Jennifer sat in the back seat of the car with Tanner’s head nestled against her chest, wondering how she could still be alive when her heart and soul felt so mortally wounded. Her chest heaved with a pain so real, so vivid, it made her wonder if she was having a heart attack. Though she was deathly quiet on the outside, on the inside her soul screamed with agony, begging for another chance, pleading to God, or the Fates, or whoever the hell was in charge of this mess called life, to turn back the clocks and make Eric and her mother alive and whole again.
The ponytailed driver steered the car toward the island’s marina, a trip that required less than five minutes. As they pulled into an open parking spot, Derrick turned around and gave Jennifer a threatening look.
“You get out of the car and follow my friend here,” he said with a sideways nod of his head. “The kid walks with me. This” – he held the gun aloft – “will be aimed at your son’s head. Any funny stuff and your kid’s brains will be decorating the dock. Understand?”
Jennifer nodded mechanically.
“Good.” A lascivious smile twisted across Derrick’s face and he shoved the gun into his suit coat pocket. He climbed out of the car and after a quick assessment of the surrounding area, yanked open the back door and motioned for Jennifer to get out.
Jennifer nudged Tanner but he didn’t move. His face remained buried in her chest, his sobs now dissipated into irregular, rasping breaths. Jennifer placed her hands on his shoulders and gently lifted him away from her. He looked back at her through eyes marred with unbearable pain and despair, making Jennifer’s hatred for Derrick grow a hundredfold. She promised herself then and there that she would never rest until she had exacted revenge on the slimy bastard – even if he killed her first. If Tim could come back from the dead, then so would she. Or if she had to, she would meet Derrick in hell. No matter what it took, or how long it took, she vowed the son-of-a-bitch would pay.
“Tanner? Honey?” Jennifer had to work to keep her voice calm and composed, when what she wanted to do was scream like a banshee. “Come on, honey. We need to go.”
Tanner’s face went slack, his eyes empty and vacant, his face totally devoid of expression. “Okay,” he said in a tiny, frightening monotone. “If I gotta.”
Derrick clamped one hand on Tanner’s shoulder and gestured with his head for Jennifer to follow the ponytailed man. She did as she had been directed, following the other man through the parking lot and down one of the docks toward a small, V-bottom fishing boat with an outboard motor hanging on the back. She resisted the urge to turn around and check on Tanner, some sixth sense telling her that he was shuffling along close behind. She was unwilling to risk rousing Derrick’s temper even the slightest bit, fearful that his control was barely contained as it was. Though she felt sure they wanted Tanner alive – at least for now – the evil gleam in Derrick’s eye was more of a gamble than she was willing to take, particularly when the stakes were her son’s life.
They piled into the boat, Tanner sitting glassy-eyed on the front seat, with Jennifer beside him and Derrick in the seat directly behind. The man with the pony tail yanked the cord on the engine and it sputtered a moment before roaring to life with a thick cloud of smoke, filling the salt air with gas fumes. Jennifer kept her eyes trained ahead of her as the boat maneuvered away from the dock and slipped out into the main body of water.
The trip took close to half an hour and by the time they docked again, Jennifer’s face felt raw from the wind and the salt spray whipping her hair against her tender skin. Tanner’s face was red, too, she saw, but he seemed indifferent to the fact. For the entire trip he had sat stock still, his back curved into a slump, his eyes looking so empty they might as well have been made of glass. His bearing was so frighteningly still, his face so placid, that Jennifer found herself watching his chest just to be sure he was still breathing. His stillness frightened her badly and she began to wonder if Tanner would ever again be the happy little boy he used to be. Assuming, of course, that they ever got out of this alive.
They were greeted at the dock in Portland by a man who looked too young to be out of high school, much less making a career as a thug. His hair was blonde and fine, his cheeks cherubic and tinted a healthy rose color, his eyes round and guileless.
Standing beside him was a slender woman with frizzy red hair that fell just short of her shoulders. She wore sunglasses, so Jennifer couldn’t see her eyes, but the pinched set of the pale, thin lips suggested the eyes would be steely and cold. And something about the portion of the face Jennifer could see, gave her the creeps. Unlike the men, who were dressed as if they were on their way to a business meeting, the woman was casually dressed in a lavender colored sweat suit.
