Her Dangerous Promise - Part 4: (Romantic Suspense Serial) (2 page)

Chapter Four

Mary skimmed the cat litter with her scooper and ferreted out all the stinky landmines Fizgig left her. He’d been productive and her plastic grocery bag was a quarter of the way full when she completed the job. Of course, with a newly cleaned litter box at his disposal, Fizgig hopped in, wiggled into position and stared meditatively into the middle distance. Mary sighed and waited for him to finish the job and bury the lump to his satisfaction, before mining it out of the sand and adding it to the collection.

“You like having a clean bathroom, don’t you Fizzy?” she asked the cat. Fizgig shook himself, fluffing up his gray coat of fur.

Mary tied off the top of the shopping bag and balanced it on top of the overfilled garbage can. “Listen,” she said to Thom over the wire she wore, “I’m going to run the garbage outside real quick. Okay?”

Mary waited and listened for the phone to ring. She gave Thom thirty seconds to call and object while she closed up the garbage bag with a twist tie.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.” She said, surprised Thom didn’t object and then smiled to herself for using a line from a wedding ceremony. Talk about your Freudian slips. After only a few days her thoughts already drifted toward matrimony. The very fact her subconscious picked those words implied hope, perhaps even faith, that the danger would pass, that tomorrow would come. Mary clung to that hope and her love for Thom and felt strengthened by them.

Still no call.

“I’ll be right back in a second then.”

Mary hoisted up the garbage bag and maneuvered it out the back door. Her back porch light illuminated only part of the backyard, leaving the narrow space where Brad hid in darkness. Mary scanned the black stillness of that niche but could not see him. “Good job,” Mary mumbled. She mused to herself how playing Hide and Seek as a child could teach a person how to conceal themselves so effectively that even as an adult the skill proved effective when lives depended on it.

As a teacher, it never ceased to amaze her how all the diverse curriculum of youth remained relevant into adulthood. Every few years the school board fought for funding to keep their music, art and physical education programs. Maybe she could turn her experience into something positive by sharing the story with the PTA about how Blind Man’s Bluff and Hide and Seek helped the police catch a kidnapper.

Mary held the garbage bag out away from her and marched it around the side of her house where she stored the big army green municipal garbage can between pick-ups. She dropped the bag inside and let the lid fall with a satisfying thump.

A second thump echoed in the night.

Mary spun around with a jump. She could see no one in the yard. The sound had seemed very close. Perhaps she was mistaken. Perhaps some trick of the night made a loud sound at a distance seem like a soft sound close by. Then again, it might have been Brad. Mary squinted at the space between the garage and the fence, hoping to see Brad wave apologetically but saw nothing.

Suddenly, Mary felt the icy stillness so acutely her skin ached. With Thom across the street listening in and Brad hiding only yards away, she expected to have some sense of being watched, or even just a feeling that she was not alone. The air around her hung so still, as if no one else existed in the world to breathe it and disturb the calm even slightly. She felt alone. Dangerously alone.

Unable to shake her unease, Mary crossed quickly to her back door. Quietly, she went back inside. With a last look through the window at the backyard, Mary locked herself in.

Touching the power pack of the wire on her back, Mary tried to reassure herself. “I’m back inside now,” she told Thom. “I have to confess, I wish you were with me right now. I’ve got a bad case of the heebie jeebies.”

Softly, Mary walked across her kitchen toward the living room. She’d hoped to see Fizgig sitting on the counter, waiting for her to offer him a treat but he’d abandoned her, too.

Her earlier musing about Hide and Seek suddenly crept over her like a chill. She did feel like she’d just counted to one hundred and everyone had hidden from her. She knew Thom hid across the street watching slyly through the blinds. She knew Brad cloaked himself so deeply in the shadow of the backyard that Mary couldn’t see him, even knowing where to look for him. Now Fizgig concealed himself in one of his secret spots where he would watch her patiently as she tore through the house trying to find him, only to stroll out with a yawn and a stretch whenever she gave up.

