Chapter Ten
Andrew's POV:
Andrew circled the loft with the building manager one last time. The water damage was minimal.
"Well, it looks superficial at best. It is lucky that you noticed it in time," Andrew said to the portly building manager.
"I wish we could take the credit, but we actually got a call from someone saying they noticed the leak."
Andrew smiled. "Well, thank goodness for Good Samaritans then."
The building manager nodded. "I wonder how they knew," he said mystified.
"Why do you say that?" Andrew asked.
"Well, the water had not made it to the front door and the apartment below your unit is vacant. So, it was strange to be notified of the leak. Usually, it is an angry neighbor who reports damage to their own unit, which tips us off to a problem."
Andrew paled, and his gut clenched, suddenly he knew the leak was no accident.
"Excuse me. I just remembered…I have to go." Ignoring the confusion on the manager's face he ripped his cell phone from the pocket of his coat just as it rang. Bridget's beautiful face along with her number brightened the screen.
Relief flooded his system. He stepped onto the elevator and answered the call.
"Bridget! Are you okay?" Andrew demanded as he pushed the button to the lobby.
"It's Solomon. Bridget's gone."
Andrew's world spun wildly off its axis, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He leaned into the corner of the elevator and tried to numb the fear, so his mind could work.
"What do you mean, 'Bridget's gone'?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Where did she go?"
"She got a text from Juliet that said she was in trouble at the school. I went to get the car and someone hit me in the head. I woke up a few seconds ago on the floor of the parking garage. The Town Car is gone. I think they used it to pick her up at the front of the building. She would have gotten in without question."
"Damn it! You were supposed to protect her!"
"I know, I'm sorry. I'm going to call my buddy at the police department, and see if I can get some traffic cam footage so we can see where they were headed."
"What about Juliet? The bitch has her phone but does she have her?"
"I called Shane when Bridget got the text, but he didn't pick up."
Andrew's world grew brighter with fear. Siobhan had Bridget, and she might have Juliet, the two people he loved more than his own life, and she may have them.
"Wait!" Solomon said.
Andrew clenched the phone as Solomon's muffled voice spoke to someone on his end.
"Juliet is here," he said a moment later and Andrew sagged in relief. He could hear Juliet demanding to know what was wrong.
Andrew swallowed hard and felt tears burn behind his eyes. His daughter was safe.
"She and Shane are fine. She said someone stole her cell phone, and Shane's phone was broken, which is why we couldn't reach him."
"I'm on my way home. Call your police friend. Let me talk to Juliet."
The elevator reached the lobby and Andrew ran across the marble floor as he waited for Juliet to pick up on the other end.
"Daddy?"
"Juliet!" Andrew didn't realize he held his breath until it rushed out in relief. "Sweetheart, I'm so relieved you're safe."
He wished he could wrap his arms around her as the sounds of her sobs filled his ears. He got to the curb and hailed a cab. He told the driver where to go.
"Siobhan took Bridget, didn't she?" Juliet cried.
Andrew closed his eyes as he shut the cab door. "We think so." Andrew's heart constricted. "But we will get her back. Don't doubt it. I won't stop until we have Bridget back safe and sound."
"What if we're too late, daddy? What if Siobhan already killed her."
"No!" Andrew said sharply. "We can't think like that. She is going to be fine. Do you understand me?"
"Yes."
"She's going to be fine."
Andrew willed his mind to follow his heart. Bridget was going to be okay. She had to be.
Bridget's POV:
Bridget could hear before she could see, and what she heard did little to calm her panicked mind. She heard nothing. It was completely silent. Her arms and legs were tied down. When her eyes finally opened, she was met with infinite darkness. Panic overwhelmed her senses.
She tried to call out, but her mouth was taped shut.
Where was she? Where was Siobhan? Why was she still alive?
Those questions, and others like it, swarmed her brain leaving little room for rational thought.
After an eternity of anxiety, she found a quiet corner in her mind, and she tried to piece the last bits of her memory together.
She got the text from Juliet. Solomon got the car but Siobhan was in it. Solomon would never pick up her sister, she though groggily. Which meant it wasn't Solomon driving. Was Solomon okay? What about Juliet?
No, a piece of memory floated up in her mind, Juliet was okay. Siobhan said she was at the school, so she must have just taken Juliet's phone.
Relief widened the calm corner of her mind, until she could think rationally. What about Solomon? He wouldn't have driven her anywhere. She prayed he was okay.
Andrew? Did she lure him out of the apartment? Was he okay? Please, God, let him be okay.
Tears seeped from her eyes, and she let the fear and sadness in for a moment before she shut it down.
She needed to get out of there. Andrew and Juliet needed her, and she needed to make sure they were okay. That meant she needed to deal with Siobhan, once and for all.
She wiggled her fingers and tried to reach the binding. It wasn't rope. She felt along the edge of the plastic that secured her to the chair. Zip ties. It was a good guess that her feet were similarly bound.
