Amanda woke in the darkness. She had no idea what time it was, but she saw it was morning by the sliver of sunlight shining from underneath her shut and locked door. She thought for a moment, formulated a plan, and got ready.
Kyle Donner had woken about five minutes before her. His room was dark but his door was open so he could see by the sunlight it was morning. He checked his watch and saw it was 8:30 a.m. He got out of bed, and even though he wasn't a fan of them, quickly washed in the tub in his own room. He brushed his teeth. His hair was in a buzz cut so didn't need to be styled. A few swipes of Speed Stick and a change into fresh clothes and he was ready to face the day.
Now he needed to go wake up the royalty locked in the room across the hall. She probably wasn't out of bed before 10, but they had big plans today. He unlocked the door and swiped his hand to the left and flicked on the light. "Alright, Amanda, it's time for you..."
The mattress was gone. So was she. The door was locked, the windows were barred. He stepped further into the room, completely astonished and that's when she struck.
He saw movement to his right and it was her, shoving the mattress over on top of him. He fell and his foot hit the door, which was open but leaning his direction, and closed it. Then after she had the mattress over him she jumped on it to help pin him down and even though she was light, he struggled. There was a rattling sound as her hand was on the doorknob and he knew that if she got the chance she'd lock him in here and that wasn't gonna happen.
He shoved his foot out from underneath the mattress and held his leg solid as she turned the handle. She tried to open it but he kept his leg in front so she couldn't open it further. He heard her screaming in rage as she tried to pull it wider but he kept his leg rigid. She leaned forward and tried stomping on his leg but her feet were bare and it hurt, but not enough to get him to move it.
Amanda couldn't stop screaming in her frustration. He wouldn't fucking move his fucking leg! Why hadn't she put her fucking boots on she could have fucking stomped him with the heel! She kept stomping at his angle in a frenzy but he refused to budge, so she gripped the handle tightly and pulled with all her strength. He just needed a little bit more and she could shimmy right through, she was sure of it.
But in leaning forward, the weight of her body wasn't as much as before, and Kyle was able to get his hands on the mattress and shove, sliding her down to the far corner and giving himself enough leeway to shove it off of him completely. Amanda recovered herself and went for the door again but he refused to yield and she saw that her idea had been good, but the variables had been too great to overcome. He grabbed her hair and yanked her as hard as she could and she tripped over his prone legs to land on her back.
Then he was over her and his face was twisted in rage. She stared at him defiantly. She was not sorry and she'd do it again. He straddled her stomach as she flailed her arms at him and screamed and tried to claw him with her nails. He slapped her, left, right, left, right, again and again turning her head back and forth from his slaps and making both sides of her face entirely numb.
Amanda's body relaxed and he scooted off of her and pressed his back against the door, sitting on the floor. "God FUCKING damnit Amanda will you fucking stop it. I don't want to hurt you anymore, okay?"
And his voice was so sincere that afte Amanda had scooted to the other side of the room to press her own back against the wall, she froze, head leaned forward, hair hanging in her eyes, and looked at him, warily.
"Look, I get it, you're tough and strong and I don't scare you and okay. Fine. So lets just get through the next day or two, okay? You help me get the money, you get out of here, I take the money and run and you never see me again, alright? Yes, I hit you just now but you pissed me off trying to escape. I just want ransom money. For Christ's sake it's not like the family you married into can't afford it. Your husband or his dad can probably write it off on their fucking taxes."
He stood up. "Let's move past this, huh? It's breakfast time. There's not much other than canned goods, and most of them are more suited for lunch, but it's all we got and you need to eat something. The kitchen is down the hall at the other end of the house."
He left, leaving her door open. Amanda stayed frozen for a few moments. Fuck, was he legit? She crept over to the other side of the room and slipped on her day-old socks and boots. She walked to the doorway of the room, carefully peered out into the hall, and looked.
The main hallway of the house was deserted. And this was her chance. To her right, at the end of the house, was a large window. She looked out and could feel the chill already. Her coat was gone and she had no cell phone, but she was as dressed as she could be for the cold. The grocery bag with her toiletries had obviously come from a store. All the had to do was get out and walk and she'd eventually come across it, or a house, or a radom asshole on the road...
Whatever. All that mattered was that he felt guilty for mistreating her and now she had an opportunity to use that guilt to her advantage and get the fuck out of there for good. She was going to take it.
She quickly walked down the hall to what looked like the entryway. Beyond it the hall's opening narrowed a bit and it looked to Amanda like there were pocket doors in there, so the hall could be closed off briefly for some reason or another? Who cared? She wasn't a goddamn architect.
She got to the entryway and thank the good lord, there was the front door. She looked all around her, and the coast was clear. She went to the door, took the handle in her hand and pushed. Nothing happened. So she pulled. Nothing happened. The door had no shiny new locks. She looked at it and saw the big cast iron lock above the doorknob. It was a classic house and therefore, it had a classic lock...for a skeleton key.
That meant there was no other fucking way to open the fucking thing but use a skeleton key. It didn't have a little button to fucking twist like a normal door lock or a little knob to turn like a fucking deadbolt. It was fucking locked and she was fucked.
And then, within seconds, she knew exactly how fucked she really was.
"Going somewhere?"
She turned and Kyle was standing in the entryway. He turned and pulled out the ornate pocket doors that separated the hallway and closed them. He'd been waiting for her on the other side of them. Waiting for her to come down the hall, waiting to surprise her, knowing the front door of the house was locked tightly. He'd fucking played her.
Still, she was not beaten yet.
Against the entryway wall was an old-fashioned sitting chair made of wood. Next to the door was a large window. Large enough for her to climb out of, that was for sure. She'd cut herself of course, but the cuts would heal. She didn't hesitate. She ran to the chair, raised it, and slammed it against the window, waiting for the satisfying shatter.
