Held by You (19 page)

“We need to get her out of here before that cop comes home,” Dickey said.

Freddy dragged her toward the back door. She stumbled and her arm brushed the Christmas tree, knocking off glass ornaments that shattered on the tile. Pieces of the ornaments crunched under Freddy’s boots. He caught her by her upper arm before jerking her onward, taking her through the kitchen and out the back door, into the darkness.

Immediately she started shivering as the biting cold hit her. All she had on was a T-shirt, jeans, socks, and athletic shoes. Her shivering grew more violent as Freddy jerked her toward the front yard to a beat-up old car.

The only light in the street came from the Christmas light displays around the neighbors’ yards. The two nearby streetlights must have been shot out or knocked out by well-aimed rocks. Still, she prayed a neighbor would see them.

When they reached the car, one of the men popped the trunk. They both lifted her and tossed her inside. Her head hit what felt like a tire and her vision wavered. She smelled oil and rubber. As she stared up at the men, her fear escalated.

A small spark of hope had her thinking that maybe she’d be able to loosen her hands and get her cell phone out of her pocket.

Freddy grabbed an old, dirty, and scratchy blanket from near her feet and threw it over her. “Can’t have her dying of cold before we get a chance to use her.”

The blanket wasn’t much but it took a little of the chill off the top of her, not that it really mattered considering what they had planned for her. Beneath her the car was so cold that the blanket almost made no difference at all.

“Check her pockets,” Freddy said. “Get rid of her cell phone if she has it on her.”

The hope she’d held onto was sucked out of her as Dickey patted her down. He pulled the phone out of her front pocket before tossing it on the ground. It hit the ground with a clatter then she heard a crunch as one of the men clearly shattered the phone with his boot.

The warm tears leaking from her eyes felt like ice water as the air immediately chilled them.

Freddy grabbed the trunk lid and sneered as he looked down at her. “Hold on, sugar. We’re taking you for a ride.”

He slammed the trunk lid shut and she was left in darkness.

Terror caused Hollie’s heart to jerk. All she could do now was pray that John would somehow find her, wherever it was that Freddy and Dickey were taking her.

The violent shivers continued through her body and she closed her eyes tight, trying to imagine the blanket was cocooning her whole body from the cold. The car started, its motor chugging as the motor revved. Tires pealed out beneath her as the car lurched forward.

A deep feeling of hopelessness clutched her insides. She was going to freeze to death or worse, Freddy was going to rape her before Dickey killed her.

She stared at the red taillight glowing in front of her face. As she looked at it, a thought came to her. What if she could kick out the one near her feet? Maybe a police officer would stop Floyd and Dickey for a missing taillight and she could make noise and catch the officer’s attention. It was a long shot, but she had to try something.

She swung her leg, aiming for the taillight near her feet. Her foot missed and she stubbed her toe on the metal beside the light. She winced from the pain in her chest and her toe but swung again. This time her foot connected with the light. It didn’t budge but she wasn’t about to give up. She kicked as hard as she could, over and over.

The taillight gave way and she pushed it partway out. She had to shift her body to shove the light all the way out with her foot. She didn’t know how far the car had gone before she’d managed to kick out the light. If they were out of town, it wasn’t going to do any good.

Just in case someone was driving behind her moving prison, she tried to stick her foot out the hole that was left now that the taillight was gone. It was no use. It was an older car with smaller lights and the hole on this vehicle was too small.

The longer the men drove, the more her hope faded. Kicking out the taillight had kept her mind off of the freezing cold but now she was more aware of it than ever. She was almost numb enough to not feel the aches and pains from being tackled and kicked in the side.

The car slowed and then the ride became jerky, jolting her as if they were going over rough terrain. Her eyes watered from the pain in her chest and side, caused by the bouncing car as it jerked her body around. Finally, the vehicle came to a hard stop and the engine was shut off.

She heard voices and then the trunk was popped open and Freddy and Dickey were looking down at her. They must have read the terror in her eyes because they both grinned. Together the men dragged her out of the car and dropped her on the ground. With her hands duct taped behind her back she had no way to break her fall. She hit the dirt and leaves hard.

