Bumpy Roads - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 11) (The Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery Series) (18 page)

Clarissa concentrated on breathing evenly and playing like
she was asleep when Ray lifted her from his car and carried her through the
garage.
 
She could feel light on her face
when he walked into his house and could tell they were going downstairs.
 
Then he just dumped her on a hard bed, with
her backpack digging into her back, and strapped her down, so she couldn’t
move.
 
Waiting until she heard him walk
away, she opened her eyes and looked around the room.

It looked like a classroom.
 
There were chalkboards on against one wall and large maps of the world
against another.
 
A cursive alphabet
border ran along the wall, right under the ceiling, and a bookcase filled with
children’s books was in the corner.
 
There were some old wooden student’s desks in a single row along one
side of the room and a teacher’s desk sat at the very front with a long yardstick
and some rope sitting on top.

The basement windows were covered with dark paper and the
only way to get into the room was the door that led back upstairs.
 

She heard footsteps and closed her eyes, keeping her breath
deep and even. The door banged open and she nearly jumped, but she clutched her
hands into fists, stayed quiet and listened.

“Well, now, you’re going to be a lot more fun than my usual
students,” he whispered to Mary. “It’s just too bad that we only have tonight
to have you learn your lessons. By tomorrow you will be another bit of compost
for my garden, buried under a pine tree.”

Clarissa squeezed her fists tighter to keep from crying.

“Now, let me tie you up nice and tight and then we’ll let
the effects of the chloroform wear off a little.
 
That way you can enjoy the fun as much as I
will. Then after I finish with you, I’ll let you watch me teach your daughter a
thing or two. I think you’ll get a kick out of that,” he laughed softly. “I
know I will.”

Clarissa didn’t really understand what he meant, but she
knew he was going to hurt Mary first.
 
She concentrated on breathing softly, even when Ray came back to the bed
she was on.
 
He placed his hand on her
cheek and stroked it, then slowly moved it down her arm and over to her
waist.
 
She shivered involuntarily and
her breath caught in her throat.

He lifted his hand and was silent. Did he realize she wasn’t
really asleep?

She tried to imagine she was in her bedroom, tucked inside
her own bed.
 
She imagined that Bradley
was sleeping in the rocking chair next to her bed, a book in his lap.
 
She felt her body relax and she was able to
resume the slow rhythmic pace, breathing in and out.

“Your body must already enjoy my caresses,” Ray said. “Good.
You’re going to be a fast learner.”

He swept his hand over her body one last time and then
walked away, closing the door behind him. She waited until she heard him climb
all of the stairs before she opened her eyes. Lifting her head, she could see
Mary strapped onto the bed across the room. “Mary,” she whispered. “Mary, can
you hear me?”

But there was no response. Mary was still unconscious, the
white bandage on her head and the new bruising on her face reminding Clarissa
just what Mary had been through that day.

She thought about Mike, but she figured she had messed up
too much that even God was angry with her.
 
A tear slipped down her cheek. How could she have been so dumb?

She closed her eyes for a moment, blinking back tears.

“You aren’t dumb and God isn’t mad at you,” Mike said.

Her eyes springing open, she smiled in relief. “Mike,” she
whispered. “Help us.”

He shook his head. “I’m really sorry, sweetheart, but I
can’t,” he said. “God isn’t mad, but He does follow the rules. You made choices
you know were wrong and now you have to face the consequences. And you have to
figure your own way out.”

“But it wasn’t Mary’s fault,” she said. “She didn’t do
anything. She shouldn’t get hurt.”

“That’s the problem when people make bad choices,” he said.
“Often innocent people get hurt too.”

“But, can’t you do anything?” she pleaded.

“I can tell you that you have the ability to rescue yourself
and Mary,” he said, as he faded away. “And I know you can do it.”

She threw herself back on her backpack in frustration and
got poked for her efforts. “Ouch,” she said, sitting back up and rolling to the
side.

She looked down and saw the shard from Mary’s chest was
poking out of the pocket. It was so sharp it had cut clean through the canvas
backpack.
 
Clarissa’s eyes widened and
she worked on getting her hand up and through the strap on the bed to grab hold
of the shard. Holding it carefully, she drew it back and forth across the heavy
cotton strap until it started to fray.
 
She kept cutting, back and forth, until finally it snapped apart.

Quickly sliding off her bed, Clarissa ran to Mary’s bed.
“Mary,” she whispered, and then she paused for a second. “I’m here. I’m going
to get you out.”

Mary had been strapped down with two belts of cotton, so
Clarissa started to saw on the top one.
 
