The Abducted Omnibus Page 8

  The crack revealed a line of candles positioned down the aisle. She pulled one door open and looked inside. There were rows of empty vinyl seats. In front was a large stage with the curtain open.

  “Who’s there?” she called out before entering.

  There was no answer.

  “Enough games already. Where’s my daughter?” she asked with as forceful a tone as she could muster. The silence was frightening. She held her Beretta tightly and moved down the aisle, alongside the candles whose flames wavered as she passed. A man dressed in black suddenly stepped out onstage left, startling her.

  He was slim, with long hair past his shoulders and empty, sunken eyes. Miriam took a step back and raised her pistol. Amused, he smiled exposing crooked teeth.

  “’Bout time you showed up,” he said, looking at his wristwatch. It wasn’t Phillip Anderson, it was someone else. A man she had never seen before.

  “Where is she?” she asked with the pistol aimed ten feet from the stage.

  The man put his hand up in a halting gesture. “Let’s not do anything rash here. I have the girl as promised. Please lower your gun.”

  He didn’t appear to be armed, but Miriam wouldn’t put anything past them. “You work for Anderson?” she asked, searching the stage for anyone else. “Is he here?”

  “I do,” he said. “And no, he’s not here, but that’s of little concern. Now lower the gun.”

  She brought the pistol down but maintained a tight grip. “Okay.” She looked behind her, just to be sure. There were only empty seats and candles dripping wax onto both aisles. She turned back to the man. “I came here to get my daughter. That’s all I want. I’ve been more than cooperative.” In vain, she tried to keep from pleading.

  “We know that. It’s just… there have been some complications.”

  Miriam felt both rage and fear at the man’s stalling. Though she thought it best to play dumb. “What complications?”

  The man smiled and rubbed his chin. “Surely you’ve heard by now. All that time on the road to yourself. You must have flipped on the radio and heard the news.”

  Miriam stared ahead with a blank expression. “I didn’t hear anything. Where’s is my daughter?”

  “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.”

  Miriam’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  The man’s cold eyes indicated nothing beyond his demands. “Put your gun on the floor first.”

  Miriam took a few more steps back, scanning the area. “Why would I do that?”

  The man looked to his side backstage as though someone was there. He then turned back to Miriam, displaying concern. “Frankly, I don’t want to get shot. And neither does your daughter.”

  Miriam shook her head and then crouched to the ground, placing the pistol at her feet. She stood up and held her arms out with a shrug.

  “That’s better,” the man said. He turned and signaled to the backstage area. “Go ahead and bring her out!”

  Miriam’s heart stopped. She wanted to leap onto the stage, take Ana into her arms, and run out of the theater without looking back. She was close. Two armed men, dressed all in black, appeared from the shadows backstage escorting a child in between them. Miriam gasped. The child’s head was covered by a burlap sack.

  “Take that bag off her head!” she shouted.

  The man raised his arm, brushing away her protests. “Calm down. It’s only necessary.” Miriam grew incensed at the sight of the AR-15 rifles in both men’s hands. “Let her go, you bastards!”

  The two men stopped in the center of the stage near the talker, with the hooded girl between them wearing a pink Hello Kitty shirt and blue jeans.

  The talker clapped his hands together and rocked back and forth on his heels. “You’ll be reunited with your daughter soon enough, but in light of recent events, Mr. Anderson has changed the terms.”

  Miriam scowled. “I’m not interested. Enough games! I came here for one thing—”

  “He has invited you to be a guest at his safe house. Both you and Ana,” the man said.

  She shook her head in disbelief. “That’s not happening.” She looked beyond the men to where his armed buddies stood. “Ana. Come here now. We’re leaving.”

  The girl stepped forward. The men grabbed her arms and pulled her back.

  “Don’t touch her!” Miriam shouted, falling to her knees. “How much is he paying you? Don’t any of you have families? Children?”

