Save Me: A dark romantic thriller (Novel) (3 page)

October 17, 2003

Crown Jewel Supermarket

Wichita, N.J.

9:49 P.M.

“So you’re not gonna tell us who the baby‘s daddy is?” the guy with the beard asked, still kneeling down beside Ashley, flicking the Bic lighter near her face. “Is that how it’s gonna be Christina?”

Although terrified, there was no way Ashley intended to answer this lunatic’s question. The memory of Peter was too painful. His closed-casket funeral had left her numb. In addition, Peter’s parents had seemed to blame Ashley for what had happened, as if she, and not the wind, had flung their youngest son to his death.

Since her husband’s passing, Ashley had been deeply lonely. For the first two weeks, she scarcely got out of bed and would lay there clutching Peter’s pillow, wishing it were he. She refused to wash the sheets and blankets because she had wanted to preserve his scent.

With her husband no longer in her world, life for Ashley didn’t seem to have meaning. Then she would remember their unborn baby, and that would give her the motivation to carry on. Knowing that their child would keep Peter’s spirit alive. Except now even that seemed in jeopardy. What did Ashley do to deserve such a troubling fate?

“Ahh, she’s too scared to talk,” the other perpetrator remarked. “Who cares who the baby’s father is? When I wake up in the morning, dude, my back’s gonna be killing me. Why‘d you force me to carry her so far?”

“Your back?” the leader said, snickering. “How could carrying this skinny thing hurt the back of someone like you, Stump, who squats four hundred pounds at Gold’s Gym? Britney here can’t be much more than a buck twenty. If I wasn’t afraid of slipping on the mud, I would have carried her myself.”

“Whatever. If you say so.” The thug pacing near the crime scene was much shorter and more muscular than the leader, who had a thin, basketball player physique. “Dawg, come here for a minute.”

“What for?”

“It’s conference time.”

“What do you mean by that?”

A moment ago, a tractor-trailer with the logo
Farmland Dairies
on the side, had rumbled up behind the shopping center, and then had painstakingly backed up to the Crown Jewel supermarket.

“We need to discuss something . . . In private!”

As the man with the lighter got up to see what his friend wanted, Ashley glanced toward the strip mall and observed the tractor-trailer’s headlights switch off. Two store employees came out onto the loading dock. Ashley watched them extract, from the diesel rig, milk crates and cardboard boxes.

“Craig, don’t push me.”

To Ashley’s amazement, the rapists started to argue.

“Don‘t push you,” the man in charge taunted, “Why Bucky, what are you gonna do about it?”

“The name is Buck. Not Bucky. And while we‘re on the subject, I think it’s about time I let you know that I‘m not fond of the nickname Stumpy either.”

So
, Ashley thought,
the leader is Craig, and the other guy is Buck
. In the event she survived, she could give those names to the authorities.

“What’s the matter? Is whittle Bucky afraid to spoon? Did prison make you timid?”

“Bro, you’d better back off!”

While they bickered, Ashley tried to stand up.
Ouch! No way
. That wasn’t going to work. Her knee and ankle were in agony.

After that botched attempt at regaining her footing, Ashley, thought about her boss, Lucy Hooper. Any minute now, Lucy would be getting off. It had to be close to ten o’clock. Lucy always stayed at the pharmacy late to finish her paperwork and to lock up. Was it possible that she would notice Ashley’s Mustang still in the parking lot, and think it was unusual?

No.

That’s right. Today Lucy had parked her SUV in front of Blockbuster. She had gone into the video store before work to rent a Bruce Willis movie to watch with her live-in boyfriend Dean. That meant she would leave out the other exit, and not drive past Ashley’s car.

On the well-lighted loading dock, the grocery store employees continued to heave boxes and crates from the tractor-trailer. To Ashley, from this distance, they appeared small, the way a rock band looks on stage when viewed from the bleachers.

Now the leader uttered, “Where’s her pocketbook?” Apparently, they had resolved their differences.

“Next to my foot.”

“Besides the forty bucks, what else did my new girlfriend have in it?”

“Nothing. Not even a cell phone.”

“There were no other valuables, no credit cards?”

