Dead Running (10 page)

“You!” I elbowed him in the gut. It didn’t faze the monster. “You killed my parents!”

Muscle Man fought to restrain me. “One of my more lucrative jobs.”

Anger boiled out of me. I kicked and thrashed. “How
could
you?”

“It was an easy job, believe me.” He wrapped his huge arms around my upper body. I bit his arm. He backhanded me and kept talking like we were chatting in the park, “But somehow they resurrected him. He’s making a mess for us in Mexico, freeing slaves and killing our men.”

Resurrected him? I stopped fighting and spat out the disgusting taste of Muscle Man’s skin and my own blood. My cheek ached and I couldn’t catch a full breath. Was this guy for real? My brain wheezed, unable to keep up with the lies he was spouting. Even if my father were alive he’d be helping children with his medical expertise. He’d never kill anyone. “My father is . . . alive?”

Muscle Man flipped me to face him. “We know you haven’t had contact with your father. That’s why we’re going to let you go. As long as you promise to be a good girl and not say anything to your police buddies or your grandmother, I promise to not keep you hostage. Even though you’d be fun to have around.” He grinned, deepening the ridges in his face. “Hostages are such a pain in the butt.”

I shook my head, but it didn’t clear the gray matter. My poor heart wouldn’t slow down no matter what they promised, but at the moment I was almost as mad as I was scared. “Let me get this straight. All I have to do is read some script for your home video, claim I have a father, act like a scared little wussy,”
which was no act
, “and you’ll let me go?”

He nodded. “That’s it.”

My hands quivered, I had to clench them to pretend I was in control. “I’m not an idiot, Muscle Man. If you let me go,” my voice trembled at the possibility, “you’ve lost your leverage.”

His loud chuckle rumbled through the van, bouncing off the walls and ricocheting back at me. He took his time looking up and down my frame, his thick tongue bounced over chapped lips. He rubbed scarred fingers over my cheek. “Don’t talk me into keeping you.”
           
“I-I’m not.” I truly was an idiot. My head swam and the nausea was getting harder and harder to swallow down. The only thing I wanted was to be miles away from this man who claimed to have killed my parents.

“Unfortunately, my boss doesn’t want me to keep you long term.” His smile stretched from his capped teeth to his shiny baldhead. “All I need to do is get the Doc out of hiding. The second he calls your grandma to check on you.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got him.”

Calls your grandma to check on you
? The early-morning phone call a few weeks ago. Could it possibly have been my father? The thought was insane, but I still couldn't dismiss it.
 

The van stopped. My heart clanked against my rib cage. What were they going to do to me now? Greasy Beanpole climbed over the console and started working the camera.

Muscle Man escorted me to the seat, his fingers lingering on my lower back. I arched away from his touch. “I’m going to put a blindfold on you and hold a gun to your head, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

My digestive system dropped to my running shoes. “That sounds so encouraging.”

Muscle Man pressed me into the seat and started wrapping rope around my midsection. I knew there was no hope of escape. Still I struggled.

“Good,” he whispered into my ear. “Fight me. We’re videoing this. It looks perfect.”

After I was securely tied, he covered my eyes with a filthy rag. I tried to fight him, spitting and thrashing. Ineffective, but all I had at the moment.

“Okay,” he was at my ear again, his un-brushed breath scratching my skin. “Just respond to all my questions like you’re terrified.”

“You’re nuts,” I yelled, centuries past terrified. The cold steel of a gun jammed into my temple. I stopped resisting. I stopped screaming. I stopped breathing. Tears leaked out, sticking the disgusting blindfold to my cheeks. Any fleeting thoughts of resistance disappeared as the pressure from the gun increased.

“Haven’t we been good to you, Cassidy?” The man dragged the gun down my cheek and along my jaw line. I flinched away from the steel pressure. I was going to puke. I think I would’ve rather passed out though.

I gulped and managed to spit out, “Too good.”

Muscle Man chuckled. “She’s a beauty, Doc. Looks like your wife. Acts like you. Now, if you want this little princess to live a long, happy life I suggest you take a flight to Mexico City. We have a lot to discuss. You don’t come, Cassidy joins Mom, after I have some fun with her that is. Say bye to Daddy, Cassidy.”

“Bye,” I muttered. My entire body shook. I tried to control it with sarcasm, “Thanks for placing me in such a pleasant situation, Dad.”

Muscle Man laughed harder. The pistol left my cheek. I took long breaths in and out so I didn't hyperventilate. The blindfold was ripped off me. The ropes untied. Muscle Man wrapped an arm around my waist and escorted me out of the vehicle. Greasy Beanpole watched me with a leering grin.

They both followed me onto the dark road. Fields of hay and corn stretched east and west. I wiped at my eyes, trying to hide the proof of how scared I was.

“You did great, Cassidy,” Muscle Man said. “Hope your father is half as cooperative as you. But then if he’s not . . .” His eyes roved my frame. “I’ll get to fulfill some fun threats.”

My stomach rolled.

Muscle Man and Greasy Beanpole headed for the van. Greasy Beanpole jogged around to the driver’s seat. Muscle Man climbed into the passenger seat. He left the door open and stared down at me. I knew I should run. I couldn’t take a step.

“Why?” I whispered up at him.

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this? My mom and dad died two years ago.”

Muscle Man grinned. “Keep believing that, Cassidy.” He tilted his bald mug to the side. “Also believe,” he lifted the dull black pistol and stroked its shaft, “that I'll be back,” he winked, “if you talk to the police, the FBI, your grandmother, or anyone else. Are we understood?”