Mary whispered, “Ollie, Ollie, ox in free.” She listened to the muffled silence that replied. She felt overwhelmingly singular, with hidden eyes everywhere, watching her.

“Fizgig,” Mary called softly and cringed at the volume of her voice in the stillness. “Come here, little man. Come to Mommy.”

She crept on tiptoe two steps down the hall toward her bedroom. “Do you want a cookie? Come here and Mommy will give you a cookie.”

A wicked shudder of nerves tore through Mary even as she froze with sudden fear. She’d left every light in the house on. The hallway light, now switched off, offered no illumination to the bedroom beyond. The doorway yawned into a cavern of darkness as black as death.

She opened her mouth, wanting to make a sound, wanting desperately to call to Thom but her throat clamped closed as if some great fist squeezed around her neck. Her hands flew out to her sides and pressed against the walls on either side of the hallway to prevent her from sinking helplessly to her knees.

From the depths of her bedroom, the figure of a man stepped out from behind the door. He was a pure black shadow against the paler darkness of the room. The Grim Reaper in human form.

Mary’s heart slammed against her ribs and seemed to stop. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Her eyes struggled to focus on the outline of the figure that moved slowly forward but swimming speckles of light danced before her.

As he crossed the bar of light from the partially closed bathroom door, Mary could see he held Fizgig tucked like a newspaper under one arm. The flash of a long blade gleamed from the other hand.

Mary stumbled backward into the living room. “Thom.” She choked out the single word. Sucking in a shaking breath she forced herself to focus and called louder, “Thom!”

The man stepped into the full light of the living room. This was Adam Fielding. Even though she’d never laid eyes on him before, she recognized the man who’d held her hostage and had curled up beside her like a child. The man who’d strangled her and beaten Nancy. She’d been right about the details she’d told Thom but she never put them all together. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have pictured the man who loomed before her now.

More muscular than she’d imagined and a bit taller, Adam’s physical presence exuded malice. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt pulled tight around his face, Unabomber-style. Thick eyebrows knit angrily over his sharp eyes. There was no hint of the developmental condition in his face. Wide scratches marred his left cheek near his eye where Nancy left her mark of defiance. His lips, too large for the dimensions of his features, twisted in a pure expression of hate.

“You made a promise,” he growled. There was no mistaking his voice. Mary would never forget that voice. Her strength melted and drained like water out of her limbs. Adam brandished the knife under the cat’s chin. “You lied.”

Mary screamed, “THOM!”

Chapter Five

Dread saturated the air like a thick, black oil slick but Thom pressed onward. Each step compelled him closer to the terror but he couldn’t turn from it. Police and men in suits conferred in solemn voices outside Tammy Jo’s home. Thom slipped passed them unnoticed.

As he climbed the incline around the side of the family home, two officers led Tammy Jo’s mother, with her hands cuffed behind her, the other way.

The earthy fragrance of freshly tilled ground flavored the morning air. Thom rounded the corner of the house. In the backyard the recently planted flowers wilted in a heap of muddy topsoil. A hole less than two feet deep marred the garden like a pockmark. The void in the Earth mirrored the void he felt inside.

Thom ached to run away, to escape the truth. The muscles of his legs locked in anguish, preventing his escape. With a heart wrenching moan, he noticed the black plastic body bag. The man beside it zipped it up slowly and unable to resist, Thom’s gaze followed. The flaps came together as the zipper growled hungrily up, consuming inside the black shroud the shape of a young woman. First her long legs vanished, and then her dirt smudged dress. Her narrow wrists, bound with clothesline and unnaturally purple, rested sedately over her stomach.

A scream boiled inside Thom’s chest. He bit on his fist to block its escape but Thom couldn’t stop himself. His eyes slid up to the woman’s face. Her dirt packed blond hair matted around her lovely face. Only this time, she wasn’t Tammy Jo.

This time she was Mary Seeton.

“No!” Thom cried, his voice as torn as his heart.

A tender hand rested on his arm. “Thom.”

He turned toward the woman beside him and blinked. “Tammy Jo?”