No one said a word as they climbed out of the boat and were led toward a van with tinted side windows. Derrick climbed into the back seat and settled in on the driver’s side, motioning to Jennifer to sit beside him.
Jennifer shuddered as she climbed in, fearing Derrick would continue to exercise his vapid sexual overtures. Pulling Tanner in beside her, she turned her back on the creep and tried her best to ignore him, though every nerve in her body was keenly aware of his proximity. The blonde man slid behind the wheel and the woman took the passenger seat up front. Apparently ponytail-man was staying behind.
The van pulled out into traffic and threaded its way through downtown Portland along Commercial Street, its occupants tense and quiet. Jennifer was surprised when the driver got on Interstate 95 and headed south. She was sure they intended to take her and Tanner back to Virginia and she would have thought that flying there would have been a more expedient mode of travel. But then she saw the brilliance in their plan: getting through airport security carrying guns would pose a daunting obstacle. By driving, she and Tanner were kept imprisoned and isolated, away from any thoughts of help or rescue.
Knowing she had a long trip ahead of her, Jennifer huddled over Tanner in a protective shell and closed her eyes. She kept waiting, tensed, for Derrick’s encroaching touch, but the most she felt was an occasional brush of his arm against her side when the van swerved through the traffic. After a half hour or so she began to relax, whispering a silent prayer of thanks that he was leaving her alone. Perhaps it was the presence of the other woman that kept his behavior in check. Or perhaps his sleazy and disgusting behavior was merely his main means of intimidation – an attempt to rob her of her confidence – and now that he had her as his prisoner he had no further need to use sexual bullying. Whatever the reason, Jennifer counted herself lucky.
Thoughts of Eric invaded her mind, the image of him as he lay on the ground back at the island, his face pale and pained. Then she thought about the night before, of the wondrous sensations and emotions he had tenderly evoked from her. With the thoughts came a pain that ripped through her with such severity, it made her gasp. She felt as if her heart had been torn bleeding and dripping from her chest, like some hapless victim in an ancient Aztec sacrifice. Though she knew the pain was more emotional than physical, the very realness of it scared her, leaving her wondering if it was actually possible to die from a broken heart. In a purely instinctive effort to survive, she made a conscious effort to push the thoughts aside, shoving them down into a tiny, locked room that she envisioned inside her chest, where they could be held and protected until she was able to release them.
Released from the agonizing images of Eric, her mind began replaying the events of the past few days, analyzing them over and over and over again in an effort to understand how everything had gone so wrong. Was there something she could have done differently? Had she somehow risked both her own and Tanner’s lives simply by having the unfortunate timing and judgment of marrying Tim? But that was ridiculous. Without Tim, there would be no Tanner. Maybe she’d erred in giving Tanner that bicycle for his birthday, thereby leading to the accident that had initiated the incredible powers he now seemed to possess.
Maybe they should have gone to the police as Eric suggested. Maybe then Eric and her mother would still be alive and she and Tanner would be safe and protected. How on earth had her simple and relatively uncomplicated life become such a frightening and horrifying mess? The questions and self-doubts whirled through her mind until she felt physically and mentally exhausted. Finally, her mind, tired of its incessant circling, simply shut down, leaving her in a state that was somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. She shut out all thoughts and concentrated instead on the warmth of Tanner’s body huddled near her own.
Gradually she realized that Tanner’s breathing had slowed and become more regular. She glanced down at his face and saw with relief that he had fallen asleep. Or at least she hoped it was sleep. She worried that his own mind, after all that had happened, had reached its limit, as had her own, and simply shut down, leaving him in a form of catatonia. She shook the thought off the way Scotch shook off water and told herself that Tanner would be okay. He was a tough, resilient kid. When they got out of this awful mess, he would be just the way he was: smiling, playful, devilish, loving. He would be the old Tanner. Right as rain. He had to be.
Unable to think or feel anymore, Jennifer dozed off, sleeping fitfully over the next few hours, clinging desperately to the numbness of sleep, so as to block out the frightening world around her.