“Nope. Aside from what I just mentioned, all she had in her bag was make up, hairspray. Typical female junk. Nothing we could use.”

“It figures.”

Don’t let them tie me up and carry me into the woods
, Ashley thought. She feared that if they did, she might not be found for days.

“All right Stump, start duct taping her. Do you see that section of trees over there?”

“Yeah. You’re pointing to that path, right?”

“Correct. That’s where we’ll take her. I figure we’ll carry Christina, oh, say, about fifty feet in. Leave her in the bushes. That ought to give us a sufficient amount of time to get out of here without being detected . . . Make sure you get that tape on tight.”

“I’m trying. Come on, lady!” Buck snapped, unable to get a hold of Ashley’s wrists. She screamed, squirmed, kicked, and clawed at Buck’s face. Where she found the courage to do this Ashley will never know. However, right away, she realized her mistake. The retaliation came in the form of a back fist to the jaw, which caused blood to ooze from her lips and gums. “Shut up! If you do that again I‘ll break your hands.”

“What’d she do?”

“Tried to gauge my eyeballs out. Come here Craig, and hold her down. I can’t tape her with her flopping around like this.”

The leader did not react. He stood watching the dairy workers unloading the truck. Now it seemed as if they might have heard Ashley scream. They had stopped what they were doing and were staring in this direction.

“Uh oh,” Craig uttered, “this isn’t good.”

“Huh?”

“Those dairy workers unpacking the milk truck. Look! They’re staring this way. They might have heard her. I know they can’t see us in the dark. But still, them looking this way is giving me a bad feeling.”

As Buck became alert to the situation, the supermarket personnel suddenly jumped down from the cement loading dock. One of them had a flashlight.

“You’re right. They definitely must have heard her. We’ll have to leave the girl here. C’mon Craig! Run! Those dudes will probably have the cops here any minute now.”

“Okay. I‘m coming.”

“Now man. Hurry! Stop screwing around.”

With frost floating out of his nose and mouth, the leader gazed down at Ashley one final time and declared, “Well, it’s been eventful, darling. You’ve been a wonderful host. We’ll have to do this again sometime.” Then he too fled for the pine forest.

That’s when Ashley saw the supermarket employees veer in the opposite direction.

“No!” she yelped, having to contend with the roar of the eighteen-wheeler. “You’re going the wrong way. Whoever you are, I’m over . . . here!” The only way Ashley could get back to her car would be to crawl, which because of her pregnancy; she did not want to risk doing, fearing a miscarriage.

Crown Jewel dairy manager Troy Young had just finished unloading milk, eggs, and butter from the delivery truck, when he heard the scream.

“Hey,” he said to his co-worker Adam Campbell. “Did you hear that?”

“No. I didn’t hear anything,”

“You sure? “

“I’m positive,” said Adam. “Why, what’s up?”

“I thought I heard someone scream.” Troy had fixed his puzzled gaze on the large field behind the supermarket. Only the peaks of the towering pine trees, etched upon the evening sky, were visible.

“Ah, it was probably nothing,” Adam shrugged it off. “It’s almost Halloween. Maybe the ghouls and goblins are out early this year.”

“Could be.”

To keep themselves amused, they had a radio on, tuned to an AM sports station out of New York, WFAN. The opinionated talk show host, Joe Benigno, discussed the upcoming play off series, which pitted the Yankees against their dreaded rivals the Red Sox.

Oblivious to the radio, Troy was still steamed about an incident that had occurred a few hours ago. A shopper had complained that Crown Jewel never carried a brand of imported cheese that she liked. The shopper had asked Troy to call a company in Finland, and order the product for her. He had told the customer that he couldn’t do it. In return the shopper had cursed at him, and then had left the supermarket in a huff, vowing to never return.

Now, as he continued to unpack refrigerated product from big diesel rig, Troy heard yet another hysterical shriek echo across the field. This time his helper Adam Campbell heard it too.

“Whoa! That did sound serious.”

“I told you. Can you see anyone out there?”

“No. No one.” Adam turned the radio down. “It’s too dark. What do you suppose was up with that?”

“I have no idea,” Troy said, scanning the murky gloom. “Let’s go check it out. Grab the flashlight.”

