Lincoln couldn't know how long he'd been walking, but it was mid-morning now and getting warmer by the minute. He was starting to get hungry; he hadn't bothered with breakfast and didn't think to bring any food, but that wasn't unusual. Thinking ahead wasn't his strong suit, and it was something he was used to- if he had to spend the day hungry, so be it.
It occurred to him though, that the jeans he wore were from the day before; he dug his hand into his back pocket, finding a crumpled twenty. That would work. He'd find something along the way if he needed to.
He kept walking along, not confident that he'd find a restaurant or a store, but not in a hurry to turn around either. After a while longer, certain things started to look familiar. He could hear the faint sound of water trickling and saw a few buildings up ahead. He'd been here before, years ago.
It was during the summer a few years back; he and a group of friends had gone tubing down that river. He remembered the day fondly, a lazy, blazing hot July afternoon floating along with a beer in his hand. They'd spent the whole day outside, only stopping for a meal at a diner along the way. The memory caused his pace to quicken, trying to see up ahead, to see if he was close to where he remembered.
The memory also made him hungrier, remembering the burger and fries he'd gotten. He'd kill for that right now, and maybe even spend some time sitting out on the dock; watching the river flow by after having some food sounded like heaven. Besides, he didn't have anything else to do. It could be nice- peaceful even.
With a plan now, he kept walking along the tracks until the building came into view. It looked a bit worse for wear, he realized as he approached. And dark. And there weren't any cars around.
So much for that plan, he thought sarcastically, using it to deflect his disappointment. He kicked a few rocks and kept heading there anyways, wanting to get a closer look before abandoning all hope. It was closed alright, he realized now that he was in the parking lot but decided to walk around to the dock and sit for a while. He'd be hungry, but he'd live. Might as well enjoy the view before heading back home.
XXXXX
The truck door opened, and the man's silhouette leaned against the door, out of breath. Sara's eyes blinked against the light, squinting to adjust.
He was pissed. She could tell by his posture, his heavy, defeated breathing, and the look in his eyes. Veronica got away, she realized as her heart leapt, but that meant that she truly was alone.
"Looks like it's just you and me," he taunted, as if reading her mind.
His threat didn't last long though; he blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed worried, she realized, and at a loss.
"You should let me go," she said softly.
He laughed.
"You need to disappear," she elaborated, "if you let me go, you get a head start."
"A head start?" he parroted.
Nodding, "She's on her way to the authorities now, you know that. It's only a matter of time before they come up here looking for me and arrest you."
"I can't let you go. You're all I have left to show for," he paused, "you're all I have left. I can't be empty handed when he shows up."
"Who?" she asked, "the buyer?"
He hesitated, tongue darting in and out, "The boss. The guy who's madder than the hatter right now for me losing one of you," he waved his hand.
"What does he have on you?" she heard herself asking, curiosity getting the best of her.
He was silent.
"Sorry you just seem," she paused, "you seem nervous."
As if on cue, he got the distraction he needed with a ding from his phone. He pulled it out and read a text, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. His face lifted to the sky, muttering, "Oh thank God."
She watched him, trying to figure out what he'd read. He turned back to her with an easy smile, "I got it all under control little lady."
He started backing away, apparently done with her for now, but she called after him, "Wait."
He paused.
"Can I get some food?"
A sigh, he walked out of the truck and around the corner, coming back into view and tossing her a bag of pretzels.
He shut the door again, leaving her in darkness.
XXXXXX
Veronica sat in the stifling silence, the stale room. The air was still and growing warmer as the sun lifted higher into the sky. She was still hungry, but the food in the next room mocked her; being handcuffed really wasn't enjoyable. She couldn't eat, couldn't get her arms into a comfortable position, and couldn't itch her nose. It was driving her crazy.
She chose to stand; the chair was uncomfortable anyways, but especially given that her arms were locked behind her. She leaned against the wall that had the window, trying to get some fresh air, but there wasn't much of a breeze and the window was too high up anyways, but the sound of the river calmed her, and she took solace in the moment of peace, knowing that it could be worse. She was safe; hours from now, she might not be.
Her mind went back to Sara, and she tried not to let herself think of what she might be going through. There was nothing she could do for her right now, so wallowing in it wasn't useful. She knew that, but that didn't stop the occasional blip of worry, and of wondering.
A noise caught her attention, a crunching sound- like rocks under feet or tires. Her breathing stopped, her ears straining to hear above the noise of the river. She definitely heard a kick, a scuffle, like shoes kicking gravel.
"Hello?" she called out, "hello, I need help in here."
She waited, the shuffling coming closer.
"Hello?" she asked again, "I'm trapped in here. I need help!" she yelled louder.
A low voice, "Hello?"
Her heart raced, "I'm trapped in here, in the building, I need help."