Eventually, she became aware that the van had stopped. She sat up reluctantly and looked around, feeling Tanner stir to life beside her. At first she was overjoyed to feel her son moving, to see him open his eyes and look around with a normal expression of alertness. But then his eyes widened in terror and she thought that it would have been better had he stayed asleep – or whatever he was – until they were home. Better to remain oblivious for the entire trip rather than facing the cold and terrifying reality of life as it had become.
Jennifer saw that they were parked in front of a Kentucky Fried Chicken and that the driver and the woman were no longer in the van. Presumably they had gone inside, though the sun reflecting off the building’s windows kept her from seeing the interior.
With a jolt, it dawned on her that she was alone in the van with Derrick and her mind and body became taut with rigid tension. She didn’t need to turn around and look to know that he was still seated next to her. The hot brimstone of his breath on her neck was an all too close and uncomfortable reminder. It was with the nearest thing to joy she had felt in hours when she saw the driver and the woman exit out the restaurant doors, their arms laden with red and white bags.
As the woman handed one of the bags to Derrick, Jennifer saw that her sunglasses were pushed back on top of her head, revealing her eyes. They were puffy looking and watery, their color a strange, amber shade. And as that feral gaze momentarily fixed on Derrick, Jennifer could see what it was about the woman’s face that had bothered her before. It was totally devoid of expression – as rigid and unyielding as stone.
The smells of grease and spice quickly permeated the air and Jennifer had to fight down a wave of nausea. Tanner sat beside her, his face pale, his eyes wide and blank. When Derrick shoved a box of food at her, Jennifer removed a biscuit and held it in front of Tanner’s face.
“Here, honey,” she urged gently. “Eat something.”
Tanner ignored her, staring straight ahead as if he hadn’t heard her. Jennifer tore off a chunk of the biscuit and tried to push it into Tanner’s mouth. Though his face was pliant, almost doughy-looking, his lips were set firmly in a grim pose. After the piece of biscuit disintegrated into a pile of crumbs in Tanner’s lap, Jennifer gave up and fell back against the seat in frustration.
“You eat,” Derrick grumbled at her, his mouth filled with a disgusting mass of greasy brown potatoes and gravy. He nudged the box on her lap with one end of a drumstick he held in his hand.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat anyway.”
Jennifer ignored him. She was tired of Derrick’s bullying abuse. What was he going to do? Force feed her?
“Eat goddammit, or I’ll smack the kid around.”
His voice sounded almost cheered at the thought and a shot of fear ran through Jennifer. Though she doubted Derrick would kill either her or Tanner until they got back to Virginia and found what they were looking for, she had no doubt that the man was capable of inflicting a great deal of pain on either of them. While she felt she could take it – would, in fact, almost welcome it at this point – she shuddered when she envisioned those hamlike fists pummeling Tanner’s head.
Shooting Derrick a withering stare, she angrily snatched a piece of chicken from the box and ripped off a bite. Though the spices and grease used to cook the stuff scented the entire inside of the van, it tasted like little more than cardboard in her mouth. She chewed and chewed, wondering what had happened to all of her spit. When she finally swallowed, the chicken stuck in her throat in a sticky mass. By the time she had finished a piece of chicken and a few spoonfuls of coleslaw, Jennifer’s hatred for Derrick had increased to a critical mass, ready to explode and annihilate the man.
By the time the sun set, they were on the Jersey Turnpike. Jennifer had passed the time alternating between imagining all of the tortures she would subject Derrick to if she had the chance and worrying about Tanner’s continued unresponsive state. Somewhere near the Cherry Hill exit, her bladder started throbbing painfully and when she saw a sign for a service area she decided she was going to have to risk Derrick’s ire or pee all over the seat.
“Can we stop somewhere?” she asked, startled by the sound of her own voice after the long hours of silence. “I have to pee.”
Derrick eyed her suspiciously, weighing her request.
“No problem,” he said finally. “But I keep the boy with me and she goes with you.” He nodded toward the red-haired woman, who had yet to utter a single word.
Jennifer nodded her agreement.
