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Saturday Evening
“DAMN it!” Tristan cupped the top of his head in his hands. His voice boomed throughout the hotel suite but no one seemed to care. In fact, he lost his temper several times in the last sixteen hours and no one complained.
Time was ticking away and he was no closer to figuring out how to communicate with Cianne telepathically. “We’ve been working at this for hours and nothing.”
Tristan pounded his fist on his head. “FUCK!”
“We can’t be sure she hasn’t heard you.” Zeta pointed out.
“I think if she had, she would have answered me by now.” Tristan fell back against the sofa like a weightless blob.
“Maybe we are going about this all wrong. Cianne has been saying random things, right?” Zeta stood.
“Like she’s talking to herself,” Tristan agreed.
Zeta began pacing in front of the seating area. “Let’s assume that she isn’t aware that you can hear her. So maybe she isn’t concentrating at all or maybe she’s asleep. When you heard her, what were you doing?”
Tristan thought about the last time he heard Cianne. “I was driving around not thinking about anything really. More or less, I was trying not to think.”
“Well let’s try to figure out what she could have been thinking. What did she say?” Zeta turned to face Tristan.
Tristan sat up. “The first few times I just heard her say my name. Then she mentioned the baby.” He thought about the way Cianne sounded. “Each time her voice was calm, relaxed.”
“You need to fill your mind with thoughts of her. Only the happy times you shared.”
He tried not to take offense but said, “All my time with her was happy.” Tristan closed his eyes and let his mind wander to happier times. He first thought of the first time he sat with Cianne at Crimpy’s Burger Shop, when he discovered that she liked him. Next, he thought of the day they were in her kitchen for the first time, and how he couldn’t help telling her how he felt about her, even though every fiber in his being begged him not to put himself out there.
Tristan thought of Cianne’s blue-green eyes and how every time he looked into them he felt powerless along with a sense of calm he never felt before. The moment she told him that she loved him...
“Cianne, where are you?”
◉
Cianne sat against the wall with her knees pulled up to her chest, her head resting on her knees. This was her usual way of sitting and sleeping in her cell. She didn’t feel comfortable lying on the nasty mattress, and she wanted to keep her eyes on the door at all times. So much so that Cianne was able to figure out the pattern her kidnappers worked by.
Before traffic got too busy in the early morning, one checked in on her and gave her food. No one looked in on her again until what she surmised was lunchtime. It was always two of them although one always stayed out of sight now. They usually brought her something edible but never very appetizing. Then she was either left alone or ignored until early evening. The one she named, Cook, came in then. He often secretly brought her food, good food, and sometimes he brought a nice home cooked meal.
Even though Cook never spoke to her, seeing him had become the highlight of her days. Only, something was wrong because not only had Cook not shown up today, neither had anyone else.
It was dark outside and Cianne was more frightened than ever. The dogs seemed louder tonight than they had been the past few days for some reason. Their barking and howling were scratching at her last remaining nerve.
Worried that her kidnappers now had what they wanted so they decided to leave her to starve to death, Cianne was on the brink of hysterics. She knew she needed to remain calm because there was nothing else she could do.
Tristan.
She attempted to find her calm by thinking about Tristan. She pictured herself in Tristan’s bed with his face next to hers. She thought of his lips and the way he traced them over her cheeks, barely touching her skin. He always knew exactly how and where to touch her. His smell was a clean intoxicating scent that called to her soul.
She wanted Tristan.
Cianne looked up suddenly and shined the little flashlight toward the door. There was no one there. She pointed it to every corner in the room but no one was there.
Calm down...calm down, she thought. Only she couldn’t. Her heart raced as her chest heaved in and out. It was nothing. You’re just scared and...
“Cianne, where are you?”
Cianne jumped to her feet. This time she heard his voice clearly. Startled she began flashing the light frantically in every direction.
He’s not here. You’re going crazy?
Cianne sank to the floor. Tears slid down her face as she shook her head. This was it. She was going to die but, batshit crazy was taking over first. As much as she wanted to hear Tristan’s voice again, she didn’t want to hear voices that her mind created. A voice that, no matter how comforting, wouldn’t stop and that scared her to death.
“Just stop!” she screamed aloud.
When the voice in her head, his voice, asked her where she was again, all Cianne could do was scream back mentally, “I don’t know?”
“Cianne, you can hear me! Are you hurt?”
Cianne covered her mouth to keep her scream silent.
“God, I’m really going crazy.”