And then she stood there stupidly as the chair broke apart in her hands and the window that she'd slammed it into didn't even fucking spiderweb.
"Funny thing," Kyle said, as if he was the host of some science program for kids. "Did you know that the shatter-resistant glass in windshields was invented even before 1950, and that it was available in window glass? I didn't, not until Wade told me. Still, considering what this place was, it makes sense that they used it, after all, mental cases may eventually try to run."
Amanda stood there, her back to him, feeling defeated. The back of the chair, which had been broken off when she slammed it into the window, was all that remained and she held it limply in her hands.
"You wanna run this show? Okay, you get to decide. If you go back to your room, right now, I won't hurt you too badly. If you decide to prolong this little jaunt of yours, it's gonna be far fucking worse. What's it gonna be Amanda?"
She turned, still holding the chair back in her hands. Then she screamed and threw it at him. It caught him in the chest and she started running. The front door was out, as was the hallyway leading to the kitchen, as the pocket doors were closed and he was right in front of them. Running the other way down the hall was fruitless, because all those rooms had metal plates over the windows, and she was pretty fucking sure now that the welcoming window at the other end of the hall was probably the same glass as it was down here.
But the stairway to the next level was in the entryway. And maybe those windows were not covered in steel plates, and maybe the glass wasn't the same material as it was on the ground floor. It was a long shot, the longest of shots, but she was damned of she was going to go back to that fucking prison cell quietly.
So she did what every stalked victim in a horror movie isn't ordinarily supposed to do when the killer is chasing them. She bolted up the stairs. She had to, in this case. The ground floor offered no escape.
The decond floor was in a lot shabbier condition than the ground floor. But the layout was much the same, several open rooms with obvious bathrooms. Sunlight was streaming in. They weren't plated. But was the glass...?
She ran into the nearest one and beat on it with her hands. Nope, it was the same fucking style of glass as the ground floor.
She heard Kyle's footfalls on the stairs and he was screaming so she dashed from the room and back to the staircase and started tp make her way up to the third floor but he sprang and grabbed her leg and her feet went out from under her. He was practically snarling and Amanda raised her free foot and kicked at his face. She heard a howl of pain and she screamed in satisfaction and got to her feet and started running up the stairs again with Kyle in hot pursuit.
She got to the top of the stairs when Kyle sprang from behind her and tackled her to the carpeted floor. She threw her hands out to cushion her fall and screamed in defeated rage as he pressed his leg into the small of her back and fuck if the miserable son of a bitch didn't spank her like a disobedient child as hard as he could for about 15 seconds.
He grabbed her long hair in a fist and then pulled her backwards and FUCK the pain was excrutiating. Amanda had to grab his hand to keep her scalp from being ripped off of her head. He pulled her into a sitting position and dragged her that way down the stairs to the second floor, and then from the second floor to the first floor. Amanda kept screaming because even bracing herself against his arm it still fucking hurt and he kept going, dragging her down the hall and into her room. He threw her on her face, stuck a knee into her back again, grabbed her wrists and tightly bound her hands behind her.
She was spun over and forced to lay on her fists. He grabbed the front of her shirt and punched her in the face again, and for the second time her nose was broken. Then he stood up and started kicking her in the gut and the wind kept getting knocked out of her again and again even as she warded off some of the blow by tightening her abs. She felt a terribly sharp pain in her midsection and somehow knew that he'd cracked one of her ribs, and then she felt it again as he cracked another.
He stopped kicking her in the gut, stripped off her boots and socks and threw them out of the room, and then he stood up and pulled his belt from his pants. Amanda was forcing herself not to cry out and so he took the buckle in his hand and lashed her all over with the leather. Her back, her ass, her legs, she kept trying to curl away from him for she couldn't protect everything and he lashed the belt into any part of her body was a target. He even lashed her a few times in the face. She was unable to keep quiet and screamed every time the lether belt hit her.
She was a mass of pain when he finally stopped and he untied the knot of the rope on her wrists and stood up. He leaned forward, pulled her head up, by her hair again, to his face and said, "I'm sure you'll want to get cleaned up. Have fun bathing. I'm sure you can find a way to crawl to the fucking tub."
He slammed her head into the carpeted floor and tood up and went to her radiator, turned the knob and said, "I think 60 degrees is plenty warm. I don't want the ice queen to melt." He popped out a pocket knife, flicked out the blade, and pried the handle that adusted the temperature from the radiator so she couldn't turn it back up. As he walked by her, he delivered a kick to her that was aimed for her ass, but her hands got in the way and his kick hit them instead. She let out another squeal of pain because he broke two of her fingers.
Satisfied that he'd gotten his pound of flesh apparently, Kyle stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him and, Amanda knew, locking the padlock on the latch.
With him out of the room, Amanda finally allowed herself to to more than scream from the pain. She allowed herself to painfully curl into a sort of fetal position and cry. The tears streamed down her face as she sobbed from the pain that seemed to be radiating from every part of her body. If not for the healing power of the realm, she knew, she would not be able to move until she was put in a hospital.
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Outside of her door, Kyle listened and felt a deep satisfaction when he heard Amanda start to sob. She'd tried to be strong and fight back crying out as he'd assaulted her, and she'd been somewhat successful while he'd been present, but now he knew that he'd hurt her far more than she had let on and he felt a twisted satisfaction and finally making her fear him, even if it was brief, and making her cry after her defiant attitude towards him yesterday.
He waited until her tears stopped before he moved again, a slight smile on his face the whole time. She'd fallen for it and tried to escape. Christ, her face when she realized he'd sucker her. That had been priceless. And he wouldn't mind taking her all the way to the top floor of the house and dragging her down the stairs by her hair again.
He walked back to the closed pocket doors and opened them, then went into the kitchen. He was STARVING. Breakfast, a couple hours to relax, and then it would be time to initiate a phone call and get his fucking money.
