Authors: Kristen Gibson
CHAPTER 21
Things looked hazy as I regained consciousness. It was cold and my body
ached. I was tied up in the basement. I hated basements. This, I hated more.
A funeral home
basement is about the worst place on earth to be when you’re being held against
your will. It’s not like it was a cozy space with daylight windows, or a
walkout. This was a place things went to be forgotten, or buried. At least it’s
how it felt with the 1950s washer-dryer set mocking me from a nearby corner.
No one was going to
see, or hear me through the tiny covered windows. No one was going to pass by,
because on nights we didn’t have viewings, or meetings, no one bothered to come
near the place.
My head swayed, and
my eyes kept opening and closing. I knew Ruggiano was dangerous, but right now
he flat out terrified me. I started twisting my wrists to break free, and
searched for a way out. As it stood, there was none, except the rickety stairs
behind the thugs holding me hostage. I shivered from the cold and my hopeless
situation.
“I wouldn’t be in
this position if it weren’t for that scum Sultan,” Ruggiano said to one of his
men. “And this one’s as stupid as her father. Who is she protecting anyway?”
I tried to act
passed out, but shock jarred my insides. What did Ruggiano have to do with my
dad?
“Her family’s been
a thorn in my side for years. We deal with Sultan. Then we take care of her
family.”
The best I could do
was blink off and on as if struggling to break a cobweb haze.
“What do you want?”
I sounded drunk, but it helped conceal my fear. Whatever Ruggiano wanted was
must have been important. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here. Although, he could be
acting as brazen as the reports claimed.
“It appears you
have something I need.”
I thought of a
dozen sarcastic comebacks, but decided against using any of them until I knew
his intentions. This was not the time to get into a discussion of what he
needed from a ‘girl like me.’ I kept cool.
“What do you mean?”
I winced because talking with a swollen face hurt. A lot.
“I think you know
exactly what I mean.”
If he knew about
the key, he must be connected to Chloe’s case, and probably her death. If not,
then I was in more trouble than I thought. But I had to find out. So, I tried
to get him to tell me. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. Can you
elaborate?”
“Tom Clark gave it
to you at the viewing and I want it. Maybe you can tell I come from rough
beginnings. Patience doesn’t run in my family. And I think you know what kind
of family I’m talking about.”
“Capone or
Corleone?” It was a dig at his mob-ness. He knew it, but studied me and bared
his teeth. Maybe shooting off my mouth was not such a good idea.
My
hands were tied so tight there was no wiggle room. My desperate wrist
contortions only made things worse, and the strap dug deeper into my skin.
Breathing hurt and the pain seared from having my hands bound behind my back so
long. I needed to get out of here. I tried talking, actually reasoning with
him, but could only croak out a weak appeal. He was in charge, and wasn’t
interested in listening. He wanted the stage all to himself. Speaking was a
performance to him, like he held some imaginary audience captive, not just me.
He moved closer. My gut clenched as the smell of his cologne mixed with the
damp odor of the place. The single light bulb hanging from the grey ceiling
cast his face with monstrous shadows. I searched the room for another way out.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing came to mind. I braced myself, closed my eyes and
thought, we all come from somewhere. Then he knocked me out. Cold.
I woke up and
tasted blood. “Ouch!” It burned from my cheek to my eye. It couldn’t be good to
get knocked out this many times in a day.
“I gave you fair
warning. Stop nosing around and give me what I want,” he menaced.
One of the big guys
yanked back my hair until I thought it might rip out of my head in one clump.
“Ow! Okay, I give!”
I thought of how to cover. If we kept busy talking, maybe someone would find
me. “He said he wanted to express his condolences to the family, but they were
surrounded by people…all doing the same thing. I guess he had a work thing and
needed to leave. He came to the office looking for help. He found me.” My head
hurt, it was distracting. “Can you tell Thor #1 to ease up? I’d hate to pass
out before I give you what you want.” Okay, not the smartest thing to say, but
it worked. He loosened his grip on my scalp just enough for my face to fall
back into place.
“Thanks.”
“You were saying.”
Ruggiano wanted me to talk.
“The guy asked me
to give Mr. and Mrs. Ellis an envelope. Said there was a note inside.”
“What did it say?”
“I don’t know. I
didn’t read it.”
“Smart ass. What
did Tom say about the note?”
“Tom wanted to tell
them how much he respected Chloe. That he enjoyed working with her.” I eyed him
to see if he believed the story. “He thought it might help the family to know
she was appreciated.” It seemed plausible. Ruggiano could have bought it.
“Look, cookie. I’ve
seen plenty of smart girls like you make mistakes. In case you haven’t noticed,
it never ends well.” He bent down and got in my face. His thick brows furrowed
above dark brown eyes. “So, I’m gonna ask you again. Where is it?”
I was angry, and
possibly insane, because I started laughing at him. Hysterically.
“You think that’s
funny?” Ruggiano got mad. This time he had one of his goons try to break me.
Thor #2 yanked my head back and squeezed my neck until I thought it would break
apart from my body.
“Ow! Ow! OW!” I
screamed. Something sounded like tearing, and there may have been a pop. I
tried to force back tears, but the pain sizzled.
“No answer yet?
Maybe you need the right motivation?” The goon squeezed harder. “Should we
continue, or maybe we should find someone you actually give a damn about and
hurt them?” Ruggiano smiled at my pain.
“No, wait!”
Ruggiano and the
Thor Twins outnumbered me. There was no guarantee if I gave him anything that
I’d live to see tomorrow. So, I had to stall.
“I’ll give it to
you, but I have to get it first.”
