Chapter 7: Tortured
The next day, her routine changed. Instead of Ski Mask Man bringing her breakfast, both men came in, wearing their masks. On guard, Steph stood up.
"Don't ya give us any problems or I'll use this." One of the men waved a stun gun. Steph gave a little shudder. She did not want to go through that again.
The other man held up a black cloth sack. "Time for you to meet someone. Put this on over your head," he ordered.
They were going to take her somewhere. She didn't know if that was a good thing or not, but she knew things couldn't stay the same forever. At least she would finally know who had kidnapped her and, hopefully, why. Reluctantly, she slipped the hood over her head.
She felt her arms being grabbed, and then she was dragged across the room. She heard the clink of metal on metal, and fear shot through her, but before she could lash out, her arms were raised and she felt the shackles click around her wrists. Oh God! They were chaining her to the wall. The ankle shackles were snapped on next. She pulled and struggled against the chains, but that only made the shackles bite into her soft flesh. She felt blinded, and her quickened breath was making it hot underneath the cloth sack.
She heard the door open and close, and sensed the two men shuffling away from her.
"Well, well, well. Miss High and Mighty isn't so mighty now," a woman's voice said. Steph didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded muffled, like she was speaking through several layers of cloth.
"Who are you?" Steph blurted out. She was shaking with fear, but trying to control the tremor in her voice.
"I'm your worst nightmare. And you are my helpless victim. But then, you've always been helpless," the woman told her, her voice dripping with derision. "You always need men to come to your rescue because you bungle everything. You're a joke as a bounty hunter. Let's face it, you're just a joke, period."
Steph had no response. The woman obviously knew her, or at least knew of her. Her mind was working overtime, trying to figure out who the woman was, by both her voice and her words. She was coming up blank. Steph tried to lunge forward and grab the woman but the chains were too tight. The woman laughed, but it sounded muted, like it was smothered behind a mask or a bandanna.
"You brought this on yourself, bitch. You came between me and my man."
My man? Steph racked her brain. Was this woman accusing her of having something to do with her man–her boyfriend or husband? There was a brief pause in the conversation, and then Steph could feel a tug on the chain holding her left wrist.
"These chains are kinda symbolic," the woman continued, a noticeable smile evident in her tone. "He loves to handcuff me when we make love, but then, you'd know all about that side of him. Or maybe not." Another pause. "He's always real with me, showing me his true self. Is he real with you? I think not. I bet he never shows you the man he really is. I bet he treats you with kid gloves."
Suddenly, Steph's head was slammed back into the wall as she was slapped hard across the face. A second later, she was slapped viciously on the other side of her face. It was totally black inside the mask, but she saw stars.
"No kid gloves here," the woman sneered. "Not after you ruined things between us. He was meant to be mine," she insisted, a hard edge to her muffled voice. "We were always supposed to end up together. But you ... you and your goody two-shoes Burg life changed all that. Now, he wants kids ... and a normal life. Whatever that is. Bottom line is, I'm alone now. All of a sudden, I'm not good enough for him. He won't even take my calls. Someone's gotta pay, and that someone is you, bitch. When I get done with you, no one will want you. I'm going to cut you up so bad, even your doddering old granny won't recognize you."
A closed fist plowed into Steph's stomach and she tried to double over, but the chains held her upright. She also couldn't breathe. She gagged and wheezed trying to get enough air into her lungs so she wouldn't black out. When she finally stopped wheezing, she could hear a woman's cackle and a door closing. Then, there were hands fumbling at her ankles and her wrists. The shackles dropped away and she nearly collapsed, but strong arms held her up and dragged her across the room. She was dumped on the couch, and she heard the door close again and the locks tumble shut.
Steph lay on the sofa for several long minutes, raggedly breathing in and out, until she realized the hood she was still wearing was impeding air flow. Angrily, she ripped it off her head and looked around the room. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. She had to get out of here, and she had to do it herself. No man was going to rescue her. She would have to rescue herself.
Another day passed. Her plan was well thought out, and she'd implemented it the night before. It hadn't been easy. She had splinters so deep in her hand they might have to be surgically removed. She tried to be aware of time passing. It wouldn't be good if either of her captors figured out what she was up to. She'd considered just banging the chair against the floor until it splintered, but she was afraid they'd hear her. She didn't know if there was someone upstairs at all times, but there was someone there sometimes. She'd still been unable to make out any words, but she heard voices upstairs on a daily basis.