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She crawled to the bathroom, painfully, as her nose knit back together. She took off her slacks after the ribs knit back together, and stripped off the sweater and blouse after the waves of pain over the rest of her body tapered off and the only remnant of his attack on her was her blood-covered face.
An animal. He'd acted like an enraged animal. And he'd set up the bogus scenario of letting her escape just so she'd try and he'd have the excuse to savagely beat her. He hadn't even considered the damage he could have potentially done to her. The cracked ribs, if they hadn't been able to heal as they did, would have left her almost immobile.
The longer he was here, she realized, the more high-strung and dangerous he was becoming. This had been a preview. Next time, she knew, he would do far worse to her. As much as she wanted out of here and to not let the motherfucker win, she knew she was going to have to play things more carefully now. She was not in the realm as the Pig, where she could have sprung her blade and killed him as she had killed Frank.
He was weaker than her mentally, but he was stronger than her phyiscally in the real world. He had the ability to incapacitate her, and that was a problem. He had the ability to harm her, and while she'd recover, it would still hurt like fuck, as she had just experienced.
She went out to the main bedroom and collected her panties and bra from the cooling radiator. Already the room seemed to have dropped a couple of degrees, and she knew when it fell to 60, even though it was mild in the outdoors, it would feel like a fridge in this room. Miserable mother fucker. She'd show him an ice queen if she ever got the chance.
When she picked up her blouse from the floor, she noticed she had blood on the collar. That couldn't be helped. The sweater was still clean though. She'd come to revile these clothes even more strongly than the ones she'd last worn on the Ocean Princess.
Then she repeated her actions of last night. She ran the hot water and scrubbed her face clean of blood first, so she wouldn't make the water bloody, then ran the tub and got in. She heard the door to her room open and sure efuckingnough Kyle came in with a bowl of what smelled like beef stew and his belt in his hand and sat on the toilet and ate it with the belt across his lap as she washed herself.
"Managed to avoid any marks. Tha'ts impressive. You've got thick skin Amanda. Even managed to avoid the bruising." Amanda said nothing, she just rested her head on the back of the tub and wished that he'd just fucking leave.
But he didn't leave. This time, it was a little different. After she'd washed her hair and body, he ordered her around. He ordered her to stand up, turn around, bend over, face him, stand with her legs apart. She defiantly told him no every time, and every time he'd set the bowl on the sink, take the belt in his hands, stand up, and lash her with it on the top of her head until she did it.
It wasn't just the pain that made her eventually do all the poses he wanted her to do for his own satisfaction. The main reason was that she was afraid one of the lashes would open up her skin and she'd bleed, but the cut would heal in front of him and he'd know about her healing ability.
She allowed herself to feel a little terrified of her finding out that secret, because she didn't think he'd wonder for more than a minute how she could do it, instead, he'd be thrilled at the thought that he could beat her visciously, or make her bleed to his heart's content, and she would heal completely so he could do it again and again. She had no desire to for Kyle to know he could gleefully spend however long she was stuck there as his prisoner inflicting all the pain on her he wanted for hours and hours.
After he'd lashed her into stading in the water with her thighs parted, he got up and ran his hand over her damp breasts as she turned her head away in disgust. She'd given her virginity to this pile of walking shit and she was never ever EVER going to forgive herself for it. He'd been right, you always remember your first, and now he'd found a way to hurt her and fill her head with even more awful memories.
Kyle lowered his hand between her legs and rubbed her clit and Amanda felt sick to her stomach and her mouth twisted in disgust at having his fingers on her body. He smiled at her disgust, then took his hand away. He gave her one last look and then left the room with the empty bowl and spoon in his hand.
She didn't like what he'd just done. Was it a precursur to what was to come? Was he going to eventually start forcing himself on her? He'd already beaten her within an inch of her life, so she wouldn't put it past him to eventually decide that if he couldn't fuck her as a blackmail payment, that he could collect the money from her kidnapping and rape her for added kicks.
Could she handle that? She thought so. She felt guilty sleeping with Frank, but that was different. She'd allowed it. This would be against her will. It would bring back flashbacks of her father maybe, but she was strong. If he did it, it was purely a power play and much like her sex with Frank, she could douche herself and wash herself and remove the traces of the phyisical act from her body.
She was more worried about how Jake would react. She had become so strong now, that the thought of Kyle doing it to her only made her feel a little bit of disgust. But when Jake found out, she knew he'd blame himself. He wouldn't view her as damaged goods, because he hadn't when Frank had fucked her, but she knew that he was already shouldering blame for what happened on the Ocean Princess, even thought none of it was his fault. If Kyle raped her, he'd assign more blame to himself for not only being unable to prevent the kidnapping from happening, but being unable to help rescue her in time before Kyle went down that road.
If it happened, as Kyle's actions hinted that it might, she'd have to demonstrate her strength and let Jake know she was a fighter and Kyle hadn't broken her. And she'd still want him to make love to her, that was a given. nothing Kyle could ever do to her would affect the low-grade feverish craving she had to be in bed with her husband. The first time or two...After...May be a little awkward and hesitant, but she knew that they'd recover their love life completely in no time. She'd need him to heal her, as he'd healed her every time after Frank.
No. She would not let Kyle's rape, if it happened, damage her after. She would not let it fuck up her life if he managed to successfully get the money and escape. Why? Because if he did it, it would be with the intent to leave her with emotional scars after he was gone. He'd be doing it and then he'd go somewhere and feel proud of himself that he'd left her traumatized. Fuck that. Fuck him, and Fuck his attempts to hurt her. She'd cried today, but she was far from broken.
So bring it in, Amanda thought. She'd put him and everything he did to her over these next however many days from her mind, and go back to her happy life and enjoy the time with her husband and it didn't matter how much money Kyle may escape with. Her life would remain infinitely more happy than his ever would be. She wouldn't allow her anything less. She would be the same woman Jake feel in love with after she was home. The most Kyle would be able to have stolen from her was her time.
