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

  “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?”

  She nodded no. “Gra . . . addy. . . Gotta help my . . .” She coughed again.

  “I don’t understand,” Troy said, frustrated. Then, as the woman pointed to her stomach, it occurred to him that she was carrying a child. “Wait Adam. She’s pregnant! That’s what she’s saying. She’s saying baby. Not Grady.”

  Adam’s jaw became unhinged. “No way. This is totally messed up. What are we supposed to do?”

  “Since she can’t walk, we have to call an ambulance. Do you have your cell phone with you?”

  “I should.” Frantically, Adam patted his coat pocket. “No. Damn it! I don’t. I left it at the store. It must be in my other jacket.”

  Troy sighed. That was definitely not what he wanted to hear, particularly since he did not have a mobile phone either. He had been meaning to buy one, but hadn‘t gotten around to it yet.

  “Okay. Go back and call 911. And leave the flashlight here. I‘ll stay with her. ”

  “Gottcha.” As though he were being chased by the devil, Adam sprinted at top velocity back to the shopping center.

  CHAPTER 5

  Meanwhile, in the pine forest, Craig suddenly threw his hands up into the air and then angrily whispered, “Shit! I don‘t believe this, my bracelet!”

  “What are you babbling about?” Buck asked without turning around.

  Ashley’s attackers were hiking through a dark tangle of bushes, thorns, and br
anches. Underneath their boots, leaves, twigs, and pinecones were trampled, creating a sound akin to stepping on peanut shells. Eventually, the narrow path would wind around and lead them back to the shopping mall, where they had their old Ford Pickup truck parked. The dilapidated truck, which had a red wheel barrel in it, was in front of Radio Shack near a handicapped zone.

  “That chick must have torn my silver bracelet off,” Craig elaborated, holding up his wrist and then clicking his lighter. “Probably when she first came to. Remember, when she got all freaked out, and kept grabbing my arms? I know the bracelet is probably on the ground right near her somewhere.”

  “Your bracelet?”

  “Yes. The one my ex. wife Danielle ordered from QVC in 2000, and gave to me for a Christmas present. The year before the divorce. We have to go back and find it.”

  “Mother aye. I don’t believe this. Are you sure, you were even wearing the bracelet? I don’t remember seeing it on your wrist today.”

  “Since when do you look at my wrist?”

  Annoyed, Buck spit. “I’m just saying, homie, a lot of time when we’re working you take off your bling and leave it in the glove compartment. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure I saw you take something off your wrist this afternoon when we were in Easton finishing that one house with the crappy shed in the backyard.”

  Craig sighed. “What I took off my wrist and put in the glove compartment was my watch, not my bracelet. I know what I’m talking about. I haven’t killed as many brain cells as you. My memory is still intact. So let‘s go. We can’t waste time. We’re heading back.”

  “Dawg, are you crazy? Forget about it.”

  Infuriated, the leader whipped a pinecone at a rotting tree trunk. He had become so enraged he started to hyperventilate. “Stump, don’t you get it, the bracelet has my name inscribed on it. If the cops find it, which they probably will if we don’t go back and get it, we’re freaking screwed. That’s one thing that can definitely be traced to us. So come on! Unless you feel like spending more time in jail.”

  Sighing, Buck peered through the trees toward the field. So far, the police had yet to show up.

  “Okay. But what about those people from the grocery store? It looks like they‘re with her now. The flashlight stopped moving. Whoever they are, they probably already took the duct tape off her mouth and hands, and I’m sure the chick told them which way we ran . . . What are we supposed to do about them? It‘s not like we can walk up on those people and act like concerned citizens. Once that chick hears our voices she‘ll know that we‘re the ones who jumped her.”

  “Well,” said Craig, fishing, from his pant’s pocket, a pair of brass knuckles. “We might have a situation on our hands. So you be a smart S.O.B. and arm yourself with a weapon.”

  “What kind of weapon?”

  “Preferably a thick tree branch. One that won’t break on contact.” While grinning, the man in charge slammed the brass knuckles into his palm. “Yeah. In order to find that bracelet, Stump, we might have to bash a couple of skulls.”

  CHAPTER 6

  With his co-worker on the way to call 911, dairy manager Troy Young tried to obtain as much information from the victim as possible.

  The woman informed him that she‘d been raped (although he had already assumed that) and that she did not know by whom.

  She also kept repeating, in a fatigued whisper, that one of her assailants had kicked her in the kidney, which she feared might have killed her unborn child. The emotionally charged statement sent shock waves ricocheting through Troy’s mind. He was aghast. He did not understand what could possibly posses people to make them commit such a heinous crime like this.

  “My name is Ashley,” the girl proclaimed softly, after, for the third time, Troy had assured her an ambulance would soon arrive. “Ashley Ferguson. I grew up in this town-”

  “Hello Ashley,” he uttered respectfully, still holding her head in his hand. “I’m Troy. Troy Young . . . You hang in there now, okay?” He tried not to sound nervous; he did not want her to panic. “Just keep calm. I’ll be here with you the whole time until they get here.”