  The talker shook his head, not responding. He turned around and signaled for the men to take the girl away. As they began to pull her, Miriam leapt to her feet.

  “Wait!” she shouted.

  The men halted, maintaining their grip on the frightened girl’s arms.

  The talker continued. “He expected that news of this new arrangement wouldn’t go over too well, but this is what you need to understand.” He stopped speaking and took a few steps forward. “His brother, Greg, was attacked by angry locals. Murdered in cold blood.”

  Miriam’s eyes widened as she maintained her bluff that all of this was news to her.

  “His parents were taken back to the station. Walter and Jake are in protective custody as well. This is not what Mr. Anderson wanted.”

  As her eyes welled up, she tried her best to hold back tears. “What does any of this have to do with me and my daughter?”

  “Mr. Anderson is very concerned. As a result, he would like to discuss his options with you. He needs an insider. Someone he can strategize with.”

  Miriam attempted to look beyond the man and get a better look at her daughter. She glanced down at the pistol at her feet. Given the right moment, she felt confident that she could take out the three men on stage without endangering Ana.

  “This is really for the best,” the talker said. “He needs you. Now step away from your gun and go ahead and come on stage. No one has to get hurt.”

  Miriam paused as the room went silent.

  “You can come willingly, or we’ll have to use force. The choice is yours,” he said.

  Miriam looked down at her feet. It was her last chance.

  “Deal?” he asked.

  Miriam did the math in her head: three men total, possibly more. The risks were numerous, but she also knew that by surrendering herself, she and Ana were probably as good as dead.

  “Yes,” she said. “But on one condition…”

  She paused. The talker put his hands on his hips, waiting.

  Miriam pointed past him. “Take that bag off her head.”

  He smiled and then turned his head slightly toward the back of the stage—just the opportunity she needed. Miriam fell on one knee, grabbed the pistol, and aimed ahead at the first armed man to Ana’s left.

  She fired one shot into his neck. The blast was loud and alarming. The first gunman hit the floor—gurgling and holding his throat as blood rushed down his black shirt.

  The long-haired talker stumbled back, wide eyed and astonished. At the moment their eyes met, Miriam fired two shots, blowing holes in his chest. He collapsed against the stage as the remaining bearded gunman pushed Ana to the ground, raised his rifle, and fired toward the auditorium.

  Miriam hit the ground as bullets zipped by over her head, turning the vinyl seats into Swiss cheese. She fell flat on her stomach and rolled to the front of the stage, out of sight.

  “You gonna die, you crazy bitch!” he shouted, stampeding toward her firing multiple shots all around. Hunched down, Miriam could see shell casings gathered at her feet. Each blast was louder than the other. Her legs were shaking. The man was close. For one second, his firing stopped, and she knew exactly what to do.

  With the adrenaline of a locomotive, Miriam jumped up and fired one clean shot straight through his forehead. He jolted back and then hit the stage with a violent thud. Miriam spun around, looking to see if there were any more shooters. Everything was quiet, except for the muffled cries of a petrified girl.

  “Ana!” Miriam said. “I’ll be
right there, baby!” She climbed onto the stage and sprinted forward, past the bodies and to the center of the stage where the girl stood, frozen.

  “Everything is going to be all right. I’m here now.” She touched the girl’s shoulders and squeezed. The girl flinched, her shoulders shaking. The sack was tied at her neck. Miriam’s hands went for the string, tugging at it. “I’m going to take this off now,” said Miriam. “Don’t worry.”

  She yanked it loose and then carefully lifted the bag up. A mass of blond hair fell into the girl’s sobbing face. Confused, Miriam pulled her closer. Ana didn’t have blonde hair. Her hair was black. She parted the girl’s hair and saw a face that wasn’t her daughter’s. Miriam froze as her heart sank. The girl’s blue eyes were red with tears. Her face was dirty, and her clothes—on closer inspection—were torn and dirty. The surreal sight had Miriam at a loss, struck with disappointment and anguish. Nonetheless, she crouched down, pulled the girl close, and spoke to her gently and reassuringly.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  She pulled back and held the girl by the shoulders, examining her. “What’s your name?”