Soon the top one started to fray and after a few more strokes, it too
snapped apart. She moved down to the bottom of the bed, where the strap was
over her legs.
 
She dug deeply into the
cotton, cutting her own hand with the effort, but she didn’t stop.
 
She didn’t know how much time she had until
Ray came back down.

Finally, the band broke. Clarissa stuffed the shard in her
pocket and hurried to the top of the bed.
“Mom.
Mom,”
she called. “You have to wake up.”

Mary moaned softly. “Clarissa?”

A moment of relief washed over Clarissa. “Please, Mom, you
have to wake up before Ray comes back downstairs.”

Mary opened her eyes and struggled to sit up. “Did you do
this?” she asked. “Did you get us loose?”

Nodding, Clarissa smiled up at Mary. “I just pretended I was
asleep,” she said. “So I could help you.”

Mary wrapped her arms around her daughter and hugged her.
“Now I have to figure out part two of the plan,” she muttered to herself.

Clarissa looked around the room. “Well, he has to come
through that door to get us,” she said. “We could hide behind the door and then
hit him with something.”

Mary looked around the room too, searching for a
weapon.
 
Finally she came upon an old
wooden baseball bat sitting in the corner; she hurried over and picked it
up.
 
It was still in good shape and it
was solid oak. “I think this would work,” she said.

They heard him stirring upstairs. Mary turned to her
daughter and put her arm on her shoulder. “Clarissa, I need you to get back on
your table, so when he opens the door, he thinks everything is still fine,” she
said, searching her daughter’s eyes. “Can you do that? I know it’s going to be
scary.”

“
It’s
fine, Mom,” she said, “I know
you’ll take him out.”

Mary hugged her once again. “I love you,” she whispered.

With her lower lip trembling, Clarissa looked up into Mary’s
face. “I love you too.”

They heard footsteps on the staircase.
 
Clarissa flew across the room and slid onto
the bed, sliding the strap over her body.
 
Mary braced herself behind the door, holding the bat over her shoulder.

The door opened wide and Ray stepped into the room, looked
at Clarissa and smiled, then he turned toward Mary’s bed.

Mary whipped the bat around with all of her might, but Ray
saw it coming and shifted his body. The bat glanced off his back, throwing him
forward, but he was still standing. “You little bitch,” he yelled, charging at
Mary.

She swung the bat again, this time connecting with his arm,
but he still moved forward, tackling her and crushing her against the wall. The
bat dropped from her hand as she fought him, punching and kicking trying to
connect in any way she could. But he was stronger, deflecting many of her
attempts and landing more of his own.
 
Mary didn’t know how long she would be able to keep this up.

“Run, Clarissa, run,” she screamed, as she put all of her
strength into an upper cut.

Clarissa slid off the table and saw Mary, crushed against
the wall, being pummeled by the evil man.
 
She slipped the shard out of her pocket, gripped it in her hand and ran
forward, shoving the shard into his thigh.

Screaming, he whipped around. Clarissa jumped back and ran
toward the table.

Mary bent down and found the bat at her feet.

“I’m going to kill you,” he yelled, stepping forward just as
the baseball bat connected with the side of his head.

He turned back to Mary, dazed, but even angrier. “But I’m
going to kill you first,” he screamed.

The click of the gun’s trigger echoed in the room. “I don’t
think you’re going to be killing anyone anymore,” Bradley said, his gun aimed
at Ray’s head. “But if you’d like to give me a reason to shoot. Please, be my
guest.”

Ray backed away from Mary and raised his hands over his
head. “You can get me for kidnapping and assault,” he said. “But you’ve got
nothing else on me.”

“The murder of Nick Sears,” Bradley said.

“You got any evidence?” he asked with a smirk.

Clarissa ran around the room and stood next to Mary,
wrapping her arms around her. “He buried the girls in his yard, Daddy,” she
said. “He buried them under his trees. He said he was going to bury Mom and me
there too.”

Ray’s angry glance at Clarissa confirmed the accuracy of her
story.

“Well, I guess we do have you on something else on you. Good
job Clarissa,” he said, sending a quick look of approval to his daughter. “Now
I want you on the floor, Giles, spread eagle.”

“I really think I could get up,” Mary complained from her
bed.

“The doctor said if we wanted to keep you here instead of in
the hospital, you have to have complete bed rest,” Bradley said.

“But we don’t even know if I have a concussion yet,” she
said. “They haven’t even called.”

Bradley leaned over and gently ran a finger over his wife’s
bruised face. “Darling, I don’t need a hospital report to tell me that…”

“Bradley,” Mary warned him, as she watched Clarissa slip
into their bedroom.