But if she could, she would not allow him the chance to escape with the money. She would not allow him to leave if he raped her. If he let his guard down with her again, set-up or otherwise, she'd find a way to kill him. The germ of the thought had formed in her head as she'd bathed and now that she had tome to think about it, she was resolute. She could blind him with her fingers, and then find a way to kill him, the kitchen would likely have a weapon.
If she'd thought about it before, she wouldn't have tried to escape. She'd have tried to kill him instead of wasting time at the door. She'd played it out the wrong way, because an escape attempt had seemed logical at the time, but now she wished she'd tried to kill him instead. Oh well, she'd hope for a next time.
She heard noises from the other room, but couldn't see out to know what was going on since the tub was away from the bathroom doorway. She relaxed a few more minutes while the noises continued and wuth the water cooling from hot to only lukewarm, she pulled the plug and got out. Her towel was handing on the loop was yesterday, and as she dried her hair she didn't notice Kyle walk into the bathroom and walk out.
But after she dried off her body, she defintely noticed that all of her clothes were gone. Wary, she wrapped the towel around her body and poked her head out of the doorway. The room was getting even further chilly and Kyle was out there, waiting for her.
Her clothes were in a pile on the floor. He'd laid her comforter in front of the cooling radiator and then she was what all the fucking noise had been. He'd found an old loveseat from another one of the rooms and had shoved it into her room and it was facing the radiator with her comforter between it.
Jesus. Was he already going to go all the way with her?
"Come here," Kyle said. And warily, she did. "Lie down," And warily, she did. "Get rid of the towel." ...Warily, she did. "Spread your legs." ...Warily...She did.
Fuck it was cold in here. Her body, even though it had just soaked in hot water, began to break out in goosebumps. She found herself pissed more than anything because he had intentionally taken most of her heat away, and now he was forcing her to lay in the cold naked to make the experience even more fucking miserable.
He undid his pants and stared at her but made no actual move towards her. Instead he pulled his dick out and stared at her and started masturbating. He told her to play with herself. Fuck that. She just laid there like a corpse. He still had his belt free and in his right hand and when she made no move to do what he asked, he viciously targeted her pussy between her legs and whipped her clit with his belt.
She involuntarily shrieked and clutched herself. "I said FUCKING TOUCH YOURSELF," Kyle told her. So she did.
He was really into his jerk-off session and his head was tilted back on the loveseat when he suddenly grunted and filled his hand with a pool of sperm. Satisfied, he flicked his hand and it splattered on her stomach. He took her clothes with him, shut the door and locked it.
She immediately got up, wiped it off with toilet paper and then washed her stomach with the water from the sink for good measure. It was getting colder and colder and now she was stuck naked so she went back into the bedroom, wrapped the comforter around her and pressed herself against the radiator, feeling somewhat miserable.
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While Kyle was beating and playing mind games with Amanda, Strahm, Perez, and Fontana were already up, fed, and sipping coffee as they reviewed the lastest information and evidence they had.
"So he goes into this alley, here," Fontana said. They had a laptop open and Fontana had arrived with a fresh clip of the kidnapper's car on CCTV footage. "There's a pause for a few minutes, and then the car backs out and keeps going. We went and checked the area early this morning, fearing that maybe he'd killed her and dumped her, but there's no evidence of foul play. We're not sure exactly what he was doing back there."
Perez was looking at the statement she'd gotten from Roger. "Tying her up," Perez guessed, and looked at the two men. "He must have whacked her over the head in the parking garage, but Roger said it happened so fast that he only barely got a glimpse of the car. Either she was starting to wake up, or he just decided that since it was a quiet spot he would do it in advance, but I'm betting he incapacitated her during that moment."
Strahm was nodding and so was Fontana. "I mean, we've seen the video on the cruise ship. She's not the type that would just sit back and let things happen. She'd fight him in the car, there's no question in my mind. I'm betting she was still unconscious at the time, otherwise she would have tried to get away when he stopped the car, and as Fontana just said, there's no signs of foul play. She was out, he tied her, and they left for parts unknown."
"Then he's more than likely working alone," Strahm said, getting to his feet and stretching his legs. "If he had a partner, they could have done it, or held a weapon on her to keep her from fighting back. If he stopped the car and tied her up, which I agree, based on the timing he likely did, then it means that he's alone in the car and had to do it himself. He couldn't tie her up while driving. That proves even more than the kidnapper is the ex that we've been suspecting all along."
The door opened and Jake walked in. He looked at them nervously and said, "Do you mind if I stay in here? I just...I promise I'll be quiet and stay out of the way." Strahm gave him a small smile and nodded.
He walked over to the sheet of paper that Jake had written names on. "We cross checked all of the names on this list. None of them came from Tennessee. In fact, she met every single one of them in Chicago. However, since Illinois isn't across the world from Tennesssee, we checked them out anyway. The names were unique enough that there was only one of each. We emailed a photo to Chicago PD to show each of the names on the list and while some of them remembered dating her, none claimed involvement and none of them owned a Cutlass, Tennessee plate or otherwise. They all had fairly solid alibis as well."
Jake's face twisted in defeat. Strahm soothed him. "It doesn't mean she wasn't kidnapped by an ex, it's just one that she didn't tell you about. Maybe the one that did it had a particular history with her that made it too hard for her to talk about them. It was always a long shot. But it was one we had to try. At least we can cross these names off of the list. Now that we can eliminate those, sis you get anything from the DMV yet?"
Perez stood up and produced a sheet of printer paper. "We just finally got it this morning. There are 23 owners who have registered an Olds Cutlass between the model years 1981 to 1986, and of those, only seven of them are indicated as being black."
