Chapter 3

 

26 Hours 16 Minutes

 

Wednesday 12:38 p.m.

 

As we leave the coffee shop, a gust of harsh wind stings my face, sending a tingling sensation through my body. The feeling unnerves me for a second. I have a vague sense that something unpleasant is about to happen.

The detective changes his position, using his body to help block the wind off me. It’s comforting to know he’s trying to protect me, even if it’s just from the wind.

We take the detective’s black Dodge Charger to the Crestview Shopping Center in Monroe, a few miles southwest of Boston. He pulls the unmarked car into a parking space to the far side of Raymond’s Shoes and Geordies, a high-end women’s fashion shop.

Yellow crime scene tape outlines the investigation area in the alley between the two buildings. Two uniformed officers and one other man walk about inside the taped area, talking and pointing at different things. The snow and ice remain frozen in large patches on the pavement. The scene makes me uneasy.

Detective Benson unlatches his seat belt and looks around. “So, is this about where you parked yesterday?”

“I was where the green car is,” I state, pointing to a spot two lanes to the left. “I picked up a birthday gift at Geordies for one of my friends, then cut across the parking lot in front of the alley, heading back to my car.”

“Let’s head that way. We should recreate your exact steps as best we can to jog any memory hiding in that pretty little head.” He smiles, opens his door, and gets out. The hard ice crunches under his boots with every step he takes. It reminds me of the sound the kidnapper’s boots made as he walked away before I lost consciousness.

As the detective opens my car door, I lift myself from the seat. Standing beside the car, all the sounds around me blend with the roar in my ears. My stomach rolls like an ocean tide, and I feel lightheaded. The detective grabs my arm to help steady me, and I sink back into the seat to keep from falling.

“Are you okay, Ivy?” he asks, easing me back into the car. He squats beside the open door. “Do you need something to drink?”

The sick feeling in my head fades as quickly as it came. “I’m okay now,” I say. “I think I stood up too fast, but I feel better. Give me a few minutes to sit here, and I’ll be fine.”

“Has this happened before? Have you ever fainted or fallen without warning or anything like that?”

Baffled, I cock my head to one side, glaring at the detective. Oh, I see where his mind is going. He’s wondering if I could have had a spell like this yesterday when I fell and hit my head. Damn, that makes me mad! Is anyone going to believe me and start looking for that woman? The police are wasting time.

Taking a few deep breaths, I ignore Detective Benson’s question and lift myself out of the car. “I’m good now,” I state. “It may have been the coffee I had—a caffeine rush. I got extra espresso.” Flipping my scarf around my neck, I stare at the detective. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

I sprint toward Geordies with the detective trailing behind. He knows he ticked me off, even if he doesn't know how.

“Okay, okay, slow down a sec!” he yells, hustling to catch up. “I didn’t know short legs could move so fast!” He’s joking, but I ignore him.

“If we’re going to solve this crime, Ivy, we have to talk to each other.” Catching up with me, he shoves his hands in his pockets and lowers his head like a meek puppy. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I was only concerned about your health.”

He didn’t intend to offend me, and I realize it, so I slow down. “It’s okay. I’m a little sensitive today.” I brush my hand across my forehead, push a loose strand of hair out of my eyes, and huff.

“Honestly, I saw a woman getting abducted, and I got shoved to the ground the way I said. I didn’t just fall because I got dizzy.”

Detective Benson leaps in front of me and places both hands on my shoulders to stop my forward motion. His brows arch, and he tilts his head, looking deep into my eyes. “Wait a sec. You need to understand one thing. I'm not your enemy, Ivy. I’m on your side.”

I shift my eyes from his and look at the ground to break his deep gaze, but he moves his head to maintain eye contact. “Ya gotta understand,” he insists, lifting my chin. “I believe everything you said happened. What you saw, you saw. I need your help to find that woman,” he pleads. “Are ya with me on this or not?” His eyes, unblinking, are locked on mine.

Realizing he only wants to help, I see now that I made assumptions about what the detective was thinking when I didn’t know his intent. That’s not something I normally do. I’m off my game today. This kidnapping is getting to me.

“I’m so sorry, Detective Benson.” I look down at the ground. “I’m just…”

“It’s okay, Ivy,” he interrupts. “I can’t imagine how stressed you are. I understand, and it’s okay.” Detective Benson eases his grip on my shoulders. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here with you. I’m going to get you through this, and I’m not gonna stop trying to find the woman you saw.”

Taking a deep breath, I lift my shoulders and shake my head. “I’m truly sorry,” I say once more.

“It’s okay.” He smiles. “I swear, it’s okay.” He scans the parking lot and then looks toward the alley. “Ok, so which way did you go?” he asks, directing our attention back to our purpose for being here.

“I left the store and was going back to my car.” I point toward the parking spaces just beyond the alley. The alley is a small driveway between the buildings, barely wide enough for delivery trucks to drive through when they unload merchandise and supplies on the docks behind the shops.

The detective and I walk toward the officers standing inside the yellow tape. “Tell me at what point you first noticed the man and woman or the car,” he says.

We reach the edge of Geordies, where the sidewalk slopes down. I stop and look toward the alley.

“Here, this is where I was.” I point to a spot about halfway down the area. “I noticed some commotion from the corner of my eye, turned to look, and saw two people: a man, and a woman.” I pause, gazing down the alley. “The man was behind the woman, and he reached up and held a piece of cloth or rag ‌over her face. She struggled as he pushed her toward the car.” Tears cloud my vision.

“It’s okay, Ivy. Take your time.” Detective Benson hands me a white handkerchief.

Dabbing my eyes with the soft cloth, I notice it smells just like the detective, fresh, not perfumy. I didn’t know people still carried handkerchiefs. Hmm… interesting. He’s quite a gentleman.