Now it was time. She was going after Ski Mask Man. Morty had been coming in unmasked since the evening she'd taunted him, but Ski Mask Man still wore his when he brought her breakfast. There was a lasciviousness in the looks Morty gave her, and she didn't like it. If she tried and failed with him, she was pretty sure she knew what would happen next. So, Ski Mask Man it was!
She scrubbed her teeth the best she could with a brown paper napkin and a swallow of her drinking water. She'd also tried to clean her face. There was nothing she could do about her unbathed body or frizzy hair. She heard the locks tumble. Showtime.
She took her position near the end of the sofa. Hopefully, the chair leg with the still attached supporting slat was hidden behind her, gripped tightly in her right hand. She wrapped her left arm around her middle, bent slightly forward and began moaning. When the door pushed open, she saw with satisfaction the bright morning sunlight silhouetting Ski Mask Man.
"Help," she whined. "I'm sick. I think I got food poisoning." She moaned loudly. She was trying to take his focus off the chair that was leaning three-legged against the table. He frowned and moved toward her. When she judged he was in range, she straightened, turned, grabbed the chair leg with both hands, and swung for the fences. There was a faintly hollow melon noise as she made contact with his head, and she grimaced at the sickening sound. She mentally fist-pumped, though, when she saw his knees buckle and the stun gun and food sack fall from his hands.
She dropped her makeshift club and grabbed the stun gun. It was the same model as Connie Rosolli's. It was charged and ready to use, so she did. Her blow had knocked him down, and the stun gun finished the job. The door was open. She looked at his feet and then bent to quickly remove his shoes. She shoved her partially numb toes down into them. The shoes were at least two sizes too big and two sizes too wide, but she laced them as quickly and tightly as she could and … ran!
Other than to notice the sun was shining, the air was crisp, and the street was empty, she was oblivious to her surroundings. Her feet hit the pavement with a funny whomp whomp as the black leather Oxfords slid up and down on her heels. She ran to the corner and kept running. She didn't think anyone was behind her, but she didn't turn to look. She turned another corner and then another. She raced as fast as she could, looking for a safe place, but it was still early morning and everything looked closed up. The streets blurred past her as she ran. Her breathing was ragged, but when she saw the steps ahead she found a new burst of energy. She ran up the steps of the Trenton Free Public Library, and pulled on the door handle. Her heart sank. The door was locked.
She peered inside and saw someone walking down the corridor away from the door. She doubled up her fists and began pounding on the glass. The figure turned around and came back to the door. A young kid stared at her through the glass door, a horrified look on his face. She knew she must look like a crazy lady so she tried to smooth down the cloud of hair that floated around her head, and she smiled as nicely as she could. When she saw he was going to open the door, she took a step back.
The young kid pushed open the door and stuck his head outside. "Geez, lady, we don't open until nine." She ripped the door out of his hands, pushed him out of the way and ran to the circulation desk. Score one for the crazy lady.
She should have called 911, but she called Batman. When he answered, she said, "It's me. I'm at the library, downtown. Come get me." He didn't respond, but that was okay, because she knew he was already on his way.
...
The drive was the longest ten minutes of his life. He ran red lights and even drove up on the sidewalk at one point. What would normally have taken him twenty minutes, took him only ten.
He pulled up in front of the library and bounded from his vehicle. At the same time, Stephanie yanked open the glass door and raced down the steps. They met at the sidewalk, or more accurately, they collided. Steph leapt at Ranger from three feet away and he caught her as her legs wrapped around his waist.
They clung together for an eternity, or at least a minute, before speaking.
"Babe," Ranger whispered, pulling his face away from her swirling cloud of hair. He almost asked for a sit rep before catching himself. He was still in his command mode. "Are you injured?" he asked. Steph shook her head. His fingers slid across her cheek and she grimaced. She must have been bruised from the headshots she had taken the day before. "Were you followed?"
"I don't think so," she said, "but they've probably discovered I've escaped by now." She released her grip and let her legs drop to the ground, but she kept her arms around him, as he kept his around her.
"Can you show me where you were?" Ranger asked, brushing her hair away from her face.
Stephanie looked around, seeing her surroundings clearly for the first time. "No, I don't think I can," Steph answered. "I was just trying to get away. I ran for ... I don't know how many blocks. I came from that way." She pointed to the east. "But I turned so many corners. I just don't remember. I'm sorry." She sank her head against his chest.
