Cody here a couple of times.”

 
Another pause. Then the breathy voice asked directly, “Are you on drugs?”

 
“Hey, man, I’ve cut way back, dude. Way back. And only the good stuff. Drugs got nothing to do with what I know. I know Cody was setting up spy equipment for you guys, for the CIA, and he learned too much and you killed him.”

 
“Spy equipment here? In the safe house?”

 
“Yeah. For the guy who got who got killed here. The newspaper called him something else, but his name he told Cody, was Mr. Penn.”

 
Whatever the breathy voice from the darkest corner of the room was going to say next was cut short.
Something lunged panting onto the porch. Long toe nails scrapped across the wooden floor of the hallway and rounded the corner.

 
From out of nowhere the dark, shadowy shape of a german shepherd appeared. It was headed for lonnie, but the person in the ninja suit reacted before it realized that fact. Shot. There was a flash. There was sound as the bullet left the barrel. Another sound as the dog howled in fury and turned toward the person who had wounded it.

 
Harry had been following the pickup for miles, intent on the driver, Lonnie. The pain, the attack, from the darkest corner of the room came as a complete surprise. However he did not hesitate.

 
Two shadows formed in front of the window, which was only minimally lighter than the rest of the inside of the cabin. Then they blended to one. There was a growl, a human yelp, some scuffling and cussing, then a human shape went out the window. The animal tried to follow, but was too wounded.

 
The dog whined and lay breathing heavily. Someone could be heard running though the woods.

 
Lonnie grabbed the back of the chair L C was tied in and drug her out the front door. It took some effort but he hoisted her into the back of the pickup, her and the chair laying on its side. As he put the gag back in her mouth L C told him, “The dog. Get the dog. You can’t leave it here.”

 
“Okay, okay,” Lonnie said and did as he was told, laying the dog alongside of her just before he closed the tailgate.

 

 

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty–Three: Scheherazade

8 Nov
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Blindfolded, in the dark, L C was unaware how the person in the room with her was dressed. Only that they flitted about the room almost invisibly and almost soundlessly. She was not sure if the breathy voice was meant to be sexual or if it were from some ailment, such as throat cancer.

She did know she was in danger from this person, but the danger did not seem immediate.

When the person started asking her questions she thought of Scheherazade, and how she kept the shah captivated for a thousand and one nights. So she complied, telling her story in the most interesting fashion she could think of and in the most drawn out version she could think of. Including speaking slowly and enunciating clearly.

Sometimes it was almost tempting to think she was talking to herself, keeping herself company in the dark, until a breathy voice would ask a question. She was reminded of the third man syndrome. How when a person is alone and in danger their senses become confused and they become convinced there is another person with them. As she talked into the dark silence she wondered if she had invented some kind of twisted, invisible friend.

At times she would be talking to a dark shadow, thinking that was where her capture was, when the voice would suddenly come from somewhere else. It was upsetting and L C realized her capture was playing with her. She was the mouse, the talking mouse, and the person in the darkness was a sadistic cat.

The person in the ninja suit listened. It was a way to pass the time, to toy with the woman secured to the chair, and learn things hitherto unknown, some not even guessed at.

They resisted the temptation to chuckle.

© 2014, all rights reserved

Chapter Fifty —One: A Mouse In The House

5 Oct
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

The person in the black ninja suit sat contemplating the room, savoring the memories of their first kill. Savoring the tortures they had committed, the expressions of pain and dismay on the face of the victim. A victim the killer felt deserved every second of pain and misery they received.

This time there was a distinct thump. Not a scratch.

The ninja rose. Pulled out a thirty-eight Smith and Wesson five shot revolver. Quietly, on padded feet, the ninja went along the wall, following it until they found the handle to the closet.

Inside the closet L C did not hear a sound. She had no clue if anyone were within a thousand miles.

Quickly opened the door.

There was a strangled noise as a bundle fell out on the floor.

The ninja took out a flashlight wrapped in layers of black cheesecloth. Enough light shown for close up inspection, but was hard to see even a few feet away.

Right now it played across L C’s face.

The ninja had spent a lot of time practicing talking using all breath and no voice. A whisper, it carried no clue as to the sex or voice of the person using it. With practice a person can make the whisper carry without strain.
“And what have we here? All tied up and ready for … What are you ready for?”

L C lay on her side, tied to the chair, her face to the floor, unable to answer. Gagged and blindfolded, only aware that this could not be the person who put her in the closet in the first place.

The breathy voice continued. “I know who you are. You are the Davenport girl. The one the police say committed murder right here in this cabin.”

It was the first time L C knew where she was at. She tried to see who was in the room with her, but the darkness and the ninja suit did its job well. The complete breathyness of the voice did its job just as well. All L C could tell was there was a human being in the room with her.