"Trapped how?" the voice asked, "is it locked?"
"Yea," she admitted, "the building it locked, but I need out. I was captured and brought here and my friend, she's in danger. She's being held somewhere else," she paused, not knowing how to summarize her situation quickly, not knowing how much to say.
"Ok," the voice replied simply, "can you get the window?"
"I'm handcuffed behind my back," she told him.
"What kind of door is in the room you're in?"
"Wood," she replied, "heavy wood."
"Any chance I could kick it down?"
She hadn't seen this man, but even the strongest brute might not be able to; it was a solid door, "I don't think so."
A grunt, "Want me to just call the cops?"
"No," she rushed, "no. Uh," she didn't want to sound crazy, but decided to go for the truth, "the man who captured me is working with the police…it was a uniformed officer that left me here," quieter, "I can't trust them."
"Hmm," was all she got in response, followed by a, "lemme see if I can get up to the window."
She waited, heard footsteps retreat and return, a grunt as he lifted something heavy below the window. A rock maybe? Or a log? Something to give him extra height. The window was blessedly large, but also high up. A person could fit through, but getting there was the problem, for her especially. She couldn't use her hands to climb.
The window was open; it had one of those latches on the bottom and the glass part lifted up, jutting into the room and essentially cracking the window open. The slit was big, but was it big enough?
She heard a jump and saw fingers gripping the frame, a foot swinging up.
Holy shit, he actually made it, she thought with a flicker of hope. Not a moment later, she saw his full figure, hunched over on the window frame, ducking to not hit his head.
"Stand back," he ordered.
Why? She wondered, but did as she was told.
The sound of shattering glass exploded as she turned away, looking back to see his boot kicking the remaining shards into the room, breaking the window like it was nothing. He paused a moment and looked below, gauging the fall. He sat on the frame, feet dangling, and leapt down, landing smoothly despite the shattered glass everywhere.
"You ok?" he asked.
"Uh, I'm okay, yea," she managed, ignoring the throbbing in her foot, the hunger, the fatigue, "can you get me outta these?" she asked, turning around so he could see the cuffs.
He started looking around, opening drawers of the desk, searching for anything to unlock or cut them. She'd already looked, but a second pair of eyes couldn't hurt.
They found nothing.
"You'll have to get out with them on," he told her.
"How? I can't climb up there like this."
Silence, as they both thought.
"I can lift you up there, to the frame, then climb up myself and help you down."
"I can't. Grip. Anything," she repeated, frustrated.
"What if you're on my back?"
"And hold on how?"
He looked around, digging through drawers again. He came up holding a spool of packing tape, the thick, clear stuff used to tape boxes shut.
Her eyebrows raised, "You're gonna tape me to you?"
He was trying to hide a bit of amusement, "Do you have a better idea?"
She couldn't help but laugh; quite the situation she'd gotten herself into.
He explained, "If you hook your legs," he pointed around his waist, obviously not wanting to say it directly, "I can tape around your back and my chest, that way you won't have to hold on."
"You can pull us both up there and get down again?"
He looked behind himself and saw a filing cabinet, pushing it over in front of the window. Then, he grabbed the desk chair and put it in front of the cabinet.
"There, now I've got stairs."
She scoffed, "How do we get down?"
He shrugged, "Might hurt, but you want out right?"
She was intrigued by this man. He hadn't even asked why she was there or what kind of trouble she'd been in. He didn't question her distrust of the police and he seemed calm, nonchalant even. It was nice to be around; she felt like everything was going to be okay.
"I want out," she agreed.
"Alright," he nodded and sat down on the very edge of the chair, "sit behind me and hold on with your legs."
She did as instructed, maneuvering behind him and sitting down, wrapping her legs securely around his waist and leaning forward so she was pressed against his back. He grabbed the tape and stuck it to the left side of his chest, wrapping it clockwise behind him and around her, reaching back so that the line of tape was just below his armpits. After four or five wraps around, it felt surprisingly secure. He bit the tape and ripped, securing the end.
"I'm gonna stand, ready?"
She nodded and squeezed tighter, "Ready."
He stood up, leaning forward slightly to balance, and stood up on the chair. She felt vulnerable; being strapped in and also not being able to grip, she was at his mercy. Despite that vulnerability, she did trust him in a way she couldn't explain. He felt solid against her, a steadiness as he got onto the chair. He didn't wobble or falter.
He grabbed the cabinet and lunged onto it, grabbing the frame of the window now. He kept their center of gravity low, moving with swift, carefully planned movements.
She kept silent, not wanting to break his concentration or throw him off.
"Alright, might get a little bumpy now," he warned as both hands gripped the window frame. The ledge of the window was wide enough for his boots, but not by much. He jumped and pulled up, she felt his back contracting against her, using the little momentum he'd generated for a start, and using brute strength to pull them the rest of the way up. His leg swung over the ledge, easing them onto it so he was straddling the window frame. It was flat and solid, giving them a decent mid-way point to figure out their next move.