Strahm clapped his hands together. "Finally, we can move on with that. It's nice to know the Tennessee DMV just leaps into action when a kidnapping case is involved. This is where we find the kidnapper. I'll bet my next paycheck that one of these seven names on the list is the person who kidnapped Amanda Park."
"Can I see it?" Jake stood up. "I just want to look at the names, and see if any of them jog my memory. Maybe Amanda has talked about one of them and I forgot it and didn't put it in my initial list of names."
Strahm passed him the list and he looked at the names that were circled. Michael Bannon, 1986 cutlass, Preston Kandinsky, 1986 Cutlass, Sam Graves, 1983 Cutlass, Barney Donahue, 1985 Cutlass, Steve Smith, 1984 Cutlass, Kyle Donner, 1984 Cutlass, Andrew McAllister, 1981 Cutlass. He read the names over and over but none of them looked familiar. Strahm was looking at him and Jake shook his head.
"Alright," Strahm said. "We need to get Tennessee law enforcement out of bed and checking these names and determining if they and their cars are there or not. If we come across anyone that's gone, they're going to jump to the top of the list. But naturally, we're not going to let him know that we're onto them."
Fontana volunteered and hunched over the computer, finding the nearest law enforcement jurisdiction to the city of Tennessee where each of the names on the list lived and making phone calls. Strahm looked at Jake. "I know what you're thinking. Why didn't we start here first rather than try to track down the names? Fact is, we tried. Since we didn't get the list immediately, we went with yours first. Besides, it wasn't impossible that one of the names of the guys she used to know wouldn't have been on the DMV list too when we got it."
Perez looked at the pair of them hesitantly. She said, "Surprising it wasn't, actually. Most of the guys...Who Amanda knew...They had rap sheets that were..." She couldn't finish. Fact of the matter was every one of Amanda's exes was a complete lowlife. Charges ranged fro drunk and disorderly to domestic abuse assault, to simple assault, and assault on a peace officer. Every one of them knew how to use their fists and it wasn't hard for Perez to assume that Amanda had been on the receiving end of them if she'd known them.
Jake looked her way and relieved her. "You don't have to walk on eggshells. I know each and every one of them was a complete asshole and they beat on her. She told me so. She...Wasn't in a good place when I met her, and it took a long time to help her heal. The work was hers, but I helped her through it and there were a lot of days where she'd be in such a state of depression she would barely move. But she's better now. She doesn't let it define her and she's a Hell of a fighter."
Strahm smiled. He had seen something in Amanda Young and had worked hard to help bring it out of her. They were a good fit, the pair of them. The more he was around Jake the more and more he liked him. It wasn't easy to take on a woman with Amanda's history and deal with the baggage. Often they would last out at their significant others, unintentionally, and end up driving them away. Jake had stuck by her, and it showed. The woman that Strahm had let escape from the Gideon plant no longer existed. With the official death of Amanda Young, she'd been reborn.
Fontana's phone rang. He answered it, listened, and thanks the person on the other end. "We can cross off Michael Bannon from the list. He's home, his car is in the driveway, and his alibi is corroborated by three witnesses."
Strahm nodded. "One down, six to go."
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Amanda wasn't sure how long he'd left her there, but eventually, she'd fallen asleep with her back pressed against the lukewarm radiator. The door had scraped open and her eyes had sprung open almost as quickly. A bundle of something hit her face and she looked down to see it was her clothes.
"Get dressed," Kyle said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "We're going for a ride."
He slammed the door behind him. Amanda removed the blanket and slipped into her clothes, happy to finally be dressed again. Her bra and panties were missing, and he also hadn't given her the boots and socks she'd been wearing, but he had given her everything else. Dressed, she walked across the cold carpet and knocked on the door and it scraped open again. Kyle told her to stand against the wall and he bound her hands in front of her and left a little bit of rope to use as a sort of leash, trailing it behind her as she walked.
She was paraded down the hall and to the front door, which was half open. She immediately felt the cold chill on her bare feet. "Hey, where are my fucking boots? Come on, Kyle, quit being a fucking asshole."
Kyle, his voice dripping with malice behind her, said, "You're a running risk. You're not going to get very far in the cold barefoot, in my estimation. Now shut up and get in the fucking car and if you try to do anything to signal a fucking car or pedestrian I swear to fucking God I will murder you and give up on the fucking money, are we clear?"
Amanda nodded. She walked out and her feet were numb by the time she walked across the cold concrete to get into the passenger seat of Kyle's Cutlass. He had another piece of rope in the car and told her to put her hands in her lap. He looped the rope around the seat, low enough that it couldn't be seen by a passing motorist, and tied her arms so she couldn't lift them above the dashboard.
He completed his tasks by shoving her hair up under a ballcap and putting a pair of his sunglasses on her. Then he got in and drove them around the circle driveway before he parked in front of the gate. He opened it, drove through, and locked it again.
"Where the fuck are we going?" Amanda glanced at him and couldn't keep an irritated expresson off of her face.
"I did a little research before I came up here. It's not like the movies anymore, where the person is kept on the line for 60 seconds or whatever to find a location when they trace the call. They can trace it almost immediately, so we're not asking for the money here. We're going a nice safe distance so when they trace the call, they're many miles away from where you're actually located."
Amanda frowned over the fact that he was actually making a very smart move. She liked it better when it seemed like he was acting impulsive and stupid. This smart version of Kyle was as unsettling as the one that had made her masturbate while he jerked his dick off and watched her. "So how much are you asking for?"
Kyle smiled. "A bitch like you, from that family. They'll pay 30 million dollars for your safe return, easy. That's what I'm going to tell them to drop..."
Amanda burst out laughing and Kyle looked at her, extraordinarily pissed. He hated when she fucking laughed at him like he was stupid. He fucking HATED it. "What's so fucking funny?"
