Chapter Two
Well, I got them all the extra information I could, Daria thought as she drove down the street. I hope they can put it to good use. She heard cranky squawing sounds coming from the cell phone. She drove through an intersection, checked her rear view mirror, and reluctantly took a hand off the steering wheel to pick it up from the seat. "What?"
"What were you doing? Why didn't you answer?"
"I'm driving." Daria refrained from adding "you idiot!"
"That's no excuse for putting down the phone! From now on, I want you to keep this phone in your ear at all times, and answer me immediately, do you..." Daria missed the remainder of that sentence because she had to make a turn.
"Hey! HEY! What the hell is all that clacking and scraping and beeping?"
"That's me turning onto Iroquois Avenue! And it's mighty hard holding this phone and the steering wheel at the same time, let me tell you. I have small hands!"
"You're supposed to drive one-handed, you moron! You'd better not break this connection!"
Never in her life could Daria remember wanting to unload a broadside of sarcasm on anyone as much as she did right now. But, she reminded herself, this time she just could not indulge in that luxury. In the meekest, most reasonable tone of voice she could manage, she replied, "If I try to do that, I'll wreck the car, and your money will be blowing in the wind all over town."
"Now you look here. Your showing up spoiled my original plan. I've cut out a lot of precautions to speed things up and get on the road faster. But I have to know where you are at all times so I know you're not trying to pull a fast one. Where are you now?"
"I just crossed Cherry street. Half a mile from Fishkill Road."
"Good. I mean, you're driving too slow. Hurry up! And keep that phone in your ear at all times if you want to see these kids again!"
Daria's estimate of the kidnapper's intelligence was steadily dropping. "I can just barely drive two-handed, let alone one-handed. I told you that I just got my license, and I've never driven this car before. And you keep in mind that I'm going to want to see those kids unhurt before I get anywhere near you with this money."
On Cherry street, four girls in a convertible watched as Daria drove through the intersection. One said, "Uh, Quinn, isn't that your, like, weird cousin or whatever that just drove past in that like brand new Volvo?"
Quinn Morgendorffer stared after her receding sister. "It, um, kinda looked like her. But she doesn't hardly drive at all, and she sure doesn't have a car like that."
"I'm sure that was her. And she sure was driving fast," Stacy said.
"Yeaahh... and taalking on a celll phone..."
"We gotta check this out," Sandi decided, turning after the Volvo and mashing the accelerator pedal.
"I'm coming up on Old Fishkill Road," Daria said into the cell phone, "Which way?"
"Turn north," he said, "That's left to you."
Of course he'd be the kind of man who thinks women have no sense of direction, Daria thought. Fine. The more he underestimates me, the better. "I'm putting the phone down to make the turn," she said, and did so.
Daria racked her brain to recall everything she'd heard or read about kidnappings. Most of it was definitely not good, especially the for-money type of kidnapping. The victim or victims were often killed to protect the identities of the kidnappers. And Tad and Tricia apparently knew this man. They'd certainly gotten a good close look at him, at the very least. Her position was also potentially quite dangerous, she realized, depending on what procedure he had in mind for making the exchange. The closer she got to him, the more danger she would be in. But Daria had to think of the childrens' safety first.
She also had to keep in mind the contradictory goals of not angering the kidnapper any more than she could help, and not letting him think he held all the cards and could do anything he wanted. I'm not getting paid anywhere near enough for this. Even this suitcase full of money isn't nearly enough. If I live through today, I'm retiring from babysitting. She picked up the phone off the seat and said, "I'm headed north on Old Fishkill Road. Where to now?"
"She's turning left! She's turning left!" Stacy squeaked, bouncing up and down in the back seat.
"Yes, we see that, Stacy," Sandi said in a patronizing tone, "Chill. Don't start hyperventilating."
"That's Fishkill Road, isn't it? Where could she be going out that way?" Quinn wondered.
"Fish kill. Quinn. Ew," drawled Tiffany.
"Um, there's Kenny's Old South Pit Bar-B-Q, and the Dew Drop Inn, and a couple of junkyards, and then pretty much nothing till Hadleyville,"said Stacy.
"We'll just have to follow her and see," Sandi said as she turned north and accelerated up Old Fishkill Road.
"I just passed Kenny's. Now what?"