“Pull off at the next stop,” Derrick instructed the driver.
The blond man acknowledged the directive with a quick glance in the rearview mirror and an almost imperceptible nod.
Jennifer noticed that Derrick had been careful to avoid addressing either of the other two people in the van by name. In fact, the two men had conversed as little as possible, having exchanged fewer than a half dozen sentences since Portland, and the woman hadn’t spoken at all. The thought that this determined effort to keep their identities a secret might mean they intended to eventually release her and Tanner alive gave Jennifer a tiny thrill of hope. If they were going to kill them, why would they care if she knew their names?
The driver pulled off the turnpike at the next service area and parked the van in front of a long building that held a Roy Rogers restaurant, a small convenience store, a vending area, and a service station with six pump islands. The red-haired woman got out and opened the back door. Jennifer climbed past Tanner and meekly followed her inside.
The bathroom was long and narrow with stalls running down either side. Jennifer chose one of the closer ones, taking care to keep her eyes on the floor to avoid making any eye contact with the other women who were inside. She didn’t want to give the red-haired woman any reason to think she was making any attempts, real or imagined, to solicit help. Jennifer feared Derrick’s wrath if she were caught, and she suspected his punishment would take the form of some sort of physical abuse against Tanner.
Once Jennifer was enclosed in her stall, the red-haired woman slid into the one beside her. Jennifer stared at the woman’s shoes. They were some exotic brand of sneaker, in what looked to be about a size six or so. The woman was not large, maybe five-four or so, but Jennifer suspected that underneath the shapeless sweat suit, she was all muscle and sinewy strength.
As she sat on the toilet, staring at the scratched out words of graffiti that had been quickly painted over on the walls, Jennifer dabbled with the idea of trying to write some kind of note, a plea for help, something to alert someone to her situation. But she had nothing to write with and even if she did, she suspected the woman would check the stall when she was through. Her suspicions proved right.
Back outside, Jennifer followed the woman back to the van, again taking care to keep her behavior and her facial expression above suspicion. As the woman opened the back door to the van, Jennifer felt her heart skip a beat.
Derrick and Tanner were both gone.
Jennifer whirled around and scanned the busy parking lot, frantically searching for her son. Relief flooded her veins when she saw Derrick coming out of the same door she herself had just come through, his hand on Tanner’s shoulder, steering him back toward the van. Tanner looked solemn, but otherwise okay.
When Derrick saw the look on Jennifer’s face, he said, “What? You think you’re the only one with a bladder?” His eyes raked over her and his face split into a leering grin. “Though I suspect you probably have the prettiest bladder between the two of us.”
Jennifer flashed him a look of disgust, her mouth curling into a grimace. Her whole body shuddered with distaste.
The smile on Derrick’s face faded and a dark look of challenging menace replaced it. “Fuck with me and I’ll rip your bladder out and have a look-see, just to see if I’m right. Now get in the fucking van, Miss Fancy-pants.”
Jennifer climbed in, assuming her place in the center again. Derrick pushed Tanner in next to her, then climbed past them both to take his own seat. The woman slid the van door shut, the noise sounding to Jennifer like the closing of a coffin.
The rest of the trip was as deathly silent as the first part. Jennifer was relieved that Tanner had drifted off to sleep shortly after they were back on the road and remained that way for the duration.
It was close to midnight when they finally pulled up in front of Jennifer’s house. The place was dark and empty looking, with an almost abandoned air about it. Feeling as if she had lost a good friend, it hit Jennifer then that the house no longer held the same magic for her it had before. It had been violated, invaded by these evil people. With sadness, she acknowledged to herself that if they did survive this ordeal, she would have to find somewhere else to live.
Jennifer gently shook Tanner awake and led him out of the van and up to the front door. She hesitated, wondering how they were going to get inside. Her purse, with all her money and her keys, was still in Maine sitting on the front seat of Eric’s Explorer. To her chagrin, Derrick produced a set of keys, selected one, and unlocked the door.
Jennifer steered Tanner toward the stairs but was halted when Derrick clamped a hand down on her shoulder.
“Where in the hell do you think you’re going?” he growled.