From the smells of pine and rich earth, she realized she’d likely been driven into the forest. She sobbed from behind the tape. John would never find her out here.

Freddy and Dickey each grabbed one of her arms and pulled her up to her feet and she saw Dickey’s old truck to the left and a camper in front. A lone light shone in the camper, a glow spilling through a set of ragged curtains. She continued to shiver from the cold as they forced her forward.

When they reached the camper, Freddy jerked the door open. They forced her up two metal steps and into the camper. The inside was cramped, with not a lot of room to move around inside. Freddy shoved her again and she stumbled backward, her head hitting a cabinet. She saw the butt of a gun sticking out of his jacket pocket. A wild thought came to her mind. Maybe she could get hold of the gun—

Freddy pushed her again, this time toward the back where a bed was built into the camper. In the narrow aisle, they passed a tiny kitchen area with dirty dishes piled up in a sink next to a stovetop that had to be powered by propane. A cast iron frying pan and a cast iron Dutch oven were on the stove.

The mattress looked filthy, as did the blankets that were twisted and bunched up on it. When they reached the bed, Freddy backhanded her, twisting her around, and she fell. Again, unable to stop herself with her wrists taped, she landed facedown on the mattress that reeked with a sour smell and must. Pain raged through her chest from the cracked ribs.

“I want you to fight me, sugar.” Floyd spoke from behind her as he cut the tape that bound her wrists. He rolled her onto her back, her arms free. “I like it when a woman tries to get away. Makes it a helluva lot more fun.” He ripped the tape off her mouth. “I like to hear ’em scream, too.”

It all seemed unreal as she stared up at Freddy, who had a self-satisfied leer on his face. Now she shuddered not from the cold but from the knowledge that Freddy was about to rape her.

Freddy shrugged out of his coat and tossed it behind him. She heard the thunk of the pistol she’d seen as the jacket hit the floor. “You wanna watch?” he said over his shoulder to Dickey.

“I’m gonna take a shit,” Dickey said with a look of disgust. Hollie was certain he wasn’t disgusted because Freddy was going to rape her. It was the fact that Hollie was his stepsister. In some twisted way he thought it would be incestuous to get involved in the rape. “Tell me when you’re done,” Dickey said.

The door to the camper slammed shut behind Dickey as Freddy grabbed Hollie by her legs. With a look of lust, he dragged her closer to him. Panic sent her heart into overdrive and she kicked him and hit him with everything she had. Her body screamed with agony from the pain of her broken ribs as she struck out at him.

He grinned. “That’s it, sugar. Fight me.”

Tears flooded her eyes. The more she struggled, the more he laughed. He was so much stronger than her. He flicked the button of her jeans and jerked the zipper down. He yanked the jeans to her ankles, along with her panties.

Horror filled her as he leaned back to unbuckle his belt. She shoved herself back, trying to get to a sitting position, her jeans down to her shoes. He leered and unbuttoned his own jeans before pushing them down. His dick was erect, showing how aroused he was.

She glanced wildly around her, looking for something, anything, to hit him with. She spotted the cast iron pan and lunged for it.

Freddy’s jeans were down to his knees as she wrapped her fingers around the handle of the pan. He saw her and reached out with one of his hands as he started to pull his jeans up from his knees with his other hand.

“Don’t you dare, bitch or I’ll hurt you bad.” He yanked her by one ankle and she slid and almost dropped the pan. Anger twisted his features as he grabbed both her legs and started to pull her toward him.

She gripped the handle with both hands and swung the pan as hard as she could at Freddy’s head.

The pan connected with his temple. He slumped and slid to the floor.

Heart racing, terror ripping through her, she scrambled off the mattress, landing on Freddy’s hand. He didn’t move. She dropped the pan and jerked up her jeans, not taking the time to button or zip them and started to head for the door. She came to a stop—she would freeze outside before she could get far and die of exposure. She reached back and grabbed Freddy’s jacket from where he had dropped it.

The pistol slid out of the pocket and thumped to the floor. She crouched down and grabbed it as Freddy groaned and stirred. When she wrapped her hand around the butt of the gun she raised it and pointed it at him.