“No Buttercup, you’re not. Are you hurt?”
With a hysterical giggle, Cianne decided that didn’t she care. So what if she was crazy? She forced herself to relax because hearing Tristan now was just what she needed. Cianne took a deep breath in...then she responded.
“I’m not hurt, out of my mind, but not hurt.” What if it was him? Crazier things have happened to her. She was the standard for crazy, right? Besides, why would she conjure Tristan’s voice just to ask herself if she was hurt? That made no sense at... “Oh my god Tristan is that really you? If it is, I’m so sorry—”
“Ci focus, what do you see and hear?”
Tristan had never been that short with her. Could it really be him? “I’m in a room, a building. All the windows are bricked up. I’m near a busy street or a highway. I can hear lots of cars during the day.”
“Do you know who has you?”
“No, they all wear ski masks. There are at least three of them.”
“Is there anything else you can think of that can help me find you?”
“It took us about an hour to get here from where they took me.”
Cianne knew Tristan most likely knew where she was and what she planned to do before she was kidnapped but she couldn’t confront that just yet. Not yet.
“The CD that was playing in the van played one full-time and by the time the car was turned off, it had looped and was on the second track again. Also, I think I could be near a kennel or something. I hear dogs barking and they get louder at night,” she transferred. Cianne waited for him to say something else but minutes passed with silence. “Tristan, are you still there? Please...please...please,” she begged.
She wondered if she imagined the entire conversation. It was totally normal for a person to hallucinate in this type of situation. More minutes, minutes that felt like hours, passed with no word from him.
It felt so real. It has to be real.
Eventually, Cianne found herself smiling. It didn’t matter if she was dreaming the whole thing or not, she spoke to Tristan and that meant her fractured mind could conjure him again. That gave her some peace.
“I have the drop location; I’m coming to get you.”
Cianne’s heart leapt into her throat. It was real...and Tristan sounded so determined that hope flared in her anew.
“I love you Cianne.”
It was barely a whisper in her mind but she heard it. Tristan loved her, still. Not only that, she was able to hear him and he was searching for her. Cianne smiled as hopeful tears fell from her eyes.
◉
“I’m going with you,” Zeta said. She sat down in the passenger seat of his truck then slammed the door shut. Tristan heard the seatbelt click. “A guardian having a telepathic link to their host again.” Her eyes widened as she glared at him. “Well, it’s amazing. What all did she tell you?”
Tristan noted the time as he started the engine then pulled off. He looked at Zeta, feeling somewhat annoyed. However, he had no time to argue with her, which meant she was going with him.
“She said that she hears cars passing by all day so she may be near a busy street or highway. She also mentioned that a CD played all the way through and wrapped to the first two songs again. On average, we can guess that means we need to check a 40 to 45 minutes’ circumference from the clinic.”
“We are looking for abandoned properties near highways, about 45 minutes from the clinic?” Zeta listed all the clues out loud as if committing them to memory. “Where is the drop?”
“I was instructed to get on the interstate. I’ll be given more direction as I drive.” Tristan approached the on-ramp. “Call Mr. Baxter,” he spoke to his hands-free phone.
‘Calling Mr. Baxter,’ a computerized female voice said through the speakers of the truck. The sound of dialing numbers filled the vehicle.
“Mr. Baxter, do you have a map?” Tristan asked when the line picked up.
“I do.” There were a few seconds of silence then the brief ruffling of papers. “I have it, where do I go?”
Tristan explained all the information Cianne gave him to Joseph who had Vivian and another three of the “Coesen Guard” with him. Now all they had to do was figure out where Cianne could be before the drop, in case they were double-crossed.
“There are two possible places she could be, based on her description. It’s a tossup between Mansfield Industrial Park which is off Clay Avenue, or some buildings located behind the cemetery off Seminole and Madison Avenue. Both are in bad parts of town, and both are close to the interstate,” Joseph informed them. “Which one do I take?”
“I think we should wait to see what direction they want me to take. I can take the place closest to the money exchange while you guys take the other. If we don’t, we could end up in the same place,” Tristan advised.
“You’re right, we’ll wait for your call,” Joseph said. “And Tristan, thank you for everything you’re doing for Cianne. And...and for your understanding with all of, well, this...” Joseph trailed off.
“Thank me when Cianne is home safe.” Tristan disconnected the call. He drove about an hour before he got the message from the kidnapper to go to a gas station on a busy street. He pulled into a parking space at the designated place and waited while Zeta paid close attention to what was going on around them.