“I’m taking Tanner up to bed.” She shoved his hand off her shoulder like she was batting away a pesky fly.
“No you’re not. The kid has some questions to answer.”
Jennifer was incensed. Surely they didn’t expect to put Tanner through anything more today. He had had enough. Besides, from the looks of him, they would get little out of him at this point.
“Not tonight,” she said firmly. “Look at him. He’s exhausted.”
“I don’t care.”
“Let the kid sleep. We can wait until morning.”
It was the first time the woman had spoken, and the rather coarse, rasping sound of her voice startled Jennifer. She watched curiously as Derrick’s face flushed a deep red and his brow drew down with irritation. Then he spun around abruptly and stomped off toward the kitchen.
Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief and bestowed a grateful smile on the woman.
It wasn’t returned; the woman stared back at her impassively and said, “Let’s go.” She led Jennifer and Tanner up the stairs, standing aside at the top to let Jennifer take the lead. As Jennifer flipped on the light in Tanner’s room, the woman stood in the doorway, gave the room a quick perusal, and then apparently satisfied, went back out into the hallway, hovering just beside the door.
Tanner was still half asleep and functioning drunkenly as Jennifer undressed and tucked him into bed. Once again, she was struck by his lack of protest as he stood before her in nothing but his underpants. Knowing how sensitive he had been about it before, Jennifer felt both alarmed and saddened by his current indifference, worrying that it was an early sign that his personality and spirit were slowly eroding away.
After kissing Tanner on the forehead and smoothing his hair back with her hand, Jennifer decided to go back downstairs, hoping she might yet be able to come up with a plan of some sort now that she was on familiar ground. Besides, she was far too fraught with pent-up tension to be able to sleep. As she left Tanner’s room and descended the stairs, the red-haired woman padded softly behind her, like a shadow.
The blond-haired man was nowhere to be seen, but Derrick was sprawled out on the couch, his arms spread along the back, his legs extended in front of him. “Kid all tucked in for beddy-bye?” he sneered.
Though his tone was as full of nasty insolence as ever, Jennifer saw that he darted a surreptitious and wary glance at the red-haired woman as he spoke. It was then that she realized he was afraid of the woman, a rather curious situation considering he had to be at least twice her size. Her confidence bolstered by this knowledge, she decided to ignore his snide comment and walked past him into the kitchen. Her newfound courage was short-lived, however, when Derrick followed her and the woman did not.
Trying studiously to ignore Derrick’s ominous presence, Jennifer grabbed the tea pot off the stove and went to the sink to fill it. But when she turned back, Derrick was leaning against the front of the stove, his legs crossed, his hands supporting his weight.
“Unh, unh, pretty lady,” he said. “No boiling water for you. I bet you would just love to toss a cupful of burning water on my face.”
Jennifer glared at him, acknowledging the truth in his statement and even enjoying a brief fantasy of the hideous and painful screams the act would rend from the man. Biting her lip, she turned and set the pot back in the sink. She headed for the refrigerator instead, skirting around the table to avoid passing in front of Derrick. She took out a jug of orange juice and then, realizing Derrick was standing right beside the cabinet that held all of the drinking glasses, she popped the lid off the jug and lifted it to her lips.
Derrick’s eyes followed her every move, that sneering smile ever-present. When she had wetted her parched throat, she lowered the bottle and shot a scathing look back at him as she wiped her mouth with the back of her arm.
“Now that the kid’s tucked in, what do you say I tuck you in, gorgeous?” Derrick asked in his best sleazy voice.
Jennifer threw him a look of disgust.
“What?” he said, his voice sounding mockingly offended. He slapped an open hand against his chest. “I’m not good enough for you, Miss High and Mighty?”
Jennifer slammed the orange juice down on the table and stormed out of the kitchen, hearing Derrick grunt as he pushed himself away from the stove to follow her. Upon entering the living room, Jennifer was startled to hear the peal of the front doorbell and it stopped her in her tracks. Derrick, apparently intent on his pursuit of her, bumped into her backside, nearly knocking her over.
The red-haired woman rose from her chair and walked quickly to the door. She stood on tiptoe and peeked through the peep hole.