Tammy Jo smiled. Her beautiful features were unmarred and peaceful. Sun burned in her hair, casting a soft glow all around her. “She needs you Thom.”

He turned back to Mary. Her eyes opened and darted about in panic.

Tammy Jo stepped back away from him. “Go to her, Thom. Go to her now.”

From the body bag, Mary reached for him.

Thom lunged forward and grabbed her bound hands. He tugged her toward him but the body bag twisted tight around her like an anaconda in a strangle hold.

“Help me!” she gasped, clutching to him.

He embraced her around the middle and struggled with all his might to snatch her out of the body bag.

She screamed, “Thom!”

The scream ripped through Thom’s head like a thunderbolt. He jerked awake but immediately fell back on his side. His head hurt worse than the time during his rookie year when his patrol car slipped on an icy road during a high speed pursuit and collided head-on into a bridge abutment.

Gradually, he became aware of his surroundings. First and foremost was the pain, which seemed to soak into and distort all his senses. Pushing the aches aside as best he could, he opened his eyes.

The darkness was close and smelled of sweat and motor oil. Most sounds were muffled. But not the voices.

Thom tried to reach up to touch the ear where the voices talked so loudly but his hands were pinned behind his back. Twisting around, Thom managed to sit up on the metallic and grooved ground beneath him.

Pale light coming from the right faintly illuminated his surroundings. The light shone from a street lamp and it spilled through the windshield of a van. Besides the two captain’s chairs up front, there weren’t any seats. Thom struggled to get his feet under him but they were bound too.

His ankles were crossed and secured with several layers of duct tape. From the hot sticky feeling across his mouth preventing him from speaking, Thom suspected a strip of duct tape covered his mouth as well. His wrists were crossed and no matter how hard he twisted, the bonds held him fast.

Thom searched around beside him for something he could use. Toward the back of the van he spotted someone else. Thom scooted closer and carefully brushed the dark hair covering the man’s face with his knee.

Even with the tape covering the lower half of his face, Thom could tell Brad still breathed. Dried blood matted his hair just above his ear. Thom nudged him but received no response. He required medical care, fast.

“Leave me alone,” the woman’s voice in Thom’s ear begged. Not just any voice, Mary’s voice. She was in trouble and from her tone she was terrified.

“How could you lie to me?”

Adam.

Run, Mary! Thom thought, Run!

But she didn’t run. Thom closed his eyes tight. Adam had missed the ear bud headphone Thom wore allowing him to tune in to the wire Mary wore. Helplessly, he listened as Mary pleaded with Adam.

Thom growled against the gag. The woman he loved was in mortal danger. He paused for the briefest of moments and acknowledged that thought. He did love her, more than anything he’d ever felt in his life, he loved Mary. Without question. Without reservation.

And she was in trouble.

In his arrogance, he’d put her at risk.

In order to save her, he needed to focus. He put the conversation buzzing in his ear out of his mind as best he could and searched the van. His gun, which had been on his waist, was gone. So was Brad’s. His radio was missing too. The utility belt he wore remained.

Thom backed up to Brad and probed the pouches. He felt and discarded his cuffs, a palm sized can of pepper spray and extra ammunition clips. No knife.

Leveraging himself against the side of the van, Thom inched his way up to his feet. He scooted closer to the handle at the back door. Just as his fingertips brushed the handle he lost his balance and crashed like a fallen tree to the floor. The sound echoed like a gunshot.

Cursing himself, Thom tried again. Every muscle complained as he forced himself back to his feet. He hooked his fingertips under the handle and tugged with all his might.

Locked.

Thom slid back down beside Brad.

Over the ear piece, Thom heard Mary cry his name.

Chapter Six

“Don’t hurt him,” Mary begged. She held her palm out as if the gesture alone might stop Adam.

Adam glared at her. “You said your cat was sick.”

Fizgig peered up at her doubtfully. He was trusting, too trusting. Even with a knife so close to his throat, he didn’t realize his danger, because if he did he would bite and scratch his way free. He depended on Mary for everything—food, water, protection. She loved the little guy.