I picked up on that trait at the police station and again at the cafe when he helped me with my coat and held the doors for me to exit. He even opened the car door for me. You don’t find men like that anymore. I guess chivalry isn’t dead after all, at least in his generation.

“What’d you do next?”

“I yelled at the man and asked what he was doing. Then I dropped my bags and started running toward them, yelling and screaming at him. There wasn’t much else I could do.” I turn toward the detective. “She was clearly in trouble. He shoved her into the trunk and slammed it shut. The car was blue and… it was an old Plymouth. I don’t know the model. He was blonde…”

My thoughts jumble. Everything is so vivid in my mind. It’s as if it’s happening all over again.

“Ivy?” Detective Benson touches my arm gently, pulling me from my thoughts. “What happened then?”

Regaining my composure, I wipe my gloved hand across my face, attempting to clear the dampness from my eyes.

“I got there just before the man closed the trunk. I saw the woman lying inside, just shoved in, sprawled out and not moving.” Moving my hands, I describe how she looked. “Her body was twisted, stretching her neck into an odd position.” I shake my head, grimacing. “I couldn’t tell if she was even breathing.”

My voice cracks. More tears puddle in my eyes. “The man was right in front of me. We were face to face!” I exclaim, placing my hand in front of my nose.

My breathing becomes more rapid. My throat tightens, and I struggle for air. Every moment of yesterday rushes into my mind like a tidal wave. Even now, my screams echo in my ears. The image of the woman in the trunk, the man’s face, and every detail, every microsecond of my falling—all of it—replays in my mind.

“He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me backward.” I take a moment and close my eyes, trying to control my emotions.

“I grabbed the kidnapper, trying to keep from falling. He grabbed the front of my jacket, pulled me up against him, and… said something, then pushed me off. That’s when I fell, and my head hit the ground.”

My chin quivers, and the tears moistening my eyes flow down my face with each blink.

“My mind is blank after that,” I mumble.

Looking up at the detective, I realize it’s not just tears wetting my face. Snow is peppering down, coating everything around us with another thin sheet of white, a sheet that will thicken and eventually turn to ice. It’s been a hard, cold month, and winter is just beginning.

A gust of wind blows hard against us, forcing our bodies to stiffen and shift to keep our balance. The detective reaches out to help steady me, then glances around the shopping center. The tiny white flakes pour down like rain, and the wind gathers debris from the parking lot, swirling it through the air.

“That’s enough for now.” Detective Benson guides me toward the side of the building, hoping to block most of the wind whipping in from the northeast.

“I don’t know why I’m so emotional. I defend people for crimes like this, many even more horrific, and I’ve never gotten this upset,” I tell him as we walk.

“You’ve never been a witness to a crime before, Ivy, never directly involved.” He looks down at me, his arm around my shoulder to brace me from the powerful gusts of wind. “It’s a lot easier when you’re on the outside looking in than when you’re actively involved in a crime taking place. Trust me, I know.”

It sounds like the detective has been in a similar position. Given his line of work, I’m sure he’s been in many dangerous situations.

“We’ll talk more about what else you remember later. Right now, you stay here. I’m gonna talk to the investigation team for a minute to see if they’ve found anything. I’ll be right back, and we’ll get out of this nasty weather.”

I nod, my teeth chattering as the frigid wind whips the tiny snowflakes across the alley. I’m so ready to go. I stand, leaning against the wall with my hands in my pockets, somewhat protected from the snow by the building and the roof’s overhang.

Detective Benson adjusts his jacket collar to cover his neck and shoves his gloved hands in his pockets. He walks toward a tall, dark-haired man holding a small bag, and they begin to talk.

Unable to hear what they’re saying, I review the kidnapping in my mind, trying to recall every detail I can, anything unusual about the man, what the woman was wearing. Any piece of information I can remember, but it’s no use. My mind’s as frozen as the snow on the ground, so I give up and wait for the detective to return.

I glance around the parking lot. Dozens of people are moving about, some leaving their cars, others putting bags in their trunks, and several entering and exiting the various stores. Most take notice of the yellow taped area and the officers walking about, watch for a moment, and go on about their business.

My eyes wander from the people and their routine activities to the cars in the parking lot. Some are pulled into the parking spaces at funky angles, not lining up in the margins. A dark gold Honda takes up two parking spots, and some SUVs are sitting sideways under the trees near the road. A dark gray Ford Explorer is backed into a space under a tree near the road, directly facing the alley. The driver is sitting behind the steering wheel, wipers flapping. He must be waiting for someone. Since I can’t see him very well through the heavy snow, I look back at the agents investigating the scene.

Leaning against the side of the wall, I wonder why the woman was this far down in the alley. There are no doors on the sides of the buildings; no reason anyone would park behind the stores that I can think of. The man could have lured her into the alley, called to her, or attracted her somehow. I don’t know. It’s strange.

As I glance back at the detective, I hear a loud cracking noise above me. It sounds like the overhang is breaking, so I take a few steps away from the building and look up. Almost instantly, my feet fly off the ground without warning, and I feel weightless, suspended above the icy, snow-covered pavement.

The moment is surreal as crystal white snowflakes slowly dance around my head, brushing my face as they drift by. I feel like I’m floating, frozen in time. If only this moment could last forever! I feel light as a feather, so free, so peaceful—but only for a moment.

BAM!

My body crashes like a boulder onto the hard, cold ground. My head bounces twice before resting in a frozen puddle of sleet and snow. I hear the ice crack beneath my skull, and a dull pain shoots through my head. As hard as I try, I cannot keep my eyes from closing. All sounds fade away.

I lie alone—cold and still, on the hard snow-covered pavement for the second time in two days.