  “Allison,” the girl said meekly.

  “Allison, I’m going to take you out of here.” She stood up and took the girl by the hand. “Follow me. We’ll get you home. Where do you live?”

  “Miami,” the girl answered with a vapid stare. They began walking as Miriam urged her not to look at the ground. Just as they passed the talker’s body, his cell phone started ringing in his suit jacket.

  Miriam stopped. “Wait one minute, honey. Just stand right here for me and don’t look at any of the men.” She turned Allison to the wall, stage right, and moved swiftly over to where the long-haired talker lay, another fresh corpse who died a pointless death. She winced as she reached into his blood-soaked pants pocket to retrieve a small flip phone. There was a number displayed—indicating a Lee County area code. It was a long shot, but she had little recourse.

  She opened the phone and held it to her ear, saying nothing.

  “What’s the story? You bring her back here yet?” a voice—ominous and familiar—asked.

  Miriam didn’t respond.

  “Cat got your tongue? Gimme an update,” he asked.

  “They’re dead,” she answered.

  A pause, and then a halting response from the other end.

  “Miriam?”

  “You lied to me,” she said. “Where is my daughter?”

  Clearly taken off guard, Phillip stumbled over his words. “How—what happened there? Where’s Milo?”

  “If this is his phone, I shot him. Who is Allison, and where’s Ana?”

  Phillip sighed. “That’s too bad. I was hoping you’d play ball.”

  “I had nothing to do with what happened to your brother. Give me Ana, and you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

  “Oh, Miriam. What kind of leverage do you think you have here?”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  He laughed again. “You had a chance to find out, but you’d rather shoot my friends instead. There’s going to be a price to pay for that.”

  Desperate, Miriam couldn’t suppress her anguish no longer. “Give her back, you son of a bitch!”

  “Tell you what. You want Ana so bad, come and get her. I want to see what a good cop you really were. You have twenty-four hours.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to start. Enough!” she shouted.

  “Start at the beginning, and go from there. I’ve escaped you twice, Miriam. Let’s see if you’re up for it this time.”

  An avalanche of tears rushed down her face. “Please don’t do this. I’m not…”

  “You’re not what?” he asked.

  “I’m not a good cop. I’m nobody. All I have left is Ana, and you can’t take her—”

  “You’ve ruined my life, Miriam, and it’s only fair that I repay the favor.” He stopped, letting out another sigh. “But I’m giving you a chance here. Everyone deserves a chance. Even you.”

  Miriam held the phone away from her ear and examined the number again. She then looked to Allison, who stood facing the wall. “What happens when I find you?”

  “Then we can talk about where to go from there. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn that I’m not such a bad guy after all.”

  He ended the call abruptly, without any final words or directives. The dial tone sounded. Miriam held the phone away from her ear again, examining the screen. There had to be something she was missing. She needed a clue. Some kind of hint. Lou’s words about going at it alone came back to her. He was right.

  She put the cell phone in her pocket and then knelt down next the talker, searching for a wallet or some kind of identification. He had nothing. She rose and walked over to Allison, taking her by the shoulders and turning her around to face her.

  “It’s okay now. We can go.”

  Allison looked up at her with a distant stare. Whatever she had been through, Miriam was certain that it was traumatic. She held the girl’s hand as they walked down the steps of the stage to the aisle where a few candles still burned.

  “Allison, I’m going to ask you something. Are you listening?” Miriam said.

  “Uh-huh,” she answered, nodding.

  “Did you see a girl named Ana? Wherever you were being held. Did you see her?”

  “Yeah,” the girl said.

  A rush of relief came over Miriam.

  “Okay. I need to know everything about the place you were taken. Any details.”

  “I want my mommy,” the girl replied.

  “I know, honey. And we’ll take you right to her. In the meantime, you have to tell me everything you know.”

