Chapter 3
We sat in complete silence for a couple of minutes, staring at the track ahead of us, until Emmett sighed and dimmed the headlights a little. I raked my fingers through my hair.
"Is he dead?" I asked, just to disturb the heavy silence.
Emmett scratched his chin and nodded.
"This is some excitement, huh?" he muttered before chuckling darkly. "Man, it's a good thing he's dead. One less sick fucker. On the other hand, this will complicate things so much— the whys, whens, and wheres." He sighed. "Could've been interesting to hear his point of view."
I didn't agree with him, but I didn't say anything. I saw the girl's eyes, saw how frightened she was. I certainly wasn't sorry he was dead.
"You know," I said instead, "I'm always undecided about psychos like this one. On one hand, abusers, kidnappers, and all these fuckers should be dead or killed for what they do, but on the other hand…death seems like such an easy way out. You know, people that suffer from their hands every day sometimes wish they'd kill them already. They see death as an escape. And these…these people, they shouldn't be allowed an escape. They should suffer."
"Yeah. Guess they didn't invent a punishment like this yet. Plus, we don't really know if he was a psycho."
"What do you mean?" I asked a bit harshly.
Emmett looked at me funny and said slowly, "Because…we don't know anything yet? The girl's beaten up, yeah, okay," he lifted his hand to stop me from arguing, "but for all we know, she fell down the stairs or, I don't know, got hit by a car. Something. Hey, I'm not defending anyone! I'm just waiting to get all the facts straight, is all." He side-eyed me and added with a small smile, "Jeez, you seem too invested, Ed. Something you wanna tell me?"
I rolled my eyes and turned to the window.
"Aww, I think I know—"
"Charlie's coming," I interrupted him, seeing the headlights of his cruiser in the side view mirror flicking through the trees.
Emmett chuckled and got out of the car.
I sulked for a minute and then stepped out as the other car neared us.
While Charlie inspected the body and the car, another police cruiser pulled up.
"So, what's up, Chief?" Sam's deep voice sounded too loud in the quiet of the night. He and Seth came up to us, and we shook hands. Charlie hooked the flashlight he was using onto his belt and greeted the newcomers.
"The driver's license says his name's James Smith. 32 years old and lived in Port Angeles. It all could be fake, though, but at least we have something." He handed the driver's license to Sam. "Check it. The ambulance is on its way. Stay here and look around for anything odd. Once the ambulance retrieves the body, search the car thoroughly. Check for fingerprints, leave no stone unturned. If we don't return by the time you're done, go up this road; there must be a house somewhere…" He looked into the darkness and frowned. "I'm taking Emmett and Edward with me."
We got back to our cars and started to move slowly, Em and I leading the way.
"It's going to be one hell of a night, eh?" muttered Emmett. The tension was left behind, but instead something heavy lingered in the air. Was it the not knowing what we would find? Was it the presence of death? Was it the dark relief I felt combined with fatigue? I glanced at my wristwatch and sighed. It was already midnight.
Fifteen minutes later, the road led us to a clearing, where an old wood cabin stood.
Emmett whistled and stopped the car, and the headlights lit up the porch. Charlie parked beside us and we exited the cars.
"Well…that doesn't look like it belongs in a horror movie," Emmett said sarcastically, folding his hands across his chest. "Wanna go first, Chief?"
Charlie examined the house from a distance, scratched his brow, and then pulled his gun from its holster.
"Come on," he said, patting Emmett on the back, "Edward, stay here until you get the all clear."
They walked slowly to the front door, and Charlie tried the knob. The door opened with a nasty squeak. He shone his flashlight into the room, holding the gun up in his other hand, and disappeared inside.
I lit up a cigarette and looked up into the sky. Here and there, stars were making brief appearances behind the heavy clouds. I looked around the clearing and noticed a small barn off to the side. There was a rustic pathway that led to it. It looked like it was built not too long ago, in contrast to the house, which was old and shabby.
I smoked my cigarette and listened to the quiet rustling of the trees in the distance. I could also make out muffled sounds coming from inside the house, and I wondered if this guy owned the place or had just found it. For how long had he been planning all this shit? Had he lived here before kidnapping the girl? Had he kidnapped her with having this isolated cabin in mind? And then there were bigger questions like why her? Was she a random victim or had he known her? Had she really been held against her will? I shook my head remembering the handcuffs and her terrified eyes. Of course she'd been.
Suddenly, Emmett loudly clapped his hand on my shoulder, and I jumped and dropped what was left of my cigarette.
"Whoa, Bambi! You okay? Need a minute to change or anything?" Emmett looked at the seat of my pants suggestively and raised his eyebrows at me.
"Fuck off," I muttered, shrugging him off. "So, what's going on?"
He laughed and turned toward the cabin. "You can come inside, there's no one here. It looks…" he sighed heavily and scratched the back of his neck, "it looks just like what a cabin is supposed to look like when someone is held against their will inside. Bars on the windows," he pointed to the window beside the front door, and sure enough, there were bars, "plastic utensils, canned food, no mirrors or razors or anything sharp…"
"Okay, I'll go take a look."