Jennifer held her breath, wondering who it might be, fearful it was Carny. Surely there was no way for Carny to know they were home yet. It was going on one in the morning and unless Carny had ventured through the woods in the middle of the night, there would be no way for her to know there was anyone in the house. The thick grove of trees effectively hid the two houses from view of one another.
The woman reached down, threw back the deadbolt, and opened the door.
Jennifer’s heart pounded in her chest and the orange juice she had just swallowed surged up in her throat, the acid taste burningly sour.
On the front porch stood Evan.
He looked over the head of the red-haired woman, saw Jennifer, and smiled. “Jennifer, darling. Are you okay?” He pushed his way into the house and headed for her, his arms extended to embrace her.
Jennifer took an involuntary step backward and felt the steely cold of Derrick’s body at her back. Panic seized her as her mind sought frantically for a way to make Evan stop, to alert him to the danger. But he was coming at her too fast. Unable to think of anything else, she simply held her hand out like a cop stopping traffic and yelled at him.
“Evan, stop! Get out of here! Get help! These people are trying to kill me!”
Evan’s face took on a puzzled expression, but his step never wavered. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him, wrapping solid arms around her waist.
Jennifer’s mind screamed in frustration. She had little doubt that Derrick would kill Evan the same way he had killed her mother and Eric. Everyone she cared about was ending up dead. She was starting to feel like some human version of the black widow spider. Pushing herself away from Evan, she turned and confronted Derrick.
“Please,” she begged. “Don’t hurt him, too.”
Derrick gave a little snort. “Hurt who? Socrates here? Hey, Reeves. The little lady is trying to protect you,” he jabbed in a singsong voice. “Isn’t that sweet.”
Though Jennifer recognized instantly that something was wrong in what Derrick said, something alarming, it took a few seconds for it to register. Or maybe it registered right away but her mind simply refused to accept it. Slowly, she turned and looked up at Evan. He smiled at her serenely and everything became suddenly and sickeningly clear.
“Oh my God,” she mumbled. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
Evan’s smile never wavered, nor did he answer her.
The pale fear in Jennifer’s face gave way to red anger. “You son of a bitch!” she hissed. “How could you do this? Have you been spying on me all along? “
Evan reached out for her, but Jennifer slapped his hand and sidestepped away from him. “You low-life worm!” she spat. “To think I trusted you, slept with you for Christ’s sake!” Behind her she heard Derrick snort with amusement.
Evan tried to look embarrassed but succeeded only in looking stupid. “Now, Jennifer,” he said slowly, his voice carrying the husky tones he had used when they were in bed together. “While it’s true that our meeting was ... shall we say, convenient ... it doesn’t mean that my feelings aren’t real. I really do care for you.”
Jennifer was filled with revulsion and loathing. She felt dirty all of a sudden, as if she had just rolled in something dead and slimy and awful.
“I can’t believe how incredibly stupid and gullible I’ve been.” she said, her voice low. “All this time you people have been watching me, manipulating me, spying on me.”
Feeling thoroughly used and violated, she turned and fled from the room, running up the stairs two at a time, heedless to the fact she was turning her back on them and might feel a bullet crash into her brain at any second.
She ran into Tanner’s room and shut the door. The knob had a push-button lock – a flimsy thing she knew could be done in with one swift kick – but she pushed it home anyway in a gesture of defiance. She paced back and forth across the room muttering to herself, her hands wringing together, chastising her stupid naiveté.
Her ears listened for the sounds of pursuit, half expecting the bedroom door to crash off its hinges at any moment. But when no one came after her, she dropped into the rocking chair by the window, rocking back and forth savagely, trying to come to grips with all the betrayals in her life. How could she have been so stupid? If they gave out an award for moron of the year, she had no doubt she would win, hands down.
She stared out the window at the night sky, at the trees gently swaying in the summer night’s breeze, watching the image become blurred as tears filled her eyes. Gradually, her rocking diminished to an almost indiscernible sway as she hugged her knees to her chest and gave way to the frustrated sobs that boiled up inside her.
She cried until she was spent, drained of all emotion.