“He is. He would get very sick without his medicine, like I told you.”

“You said he was shy, that no one else could touch him.” Adam held up Fizgig as evidence.

Mary shook all over. The more she tried to prevent it, the harder she trembled. Adam would kill her cat and then her. Where was Thom? They circled each other in the living room, in full view of the front window. Thom had to see her from across the street. He had to hear her over the microphone.

Adam stepped closer, “You said that and it was a lie.”

“No,” Mary retreated. “Not a lie. I didn’t lie. He never lets anyone but me hold him.” Mary tried to smile but it failed to feel convincing. “He must sense something special about you.”

A flicker of curiosity crossed Adam’s face.

Mary forced herself to breathe, forced herself to think. She had to be brave, like Nancy. She needed to take control of her situation, for Fizgig, for herself, for her kids. This stopped tonight, one way or another.

“He knows he can trust you,” she whispered. “He knows you won’t hurt him.”

The knife drifted away from Fizgig’s throat.

“That’s right,” Mary soothed. “He never hurt anyone. You don’t want to hurt him. Just put him down.”

He was listening to her. Mary felt as if she’d convinced a pit bull to stand still. At any moment he could strike but for this one second, he seemed to listen. Awkwardly, she stepped closer to the couch.

Mary swallowed hard. Adam wanted to let Fizgig go, she was sure of it. She inched up next to the back of the couch. Cutting her eyes sideways, she saw the baseball bat right where she’d left it. “Go ahead and let Fizgig go. You are not mad at him, right?”

Adam bent over at the waist and set Fizgig down. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m not mad at him.” He raised his eyes to burn at her. “I’m mad at you.”

“That’s okay,” Mary whispered. With a lunge, she snatched up the baseball bat. “I’m mad at you, too.”

Adam spun aside but not quickly enough. The blow came down on his shoulder, knocking the knife from his hand. The next strike caught him in the middle of the back and he dropped to the ground on his stomach.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Fizgig, startled by the activity, streak toward the bedroom. He would stay out of sight now. At least he would be safe, she thought. At least she’d been able to protect someone.

Mary rushed to the front door and yanked on it. Locked. She fumbled with it.

Adam snatched the baseball bat from her hand and tossed it across the room, where it struck the glass shelves displaying photos and china figurines, smashing the lot of them.

She flipped the last lock open. Mary jerked the door open but a hand pushed past her and shut it just as quickly. She tried to turn away from that arm but his other one shot between her and freedom. With him barring her escape and the heat of him against her back, Mary knew she was trapped. He hadn’t yet touched her but she could hear his angry breathing by her ear.

“Leave me alone,” she begged.

“How could you lie to me?” There was genuine hurt in his voice. “You swore on the lives of the kids in your class. How could you do that to them?”

“How could you do this to me?”

Adam grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. He slammed her back into the door. “What I did to you? I let you go. I kept my word.”

He pulled her toward him so their faces nearly touched. “You,” he slammed her against the door, making her head bounce painfully off it, “lied!”

He’d kill her now. Mary didn’t doubt his intentions in the least. In desperation, she shouted, “I know about your mother!”

“What?” Adam fisted his hands in the collar of her sweater.

“I know she died. She left you alone.”

Adam slammed her against the door again. “Everything is falling apart!”

“I can help you!”

“You called the cops on me.” He grabbed her around the throat. “They’re hunting me.”

“No,” Mary choked. She couldn’t breathe. Adam crushed her throat, crushed her life.

Sirens peeled in the distance.

Adam tossed Mary to the ground. She rolled to her side, coughing and gasping.

Red and blue lights reflected through the front window.

While Adam stood at the window. Mary scrambled to her feet. On shaky legs, she hurried to the back door.

Adam caught up to her. He clamped his vise-like grip on the back of her neck, pulling her up straight. “You aren’t getting off that easily.”

Mary scrambled before him as he forced her out the back door. She screamed, “Thom!”