“Y-yes,” I managed to sputter.

“Perfect.” Muscle Man saluted me and slammed his door.

The van spun away, leaving me with more questions than I ever wanted to deal with. I’d seen the pictures of my mom and dad’s bodies. Even though I still believed Panetti had ordered their executions, Muscle Man had just claimed that he was the one who killed them. Being face to face with their murderer ripped off the thin scab that had begun to cover the gaping wound my parents had left. A lone tear escaped. I missed them.

Shaking off the sadness and anger, I tried to figure out what had just happened. Muscle Man and Greasy Beanpole were obviously confused, maybe it wasn’t even my parents they claimed to have killed. But why didn’t they kidnap or rape me? Why did they video me and try to make me believe my dad was alive? Something was seriously messed up here.

I watched the taillights disappear and still couldn’t react. Finally, I forced myself to do the only thing I could. I swallowed my insides back into place and started jogging east.

When I saw another runner coming my direction I didn’t know if I should hide behind the towering cornfield to the south or run into his arms. He got closer and I opted for the latter.

“Jesse!”

He glanced my way and crossed the distance between us with a smile on his face. “Cassidy. I was hoping I’d run into you out on the road again.” Stopping in front of me, he gestured to the surrounding fields. “You’re far from home.”

“Not by choice,” I muttered.

Jesse cocked his head to the side, studying my disheveled face and hair. “Are you all right?”

I shivered, wrapping my arms around my stomach. The pain from that punch wasn’t going away anytime soon. “Some men scared me.”

His olive skin darkened. His eyes darted down the road and into the cornstalks as if my attackers were hiding in there. “Where are they?”

I shook my head. “They left.”

Jesse took a step closer. His arms opened. I didn’t know if it was an invitation. I made it one. Falling against his hard chest, I resisted the urge to bawl.

“They hurt you,” he said, his voice tight with anger.

“No, I’m okay,” I lied.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he whispered against my hair.

“No,” I moaned. How could I explain that I’d put us both at risk? As tough as Jesse seemed, he couldn’t protect me from Muscle Man.

Jesse stroked my hair. Covered with his warm body and arms, I almost forgot my fears. After several wonderful moments, he pulled away and directed me toward the rising sun. “Let’s get you home.”

I sighed and started jogging again.

“We need to call the police,” he said.

“No!” My answer was too forceful, Jesse’s brows rose in question. “No,” I repeated more softly. “They didn’t do anything to me so there’s nothing to report.” Jesse looked ready to argue. “You just caught me at a bad moment. I’ve been a mess since finding the body.” I couldn’t hide the tremor zipping through me. I upped my pace to give vent to the nervous energy.

Jesse nodded, his eyes filled with compassion. “Anyone would be.” He paused then said, “I don’t like to think about any guy but me bothering you while you’re out running.” He gave me a smile that made me forget everything but his face.

I concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other so I didn’t fling myself into his arms again. “They won’t be back,” I said, trying to convince myself more than Jesse.

“They better not,” he muttered.

We ran in silence for a few minutes. Jesse kept looking at me, as if to check how I was doing.

“Why are blonde jokes so short?” he asked.

What?
I stared at him for several seconds before giving in, “I don’t know, why?”

“So brunettes can remember them.”

I laughed. It was nice. Jesse kept telling me silly jokes the entire distance to my house. It was my second rescue by the tattooed doctor. I hoped if I needed more rescuing, Jesse would be there.

*
         
*
         
*

I didn’t have an appetite or any desire to run the next day as I stewed about what to do. Should I call the police? They couldn’t even find the Health Days murderer, how would they find some guy in Mexico who looked like my dad? Should I tell Nana or Jared? Jared would become even more overprotective of me, I didn’t need him hovering. Nana wasn’t an option. I couldn’t bring myself to cause her stress with her blood pressure already an issue and my constant worry of her having a heart attack. Plus, something about the look in Muscle Man’s eyes decimated my desire to confide in anybody. I would bear this burden on my own. Maybe he’d leave me alone like he promised.

I couldn’t allow myself to think about how scared I’d been or the remote possibility that my parents were alive and being hunted at this moment by Muscle Man. That thought was so sickening it almost overwhelmed me.

“Seven miles. I’m supposed to run seven miles tomorrow morning,” I explained to Tasha and Nana at dinner Tuesday night.

I cringed thinking about being alone on the road, in the dark, with the possibility of those two freaks grabbing me again. “How on earth am I supposed to run seven miles, lift weights, and still make it to work on time?” My Nazi boss would dock my bonuses if I were a minute late.

Tasha and Nana arched their eyebrows at the same time. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you started this insane program,” Nana said.

Tasha took advantage of Nana focusing on me to hide half of her meatloaf in her napkin. I wished I could execute sneaky food-disposal techniques like my friend.

I pushed the peas around my plate before scooping up another bite. “I know it seems nuts, but it’s going to be a great thing for me, Nana.” I turned to Tasha just as she dive-bombed a chunk of mashed potatoes into her milk and winked at me. Luckily for her, Nana didn’t notice.

Tasha politely nibbled at a slice of homemade bread, looking innocent of any meat and potato subterfuge. Nana noticed Tasha’s almost clean plate. “Do you want some more, sweetheart?” She was armed and ready with a huge bowl of mashed potatoes in one hand and a dish of meat loaf in the other.

Tasha held up her delicate fingers. “No, I couldn’t. It was wonderful, as always.”