Desperate she moved her tied hands rapidly against the metal hoping to wear the plastic down enough to snap it. After, an eternity, the ties remained the same. Flexing, she pulled with every ounce of strength she had. Her bindings didn't budge.
Suddenly, she heard metal against metal, and her eyes were blinded by light. She blinked and tried to focus through the pain of the brightness. After a few moments, she could make out a female silhouette.
"Well, hey there sis. So glad you could finally join us."
Us? Bridget thought. Who was helping Siobhan?
"Get the car and dump it. I don't want anyone tracing us through it."
"You got it, boss," a male said sarcastically before his footsteps left the space.
Bridget's eyes adjusted to the light, and she finally understood where they were, a storage unit. The small square room looked like any other, except for the mattresses lining the walls. The need to muffle sound concerned Bridget but not as much as the other piece of furniture occupying the space. A small steel table, that sat about three feet from her chair, held an array of items. A small ice pick, a silk scarf, and the stun gun were laid out with precision, while an out of place wrinkled brown paper bag sat negligently next to them.
Like her sister's mind, the items made no sense.
Siobhan turned to the sliding door and pulled it down, plunging the room into darkness once again.
The banishment of light didn't last long. With a flip, the light from a suspended bulb turned on.
Ever conscious of the details, Siobhan pulled another mattress in front of the door.
"Don't want anyone seeing the light and getting suspicious, do we?" She smiled sickly at Bridget. "We especially don't want anyone to hear your screams. After all, we have a lot of catching up to do, and I don't want to be interrupted."
With that last sentence, Siobhan let her fist fly. Knuckles collided with Bridget's cheek, and an explosion of pain shot into her skull. She didn't have time to dwell on the hit because Siobhan wasn't done. Rearing back, her fist connected with Bridget's nose, and the world grayed around her as blood dripped down to her mouth.
The tape muffled her screams.
"Oh, did you have something to say?" Siobhan leaned over and grasped the tape, before ripping it away with relish. "Make it good, sis."
Bridget moaned. The tape had taken layers of her skin with it. The raw surface screamed for relief, but all Bridget could do was press her lips together.
"Well?" Siobhan said impatiently.
The unholy light in her sister's eyes had Bridget scared. Intent, she searched for any sign of her twin. She looked for the girl who shared the heart pendant necklace with her year after year. She tried to find the sister who swapped places with her to get out of church or out of chores. She yearned to spot the woman who bailed her out of sticky situations when Bridget had been too drunk to get out on her own. Only, she was nowhere in sight. She couldn't even see a glimmer of that twin. Siobhan was gone.
Righteous vengeance, cold-hearted determination, and scorn had taken her place. Gone was the love, it was replaced by hate, deep-seeded and nurtured until it was all that was left in her eyes.
"Don't do this!" Bridget implored.
"Don't do what?" Siobhan asked in a sickly sweet voice as she walked to the metal table. She pinned Bridget with her eyes and lovingly caressed the items that lay in supplication before her.
Deftly she picked up the small silver ice pick with a golden handle. Her fingers curled around the grip, and pointed it at Bridget.
"Do you recognize this?" she asked conversationally. "This is the icepick from Salt Lake City. Do you remember how I bought the little table top bar set? It was quite expensive, but I wanted to have a bit of refinement after a long day at work. Do you remember how you came home from one of your drunken parties and stumbled into it, breaking the glasses and denting the shaker? This was the only thing to escape your carelessness."
"Please, Siobhan, don't do this."
Quietly she stepped toward her. She leaned in and placed her lips against Bridget's ear. "What don't you want me to do?" she asked chillingly. "This?"
Bridget stiffened as the ice-cold metal of the pick trailed against the skin of her neck. Chills of fear shook her body.
"Is this what you don't want me to do?" She traced the instrument down her arm and across her stomach.
"No?" The pick travelled back up until the point rested under her chin. "You don't want me to do that?" The light in Siobhan's eyes changed, and insanity shined out. "Or how about this?" She growled and plunged the pick down, burying its length in Bridget's thigh.
Bridget screamed as it ripped through her skin and submerged to the hilt. Blood spurted from the wound as Siobhan ripped it out. Her stomach roiled and the world grayed. The pain in her leg radiated throughout her body as blood bubbled out to soak her jeans.
"Is that what you didn't want me to do?" Siobhan asked casually before plunging it down again rupturing her flesh and sliding through the muscle, glancing off the bone.
Bridget's guttural cries mixed with Siobhan's laughter, as more blood turned Bridget's blue jeans purple.
Tears poured from Bridget's eyes, as she concentrated on breathing deep and not passing out. Nausea crept up the back of her throat but she swallowed it back. She had to get out of here. She had to get to Andrew and Juliet. She watched as her blood dripped down the icepick to plop slowly, one after the other, on the cement floor and desperately fought back against the panic filling her system. She couldn't lose it now.