"Yeah, go ahead. I should radio the guys."
I stepped inside and looked around as much as the light from the cars allowed. It was even smaller from the inside. There was a couch, an old looking chair, a bookshelf… The air was stale and dusty, and the floorboards creaked softly under my weight.
The chief appeared from another room, illuminating the few possessions the living room had with his flashlight.
"I'd say the house was readied for her. I mean, the bars and the lock on her door," he shone the light on the door to the right, where a new, shiny keyhole could be seen, "but I can't say anything for sure yet. Here's the bathroom," he pointed the flashlight on the door by the left wall and then swung it around slowly in an arc, "kitchen…there's the victim's room…his room is down the hall. No way to escape. Plus, I think he kept her drugged. I found some pills in his bedroom. Quite a lot, actually. Poor child," he muttered under his breath.
I felt bile rising in my throat, so I clenched my eyes shut and balled up my fists. I breathed in and out slowly, willing the disturbing images out of my head. I hoped against hope that it was not as bad as it looked, but fuck… FUCK!
"I'll be outside," I managed, and without waiting for his answer, I briskly walked out of the cabin and gulped at the fresh air in an attempt to calm myself down.
Emmett was leaning against the side of the car, staring into the sky. I walked over to him and sat carefully on the hood.
"I regret quitting smoking," he said suddenly. "That shit is fucking priceless. Helps you relax, think…it busies you when you have to wait, and at times like this, when it's just…you know, I could use a fucking cigarette." He finally turned his head to me and asked, "Know what I mean?"
I chuckled and took out a cigarette. I definitely needed one. "Yeah, I get it. What I don't get," I paused and took a pull, "is how you get away with cursing this much around your kid."
Emmett frowned and looked away. "Yeah, Rose hates it… But you know I love my kid. We both do. You know how he is; he's fucking sweet and smart and polite. He's great." He looked at me as if he were trying to convince me. "I mean, he knows his boundaries. He knows what's good and bad. So, what's the big deal if I curse? I'm a good dad, I love him and his mother with everything I have, I provide for them, and everything. And there are things much worse than cursing." He turned his eyes to the house and his frown deepened.
I didn't expect him to get so serious and defensive, but he was right, even if I wasn't sure about this whole cursing-around-kids-is-okay thing.
"Plus," he boomed loudly, with a smile in his voice, "cursing is fucking nice!" His eyes widened, and he grinned from ear to ear.
-X-X-X-X-
Emmett dropped me off at home around 5 am. Over the course of the night, we inspected the cabin and its environs. There was nothing of interest though; no documents, no photographs or mail…there wasn't even a pen or pencil. The cabin was pretty much empty, with the exception of furniture, a few items of clothing, some books, and a shitload of canned food and meds—painkillers, sedatives, and antidepressants. Where could he possibly get this insane amount of pills, I'll never know. There were no notes, no letters, no newspapers—nothing. It seemed like the only thing we had were the driver's license and the car. But even they led us to nothing.
When I got inside the house, I collapsed on the couch. I was exhausted but still somehow wide awake. I sat there for a couple of minutes and listened to my body, waiting for the fatigue to come back, but I felt only this buzzing feeling—the kind you get after staying up all night. A second wind.
I sighed heavily and rubbed my face. I had to do something with all this energy. I got up and ran up the stairs to my bedroom, where I changed into sweats and running shoes. Once back outside, I locked the door and walked around the porch to the back of the house, where some bowls sat in a corner. They were all empty, which reminded me I was out of milk. I looked around for any signs of him and found none, as always. The bastard only uses me for food.
I shook my head and ran down the porch steps, around the house, and down the street.
The air was crisp and fresh. I could almost smell the coming fall. September was coming to an end, and the leaves on the trees were already beginning to change color to beautiful shades of yellow and red.
Since I lived on the outskirts of town, on my rare runs I usually ran to town, past the diner, library, and school, straight to the heavenly smelling bakery that my mother owned, called Baked Dreams.
The bell rang softly above my head when I opened the door, and the comforting smell of fresh bread and baked goods almost knocked me off my feet. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. Heaven.
"Coming!" My mother's voice sounded from somewhere in the back.
Not ten seconds later, she rounded the corner with a tray full of steaming hot bread rolls My empty stomach rumbled appreciatively.
"Good morning, how may I…" She placed the tray on the counter and finally looked at me. "Oh! Edward! Hi, dear, how are you?" She smiled warmly at me, the way only a mother can.
"I'm okay. Everything's fine, I'm just tired."
"Well, why are you up so early then?" She started to arrange all the bread rolls, and I eyed all the goodness hungrily.
"Actually, I didn't sleep at all. Dad told you about last night?"
She looked at me again, her eyes full of concern.
"Oh, yes, the girl you found. Gosh, that poor child! But she's okay now, isn't she?"
"Yeah, yeah, I guess she is… I, uh…I went with the police last night. We found the place where she was being held."