"The Dew Drop Inn is just ahead. Turn in and park in front of room 104. Leave the car running and the keys in the ignition. Bring the suitcase into room 104."
Daria pulled into the parking lot of the Dew Drop Inn and looked around. The place was probably older than her parents. Single story cinder block buildings, covered with flaking white paint , only about fifteen rooms, it was one of those places you just knew was owned and run by an Indian family. Geez. Yesterday I'd've said I wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this. And today I may well be.
Daria spotted room 104 and spoke into the phone. "I'm here."
In the window beside the door, the curtain twitched. "I told you to pull up in front of the door and park!" The kidnapper snapped.
"Let me see the children at the door."
"Hey, I'm the one with the gun here!"
"And I'm the one with the money," replied Daria, suddenly aware that she was sweating profusely. "Let me see the children at the door."
Nothing happened for a few seconds, then the door slowly opened and Tricia and Tad moved into sight in it. Daria could tell they had been crying, but when he saw her, Tad broke into a big grin and started waving. Tricia looked frightened at his rash action, but when the kidnapper did nothing, she smiled too, and waved surreptitiously. Daria smiled and waved back, and a part of her wondered when she'd fallen in love with these two kids that she'd only seen twice before. Another part of her realized, with a sinking feeling, that she'd give her life if she had to, to save theirs.
The kidnapper stepped into view behind them, holding a revolver in front of him so she'd be sure to see it. He looked different. He was wearing a mask, that was it, one of those famous-person type masks. He pulled the children back from the door, not roughly, and closed it. A couple of seconds later, his voice came over the phone. "Now pull up and park in front of the door, and bring the money inside."
Here we go, thought Daria. She said, "let's talk about how we're going to do this. I'm guessing you want to leave here driving this car, right?"
"That's right, and you'd better not try to stop me!"
"That's fine with me. I just need to make sure that when you drive away with the car and the money, the children and I are still here, and still healthy."
"That was always my intention. Now bring me the money."
"Sure, you can have the money," Daria said, thinking furiously, "But we need to do it so that at the same time you get the money and the car, the children and I are out of range of your revolver."
"You're wasting my time," he said, a dangerous edge to his voice, "And time is a precious commodity to me right now."
"Okay, I've seen the kids; you want to see the money, right?" Daria rushed on, not waiting for an answer. "I'll pull up closer and open up the suitcase so you can look." She pulled forward until she was about twenty feet away from the door of 104, stopped, put the car in reverse just in case, and opened the little suitcase. She put the front of it on the dashboard and tilted it up so that the kidnapper, who was peering out the window, could see the cash inside.
"Is that all of it? That doesn't look like much money to me."
"That's all the cash. I watched them putting it in, and they didn't keep any out. You said you didn't want to fool with the checks, remember?"
"How do I know that's real money? I need to look at it up close." He opened the door and looked around, as if he were going to come out to the car.
Daria backed up a few feet and quickly braked again. "Send out one of the kids to bring some in for you to look at," she said.
Across the road from the Dew Drop Inn, in front of a long-abandoned gas station, in the rusty, up-on-blocks hulk of a delivery van, two people crouched in semi-darkness. Eufaula Downing, cub reporter for Sick, Sad World, was into her second day of stakeout at this site, trying to gather footage for a segment tentatively titled 'The Secret Lives of Sleazy Motels', and, although she wasn't sure exactly what was taking place in the motel parking lot, this was the first occurrence here that might possibly be usable. Turning to her cameraman, she asked, "Are you getting this?"
Irritated but used to working with newbie reporters, he merely sighed and answered, "Oh, yeah,"and zoomed in a little tighter.
"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" The kidnapper yelled. "You pull a stunt like that again and I'll shoot these kids, so help me!"
"And I'll be out of here like a bat out of hell and calling 9-1-1! I notice that van of yours isn't anywhere in sight, and the cops are probably already looking for it anyway, so just cool it, okay?"
"Who the hell are you, anyway, girl?" He asked, a note of genuine puzzlement in his voice.
"I'm the babysitter. Now, do you want to check out some of these bills, which is a waste of time, because the Guptys didn't have any time or any reason to go get fake money, or do you want to skip that and go right to the swap?"
"I want my damn money and I want to get out of here!" he replied, sounding rattled.