“All right. What about the truck?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll finish unloading everything when we get back. We have plenty of time. Plus, Frankie went to get a slice of pizza.” Frankie was the truck driver.

“Which way do you want to start walking?” Adam had given himself the responsibility of holding the flashlight.

They had hopped down from the cement loading dock, and then had hurried across the black-top to the field.

“I’m not sure. It sounded like the scream came from that direction.” Troy signaled north.

“No. I thought it came from this way.”

“Okay. Then we’ll head that way.”

Years ago, the field, which had always reminded Troy of Tavern on the Green, had been a swamp. Therefore, whenever it rained, as it had the night before, the grass tended to become saturated. Already Troy and Adam’s sneakers were wet and muddy. It was chilly, in the low forties. However, they weren’t cold. They had their jackets on over their uniforms.

“It sucks that it’s so cloudy,” Adam griped. “If the moon was out, it’d be a lot easier to see.”

“Just keep walking,” Troy told him. “Except don’t walk so close to me. You’re kicking mud on my pants.” With his full head of brunette hair, brooding eyes, and chiseled cheek bones, Troy’s friends often said he looked like a preppy Johnny Depp. Troy had no problem with the comparison, though he wished he had Johnny Depp’s money.

They spent five minutes searching, yet didn’t come across anyone. Not even a dog walker, which, in these parts, was fairly common.

“Maybe we were wrong,” Adam speculated, stepping over a thicket of weeds. “Now I’m convinced that what we heard was just a bunch of teenagers after all.

“You’ re probably right.”

“And I bet you any amount of money, when they saw us, they boogied into the woods.”

“I tend to agree with you,” Troy admitted. “My mistake. False alarm.”

But as they turned to head back to the market, they heard it again. Not a scream, a whimper. Whoever this person was, she was somewhere close by.

“Do you see anything?” Troy asked, squinting.

“No . . . Wait! Hold on. I think do.”

“Where?”

“Over there. Where I have the flashlight aimed.”

Perplexed, Troy whispered, “What is that?”

Initially what they observed bore resemblance to an abandoned picnic blanket. Then, as Adam moved the flashlight closer, they caught sight of her; someone with long blonde hair lying on the ground. It appeared as if she’d been trampled on by an angry stampede of cattle. The girl had a black eye and there was blood smeared on her cheek.

Shocked, Adam drew in a sudden breath. “Ewe, what happened?” he declared, directing the beam up and down the woman’s rumpled frame. “It looks like somebody beat her up. Look at her face. Christ! Who would do something like that to a chick?”

“You’ve got me,” Troy said, equally stunned. “Evidently someone with a sick sense of humor.” Cautiously, he bent down and put his hand on the injured person’s shoulder. Troy felt her shaking. In her watery eyes, the victim had the most terrified expression Troy had ever seen. On her clothing, he thought he smelled alcohol. Beer. Wine. Something.

“What happened?” Adam demanded. “Who did this to you?”

“Be quiet! You’ll scare her.”

“Scare her? I don’t think she can possibly become anymore scared than she already is. I‘ve never seen anyone shake like that.”

The girl tried to tell them something. Then she coughed, as though something were wedged in her throat. That’s when Troy noticed the strip of duct tape over her mouth. Quickly, he tore it off.

“What was that, tape?”

“Uh huh. Look at this, her hands are also taped behind her back.” He undid that as well. Then when Troy tried to slowly help the victim get back up to her feet, it became clear that she also had a wounded leg and could not walk.

“Jeez! This is nuts.”

“Don’t try to talk,” Troy told the girl. “Just lie back for a moment and try to catch your breath. . . Adam, give me your bandana.”

“Why?”

“So I can wipe some of this blood off her mouth.”

As he cleaned the woman’s lips and chin, Troy suddenly recognized who she was, one of the counter people from the BVX pharmacy. He did not know her name. He merely knew her as the young attractive blonde who worked at the cash register. “I think I know who she is.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I’m almost positive she works at BVX.”

Adam studied the victim closely. “Hmn. You know what, I think you’re right. She does look familiar.”

“Gra . . . addy . . .” the injured girl mumbled.

“Grady? Who’s Grady?”

“Is that who did this to you?”