Authors: D. T. Jones
“How did he find out about…shut up! I’m done talking to you.” Sandra shrugged her shoulders and adjusted her position in the seat before closing her eyes. She hoped she looked as relaxed and nonchalant as she wished she felt. The truth was, she was more than nervous about the man waiting for them…wherever they were going. As for the Italian, she could only guess at who the man might be and unfortunately only one person came to mind…Donato Vigano, The Don.
It was late night when the car pulled off the main road and into the parking stall of a small hotel a short distance past a small sign that read
Beauvais
. Sandra frowned, she had no idea where they were or why they were stopping, but the thought didn’t last long as Bachmeier checked his phone again, then climbed out of the car. He pulled the door next to Sabrina open so quickly she nearly fell out then grabbed her by the hair and stood her up.
“Get out,” he told Sandra who bent over momentarily and picked up something from the floor, as she slid across the seat and did as she was told. He shut the door to the car and walked around the side of the building. He reached up above the small light hanging over a door that read
F
and unlocked the dirty handle.
“Inside,” he told them, shoving Sabrina in after Sandra, nearly causing them both to topple to the floor with the impact.
“Where are we?” Sandra demanded as he shut the door and flipped on the light switch beside it, locking the barrier and turning around.
“Why are you so full of questions?” he asked, his lip curling upward as if disgusted.
“Occupational habit,” she replied, her tone matching his.
“Sit down and shut up. We’re staying here tonight.”
“Why?” she asked, looking around at the dirty room with two small beds.
“Because I’m tired of listening to you and I want to get drunk. Now sit down and shut up.” He placed a large hand on her shoulder and pushed her so hard; she fell onto the floor beside the bed. It took all of ten seconds before she was back on her feet, the pain in her back and hip ignored as she stood facing him.
“You will not drink so long as you have us in your presence,” she said, biting the words as she spoke them.
“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch.” He stepped up so close to her that she felt like she was going to vomit on him; the smell of stale cigarettes, sweat and severe halitosis was enough to knock a bull over. Instead, she held her position and squared off against him. It would be all too easy to knock him down; she knew how and she was quite certain she could do it, but she was determined to remain calm until she found out who his partner was.
“Touch me again and those three years you spent in prison will seem like a Sunday stroll down Broadway.” Her voice was low but the threat and the heat behind the words were clear. Sabrina stood by the end of the bed, her eyes wide as she watched the two, fear and admiration mingled behind the terror of what may happen.
“Sit down and shut up,” he told her again, his tone less threatening as he stared into her bright green eyes. Sandra stood there for several seconds until he removed the gun from his jacket pocket and pointed it at Sabrina, pulling the hammer back. Sandra clenched her jaw tight and obeyed, her eyes never leaving his. She wanted him to know if he did what he was threatening, he wouldn’t get out of the room in one piece.
“Get over here,” Bachmeier told the girl who stood trembling at the end of the bed. Sabrina took two hesitant steps toward Sandra, who reached out and snatched her hand, pulling her down beside her. He took the handcuffs he had in his pocket from when he released them earlier and secured one hand each together again.
“Lay down,” he said with a wicked smile.
“Why?” Sandra asked. She knew he was feeling slightly more in control with them cuffed together again, but she wasn’t about to let him think he was winning.
“Don’t worry, bitch, I have no intention of touching either one of you. I just want you out of my way and silent for a while.”
Sabrina moved up the bed without hesitation pulling Sandra with her. The bed was little more than a twin size, making them very cramped as they lay side by side. He moved up to the top of the bed and cuffed Sandra’s hand to the rickety metal post of the old headboard before moving to Sabrina. Once they were snugly fastened, he looked down at them and smiled, drawing a deep breath.
“That’s better,” he said before walking into the bathroom. He returned a moment later with two wash clothes that Sandra assumed were clean, though they were dingy and grey. He held Sabrina’s head still as he stuffed on
e into her mouth then smiled at Sandra, following suit. Once he was content with the way they were restrained he walked to the second bed, took off his coat and threw it to the brown upholstered chair next to the door, covering the rip that ran along the top and down the side where the stuffing was beginning to show.
“Now don’t go anywhere,” he laughed as he walked to the door and looked out the small window beside it. “I’ll be back when I’ve had my fill of whatever this town has to offer.” He left the room and the two women alone, shutting the light off as he locked the door. Sandra listened to the off-key whistle as he turned the corner and sighed, relieved that they were alone, for a short time at least.
She turned her head as Sabrina began to sob, then pushed the cloth out of her mouth with her tongue. Her mouth was dry but it wasn’t impossible to tolerate and she began to feel around the side of the handcuffs, smiling when she felt the small button. Sabrina stopped crying when she realized Sandra was free and pulling the cloth from her mouth.
“How did you do that?” she asked in amazement.
“I know how these things work. I just didn’t want him to know it. Are you alright?”
“Yes, but I’m scared. Sandra please, let’s get out of here. I’m sure Crey and Andrew can force a confession out of him; he’ll tell them who is behind this.” Sandra slipped a reassuring arm around the younger woman’s shoulders and hugged her to her chest. She needed to convince her to remain calm and try to relax as much as possible. There were plenty of times they could have escaped; Bachmeier really wasn’t as keen of a kidnapper as he would like to think, but she was determined to find out who this other person was.
“What happened to your parents?” she asked.
“He caught dad outside and they struggled by the back door,” Sabrina said, wiping the
tears from her cheeks. “He shot dad, but I don’t think it was very bad. It just looked like he caught his shoulder.”
“Thank God,” she whispered.
“Please, Sandra, let’s get out of here. I’m really scared.”
“I want to leave too, but we can’t,” she said in a hushed tone. “We need to stay with him for a while longer. Remember, I’m armed, I can take care of him if we need to.”