Amanda recovered herself. "Have you actually seen how much 30 million dollars looks like in stacked bills? You're not talking about a couple of full bags of cash. That's going to be like a pallet load of bills. It's not going to be easy to just pack in a car as small as this, I can tell you."
He backhanded her. Not only because she had a smart mouth but because she married rich and had actually been able to see what 30 million dollars worth of cash looked like at some point or another. "Don't you fucking worry about it, bitch. I'll figure it out. Thanks for the tip."
And Amanda lapsed into a sullen silence as Kyle drove them down an old highway to whereever it was he was taking her.
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Barney Donahue had been the next name they'd crossed off of the list, then Sam Graves. Andrew McAllister was also cleared, as was Preston Kandinsky. Kyle Donner was not home, and his car was gone. A call to his workplace revealed that he'd apparently gone to his mother's funeral. The authorities found that quite interesting since his mother had died four years ago.
After Steve Smith had been questioned and cleared, Strahm smiled. They had a lead suspect. Donner drove a car of the right make and within the model year that was black in color, he was missing, and he'd told a lie to get out of work in order to hide his true destination. It had to be him.
Fontana was on his cell phone still, having gotten another call from the Gallatin Police Department. The call was from Officer Willie Gillis, who had delved a little deeper into Kyle Donner's private life and had found an interesting tibit of information.
"I stopped by Donner's usual bar stop, a place called Hogg's Upstairs Taverne. It was closed but the bartender was there doing some prep work. The bartender overheard Donner during the first segment of the Parks' interview on NBC tell one of the other patrons that...'He fucked her a bit when she was young.' So there's definitely dome history there. Donner and the bartender aren't close friends, so there's no worry about him reporting to Donner that the police are looking into him."
"That's good news," Fontana told him. "What about the boss, he sworn to secrecy as well?"
Gillis said, "Absolutely, He wasn't very pleased about being lied to, especially when Donner is suspected of having committed a felony."
"What else can you tell me about him? I've been looking at his court records," Fontana said, "And it looks like mostly minor offenses. I'm curious to know though, if there have been any instances of violence that may not have made it to a judge. He have any domestic beefs or assaults where the witnesses or victims panicked and didn't follow through?"
"None that we know of," Gillis told him, and Fontana found himself a little grateful for that. "I checked with the chief, and he knows of no intances. He's the town bad boy, and usually has pretty good luck with the ladies, some of whom seem to go for the whole dangerous edge thing."
"Well, that's good news," Fontana said. I'll pass on the info to the lead agent in charge. The photos we found of him are a few years old, if you have something a little more recent, we'd appreciate it. If you track down anything else, don't hesitate to call. All of us want this to be resolved peacefully."
Gillis told him he would, and after Fontana gave him an email address to reach Perez, he disconnected the call.
Fontana gave Strahm, Perez, and, since he was still in the room, Jake, the update he'd gotten from Gillis. Strahm was nodding, and he became a little more comfortable. "The fact that he doesn't have any history of violence is a good sign, but just because he hasn't before now doesn't mean that he can't develop it. He's trapped himself in a complicated situation, and he's in over his head."
"What kind of trouble is he facing here?" Jake wasn't very familiar with kidnapping laws, though he knew that it was a fairly strong penalty.
Strahm slowly paced the room, "Since he planned it out, and if he demands money for her return, that's first degree kidnapping, which is a Class A-I Felony. Mandatory 15-25, and you can bet based on the fact that she's Jack Park's daughter-in-law, that the judge is easily going to sentence him to 25 years. It's only going to get higher the more he's done to her while she's in captivity."
"I imagine he's going to make the call today, now that he's allowed the Park family to stew for awhile. It's the standard operating proceedure in ransom cases," Perez said. "We've got the photo."
The other three clustered around the laptop Perez was sitting in front of. Jake saw a fairly normal-looking guy, with his head shaved. He was good-looking enough to, as Fontana had told them, be good with the ladies. He wondered when Amanda had met him, and what she'd seen in him at the time, but then again, she was in a different frame of mind at that time.
Strahm asked her, "Anything on the cell phone?"
Perez shook her head. "He's either got it entirely shut off or he went overboard and destroyed it. We can't get a location fix on Amanda's cell phone either. He's leaving them both off."
Strahm nodded, vaguely irritated, then sat Jake down and prepped him for the inevitable phone call he would be taking.
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Amanda had sat quietly for what seemed like an hour before they got to what seemed to be their destination. Kyle had made no effort to speak and Amanda didn't either. Fuck him, she liked the quiet.
The sign said they were entering Mohawk State Forest. En route, Amanda had noted they passed a sign welcoming them to the State of Connecticut.
He drove the car to a shady area and took out her cell phone. "I'm going to be putting you on the line. It would be in your best interests not to do anything fucking stupid."
He left her wrists bound, but untied the rope binding her to the seat so she could raise her hands. The heat from the car had warmed up her freezing feet at least, but even though it was tempting to open the door and run, as she could avoid frostbite, it would still slow her down and he'd eventually catch up to her.
He removed her cell phone, scrolled through her contacts and initiated a call to "mom and dad home."
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The phone rang in the study. The four people in it started moving quickly. Perez dashed to the computer and started recording. The door opened and Jack, Sylvia, and Roger stepped in but stayed near the door, out of the way.
Strahm looked at Perez, who nodded. So he nodded to Jake who answered the phone. "Hello?"
Kyle leaned back in his seat and smiled. "I have something you want, and you have something I want."
Jake said, "You're right. So why don't you tell me what you want and we can get this resolved."
Perez, sitting by the laptop, wrote on a piece of paper and handed it to Strahm. Strahm motioned for Fontana to step into the hallway. When they were out of earshot, he said, "He's calling from Mohawk State Forest in Connecticut. Can you make the call and get the nearest law enforcement agency en route? It's the Torrington Police Department. Here's the number."