“This can’t be where they want us to be,” Zeta said, as she watched the busy storefront in the side view mirror.
“I guess they don’t want us to know where we’re going until the last minute.” He surmised. Tristan wanted to speak to Cianne but he was pumped full of adrenaline and he knew that the telepathy thing only seemed to work when he was relaxed. Usually, he was a calm person but when it came to Cianne, he lost all his cool composure.
Tristan looked at his phone again. If he was counting the number of times, he looked at the thing, he would be somewhere in the hundreds. When it finally buzzed, he was instructed to drive ten miles south and wait. Once Tristan got on the road, he called Joseph and advised him they were on the move again.
Zeta looked over the map she purchased from the Gas and Go. “It looks as if we are going to be within a few streets of the warehouses near Seminole and Madison,” she told him. Then she called Vivian and advised them to go to the other location, Mansfield Industrial park.
Tristan drove, paying close attention to his surroundings. He passed a number of stores that lined either side of the street, and a good number of them were liquor stores. Why any area would need so many was a mystery to him.
At a red light, Tristan noticed a woman with light hair and gray eyes cross the street carrying a little cherub face boy with mischievous eyes that matched the woman’s. The boy waved and Tristan waved back. He ignored the way his chest ached from the exchange. It made him think of the baby Cianne carried. It was up to her to decide to keep the baby or terminate the pregnancy.
The painful thought urged Tristan on. He drove slower when the GPS advised him that eight miles had been reached. He drove a few more miles, which led them to a less populated area. Tristan picked the speed up a little.
The kidnapper communicated that they should keep straight. Undoubtedly, they were being watched but he hadn’t noticed any vehicles following them. Tristan continued straight until he was told to turn right onto another street leading to an unmaintained road lined with street lamps overrun with weeds. Dim light from a few working lamps gave the area an eerie glow but Tristan’s sight was exceptional so he saw the details most couldn’t. He slowed when he saw the entrance to an apartment complex.
Zeta looked at the GPS. “We are a few miles from the warehouse district.”
Tristan followed the road until they reached a welcome sign. “An abandoned apartment complex,” he murmured. Drifting slowly forward in the truck, he looked around at the boarded-up buildings and the overgrown grass. “She’s here,” he said to Zeta.
In sync with his remark, a few feet in front of his truck a masked figure stepped into the glare of his headlights. It took all the strength he had not to press the gas pedal to the floor and run the darkly dressed figure over.
Tristan was pissed but not stupid. He stomped on the brakes and put the truck in park.
“Get out the car!” The person in front of the truck yelled his instructions.
Tristan had his eyes on his side-view mirror and the other masked person who crept up alongside his truck. He did nothing when he felt the gun at his temple but he was too angry to be afraid. The need to fight reverberated through his entire body but Tristan pushed it down. He knew he had to stay composed until he had Cianne safe. He slowly removed his keys from the ignition and let them dangle from his fingers while raising his other hand for the gunman to see.
The darkly dressed figure who stood in front of the truck moved toward them with another gun raised. “Get out,” the approaching gunman ordered. “I thought I told you to come alone.”
“She’s my bodyguard,” Tristan said. He smiled bitterly as he got out of the truck. He felt a jarring pain as the butt of the gun connected with the back of his head. He stumbled forward but held onto the door of his truck to keep on his feet.
“Please,” Zeta begged in an innocent tone.
Confused by the sudden change in her normally assertive manner, Tristan glanced over at her. She stood next to the passenger side door looking at the figure who stood in the glare of the headlights.
“I hid in the back of the truck; he wasn’t aware I was with him until it was too late. Don’t punish him for my mistake.”
As much as Tristan wanted to beat the shit out of the kidnapper who hit him, the one beside him, he gave the one in front of him his full attention. He seemed to be the one in charge so Tristan labeled him Leader.
“You seem to be a magnet for beautiful women,” Leader teased as he eyed Zeta appreciatively.
The asshole must not notice the youth of her face, either that or he didn’t care, and that made Tristan angrier.
“Where’s the money and hand over your phones,” Leader ordered.
Tristan wiped at some blood that trickled from his head as he stood straight. He finally turned to look at the person who had hit him, silently promising to do much worse. But not now. “In the back seat,” he said, tossing his phone to Leader. Zeta did the same.
Leader, the one giving the orders, walked over slowly after pocketing their phones. He passed Tristan and his partner to get to the back door of the truck. With his gun fixed on Zeta’s head through the window of the car, he took out two large bags and threw them to the ground.