"Fine, let's do that," said Daria, striving to sound positive, helpful, and businesslike. Let the kids out, and we'll all move nice and easy, and every step you take toward the car, we'll take a step away from you, okay? Then, when you get to the car, just hop in and drive away."
A few seconds passed, then the masked kidnapper emerged from the motel room and gestured for Tad and Tricia to come out behind him. At first, Daria didn't see the gun, then she spotted it in his right front pants pocket. Daria opened the car door and put one foot on the ground, slipping the cell phone into her jacket pocket as an afterthought.
"Before we start, put the suitcase on the hood of the car," he said.
Daria considered this carefully, then, seeing no disadvantage to her, nodded and pulled the suitcase out of the car. "Tricia, Tad, listen," she called out to them. "When he and I start walking, you start too. Don't go any faster than we do. You walk that way, toward the end of this building, then you go around the building and into the woods behind it, okay? I'll be right behind you. Remember, we're all going to be walking slow, okay? And if I say stop, you stop, okay?"
"Okay, Daria," Tricia and Tad replied.
"Or if I say stop, you stop too," the kidnapper said.
"Uh, right," Daria replied.
"Now put the suitcase on the hood."
"Okay, but when I do, you stay still. And kids, you take three steps toward the end of the building."
"What the..."
"Because I'll be coming closer to you, instead of farther away," Daria explained.
The kidnapper looked toward the end of the building and the gap between it and the next one, then toward Daria and the hood of the car, and said, "Whatever! Hurry up!"
Daria started to step around the driver's side door, then turned at the sound of tires on the gritty parking lot pavement. Sandi Griffin's cute little convertible came to a stop right behind the Volvo and the fashion fiends got out.
"No!" Daria cried. "Get out of here! Get back in that car and burn rubber! Now!"
"Daria! What on earth are you doing with that scruffy little suitcase at this sleazy little motel? You are so gonna get it when I tell Mom!" Quinn demanded, marching angrily toward her, followed by the others.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" came a voice from behind her. Daria turned. The kidnapper was rapidly closing the gap between them. Tad and Tricia Gupty cowered against the wall behind him, not knowing what to do. There was no chance now that Daria could jump back into the car and get away.
"Geez, talk about a low-rent rendezvous," sneered Sandi. "Like, introduce us to your friend, Daria."
"Yes indeed, Daria," the kidnapper said urbanely, "Come on in, and bring your suitcase. Oh, and bring all your little friends, too." He gestured toward the door of room 104.
"I don't think so," said Quinn, noticing the mask he wore. Seeing it up close, Daria decided that it was probably a Mr. Rogers mask.
"Like, in your dreams," Sandi added.
The kidnapper pulled the revolver from his pocket and pointed it straight at Sandi. "Get in there right now! All of you!"
Across the road inside the rusty old delivery van on blocks, two figures watched. "Did you get that? Please tell me you got that!" said Eufaula.
"Put the suitcase on the bed! Now all of you get back over there!" the kidnapper demanded, flourishing his revolver. The girls and Tad crowded to the back of the small room, and he opened the suitcase and began examining the money.
"Daria, what the aitch is going on here?" Quinn whispered loudly.
"Oh, pretty much what you're thinking, Quinn," Daria replied, disgusted, "I've been carrying on a tawdry affair with Tad and Tricia. We got caught, and now we're being blackmailed." Tad and Tricia burst out laughing at this, and the kidnapper gave an amused snort. Quinn, Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany looked blank or confused.
"The children were kidnapped," Daria said, eliciting a chorus of gasps. "I brought the ransom, and we almost had everything worked out when you and the special class showed up."
The kidnapper finished flipping through and sniffing several bundles of bills and turned to them, smiling. "It worked out all right in the end, though. I've got the money, the car, and plenty of hostages. Oh, give me your cell phone, would you, Daria?" he said, holding out a hand.
Maintaining a deadpan expression, Daria handed over Mr. Gupty's cell phone. The kidnapper stepped to the nightstand and yanked the phone cord out of the wall. Daria began to hope again. He wouldn't be bothering with this if he intended to kill us, she thought.
"Oh, no, he's going to kill us all, I know he is!" Stacy wailed
Daria couldn't believe Stacy had said that. I hope he starts with you, you idiot. "No, he isn't, Stacy. He wants as much of a head start as he can get, and if that family that owns this place hear a gunshot, they'll call the police instantly. They live here, you know."