  Allison said nothing in return. Miriam understood that it would be difficult to probe her in such a way, but there was no other choice. The key to finding Ana was there, somewhere in Allison’s recollections. And Miriam wasn’t prepared to rest until she got the answers. She was a mom and she would figure out how to do it, and hopefully, without causing Allison any more pain.

  Teamwork

  Trapped in the basement, Ana wasn’t alone for very long before another girl, close to her in age, was brought in to keep her company. Her name was Allison and she was from Miami. She had been abducted while playing in her front yard. The bad man hadn’t done it. He never left the house. He had someone else do it. Allison was nine and in the fourth grade. She was terrified, but relieved to find another girl just like her was also being held and seemed to be mostly okay.

  “What do they want with us?” she asked Ana.

  “I don’t know,” Ana said. Her face was bruised and she hesitated telling the girl how she got them. Allison looked scared enough.

  “How many people did you see?” Ana asked. It had been hours since her capture, and she had yet to see anything beyond the basement. It was all too clear why there was an empty bucket in the room. Whoever was holding her had no intention of letting them see beyond the walls.

  Allison, however, was privy to more information. Her abductor—a bearded man who smelled funny—hadn’t used any chemicals to knock her out. He simply grabbed her, threw her in a van, and tied her up.

  “The man blindfolded me,” she replied. “I couldn’t see anything.

  Ana placed a comforting hand on Allison’s. “Allison, listen to me. We have to get out of here. I don’t know who these people are or what they want, but we need to find a way out.” She stopped talking, silenced by footsteps above.

  With the dilapidated state of the basement they were being held in, and the moldering smell of earth and leaves, Ana guessed they were in some kind of cabin, likely some place in the deep woods. She could hear muffled voices talking now above them. And the footsteps were coming from multiple places, telling her that there were more people than she initially believed.

  “How did they get you?” Allison asked.

  Ana wasn’t sure where to begin. She rubbed her forehead; she felt sore all over. Her ribs throbbed wi
th pain from the fall down the stairs. She was lucky to be alive, she assumed. It hurt to think. It hurt to breathe.

  “It’s hard to remember. I… I think this guy just came in my house and had some kind of rag that he put over my face.”

  Ana stopped and looked up at the ceiling as the footsteps continued. “Allison, have you ever heard of the Snatcher?”

  Allison gave her a funny look and shrugged. “No. Who’s that?”

  “He’s a bad man who kidnaps kids. There were like five girls he kidnapped. I think that’s who took us.”

  Allison covered her mouth in fear. “Oh no. What are we going to do?” She began to cry.

  Ana took her hand and squeezed. “We stick together, no matter what.”

  The muffled conversation got louder upstairs. Someone was angry. They froze and listened. A loud crash was followed by glass shattering.

  “What do you mean Greg’s dead?” a man’s voice shouted. “How the fuck did that happen?”

  “Mr. Anderson, please,” another voice said.

  “Where the hell are my parents?” the man asked.

  “I think they’re in protective custody right now.”

  “And my other brothers?”

  “Jake and Walter were taken back to the station.”

  Another loud crash rattled the ceiling. It seemed as though the man had just turned over a table. Allison winced and wrapped her arms around Ana, hiding her face.

  “It’s okay,” Ana said, brushing back the girl’s blonde hair. “Don’t be scared.”

  All the commotion and yelling suddenly stopped. Ana kept her head tilted up, staring at the ceiling. They remained in the corner near the mattress, with the side of the stairs in view. Upstairs, the man paced and continued talking. Ana could recognize his harsh voice as belonging to the large man who had hit her and thrown her down the stairs, and every time he talked, she got chills.

  “Okay. Take the other girl to her. This whole thing is messed up beyond belief.”

  “Then what?” another man asked.

  “Once she lets her guard down, you get that bitch and bring her to me.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re wasting your time with this broad. You have half the damn state looking for you right now.”