  “Troy,” she gibbered, while caressing his cheek. “Did you know Peter?”

  “Who?”

  “My husband?” She seemed to be hallucinating.

  “Uh, no.” Troy wondered why the victim had referred to her spouse in the past tense. Furthermore, he wanted to ask Ashley Ferguson if she remembered him from his intermittent visits to the pharmacy. However, given the girl’s condition, he decided it best to keep the dialogue simple. Besides, with her eye swelled, and nearly closed, it seemed unlikely that she could distinguish his features anyway. Troy reckoned what she likely saw was a vague flashlight-induced impression.

  “If my baby is a boy,” she continued to drivel, lost in a sentimental fantasy, “My husband wanted to name it after him. Peter Ferguson Junior. Wouldn’t that be cute?”

  “Yes. Peter is a nice name.”

  “If it’s a girl though, I don’t have a name picked out.” Again, she affectionately patted his face. “Do you know a pretty name for a baby girl?”

  “Umn. I’m not good at naming babies,” Troy said, hoping she wouldn’t detect that he too had begun to weep. How could he not? Troy had never experienced anything like this. He was having a difficult time keeping his emotions in check.

  Brutal crimes of this nature did not occur around here, at least there had not been anyone raped in recent history that Troy could recall. The only violent crimes that took place in Wichita were the occasional barroom brawl.

  “What’s your wife’s name?”

  “I don’t have a wife. I’m not married.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “No girlfriend either.”

  Attempting to smile, the shaky female gazed intently into Troy’s eyes.

  “How does such a sweet man like you not have someone to love?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t met the right person.”

  “You will,” she whispered confidently. “I never thought I would either until Peter came along.” It appeared, in her delirium, she could not help but reminisce.

  “And where is your husband now?”

  “He died. He fell off a scaffold.”

  “Whoa! I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. Peter was a window washer struggling to make a living. And I cared about him so much. Then he had to go away. Just like my baby might have to go away.”

  The poignant statement tugged at Troy‘s heart.

  “Your baby’s not going anywhere,” he promised, now finally laying the girls’s head back down. His hand had gotten tired holding it up. “I told you, my co-worker went to call for help. Everything will be fine. I give you my word.”

  “What’s your mother’s name?” she asked, becoming more irrational.

  “Come again?”

  “Your mom, what‘s her name?”

  “Kim . . . My mother’s name is Kim.”

  “Then if my baby survives and it turns out to be a girl, her name will be Kimberly Ferguson.”

  “No. You don’t have to name your kid after my mom.”

  “But I would want to,” she assured him. “So would my husband. Because if our child survives it’ll be because of you and your friend.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “How does this stick look?” Buck asked, handing it to his partner. The tree branch he had found, in a heap of leaves and pine needles resembled a Louisville slugger.

  “It looks like it might do the trick,” Craig said, pleased. “First, let’s see if it passes the test.” The leader swung the branch explosively hard against a fallen log. WHACK! The thick stick did not break or crack. “Yeah. This should work . . . Okay, Stump. Listen up. Here’s the deal. Once we get out of the woods, we’ll sneak up on them as quietly as possible. And when I mean quiet I don’t even want to hear you breathe.”

  Buck nodded. Scurrying nearby through the autumn brush
an opossum regarded Ashley’s attackers with both fear and awe. The only other animals that might be in the woods this time of year were squirrels, raccoons, the occasional deer and some black bears that had yet to go into hibernation.

  “And we’re gonna need their flashlight. It won’t be easy locating the bracelet. Also, regardless of what happens, have your weapon ready.”

  “No problemo.”

  Like nocturnal hunters stalking prey, they proceeded to little by little exit the camouflage tree cover. In the distance, the mysterious smoke in the sky still spread closer and closer to the shopping mall.

  ***

  “And you said you’re three and a half months pregnant?” Troy asked, illuminating, with the flashlight, Ashley Ferguson’s belly.

  “Yes,” she responded woozily, as her warm breath turned into frost. “Give or take a day. They say a woman’s pregnancy should start to show by now, though everyone is different. Some show when they are three or four months along, others after five months. I realize I don’t show much. The men who did this to me thought I was lying. I told them I was pregnant and they laughed.”

  “That’s disgusting. Is your stomach hurting you now?”

  “A little. And I don’t know why, but I keep wondering if maybe my baby’s umbilical chord has snapped. Do you think that’s possible?”

  What a complicated question? How was Troy supposed to know the answer to that? He was no doctor.

  “I don’t think so,” he attempted to downplay the inquiry. “Here. Take my jacket.” He worried she might catch cold.

  “Why do you think those people did this to me?”

  He shook his head despondently. “I have no idea. It doesn‘t make any sense. There are a lot of things that happen in life that don‘t have a logical explanation.” The nearest hospital was three miles away. Up to this point, Troy had yet to hear a siren. Although he had become rather impatient, like his nervousness, he tried not to let that fact be known.

  “They also stole money from me,” the rape victim added. “Every bill I had in my purse.”