"But won't he shoot them too?"
If we survive this,I am so gonna kick your ass... "No, Stacy. He doesn't have enough bullets in that revolver to shoot all of them. It's a big family. Now shut up or I'll smack you."
"And when she's finished, so will I," said Sandi.
Stacy whimpered and started to tear up. The kidnapper smiled a creepy smile and said, "She's right, Stacy. All I want is a good long head start, and I have a cute idea how to get one. All you girls take your clothes off. Not you, Tricia. You and Tad come stand over here in the front corner, and give the ladies some room."
Daria felt the blush setting in almost instantly. This just makes my day, she thought, and then another thought drove that one out. She sat down on the bed and began to unlace a boot, while her mind raced. He wasn't making Todd and Tricia undress, therefore he was going to take them with him. That probably meant he was planning to kill them. Her stomach knotted up, and she could feel the blood draining from her face, erasing the blush. Yeah, that figures. He wasn't wearing the mask when he snatched them this morning, and they acted like they recognized him. What can I do?
Stacy was blubbering and Sandi was bitching. Damn. I don't want to divert the mental resources to deal with them, but I suppose I should try to keep them from getting themselves killed. But then Tiffany put a hand on the shoulder of each and said simply, "It's better than a bullet,"and, surprisingly, that seemed to work.
But then Stacy said, "Bu- but, I thought he wa-wasn't going to shoot us."
"He could just as easily club you to death with the pistol," Quinn said.
The two looked from Tiffany to Quinn, then looked at the kidnapper, still smiling, his pistol pointed at the ceiling. Daria dropped her boot with a clunk, then silently began unlacing the other one. Stacy looked at Daria, then reached down and slipped off a shoe. A couple of seconds later, Sandi did likewise.
Daria pulled off her socks, then unzipped her jacket. Her attempt to think was producing no more results than a dog chasing its tail. There was nothing she could do in the present situation, and she couldn't think of anything persuasive to say, either.
"Hurry up! Get those clothes off!" The kidnapper growled. Daria looked around and saw that the other girls were down to one or two items of clothing, except for Quinn, who had also been slowed down by having to unlace her boots. She pulled her jeans off and reached for her bra clasp. Daria was a bit surprised to note that Quinn was blushing.
Daria stood and began unfastening her skirt. She turned and looked the kidnapper in the eye. "Don't take them with you," she said. "Leave them here."
His smile changed a little. Daria didn't think she liked the change. "Oh, don't worry about the kids," he said. They'll just be ridin' with me a few miles, just in case. When I change cars, I'll leave 'em. They can just stay with their folks' car, and they'll be found pretty quick."
"You don't need them. There's no situation in which you'll be better off with them than without them. Leave them here with us. Please." Daria hated herself for not being able to think of something more convincing to say.
His smile faded. "Now, I told you not to worry. I also told you to get those clothes off!" he shouted, and pointed the revolver at her.
Daria started to reach behind her back, but other hands unhooked her bra before she could reach it, and it was jerked off her. Someone, she was pretty sure it was Quinn, unceremoniously yanked her panties down to the floor. She was suddenly au naturel, exchanging stares with the kidnapper and the kids. His smile returned. Tad and Trish just stared. Belatedly she tried to cover herself with her hands.
"Well, now, ain't it nice to have friends when you need a hand," he said. Now all of you get in the bathroom."
Breakout!
Oh, joy. Locked in a bathroom stark naked with four of the prettiest girls in Lawndale. This'll do wonders for my ego. Daria moved quickly toward the bathroom, but was the last one in, nevertheless. Tiffany and Stacy, the first in, were already wrapping themselves in the two bath towels.
"Hey!"
Daria turned to see the kidnapper coming behind them holding the room's only chair.
"Gimme those towels, you two! Come on, throw 'em out!" he said. The towels came flying over Daria's head and out the door, accompanied by a lot of whining from Stacy.
The kidnapper closed the bathroom door, and could be heard outside wedging the chair under the doorknob.
"Hey, wait!" Sandi yelled. "You can't just leave us in here! We might not be found for hours!"