She looked down to the ground below, and saw that he'd moved a rectangular, metal picnic table beneath the window. He had it situated so that the bench portions ran perpendicular to the building, with the short end of the table flush with the siding. It wasn't too far down, she noted with a bit of relief.
He gripped the outer edge of the window frame and started to ease off, swinging his other leg down. She tried to keep her shins and feet as close to him as possible, since his front side was flush with the building, but if she only ended up with a few scrapes, she'd consider it a win.
They dangled for a split second before he let them go, knowing that a short fall was their only way down. His feet hit the table; with her on his back, his balance was off, and they started to fall backwards. He quickly rolled, his front hitting the table instead, before falling off the table, his arms bracing them against the ground.
She blinked, realizing that she wasn't hurt, coughing against the dust cloud of dirt around them.
"You ok?" he asked.
"Fine yea," she managed, still shocked that she was okay, "thanks."
He pushed up and stood, backing into the table so that she was sitting on it. She unwound her legs as he started to fight against the tape, trying to find the end of it. After all they'd been through, this is what was rattling him. She waited patiently while he fought against it, half expecting him to just burst out of it, the frustration boiling over.
Eventually he got the end loose and started ripping it, back the way it went on. In the end he wadded it up, throwing the mangled ball of tape onto the ground and kicked it, claiming his victory.
She tried to stifle a laugh, but failed.
"Really? After all I did for you, you're laughing at me?" he asked in good humor.
Grinning, "Sorry, I'm sorry," she schooled her expression to something almost neutral, "it's been a long," she paused, before deciding on the word, "day."
He nodded, understanding, "What now?"
"We have to get back up to where they're keeping Sara."
He shook his head, "I don't know who "they" are, but I ain't getting messed up in something. We need to go to the police, have them take care of it," he gestured to her blood-soaked foot, "and you need a doctor."
"We can't trust the police-"
"-I know a few that we can."
She paused, a rebuttal stuck in her throat, "You do?"
Nodding, "Buddies of mine. They're straight. We can head there now and they can help your friend."
Tiredly, "Ok, alright fine. If you're sure."
"I am."
"Ok, so," she looked around, "do you have a car or?"
"I walked here."
She sighed, "Of course," she let that sink in, "how far?"
"Miles," he rubbed his head, "I don't know how many."
She looked down at her foot, and he seemed to read her mind.
"Hey," he offered, "how about this. Either I grab that tape again and strap you back on-"
She raised her eyebrows in amusement.
"-or we just call my buddies from here. It might take a bit for them to get here, but we can sit out on the docks and wait."
She bit her lip, "What if he comes back?"
"They guy that left you here?"
She nodded.
He shrugged, his eyes serious, "I'll take care of it."
She wasn't sure what exactly he meant by that, but she somehow felt better. She gave a nod of agreement as he pulled out his phone and started dialing.
XXXXXXXX
Sara heard another voice. Was she imagining it? It was gruff and low and angry. She pressed against the wall of the truck and listened.
Now she knew why her captor had seemed nervous. This other voice was pissed, yelling at him for losing Veronica and making him do all the work.
"You worthless sonofabitch," he slurred out, "you couldn't keep a handle on the situation-"
"-but you got her back, so it's all peachy-"
"-point is, if you'd have done your job, I wouldn't have had to! Now she's waiting at the restaurant for us and I'm not leaving you alone with them again. You'd lose your goddamn head if it wasn't screwed on."
Wait, Sara thought with a sinking stomach, this other man got Veronica? How?
She hated not knowing what was going on, and what restaurant was he talking about? Who just captures and leaves a woman at a restaurant? Sounds a bit too public of a place if you're trying to hide a hostage.
The new voice continued, trying to be calm, "We're leaving. You, me, and the red-head. We're going back to the restaurant and the buyer will meet us there tomorrow."
Defeated, "Sure thing boss."
A loud banging on the door, "Rise and shine sleeping beauty."
The door opened and revealed the two men. She got a good look at the new guy. A cop. Great. Nothing like a corrupt police officer to make things more complicated. She wanted to believe that she'd misheard, that this man was here to help, but she knew better. She knew what she'd heard.
Her captor, "We're taking a little trip."
"Where to?" she asked, doubting she'd get an answer.
"A family reunion," he drawled, "you'll be back with your friend in no time."
New guy, "Hurry it up."
"You heard the man."
She exited the truck, trying to slink away from his grip as her captor wrapped his hand around her bicep. Escorted to the back of a police car, she remained silent, not wanting to end up with more injuries. For now, she'd cooperate. She hoped Veronica was okay, and that they could figure this out together.