The human being hauled the chair upright with no sign of gentleness. Reached over, grabbed the duct tape covering the gags in her mouth, and yanked hard. To L C it felt as though her skin was being ripped from her face. She tried to yell but gagged on the cloth that had been shoved into her mouth. Those also were pulled out without ceremony.

L C was crying and sobbing, largely incoherent.

The ninja did not hurry her. There were other things to think about. On the surface this was a pure gift. The woman accused of the murder the ninja had committed sitting here like a spitted goose just waiting to be cooked.

On the other hand who, besides the person who had committed the murder, would want to tie her up and have her at their mercy?

Who would bring her here?

Why?

Killing the Davenport woman and hiding her body would be the perfect answer. No trial, no questions, no one probing around. Everyone would believe she had skipped the country.

Except the person who put her here.

The person in the ninja suit slapped L C, hard. “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“How did you get here?”

L C could not understand why the person was whispering. “In the trunk.”

The person in the ninja suit was certain there had been no cars in the vicinity when they entered the cabin. Nevertheless they left L C in the chair and went out the front door to look. There were no vehicles anywhere.

Once back L C had calmed down.

Remembering to speak with all breath and no voice, the person in the ninja suit asked, “Someone brought you here and just left you?”

“Yes.”

This was going to take some serious thought.

The expedient thing to do was to simply kill her and dispose of the body where it would not be found. The most pleasurable thing would be to get her somewhere where she could be tortured at leisure.

There was a problem with either plan.

There was no car. No vehicle. Ninja like, the murderer had hiked in. There was no way to get either her living body, or her dead body, away from here easily without detection. Dragging her body across the ground would leave marks that would be almost impossible to cover over. Wouldn’t even need a forensic team to find it. A dog or a sharp detective could unravel everything.

Plus the other thing. Someone had left her and was no doubt planing on coming back.

At the minute it seemed absolutely essential to know who that someone was and why they had tied her up and left her here. The only answer the ninja could think of was “There is another serial killer running around here.” The question was would this other killer be someone who would want to work together, or someone who would be an implacable enemy.

“I have to know.”

 
© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Forty — Eight: Caught

16 Aug

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

 

Lonnie figured out he needed money, a legal car he could drive, and he needed to get rid of this hot car. Not a problem. A forty-five minute drive to the chop shop and by morning he’d be all set.

He was still thirty minutes away from the chop shop when he saw the red light behind him. He was still in the same heavily wooded area. An area he would have never known existed had he not discovered the safe house used by the CIA. Now he knew the area well. He had been prowling around it since the day he discovered it.

That was when he took stock. That was when he wished he had continued to follow all of the advice Cody had given him.

That was when he wished he had applied it to this day, this trip, this car, if to no other.

Cody told him never to steal a car when he was high, stoned, or even had a drink. Right now Lonnie had enough crap in him to overdose any three people who hadn’t built up a tolerance to it.

Cody told him to never have drugs in a stolen car with him. And to search it as soon as possible. If the car had drugs in it to stash them. Right now Lonnie had enough drugs in the car to be legally called a dealer.

Cody told him never to be in a car longer than it took to get rid of it. An hour at the most. Right now Lonnie had been driving it around for almost eight hours.

Cody told him never to have a weapon of any kind in a stolen car. Not even a pocket knife. Lonnie not only had one in here he had gone back to his house to get it and had promptly forgotten it. Right now it was shoved under the armrest.

Cody told him to never commit any other crime while in a stolen car, unless it was only stolen to get him to the crime scene and away, to protect his identity. Then ditch it as quick as possible.

Did kidnapping count?

At least she wasn’t still in the trunk.

Oh, shit. His mind raced. If they caught him now he was not going to get out on bail any time soon. Oh, shit. She was all tied up like one of those rolled roasts you see in the meat section. Then she was tied to the chair and he did it all over again. Oh, shit. Then he locked her in that damn closet and all but nailed the damn thing shut. Oh, shit, shit.

She was going to die in there.

Oh, shit.

The cop car was catching up. The lights were reflecting inside the roof of the car now. He could hear the siren’s wail.
Unless he told them where she was. He would have to tell on himself. Car theft. Weapons trafficking. Drug dealing. Kidnapping. Oh, shit. Kidnapping a CIA agent. Terrorist activity. He wouldn’t even be entitled to a phone call or an attorney or any American rights.

Oh, shit.

To save her life he would have to tell. If he told he would never see daylight again the rest of his freaking worthless piece of shit life and he couldn’t even get high to ease the pain.

Oh, shit.

How had things gone so wrong so fast?

One thing was sure. He could never tell them about the woman in the closet in the cabin. If he got caught she was on her own. She was going to die in there. Die a slow death of thirst and starvation. That would have to be an awful way to die. Slow and miserable.