“That really bad man,” Bradley inserted, “used you like a
punching bag.”

“She punched him too,” Clarissa added, defending her mother.
“She punched him hard and hit him with a bat.
Right on the
side of his head.”

Mary smiled down at Clarissa. “But only after Clarissa
stabbed him in the leg to draw him off of me,” she said. “She probably saved my
life.”

Clarissa shook her head. “But you wouldn’t have even been
there if not for me.”

“Come up here on the bed next to me,” Mary said, holding her
arms out to Clarissa.

She climbed up onto the bed and lay in Mary’s arms. Mary
hugged her and kissed her on the top of her head. “I don’t want you to ever to
think what happened to me was your fault,” she said. “It was Ray Giles’s fault.
He was the bad man.”

Then she loosened her hold on Clarissa and looked down at
her face. “But there are some things we are going to have to do, if we want to
be a family.” she said.

“What?” Clarissa asked, looking up at Mary.

“Well, we need to make sure we talk to each other,” she
said.
“Especially when we are afraid or confused.
If
we don’t talk, we can’t help each other. We can’t learn to trust each other.”

Clarissa nodded.

“I want you to put the photo of your parents on your
nightstand,” Mary said, “if you want to. They loved you and they were wonderful
parents. And your dad and I are both so grateful they took such good care of
you.
 
We don’t want you ever to feel you
have to forget about them.”

“Are they part of our family?” Clarissa asked.

“Of course they are, because that’s what families do,” she
replied. “They love each other. And they protect each other.”

“Like you did at the hospital,” Clarissa said.

“And like you did when you cut the straps and stabbed Ray,”
Mary said.

“There’s an old Chinese proverb that says when you save
someone’s life, you are responsible for that person for the rest of their
life,” Bradley said. “So it looks like you two are responsible for each other.”

“But you saved us when you came in with your gun,” Clarissa
said. “So you’re responsible for both of us.”

“Yes, for both of us,” Mary said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Now won’t that be fun?”

“So, we are all responsible for each other,” Bradley said.
“That’s a pretty good start for a family, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Clarissa agreed. “I like that.”

Mary hugged her again. “Good, I like that too.”

“Clarissa, Bradley,” Rosie called from downstairs. “I have a
plate of get-well cookies and glasses of milk that need to be brought
upstairs.”

“Cool,” Clarissa said, sliding from the bed. “I love
get-well cookies.”

Mary laughed, “So do I.”

Clarissa ran from the room and they could both hear her
running down the stairs to the kitchen.
 
Bradley moved up closer to the top of the bed and sat next to Mary. He
stroked her forehead gently and then picked up her hand and brought it to his
lips. “How are you feeling, really?” he asked.

“I’m sore from head to toe,” she said with a soft smile.
“But my heart feels full and wonderful.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it again. Then he just held it
for a few moments. “I can’t begin to describe the terror I felt when I
discovered Ray had both of you,” he said. “I thought my life was going to end.”

She stroked his face gently and nodded. “I knew you would
come and rescue us.”

“I love you, Mary O’Reilly Alden,” he said, leaning forward
and kissing her tenderly on the lips.

“I love you, Bradley Alden,” she replied.

Suddenly a thought came to her mind and she sat up in bed.
“Celia,” she exclaimed. “Did anyone call Celia?”

Bradley nodded and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently
easing her back against the pillows. “Yes, darling, I called Celia when the
good doctor was making sure you were okay,” he said. “She was surprised, of
course, that it was Ray and she was angry.”

“Angry is good,” Mary said. “I should call her…”

“I told her you would call her tomorrow,” he interrupted.
“And that we would be sending a forensics team out to his place tomorrow to
start careful excavation of the grounds.”

Nodding, she finally relaxed. “Thank you,” she said, sliding
her arms around his shoulders, “For letting her know.”

He bent closer and pressed a kiss against her lips. “Now,
where were we?”

“Daddy,” Clarissa called from downstairs, “I need you to
help carry milk.”

Bradley shook his head, smiled and stood up. “It’s never
going to be boring, is it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Her cell phone rang as Bradley left the room. “Hello?”

“May I speak with Mary Alden please?”

“This is Mary Alden,” Mary replied.

“Hello, Mary, this is Freeport Hospital with your lab
results,” the woman on the other end said. “There is no internal bleeding, but
you did have a minor concussion. You can take acetaminophen, but nothing
stronger and no ibuprofen because of your condition.”

“My condition?”
Mary asked,
worried.

“Oh, you did know that you are pregnant, didn’t you?”