“How is that possible when we’re handcuffed like common thieves?” Sandra smiled brightly, raising her arms up to show Sabrina that they were free.
“We aren’t handcuffed now, are we?”
“How did you do that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at her sister-in-law’s shadow sitting next to her.
“Promise not to tell anyone?” she asked, seeing her nod in the dim light that blinked in from the hotel sign outside. “Creighton likes to play sometimes,” she said with a blush, thankful for the room’s dark interior. “He has a set of handcuffs and he’s shown me how to use them in case I need to get lose.”
“Ewww,” she said in an amused tone. “I don’t think I really want to know that.”
“That’s how I know how to use these. We’ll need to get back into them when he returns, but in the meantime, I have the car keys if you’re hungry.” Sandra held up the keys and dangled them in front of her face so she could see them flash in the shadow of the neon lights.
“How did you get them?” Sabrina asked in a tone of amazement.
“He dropped them when he pulled you out of the car. He didn’t even realize it.”
“Are you going to give them back to him?”
“I don’t know, probably, but not until he goes crazy trying to find them.”
“Why are you antagonizing him?” Sabrina asked in a hushed tone as they slipped out of the room, blocking it open with a chair while they scurried to the car and retrieved their many snacks and juice, then returned just as silently and closed the door again.
“When I was a younger, we had a neighbor who acted like him; all tough, thinking he was so suave and sexy. He had the same attitude and I tried to be nice to him for a while, until he thought I was easy and tried to get me into bed with him. I broke his nose and two ribs. He was more chicken than man.”
“Just please be careful. I don’t want him hurting you.”
“He won’t hurt you either, I won’t let him. Just try very hard to stay as invisible as possible. He doesn’t like me and I’m going to make sure he remembers that. If he’s too busy arguing with me, he’ll forget about you.”
“Creighton will never forgive me if he does anything to you while you’re trying to protect me.”
“Don’t worry about your brother,” Sandra smiled, glancing to her watch and smiling at the soft green glow of the face as she checked the time. It was already one o’clock in the morning and she sighed. She wanted to sleep but she was afraid to, afraid of what she may miss or what she may learn, but she was fading quickly.
They ate the last of the cookies and chips and drank one of the two bottles of juice before stowing the packages beneath the bed. Sandra took the pen from her sleeve and scrawled a note on the Oreos bag as the sound of Bachmeier’s slurred whistle could be heard through the air. He was back and was fumbling with the lock, just long enough that Sandra was able to reconnect the cuffs and pretend she was asleep.
The door swung open and the room was bathed in a soft glow of yellow and blue from the sign outside, then he closed it and fell to the bed, groaning. The smell of liquor was strong and within a few seconds Sandra smiled, looking at Sabrina, stifling the laughter that rose in her throat. With him unconscious at least they could sleep in semi peace. Sandra unfastened the cuffs again so they could sleep and it wasn’t long before Sandra found herself doing exactly that, her eyes closed and visions of her beloved husband danced across her mind. She said a silent prayer as she drifted off to sleep, that they would be reunited soon and that all of this would be behind them at last.
“I swear to God, she’s not going to walk for a week when I get my hands on her,” Creighton growled as he paced the floor of his private jet. Sitting
on one of the sofas were Inspector Morris, her partner Boden Tabor, a small stalky man in his mid-thirties with bright red hair and a mustache, and Andrew. They watched in stunned silence as Creighton walked back and forth, running his large hands through his messy hair. Morris and Tabor had joined with the two after veering off their tail, allowing a second team to take their place to avoid raising Bachmeier’s suspicions. She had relayed the information Sandra told her and how she refused to leave until she knew what was happening; the news however, did not set well with her husband.
“Monsieur Ashford,” Morris began, her tone calm, hoping to gain some sense of control in the room. “Your wife
seems like a very intelligent woman. She picked up on an excuse immediately when that jerk interrupted us in the bathroom. Your sister said that she has been calm and in control since she first laid eyes on Bachmeier at your parents’ house. She is certain there is another person involved and doesn’t want this hanging over your heads the rest of your lives.”
“
I know Sandra is very intelligent and very stubborn, but that’s not going to save her from a maniac like Bachmeier. He’s a lunatic; how the hell he ever got out of jail is beyond me. Did you ever find out who that person was that sponsored his work release?”
“We located the company but they claim to have never heard of him and insisted they have never been involved in any license with the prison. We
inspected their books and they are clean. The checks Bachmeier was turning into the prison for his work, were phony. The money was held in a private account under the company’s name, but there were no signatures on file as to who opened it. The bank said that they rarely question business people who want to open an account with five hundred thousand euros up front.”
“Who does he know with that kind of money?” Creighton asked, sitting at last on the sofa across from his brother and the inspector
s.
“We have no idea. The bank is very embarrassed that the manager allowed an account to be opened without verifying the logistics behind
it.” Andrew’s phone rang as he tried to calm his brother down and he sighed, answering it and watching Creighton as he again began to pace the floor.
“Ashford,” he said. “Yes, what do you have for me…are you sure…there’s no question…alright, thank you.” He hung up and looked to Creighton who continued to pace the floor.
“The DNA is back,” he said watching the eyes that settled on him. “Gerrald Bachmeier’s DNA did not match up to the hair samples found in the victim’s hand.”
“Then who the hell does it belong to?” he growled, watching the look of anger and disgust cross Andrew’s face.
“You won’t believe it….”
Morning brought the usual pangs of a full bladder and Sandra woke with a start. She couldn’t believe she had slept this long, but Sabrina was still next to her asleep and the drunken figure of Konrad Bachmeier was stretched out across the bed, exactly as he had fallen the night before, snoring loudly.