He was going to feel badder than hell about that.

 

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Cabin

24 Nov
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading TheMapThinker.com

L C couldn’t wait to see Nathaniel. She was literally bursting with things to tell him. Everything from tentative arraignments with caters for the wedding to the trip to Europe suddenly sprung on her by the Langlins.

She did not have to do much that morning. She had done most of it the night before. Pretty much just get in the car and head up the hill. She expected to be at the cabin by daylight. When she turned off the main road to go up the hill she could just see the outlines of the tree tops against an almost blue sky.

The road started out a potholed blacktop that eventually became gravel that slowly disappeared into well rutted hard dirt. Her headlights showed a strip of tan dirt in front of her bordered by a strip of green that darkened into the deepest black. It was then she saw the figure just as she rounded the corner. She slammed on the brakes, although she had been traveling under fifteen miles per hour.

She would have sworn she had not taken her eyes off the road, but by the time she stopped the figure was gone. She had the impression of a young, gangly male.

Quickly rolling down the window she listened. Something was plowing through the bushes. Clumsy noises, but she wasn’t sure how a scared animal would sound.

L C rolled up the window and went on.

As she turned the next corner she looked back. She would have sworn she saw the same figure in the road watching after her. Then the figure was gone.

L C suddenly had pictures run through her mind of movies she had seen where a lone couple were stranded in a remote place, a country cabin, an island, a mansion, somewhere in the middle of nowhere – Just as she and Nathaniel would be soon – While some pack of punks or killers were hounding them.

And there was no cell phone service up here. And no land line at all.

Should she go back? Anything could happen. Or have happened. Nathaniel could be dead up there in the cabin by now. All bloody and icky. L C shuddered.

She had decided she had watched too many late night movies. Ones where the heroine did something stupid, others where they tried to tell the police something was wrong but the police wouldn’t believe them because they had no proof, and the list went on.

Truth was even if she had clearly seen a gangly teenager on the road there was no reason for the foreboding she felt. None at all.

She had to concentrate not to speed up the old dirt road. She did not want to get stuck and have to walk three miles in.

When she finally reached the cabin the sun was poking its nose out its nighttime blanket and there was color once again in the world. The lights shining from the windows reminded her of a Kinkade painting. She thought of Kinkade as a modern Currier and Ives without the snow. She wondered how either of them managed to get so much detail into a picture.

As soon as she stopped the tiny car the Langlin’s allowed her for her own use and to transport “Little Zena” around in, Nathaniel was at the picturesque door of the cabin and he was opening it.

He looked like what he was, a man who headed his own department: Dark eyes, dark hair, square of face and jaw, neither plump nor muscular, but competent. Business suits looked as natural on him as two piece bathing suits looked on L C The only thing that contrasted with the image of a suave executive was a small scar just behind his left jaw, barely under his left ear that looked like a burn mark.

He explained the scar in a self depreciating manner, “When I was eighteen I thought military life was a lot more adventurous than college plus the promise they would pay for my education when I got out. That is the upside. The downside is that most of military life is boring unless you are getting shot at. Unfortunately it gives a lot of people a free ticket to shoot at you. We were on a mission. We got shot at.” He pointed to the scar, “That is what a close call looks like,” and then he smiled.

He stood at the door smiling now. She was relieved to see him, and literally fell into his arms.

He laughed, “Whoa, babe, I have hot coffee here.”

“I’m just so glad to see you.” Now she felt silly discussing a young man she wasn’t even sure she saw when everything seemed so normal and safe.

By the time they had finished breakfast she had forgotten about it. They discussed the Langlin’s emergency trip and he seemed more interested in understanding why they needed to make it than in whether she should go or not. She could not get a straight answer out of him whether she should go or not or how he felt about her going and she was becoming frustrated.

When they were ready to go swimming she suddenly had a picture of a bunch of young hoodlums hiding in the bushes watching them. No telling what they might be planning. She told  Nathaniel about the young man but he seemed unconcerned.

“Not much chance they would get up this far. If they drove up we can hear them. Nobody walks that far now days.”

Hearing it put that way made L C laugh at herself and her fears.

Still she did not take out her skimpiest two piece bathing suit. She wore the one with the over skirt and semi jacket top. Intended as a quick cover up so a gal could go straight from a dip to the night club without really changing, or vice versa. Quick–on–the–draw modesty if needed.

The river here walked softly around a little elbow that served them as a pond, pouring in from more shallow, faster waters, and disappearing into shallower, faster waters providing a nice background of tinkly white noise that helped comfort and relax.

A frog on the bank announced himself.

Right here was a pool sized area of peace and calm that was deep and slow, reflecting the green of the trees and the blue of the sky while still allowing them to see the fish scurry away when they approached too close.