"I bet that wasn't what you were talking about, was it, Bridget?" Siobhan tilted her head before turning back to the table. She grabbed the paper bag and smiled evilly at her sister. "You look like you are in pain," Siobhan said slyly. "How about a pick me up?" She overturned the bag.
Bridget felt fear snake across the chasm of agony and panic, as a spoon, a lighter, a syringe, and a packet of heroin slid onto the table.
"No! Please! No! Don't do this, please, don't do this!" Bridget begged. She would rather be stabbed with the icepick again than have that in her system. She barely got out alive the last time addiction had her by the throat, she couldn't go through that again and she didn't want to.
"Don't worry, Bridget." Siobhan assured her with false concern. "I'm leaving that for last. I just wanted you to know, that once I've left you physically beaten, I would take away your proudest accomplishment. With one plunge of the needle, I will take your sobriety, and once you are sober and begging for more, well, then I'll take your life!"
She leaned in and whispered, "You deserve to die with nothing and that is what you will have, nothing. I'm going to go back to the apartment tonight and slip back into my life. I will kiss my husband, while pretending to be the doting wife." She smiled as Bridget cried out. "Once I have everything I deserve, I will kill Andrew and that little bitch, Juliet." She squatted in front of Bridget. "So, sister-dear, please know that they are dead, and so are you."
"No! Siobhan, please, no! It's me you really want, and you have me. Leave them out of it!"
Calmly Siobhan stood and walked back to the table. Ignoring Bridget's pleas, she selected the silk scarf and pulled it through her hand, over and over, as she stood at Bridget's feet.
"Now, where were we? Oh, yes, how about this, Bridget? Do you recognize this?" she continued when Bridget said nothing through her sobs.
"This scarf was in my closet when you slid into my life and became me. It was a gift from Henry. He loved me and bought me little presents to prove it. This was one of those gifts. He was everything to me, and you killed his love for me just like you killed Sean!" Spittle flew from Siobhan's mouth, as she screamed her dead son's name.
"You took everything from me, you whore! I'm going to repay the favor!" She gripped the silk in both hands, dashed behind Bridget, and yanked the scarf against her neck.
Bridget's head snapped back as the scarf caught under her chin. The silk soon turned coarse as her breath was cut off. Siobhan tightened the material until it was taut an unforgiving.
"I'm going to kill everything that means anything to you!" Siobhan screamed behind her. "An eye for an eye, right, Bridget?"
The world darkened as Bridget sputtered and tried to breathe. Her fingers curled in helpless balls and her ankles dug into the restraints. Her vision grayed and pinpoints of white light burst rapidly in front of her eyes, a macabre light show.
Siobhan grunted and, if possible, pulled the scarf tighter. "I hate you," she panted.
Bridget tried to breathe but couldn't. The world in front of her bulging eyes turned to black. Her last thought before the abyss claimed her was dire.
She was going to die.
Siobhan's POV:
Bridget's head lolled to the side as unconsciousness claimed her. Panting, Siobhan nudged her with the toe of her boot. Unconvinced, she leaned forward and poked the wound on her thigh. Nothing.
"Damn it!" She stamped her foot and tossed the scarf back on the table.
She had wanted to make this part last a bit longer but as usual her bitch sister had not cooperated. Disgusted, she grabbed the duct tape and tore off a piece before slapping it on Bridget's mouth.
Well, she would leave the slut to her nightmares.
Moving the mattress from the door, Siobhan grabbed her purse and plunged the room into darkness before opening the door enough to get out. Once the door was secured, she made her way out of the storage place to hail a cab. In the back seat, she pulled out a compact and checked her appearance.
She practiced a few panicked Bridgety expressions to give to Andrew while she explained that her crazy sister had hit Solomon and taken her to try and get money from her.
Satisfied with her facial expressions she settled into the seat and mentally prepared herself to play the simpering wife to Andrew's knight in shining armor. She hoped she could make it through without puking.
Andrew's POV:
Andrew paced the foyer as he waited for Solomon to call. He had Shane take Juliet to Solomon's place. He didn't want her here in case things got worse. She didn't want to go, but he finally convinced her. He needed to concentrate on finding Bridget, and he didn't want to worry about Juliet.
Back and forth he shuffled as he tried to think like Siobhan. Where would she take Bridget?
The only places he knew about seemed unlikely. Solomon already checked the apartment near the hospital. It was empty. He was on his way to check the storage unit now. It seemed doubtful, but Andrew still held hope that they would be there.
Andrew pushed his fists against his eyes. Where were they?
His head shot up as the elevator dinged. The doors slid open and he jumped forward pulling Bridget into his arms.
"Oh, Andrew! It was awful," she cried.
"Are you okay?" He gripped the sides of her face. "I was panicked when Solomon called to tell me he was jumped and you were gone."
"I'm sorry to put you through that."
"It's not your fault! Thank heavens you are safe!" He pulled her into his arms, placed his mouth on hers', and in that moment he knew. Even as her lips played the part of the loving wife he knew.
She wasn't Bridget.