“Cover the girl,” Leader told his partner, “I’ve got Lover-boy.”
The two men switched targets by adjusting their aim but didn’t move. With his gun pointed at Tristan now, the leader bent down and unzipped one of the bags.
Tristan slowly looked around at the four-story buildings that surrounded them. He looked from building to building wondering which of them Cianne was in.
“You think I’m stupid,” Leader said, as he zipped one of the bags back up. “She’s not in any of these buildings.” He stood and took his silent partner’s place. “Now walk,” he shoved Tristan around his open truck door and forward.
“You got the money, so tell me where she is,” Tristan demanded, as he moved forward.
“Walk!”
Tristan looked back at the silent guy who was still aiming his gun at Zeta from the driver’s side and noticed that the guy’s hand was more than a little shaky.
“Not a really good idea to be nervous with a gun pointed at someone’s face,” Tristan said, as he took a few more steps in the direction he was told to walk.
Leader looked over his shoulder at his accomplice then shook his head. “Don’t worry about the girl.” Leader said to his silent partner. He motioned to the bags. “Just take those to the car and wait for me there.”
It took the mute gunman two trips but he did what he was told while they all waited in silence in the high grass. The one giving orders motioned for Zeta to join them. She complied. Tristan and Zeta walked a few feet into a clearing between two tall apartment buildings, Leader told them to stop walking and to turn around to face him. They stood only a few feet away from the barrel of his gun. They both watched in silence as he pulled out Tristan’s phone and started pushing buttons, all while still pointing the gun at them.
“I see you’ve erased all your calls. Smart,” Leader said.
Tristan couldn’t tell because the man’s face was hidden behind a black cloth mask but he felt the gunman was smiling. “Where is she?” Tristan asked again.
“You got a lot of questions for a man with a gun pointed at him.” Leader dropped both phones on the ground and crushed them under his foot. He cocked his head to one side as he appraised Zeta again. “You, Mr. Bertram, have great taste in women,” he said. “I wish I’d met you under different circumstances sweetheart. The accent is very sexy.”
◉
Cianne was sick with worry. She didn’t hear from Tristan and the more time that passed, the more she thought of the worst possible scenarios. As one such scenario flickered through her mind, she heard movement from the other side of her cell door.
When she heard the key in the door she jumped to her feet. She took a deep breath, allowing the realization that her nightmare was finally over. She dreamed of seeing Tristan for five days. Her excitement threatened to bubble over, so she held her breath as the door creaked slowly, then was suddenly pushed wide open.
The sudden boom from the door hitting the wall shocked Cianne. She gasped as the glare from a flashlight blinded her. When the light was turned away from her face, she lifted her small light. The person she saw standing inside her cell wasn’t Tristan. Cianne quickly dropped her own flashlight and covered her face.
“I didn’t see anything,” she said, through her covered mouth. “I swear.”
There in the doorway, dressed in the same clothing as her kidnappers, stood a man without a mask covering his face. Cianne knew that her survival depended on not being able to identify him. Frantic, she turned around so her back was to him.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, stepping further inside the room. He let the door close behind him. His tone was urgent and pleading. “I’m here to help. You need to come with me.”
Cianne let her hands fall to her side as she turned and looked at him. She started mentally checking off all the things she learned about the three kidnappers as he secured his flashlight inside the strap on his shoulder. She also noticed that he had let the door shut behind him. This man was the one she called Cook. She took a step toward him but out of the way of the bright light, the flashlight gave off.
“Tristan,” she said. “What happen to Tristan?”
Cook held his hand out for her to take. “I don’t know, but we need to get out of here now.” He moved a step closer.
Cianne moved a step back. “I’m not going until you tell me what happened to him.”
Cook cursed then looked away. He seemed to be contemplating something then he looked at her. He turned, went to the door, opened it a little, and peeked through it.
“Ok,” he said, turning toward her. “If I tell you what I know, will you go with me then?”
“Yes,” she said.
He closed the door again. “Your boyfriend is at the exchange not far from here. But...” He looked as if he was fighting a private battle inside himself.
“What?” she questioned.
“He’s planning to kill your boyfriend. He’s planning to kill you both,” Cook said, as he moved toward her again. “That’s why I need to get you out of here.” He grabbed her limp hand and pulled her toward the door.
“No...God no.” Cianne felt her world tilt.
“Tristan it’s a trap. They’re going to kill us.”