Her hands shook as she gripped the gun. She aimed the gun at Freddy’s head. She knew how to shoot and her finger was on the trigger. All she had to do was squeeze. That was all. Just squeeze the trigger.

She lowered the gun. She couldn’t do it.

Despite the fact that Freddy had just about raped her and was going to let her stepbrother kill her, she couldn’t get herself to shoot him. She’d never killed a man and she knew that it would somehow change her forever, in ways that could undo her.

No, she needed to get out of here before Dickey came back.

She stuffed the gun into the jacket pocket and turned to go to the door of the camper.

Freddy snatched one of her ankles.

She cried out as she fell to the floor, landing hard, almost blacking out from the pain in her chest. She rammed her other foot down on his head.

“Fuck!” he shouted and released her. “I’m gonna kill you, you fucking bitch!”

She surged to her feet and ran for the door. She glanced back. Freddy was caught up with his jeans around his ankles. She yanked the door open and stumbled down the two metal steps. They clattered and she was afraid that Dickey would hear. He could be coming toward the camper at any moment. She started to run into the forest then came to a stop. What if Dickey was in the direction she ran?

The panic mounting in her was accompanied by more adrenaline. What could she do?

Freddy would be coming out the door at any moment.

“You finished yet?” came Dickey’s voice from behind the camper.

She started to run in the opposite direction but knew that between Freddy and Dickey, she wouldn’t get very far.

Her gaze landed on the camper.

She dropped to her knees, flattened herself on the ground, and crawled beneath the camper. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out from the pain in her body.

Dickey’s footsteps came closer and she heard Freddy’s footsteps thumping on the floor of the camper above her.

Freddy roared as he slammed open the door of the camper. “I’m gonna kill you!”

“What the fuck?” Dickey said.

Hollie didn’t so much as breathe as she listened to Freddy and Dickey.

“She got away,” Freddy said as he stepped to the ground. “The bitch got away.”

“How the hell—?” Dickey started.

“Find her,” Freddy shouted. “She couldn’t have gotten far. Grab a flashlight and we’ll get her.”

She saw Dickey’s boots as he raised a foot and took the two steps into the camper. The floor squeaked above her as she heard drawers slam.

“Got the flashlights,” Dickey said as he opened the door and came down the steps. “Where’s your jacket?”

“The bitch has it,” Freddy said. “I don’t have another one. We’ll just have to find her.”

“Let’s go get her,” Dickey’s said.

She sagged on the ground while she watched the men’s boots disappear as they hurried away from the camper.

John’s breath hung in the air in a white fog as he left the police station. It was nearly dark and he was looking forward to getting home and seeing Hollie. He dug the keys to his truck out of his pocket as he headed across the parking lot. As he walked, his phone rang. He pulled the phone out of its holster and checked the display.

“Garrett,” John said as he answered. “What’s up?”

“Freddy Victors’ girlfriend is back,” Garrett said. “I’m sitting outside her home now. Thought you’d like to join me.”

“Text me the address. I’ll be right there.” John pressed “end” and stuffed the phone back in its holster as he hurried to his truck. Within moments his phone chimed to tell him he had a message and he glanced at the screen and opened the message. Her home wasn’t too far from the station.

John had put officers on surveillance on Linda Solomon’s home, but had pulled them back when the discovered she was out of town.

Garrett had, however, tapped Linda’s landline and had bugged her house while she’d been out of town, but so far they’d gotten nothing. They hadn’t been able to track down a cell phone in her name so all they had was her landline. The tap and the bugs didn’t do a damn bit of good since she hadn’t been home.

The tap and bugs weren’t legal but then Garrett was a PI and used unconventional methods when needed.

A sense of urgency had John driving over the speed limit until he reached Linda Solomon’s neighborhood. He slowed down before pulling up his truck a couple of houses away from the woman’s home and parking. It was almost dark now and Christmas lights glittered in front of some of the neighborhood homes.

As John strode toward Linda Solomon’s house, Garrett walked toward him. As usual, he wore a western hat and shirt, jeans, and boots. His surveillance car was parked on the other side of the street facing in the opposite direction.