Ranger picked up her hand and kissed her wrist, then did the same thing with her other wrist. The shackles had abraded her skin, and for the first time Steph acknowledged the pain she was in. She let out an involuntary sob.
"It's okay," he told her, stroking her back, touching her, pulling her even closer. "You're safe now. I'm here." When she lifted her head and looked at him, he could see the dark circles under her eyes, which were puffy as well. There was a dull, oily sheen to her skin, and her eyelids were drooping. He bent and brushed his lips across hers. "Just a few more questions. Who kidnapped you?" he asked, his voice softer now.
Tears filled the corners of her eyes. "I don't know."
"Tell me what you do know, Babe," he asked as kindly as he could, but he was seething inside, wanting to punish, to hurt her captors.
"I will, but can we get away from here?" Steph swiveled her head first one way and then the other, frantically looking around her. "What if they come looking for me? They have guns."
"I have guns," he spat out, again trying to control his anger. "I'd like nothing more than for them to come looking for you." His hands tightened on her arms until she winced. Upset with himself, he gently rubbed her arms and kissed her on the forehead.
"Can we go?" she pleaded. "Now."
"Yeah, let's get you home." He helped her into the passenger seat of his SUV, noticing her unusual shoes. "Not quite your style, Babe," he teased, hoping to see the fear leave her face.
She leaned over and looked down at the black Oxfords on her feet. "Yeah, that'll teach me to leave home in my bare feet. They've been frozen for days. Let's see how Ski Mask Man likes frozen toes."
"Ski Mask Man?" Ranger queried, as he buckled her in and closed her door. He quickly made his way to the driver's side.
As they pulled away from the curb, Steph answered his question. "That was my name for one of my captors. They wore black ski masks, so I couldn't see their faces."
"That could be a good thing. It sounds like they intended to let you go, eventually."
"I thought that too, at first, but I changed my mind on that. One of them took off his mask a couple of days ago. And he told me his name was Morty. He also said they were going to take me out. I feel stupid now, but I didn't think that meant kill me, but he made it clear that I wasn't getting out of there alive."
Ranger's jaw clenched noticeably. "What else do you remember?"
Steph slowly moved her head from side to side, her brows furrowed. "There was something they said, something I didn't want to think about then, but I know it was important." She dropped her face in her hands and scrubbed, trying to clear her head. "I'm sorry, Ranger. I'm tired. And hungry ... and thirsty. And filthy. They only fed me fast food, twice a day. And a small bottle of water. Can we stop someplace and get something to eat? And a Coke. I'm dying for a Coke."
Ranger's mouth turned up a little at the corners.
Steph grinned back. "Probably not the best choice of words to use. But I really am thirsty."
He reached over and picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Sure, Babe. Anything you want. Anywhere."
"Anyplace but McDonald's. I don't think I'll be able to eat there, ever again."
They drove through Cluck-In-A-Bucket and loaded up on fried chicken, fries and a super-sized Coca Cola. And a bottle of water for Ranger. He let Steph stuff her face before he started in with the questions again.
"What happened at your apartment? There was evidence of a struggle. And there was blood."
Steph was silent for a moment. "That seems so long ago. I remember getting ready for you, for our night together." She looked over at Ranger. He nodded.
"I walked out into the living room and they were there. Two guys. With ski masks. One guy grabbed me and I kneed him in the balls. I head-butted the other guy and broke his nose. He bled quite a bit," she said with satisfaction. "And then, they brought out the stun gun, and that's all she wrote."
Ranger's right arm was around her shoulders in a flash. He gave her a moment and then asked, "What happened when you woke up?"
Steph shuddered and swallowed loudly. "I was tied up in the trunk of a car. I don't know how long I was out, so I can't give you an estimate of the driving time. They hauled me out and forced me down some stairs to a basement room. There were no windows and the door had a million locks on it. I never knew if it was night or day." She described the room to Ranger, including its similarities to the room they'd rescued Mooner and Dougie from, a few years ago. Ranger did not look pleased.
They were on Hamilton Avenue now and traffic had picked up, so Ranger was concentrating on his driving. He told her about him arriving that evening to pick her up and finding the apartment in a mess, and calling the police. He explained what they and he had been doing to find her, and how few clues they had to go on.
"Babe," he began, "we need to go to the police station, and you need to tell them everything that happened." He looked over at Steph. She had scooched down in the seat as far as the seat belt would allow and her head was against the back cushion. She was fast asleep.