Fontana nodded and diealed his phone as Strahm stepped back into the room. The phone call was on speaker and he heard the kidnapper's voice say, "And hello to whatever law enforcement is there. The deal is this. I want $10 million in cash, and $20 million in cashier's checks made out to cash. I'll call you tomorrow with the location of the drop."
Jake said, "Obviously we can do that, but not until I know that my wife is safe and alive."
Fontana ducked back into the room and Strahm joined him. Fontana kept his voice low. "Torrington is en route, but the son of a bitch picked a good spot to make the call. It's going to take them about 20 minutes to get there."
Strahm frowned and nodded. He doubted Jake would keep him on the line that long.
Amanda had taken the phone from Kyle and held it in her bound hands. She was thinking of something she could use as a signal. She remembered the little plate on the sink in her bathroom. It was a gamble, but she thought she had a way to give them a tidbit that Kyle wouldn't catch onto.
Amanda wasn't sure what to say, so she simply started out by saying, "Hi honey."
In the study, Jakes eyes closed in relief. He knew she couldn't die...Yet. And he could easily hurt her, over and over. "Are you okay, Amanda?"
Amanda's eyes closed. Christ she'd missed the sound of his voice. "I'm fine. It's been fine, he hasn't...Hurt me."
Kyle was watching her. He was pleased that she was lying, especially after the wailing he'd given her earlier this morning. Good girl.
Amanda was saying, "I love you...I can't wait to watch more House with Craig."
Kyle's face darkened. Amanda heard Jake say "I love-" before the phone was yanked from her hand and he slapped her hard across the face, which the cell phone, naturally, picked up.
Kyle heard her husband getting hysterical. "Hey!" Jake yelled. "What are you doing!? Don't hurt her!"
Kyle said, "You don't give the orders, I do. Get the fucking money ready and I'll give you the location of the drop. If there's even a security guard present when I come to collect her, I'll kill her with zero hesitation. I'll be in touch tomorrow. Don't fuck with me on this." He disconnected the call and turned the cell phone off.
Amanda was rubbing her cheek. She's gambled, and broke even, she supposed. She hadn't realized that Wade had told Kyle about the house's history, and the fact that it had been called Craig House.
"Very fucking cute, Amanda." Kyle tied her up to the seat again, and then he went ballistic, punching her and slapping her and screaming obscenities at her. After he assaulted her for at least a minute or more, he leaned back in the seat. "It's really fucking temping to just leave you here dead, it really fucking is. And I swear to God if the cops are waiting for us when we get back, I'll at least leave you scarred for life before they arrest me, and hopefully I'll fucking kill you."
He turned the key in the ignition, and sped out of there, going further north before he crossed state lines. Occasionally, his rage overtook him and every so often, he slapped her or punched her. He was going to make sure it was a long ride back for her.
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"What are you going to do, Agent? It's obvious that he's hurting her now. Can't you track this man down and find him?" Jack Park's face was dark with rage at what he'd heard over the speaker phone.
"We're trying, Mr. Park," Strahm said, trying to ease the tension. "I didn't like hearing that any more than you do. We traced his location and local law enforcement is already on-scene."
Jake surprised him by saying, "Dad, they're doing what they can. The guy is keeping the cell phones off so they can't track him. They're not superheroes, and frankly, I'm glad they're here because this would be a really terrible situation if we were trying to do it alone."
Perez was playing back the phone call audio on the computer, with the speakers on. Amanda's voice said, "I can't wait to watch more House with Greg."
Jake's brow was furrowed. Strahm was looking at him. "Who's Greg?"
Jake shrugged, honestly confused. "We don't know anyone named Greg, and Amanda for damn sure hasn't watched any House with him, whatever that is."
Sylvia piped in. "It's a T.V. series about a doctor who deals with bizarre medical cases. The character's name is Gregory House. I watch it regularly, I didn't know Amanda was a fan as well."
Strahm nodded. "She's gave us some sort of a signal. It's a clue. We have to figure out what she was signaling us. Why did she reference a character in a T.V. show? Is there a clue in the name of the character or the actor who portrays him? Or maybe one of the supporting characters and actors. There's something about that show and we need to figure out what it is."
So they started wracking their brains, everyone throwing out ideas, even Jack and Sylivia. They were all unaware due to the cell phone quality that Amanda had not said Greg, but Craig.
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It was after 7 in the evening before they finally made it back to the big old Victorian. There were no obvious police cars, yet Kyle opened the gate warily. He drove the car in, re-locked the gate, and drove the car further up the driveway and parked it nearby the mansion. Kyle saw Wade's car was there, and he untied Amanda from the seat and led her inside as she stumbled, the cold ground freezing her bare feet once more.
Amanda's face was bloodied once more. He'd given her a number of bruises but she'd kept her face turned away from him as she healed, so he didn't see it. She was still quite worried that at some point he'd wound her in a way that he'd either see heal, or notice was healed.
Wade came from the kitchen and he hid his shocked expression when he saw Amanda's bedraggled appearance and the blood dried on her face. This was getting too fucking out of control. He could sit on his hands when it looked like Kyle was just slightly on edge, but now he was progressing to violent assault. He's beaten the shit out of her enough to make her bleed. It was likely only going to get worse from here, the more and more pressure was heaped on him from the situation.
"Nice to see you again, Wade. I made the call. !0 million ransom, and five of that is for you." Kyle was grinning. No sense in telling Wade about the additional $20 million in checks, he'd keep that for himself. $25 million. He could live comfortably for the rest of his life in a sunny place that would never extradite him.
"That's good news. Now that things are moving quickly, I suppose I'll hang out here until after the money drop. Thing is, I was just checking your fridge. Your fucking beer selection is panther piss. Can you get me some of my brand? I'll give you the money. Lock her up, and I'll do my caretaker rounds while I'm here. They're due, and until we get the payoff, I need the money." Wade laughed.