Once she had looked up and seen a deer looking back at her.

There were no deer today, but there were plenty of chirping birds, the rustling of leaves, and the smell of fresh growing things. Soon she had forgotten every worry in the world.

Laughing and racing up to the cabin they both looked at the door at the same time. It was open. They both stopped laughing. They both stopped moving. They looked at the door, then they looked at each other. Nathaniel motioned for her to wait, but she chose to follow close behind him instead. He became intent on what he was doing and ignored her. She knew he was watching ahead of them so she tried to watch everywhere else, just in case, so on one could sneak up behind them.

To herself she cursed the fact there was no cell service up here.

He pushed the door open slowly. He looked through the crack by the hinges to see if anyone was waiting behind the door. They weren’t.

L C wondered if it would not be a better idea to just get in the car and go, but felt it was a bad idea to distract him. After all he was the one who had been in combat, not her. Still … Leaving a situation that could turn in any direction imaginable seemed like the best idea to her.

Pictures of possibilities ran through her mind. Whoever was here could have tampered with the car. Leaving them stranded inside and even more vulnerable to whoever was outside of it.

They could get in the car and drive to the police station, or at least a phone. Leaving whoever was here alone and safe to rifle the place, take what they wanted and be gone for up to three or four hours. Plenty of time to do anything they wished.

Get the police up here only to go inside and discover the door had been opened by a raccoon who was inside calmly munching potato chips.

It gave L C a feeling of confidence when Nathaniel strode over to the fireplace and grabbed the fireplace poker with a sure hand, no diffidence. He held it, not like a baseball bat, but with his hands spread shoulder width apart, like a man who had held similar instruments before and was able to use it.

There was no one in the house. Nothing was missing. Things had been moved around as though someone had been looking for something, but what?

They searched themselves. Pictures were moved, furniture was moved. But none of the drawers had been opened, places where  a normal thief would look first. A chest of drawers had been moved away from the wall, otherwise it was undisturbed. As L C started to shove it back into place she looked down and saw the edge of an oblong wooden box underneath. It had been stuck underneath where it would not be seen without knowing where it was at.

She pulled the box out and looked at it. It looked similar to an old-time cigar box. Inside was a revolver. It was almost as long as her forearm. She took it out. It wasn’t loaded. The bullets were in a box of their own below the barrel. She turned it over. On the barrel was stamped “Smith and Wesson” and underneath “44 magnum.”

She looked to the door they had entered: To the fire-place: To the chest of drawers. The fireplace was on the far side of the room. The chest, and the gun, was almost within reach of the door. He could have had the pistol out, loaded, and ready in almost the same amount of time it took to get the poker. The revolver would have provided a lot more security; so why hadn’t he gotten it instead of heading to the poker?

L C held it up for Nathaniel to look at.

“This yours?”

“No. Not mine. Never saw it before.”

She laid the revolver, the box, and the bullets out on the top of the chest for him to look at.

“I let a friend of mine use this cabin every once in a while.”

“Why would he need a gun like that in a quiet nook like this?”

“He probably carries that when he hunts bear. He just forgot to take it back with him.”

“What do I do with it?”

“Put it back.” He showed no further interest.

“What about whoever ransacked the cabin?”

“What about them? Probably just that kid you saw.”

“What if they come back?”

Nathaniel shook his head, “He won’t. We scared him off. That is why the door was open. We were noisy. He heard us laughing and high tailed it. I think there is another cabin a few miles from here. Maybe he will hit that if he finds it.”

“Should we call the police and tell them?”

“Tell them what? There is a kid wandering around who didn’t steal anything? Who may or may not find another cabin to ransack? They won’t want to come all the way out here for that. They will ask us to go in to make a report. The last thing I want is to spend half a day sitting in a police station over nothing.”

She agreed, but the fun of the day was somehow gone.

Later, as they were eating breakfast she mentioned the odd incident she had at Stanhouser’s Market. He listened intently, chewing on his food. He said nothing until she had nothing more to say on the subject.

When she was finished he pushed his plate back. After a minute’s consideration he said, “This weekend has gotten off to a horrible start. I suggest we try again next weekend. Or maybe I will meet you and we can go somewhere else. There is a little town I haven’t been to in a while. Maybe we could go there.”

“How about we could go there now?” L C felt her eyes click and felt a stab of emotion go through herself. She had planned on this entire day and night alone with Nathaniel and did not want to let go of it.

“No. I think I need to go clear some things up. And I think you should go with the Langlins tomorrow. It will do you good.”

“In that case I will go now,” she said, feeling abandoned for the second time in the same week. And she did, leaving the dirty dishes on the table and in the sink for him to clean up.

(c) 2013 All Rights Reserved

 

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