Thinking on my
feet, I told him it was in a safe deposit box. We’d have to wait to do the
exchange until the bank re-opened. He looked at me for signs of a bluff, but I
focused on the pain in order to block out the lie. He bought it.
“Go get it first
thing. I’ll arrange for one of my ‘Twins’ to pick it up.”
“I will.”
I studied Ruggiano
this time. Trying to get a read on whether he believed me, or if he planned to
end my life now. He looked undecided.
Ruggiano signaled
for the guys to let me go. Either they were unhappy with Ruggiano calling them
‘his twins’ or they had no idea how to treat a lady. The brutes nearly sliced
me open cutting the zip-ties off then pushed me onto the floor.
“You better not be
lying, or I’ll find you and really break you.” Ruggiano liked threats. Probably
made good on a lot of them, too. He kicked at my side, and began his ascent
with his twins.
I curled up and
sobbed. Only for a couple minutes, because my instinct to flee kicked
in—before Ruggiano changed his mind and came back to finish me.
Panicked, I
staggered up to my apartment, turned on the lights in every room, and called
Cal. My bat was near my bed, so I grabbed it, curled up under the covers, and
cried some more.
Garrett arrived ten
minutes after my call. He tried to buzz me over the intercom, but I wouldn’t
respond.
“Mattie? Are you
okay?” He waited. “Mattie?”
I couldn’t speak.
Too much had happened.
“I’m coming up,” he
sounded really concerned. He should be. What was he thinking running off to see
Tess?
Knock, knock,
knock, knock. I knew he was coming, but I jumped anyway.
“Mattie, are you
hurt? Let me in!”
“Mattie,” I heard
Cal this time. He sounded calmer than Garrett. “Can you open the door?”
Instinctually, I
shook my head ‘yes’ even though he couldn’t see me. I pushed off the covers. My
feet hit the floor. Everything felt so cold as I walked slowly out of the
bedroom.
“Are you coming?”
Cal used his relaxed tone.
“Y-yes.”
“Okay, you’re doing
great. Just unlock the door and let us in, we’re here to help.”
By the time I got
to the door, the bat was shaking in my hands. I turned the locks. They waited
for me to open the door.
Garrett rushed in,
but Cal gave him a look of warning. I felt wobbly.
The next thing I
knew, I woke up in a hospital bed.
There was shrill
beeping followed by a bunch of muffled sounds as my brain came to, then I was
out.
I started to wake
up, again. How’d we end up here? Bad guy images flashed like film bits, and I
had to force my eyes open to make the pictures stop. My head throbbed. I hoped
the doc would give me something stronger than an ice pack for this
headache.
When the doc walked
in and flashed a smile. My mouth dropped open. Maybe he didn’t notice.
“Hi, I’m Dr.
Maxwell.” He extended his hand to shake mine. He lingered there a moment, and
looked into my eyes. Okay, so maybe he noticed and was just giving it back to
me, but he was young and good looking.
My doctor had dark
hair and brown eyes, and looked like he could still be in med school. He
flashed a light and looked into my eyes. I knew he was checking my pupils or something.
I’d seen them do it to mom before, but it was so bright, I pulled back. He
looked me over even after the light went out. I got the feeling he was trying
to figure something out. Maybe he was surprised by my injuries.
Cal and Garrett
brought me in, so they would have had to say something about my condition at
check-in. Not sure if there was an “injured by a psychopath” check box on the
admittance forms, but I’m guessing Cal had to tell them some version of the
story.
“Says here you had
a bad fall, is that right?”
“Yes.” I hesitated,
but figured it was best to play along.
“From a hayride,”
he sounded skeptical.
I hoped he didn’t
notice the corners of my mouth resisting a smile. “Thrown actually. I was
thrown from the ride. Shouldn’t have piled those hay bales so high, or let the
horses go so fast.”
Dr. Maxwell didn’t
believe me at all, it was obvious, but he didn’t pressure me for the truth.
“The good news is you don’t have a concussion.”
“The bad news?”
“You’ll be bruised
and sore for a while. You should get some rest the next couple days. Is there
someone who can help you around the house?”
“Yes,” I lied.
Dr. Maxwell eyed
me. He tore off a prescription sheet and handed it to me. “Here’s something for
the pain. My number is on there too. If you have any trouble, or if you need
anything, feel free to give me a call.”
I thanked him.
Garrett came in
just as Dr. Maxwell left. Garrett eyed the good doctor for a beat then turned
his full attention to me. He sat at my bedside and gave me an overview of what
he and Cal discussed. Cal had left for the police station. He planned to meet
us later and take my statement. Cal was a cop, and I trusted his instincts.
Even if it felt weird, I’d find a way to let him know about Tess and her texts.
Garrett promised to
have a guard posted at the funeral home. If mom asked any questions, we’d tell
her it was part of a security test. Garrett called it a concierge service they
were ‘looking into’ for high-end clients, people who wanted extra protection
during services and funerals. It startled me to consider a security detail, but
I trusted Garrett.
Besides, I’d seen
the guy the police brought to his kid’s funeral in an orange jumpsuit and
shackles—security might not be a bad idea.
Mom and I would act
as helpful test subjects. They’d even pay us for our ‘participation’. I sure
hoped she didn’t catch on.
The next item on
the agenda was my mother. Garrett pulled out my phone. It had been in my purse,
which sat beside an overnight bag he must have packed for my emergency visit.
After explaining my
wounds were a result of a freak hayride accident, and getting a recap of her
day, mom reluctantly let me get off the phone. But only so I could leave the
hospital to get some rest. I didn’t want to keep news like this from my own
mother, but we agreed it was best for her safety as much as mine to hide the
truth. Mom offered to come back early, but Garrett assured her I was in good
hands until she could return.