Something was off and Kyle knew it. He was way too eager about things now, after being extremely hesitant before. He smiled and took two $20 bills and Wade asked for a case of Budweiser. He shoved the bound Amanda down the hallway, into her room, and slammed the door and locked it behind her.
Amanda's feet were warming up again and becoming less numb. She was starting to get really familiar with scrubbing blood off of her face. She bypassed the tub though, and washed her face in the sink.
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Kyle was walking up the hallway holding the cash. "She's all locked up tight. I'll be back in maybe 30 minutes. You should see her when she's naked. I'll let you sneak a peek." Kyle winked and Wade made his lips smile back. Kyle said, "My car's almost out of gas. Let me borror yours. I'd rather get gas in the morning when it's a little warmer. And besides, I'm doing YOU the favor." Kyle grinned.
He noticed a slight flash of something in Wade's eyes but Wade passed him the keys to his Crown Victoria without a word. Kyle went outside of the house and got in.
He drove it to the gate, opened it, drove the car through, got back out, shut it, but did not lock it. He drove the Ford past the fence, out of sight, and then immediately pulled it over and parked it. He got out quietly, and shut the door carefully, creeping back towards the fence in the darkening night.
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Wade waited until the car disappeared from sight before he ran down the hall to the woman's prison cell. He unlocked the door and saw the woman from the day before.
She looked like shit.
Her clothes were disheveled, her black hair was damp in the front, obviously from when she'd washed the blood off of her face, and the white collar of her blouse was bloodstained. He also noticed how chilly the room was. A quick glance told him the temperature control dial of the radiator was missing. "He's out getting the beer. Now's our chance. Come on."
She got to her feet and he noticed they were bare. "Shit. Where are your boots?" He untied her hands.
"I don't know where they are, he took them from me this morning and he hasn't given them back since," Amanda replied.
"I've got to find them," Wade said. "Your coat too. You're going to need both of them, it's 20 degrees out there with the sun down."
Amanda was shaking her head." We need to get out of here, now. You can drive me to..."
Wade shook his head. "He took my car, said he was low on gas. You'll have to walk and like I was telling you, it's too cold for that, barefoot and with no coat. He's going to be at least another 15 minutes. Give me five. If I can't find it in five minutes we'll figure something out."
Wade left the doorway. Amanda started throwing things into her purse so she could take it with her. It looked like she was going to have to buy another cell phone. The people at the store we're going to think she was the most destructive bitch on Earth.
The door to her room slammed shut and she heard the lock click. "Wade?" Amanda ran towards it but it was solidly secured. What the fuck? "WADE!?"
******************************************************************************************
He hadn't found her coat but he'd found her boots. Wade sprinted back down the hall and towards Amanda's door but saw it was shut. He went to open it but then noticed it was locked. What the Hell?
"Ten million dollars, Wade. Half of it was yours and what did you do? You panicked and decided to trust her because you were scared of jail time. I've been taking all the fucking risks, it was no skin off of your fucking nose. I can't fucking believe you tried to trick me so you could free her."
Amanda was pounding on the door. Wade simply hollered, "He's here!" Amanda quit pounding.
Wade turned and looked at Kyle. "You involved me in a goddamn felony, WITHOUT ASKING, and you're asking me why I want to try and take an easier way out? At this point the chick in there is showing me she's far more level-headed than you are. What the fuck is wrong with you? You were cool in the can, and the more this has gone on the more you've gone full psycho. You're beating on the poor bitch. Why?"
"She tried to signal the cops the location when I made the ransom call. It pissed me off and she needed to learn that..."
Wade was shaking his head. "I did a little research. The automatic mandatory for a kidnapping, which you've now made a Class A Felony by making a ransom demand, is 15-25 years. You could bet you were getting the 25. Now you've beat on here too? You're looking at her naked? The minute a cop sees the blood on her blouse you can bet the sentence is going to skyrocket. In this state, you can get life in the can for kidnapping, and you've basically done everything you can to make sure you get it."
Kyle was sulking, "I'm only going to get sentenced if they catch me, you dumbass. And I can assure you, the NYPD is..."
And Wade laughed bitterly. "You still think the NYPD is the only one on this? I mean, if they were, that would be bad enough. But you kidnapped a billionaire's fucking daughter-in-law. You think they haven't got the feds on this by now? Shit, man, the FBI has probably been in the lead on this from the start, and the FBI does not fuck around. I'm telling you, letting her go and taking our chances is the best option."
Kyle looked at him darkly. "Best option for you, maybe. You've been nice to her. She'll probably cover your ass, but she won't cover mine and I won't believe her no matter how many fucking promises she makes. She's not leaving here until I get the money."
Wade turned back to the door and fished for his keys. "I'm letting her out of there. This is done. I'm bigger than you. If you try to stop me, I'll knock your dick in the dirt."
The same thing that bitch had said in the Starbuck's. The same turn of phrase. Kyle saw red and his mind went blank. He pulled his pocketknife from his pants, flicked open the blade, and before he was conscious of what he was even doing, He stabbed it square into Wade's back.
Wade gasped and went rigid. He let go of the lock and dropped his keys to the floor. He turned, Kyle's knife still sticking in his back, and, disoriented in pain, started trying to run down the hall. Kyle chased after him and tackled him to the floor. He pulled the knife from Wade's back as Wade twisted underneath him to face him. Wade was a big man, built like an ox. His beefy arms shot up and wrapped around Kyle's throat like a vice.
Instantly the air was ckoked out of his throat. He raised the bloody knife and stabbed Wade in the chest, over and over again. He lost track of the amount of times until Wade's hands finally let go of his throat. He took a ragged gasp of air, then another, staggering a few steps before he pressed his back to the wall and slid to the floor. He tilted to the left side and collapsed on the floor and blacked out while his throat and lungs started breathing normally again.