Never Gonna Tell (20 page)

Nicky smiles and glances over at Marco’s dad. “See that, Frankie? The girl here cares for your boy.” Marco’s dad nods stiffly but doesn’t reply as Nicky continues. “Maybe we won’t have to kill her after all. Maybe she’ll be a good little girlfriend and realize how helpful to Marco she can be.”

Frank grimaces at the mention of Marco. “Let me take him to the hospital, Nicky. That’s what will be helpful right now. He needs a doctor. He ain’t doin’ too well.”

Nicky shoots out of his seat, almost knocking the chair over, and gets in Frank’s face. Pulling out a gun, he shoves it in Frank’s face. “I said no! No doctors. No hospitals. Not until I’m sure that no one is goin’ to the cops with what they
think
they know.”

Frank nods, lowering his eyes to his brother, and looks over at me, his eyes pleading for me to help, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.

Nicky resumes his seat, putting his gun in the waistband of his pants before crossing his legs slowly and smiling as if he didn’t just bite his brother’s head off and threaten him. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, we were getting better acquainted. Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Reagan?”

“I … I don’t know what you want to know,” I say softly, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice. This man is loony tunes. And a wacko with a gun, void of any scruples, makes it a thousand times worse.

“Well, why don’t you start with telling us about how you know my nephew and what you two were doing at his grandfather’s old hunting camp? You two thought you could give me the slip, but I remember more than Marco thought. Lucky for us that Travis spotted his car while we were on our way to check out that old dump.” He sneers at me. “Not so lucky for you.”

“I…”
Think, Reagan! What can I say that will not make him go off the deep end?
“Marco is my boyfriend. He took me away for the weekend so we could … you know.” I pretend to be shy and look away, but really I’m eyeing escape routes. The front door is behind me, but is guarded by the beady-eyed guy and has two deadbolts on it. No quick escape through there.

“Is that so?” Nicky asks. “You two were just having a romantic getaway?”

I nod, keeping my eyes lowered.

“So your little weekend jaunt had nothing to do with you two conspiring to go to the cops about Daniel Everett?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Tsk, tsk, Reagan. You shouldn’t lie to me.” He leans back and extends his leg, kicking me square in the ribs. I hear them crack as I topple backward and cry out, curling into a fetal position momentarily before trying to regain control. I cannot break down, no matter how badly it hurts.

“I mean, I know he’s Hunter’s dad,” I try again, fighting back nausea and tears. “But I don’t know anything else. I swear.”

“I find this very hard to believe, Reagan. Especially with your mother’s position in the ADA’s office and all.” My eyes widen at mention of my mom, and I try to suck in a breath, but a sharp pain in my chest stops me. “Oh yes, I know all about you, Reagan Wilcox. I’ve done my homework. And I know that last week you left the library one block from the fishing pier at the exact time I happened to be taking a stroll that way. And I also know from hacking your phone that you’ve been very upset about something. So much so that you begged your foster brother to buy a bus ticket to come home, isn’t that right?”

“Mar … Marco and I had a fight. That’s all. I was upset, but we made up.” I need to shift the conversation away from me. “Where is he? Can I see him?”

“He’s not available at the moment.” His eyes momentarily dart over to the closed door at his left. A tell! I’ll bet that’s where Marco is being held. I glance over at Frank, who is also staring at the closed door, his hands in two tight fists at his sides.

“Is he okay?”

“That’s a matter of semantics,” Nicky says. I sneak a glance over to Frank, who is subtly shaking his head no. This can’t be good. I need to get out of here and get Marco help—now. I need to be on my A game. I have one shot at this, and everything is riding on what I say next.

“Mr. Calotta,” I start, trying again to take a deep breath and failing. My eyes water from the pain, but I somehow manage to hold back the tears.

Nicky smiles that creepy smile again. “Such respect. Call me Nicky, please.”

“Nicky. I understand that you may be…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Apprehensive about me and what you may believe about my role in assisting the authorities regarding the death of Mr. Everett. I would like to reassure you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about from me.”