Esme gasped and lifted her hand to her neck. "God, I hope nothing's threatening her life now!"
I frowned and looked at the floor. "I hope not, but nothing's clear yet."
She didn't ask any more questions. She wasn't the one for gossip or fishing around for answers; she always said that if there were things she should know, she would know them when the time was right
She poured me a cup of coffee and served me a piece of apple pie with ice cream, and when I finished, she asked me to drop some cookies off at the hospital for Dad.
"It's his favorite, and he hasn't had them in such a long time." She smiled fondly.
"Of course." I kissed her goodbye and made my way to the hospital.
The sky was clear, and the sun was already starting to warm the air. It was fresh and nice, quiet and peaceful, but the heavy feeling from last night wouldn't leave me for one second.
I walked the one block to the hospital, greeted the receptionist, and then ran upstairs to my dad's office.
"Come in!" he called, after I knocked.
I walked in, and before he could tear his eyes away from some medical magazine, I dropped the bag with cookies on his desk.
His head shot up and he smiled at me. "Edward, hello, what brings you—" He stopped the moment the aroma from the bag hit him. He side-eyed the simple brown bag suspiciously and then looked at me again. "Have you been at the bakery?"
"Maybe…" I grinned.
He grabbed the bag without taking his eyes off of me then opened it and took a whiff before closing his eyes.
"Ah…chocolate chip cookies! This day's definitely getting better."
"I brought coffee, too." I chuckled and sat in the chair. "So, how are things?"
Carlisle shrugged, staring absentmindedly into space while munching on his cookie. "Things? Good. Your mom wants to start the garden, like she doesn't already have her hands full with the bakery…"
I smiled a little but then frowned, glancing to the side. "I mean…I mean…how's…how are things with the girl?"
Carlisle stopped chewing and looked at me as if just noticing I was there.
"She's fine, surprisingly," he said after a pause. "No permanent damage or anything. We just need to wean her off the meds she was taking because they're addictive. Her hand's fixed, and her rib's fractured, actually, not broken. She'll be okay."
"Yeah, but Charlie said she had amnesia or something?"
"Oh, so he told you? Well…yes, most likely it was caused by some kind of trauma. Physical or mental, but I'd say physical, due to a concussion. The test results will be ready today."
"Why do you think so?"
"Oh, it's just a guess. You know… I was there when the chief asked her a few questions, and it seems like that man didn't do anything but beat her from time to time and shove meds down her throat. And she just seems so…I don't know, fierce?" "She seems so strong and determined. She's not ashamed of anything, but she's scared and trying to fight her fear. Doesn't seem like the man could do much mental damage to her, but then again, I don't know for sure. If the results come in showing a concussion, I'd say it'll take her a couple of months to recover, and that's it."
"What kind of concussion could cause amnesia?" I asked, astonished.
"In a situation like this, even a mild one. But it'll pass with time. Once the traumatic memories fade a little, she'll remember more." He took a sip of his coffee.
I sat there for a moment and thought about everything he'd said.
"She wasn't…sexually assaulted, was she?"
My father shook his head no.
I felt so relieved that it surprised me. I mean, I'd probably feel the same way with any other woman who'd suffered the way she had, but…but somehow I felt very strongly towards this girl. I couldn't understand what it was about her, but I wanted to know everything about her, about what he'd done to her. I wanted to revive him and kill him all over again. Who was she? Where was she from? Did she have family? What does she do for a living? And suddenly a thought came to me.
"Where will she live until she remembers who she is? I mean, the police can't even file a decent report on her. They don't even know if she's from Washington!"
Carlisle frowned. "Yeah, that's a problem. I need to talk with the chief about that."
"She can stay at my place," I blurted out.
"What?" He had been about to place the cup on the table, but his hand stopped mid-air.
"Uh, I mean…my house is large enough for the two of us. She won't even know I'm there. Plus, I'm working, so I won't bother her much. She'd get lots of rest and everything. Where else can she go, right?"
My father was still holding his cup above the desk, and I began to sweat beneath his confused stare.
"Look, never mind, I don't know why I said it, I just thought—" I started babbling, but my dad stopped me.
"No, I think that's a fine idea. We'd better talk with Charlie about that, though." He finally lowered the cup and wiped his mouth with a white cloth handkerchief. "And the girl, of course."
I heaved a sigh of relief, but my head was still spinning from my abrupt suggestion.
"So…you'll talk to Charlie?" I said as I stood up, rubbing my damp palms against my sweats.
"Yes, sure. He should be here around noon." He stood up as well and straightened his lab coat. "I take it you didn't sleep last night?"
"Nope."
"Well, get home then, son. I'll call you later."
I exited his office with a strange feeling of excitement and anxiety, but I decided to ignore it and just…be for now.
Forgetting to say, that I don't own. In case you were wondering. Yeah.
Thanks to Tina. You can't even imagine how much work she does with this. Not only she betas, but she also decodes my awful english :/
Thanks for reading and alerting and everything. Really.