"That's the idea," he said. "That'll give me a long head start. Don't worry, you've got plenty of water and a toilet, and you can give each other baths to pass the time!" His laugh came muffled through the door.
Daria was getting the glimmer of an idea. She pressed her ear to the door and listened to the sounds from without. It sounded like the kidnapper was gathering up their clothes to take with him. That was probably a good thing, because it was slowing him down, eating into whatever cushion of time he had. It couldn't be much, if Mr. Gupty had told the police to start looking on Old Fishkill Road. Also, when they caught him, the police would find the clothes, and come looking for them if they hadn't escaped or been found already.
But if she could put her idea into practice, this might all be over very quickly. It would definitely be all over very quickly for her, she realized, one way or the other.
"Omigod, omigodomigod, we're all going to die in here!" Stacy started up again, breaking Daria's concentration. She turned around. Stacy was standing in the bathtub, trying to wear the shower curtain. Tiffany was examining herself in the mirror, appearing completely unruffled. Sandi leaned against a wall, arms crossed, glaring at Stacy but doing nothing. Quinn was watching her, Daria saw, apparently counting on her to get them out of this.
"Quinn," Daria said, and pointed to Stacy. "I need you to shut her up so I can hear." Quinn looked, nodded, and stepped across the bathroom. She seized Stacy by the neck, pushed her back against the wall, and got nose to nose with her. "Stacy...shut...up!" she said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Shocked by Quinn's expression as much as by her actions, Stacy choked back an "eep!"and went silent.
Daria turned back to the door and resumed listening. The sounds seemed to indicate that the kidnapper had given up on the idea of taking their clothes with him and was stuffing them under the bed. That meant he was using his head. Not good in the short run, unless he decided not to take Tad and Tricia. No such luck. They were all three leaving. Daria heard the suitcase bump the doorframe. She tensed.
"What do..." Quinn began to ask, but Daria waved her to silence. She heard one car door close... then the other. She sprang into action.
"Daria, what in the world..."
Daria seized the porcelain lid off the toilet flush tank, and swung it like an axe at the door. The flimsy hollow interior door split like kindling. Two more blows left a hole big enough for Daria to reach through. A second later, she pulled her arm back in, saying "Ow, damn!" and opened the door. Still carrying the toilet tank lid, she charged out.
Uppermost in Daria's mind was the fact that Tad and Tricia Gupty had gotten a good look at their kidnapper's unmasked face. As soon as he was reasonably sure he'd have no further use for them as hostages, and as soon as it was convenient for him to do so, he would almost certainly dispose of them. This was her last chance to save them. She tried not to think about the fact that she was going up against a gun armed only with a toilet tank lid, or that she was doing it in the nude. Dashing across the room, she flung open the door and ran outside.
He had backed the Volvo out of the parking space and braked, and was putting it into drive. The driver's side of the car was broadside on to her, and his window was still down. Behind him, Daria saw the frightened faces of Tricia and Tad. Not slowing, shifting her grip on the heavy lid, she ran straight at him. A small detached part of her mind noted that the world seemed to have slowed down. He looked up and saw her when she was about ten feet away. His eyes widened and his head turned to look down at something on the seat beside him. She was four feet away when she saw him take his hand off the steering wheel and reach for the thing on the seat, and she thrust the tank lid forward with all her strength, overhand, like a javelin. His head started to turn back toward her, his expression turning angry. He was beginning to bring up the thing she knew was the revolver as she threw all her weight and all her forward momentum behind the tank lid.
The end of it caught him in the side of the head, between the eye and the ear, and bore him down sideways to the seat. Daria's belly smacked into the side of the car, and she managed to get a forearm between her head and the top of the door. Pushing back enough to look inside, she saw that he was apparently unconscious. She jerked the door open, turned off the ignition and pulled out the key.
"Get out!" She ordered the wide-eyed waifs inside, and then reluctantly leaned in, eased his finger off the trigger, and pulled the revolver out of his nerveless hand. Triumphant, she turned back to room 104, just as the door swung closed and the lock clicked. Suddenly, the world sped up, time resumed its normal pace, and Daria was standing in the middle of the parking lot of the Dew Drop Inn, in broad daylight, stark naked.
Across the road inside the old junk van, the woman whispered to the cameraman, "Please, Joe, PLEASE tell me you're getting all of this!"