Nicky crosses his leg and smirks. “Is that so?” He’s clearly amused by my statement. I need to convince him that I’m no threat.

I nod, keeping my face straight so he knows I’m taking this seriously. “Yes, that is so. For several reasons. One, I didn’t actually see anything. I only heard muffled voices. I couldn’t pick them out and could never honestly testify as to who they belonged to. Second, as I mentioned, Marco is my boyfriend, and I would never want to do anything that would disrupt that. I love him, and hurting his family would hurt him. I couldn’t do that.”

Nicky sits back in his seat, the smirk on his face gone as he takes in what I’ve said.
I think he may be buying this. Could it be this simple?
“Go on,” he urges.

I straighten momentarily before hunching over again. It’s easier to breathe this way. Convincing Nicky to believe my next lie is going to be the hardest one yet and if I want to get Marco help and get out of here alive, I need to pull it off flawlessly. Let’s hope that years of lying to Mom and Dad have perfected my skills.

“And lastly, my mother is a royal bitch.” I emphasize the last word, biting out the last word for an extra effort. “She
hates
that I’m dating Marco just because of his last name, which is totally prejudiced and unfair. She’s doesn’t care about my feelings at all and won’t even listen when I tell her what a great guy he is.” I pause, glancing over at Frank. “And he’s such an amazing guy.” I turn back to Nicky and scowl. “But she just wants to control me and treats me like a little kid. She’s all but forbidden me to see him, so trust me when I tell you I’m not giving her any more ammunition to use to tell me why I have to stop seeing him.”

Nicky uncrosses his leg and leans down, resting his elbows on his knees and places his chin on his folded hand. “That’s all well and good, my dear, but what about when you and my dear nephew split up? Are you telling me that you wouldn’t go to the police then? Scorned lover and all? Women are so temperamental that way. I’m sorry, but that’s a risk I’m just not willing to take.”

I hold a hand up before he can go on. “I understand your hesitancy, but like I said, I
love
Marco. And he loves me. We’re not going to split up.” Nicky is shaking his head, not buying it. I try a different direction. “And anyway, if for some reason the police did find out, I could be charged with impeding a criminal investigation. It’s mutually-assured destruction.”

Frank chimes in. “Se … see, Nicky? She’s harmless. And you know Marco is loyal to the family. He’d never rat on us. Never. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Nicky is quiet, as if pondering our words. I say a quick prayer that they work, because I have no plan B.

“You’re a very articulate young lady, you know that, Reagan?”

I smile slightly. “Thank you.”

“But you’re flawed, and so is your plan to butter me up. You moved your rook, and while I applaud the effort, it was no match for my queen. I can see six moves ahead, and I know you’d say just about anything to save your hide. The second I’d let you go, you’d run so fast to the cops, they’d call you Forrest Gump. No, I don’t buy it. I’m not letting you go. There’s nothing mutually assured about it. The Feds will undoubtedly offer you immunity in exchange for your testimony and while you claim you didn’t witness anything, they’ll convince you to testify anyway and say that you did.”

He stands, and I slink back toward the closest armchair. “It’s a shame it’s had to come to this. You seem like a great kid.”

Nicky reaches into the back of his waistband and calmly pulls out his gun again. My eyes widen at the large black gun now pointed at my head, and I can’t maintain my composure any longer. My lip quivers, and I begin to cry like a baby. I don’t care about keeping up pretenses any longer. I just want my mom and to not die.

“Please. Please,” I beg. “I don’t want to die. I promise I won’t say anything. I’ll swear on anything. Please.”

Nicky sighs as if exasperated with my pleas. “If it’s any comfort, I’ll make sure that you don’t feel a thing.” With his other hand, he digs into his pocket and comes out with a silencer attachment before beginning to attach it to the gun.

I close my eyes and picture the faces of those I love most in this world: my parents, Charlie, Kally, and even Marco. I am so thankful that I have such a great family, and now I can only hope that Nicky killing me doesn’t kill them, too.

I make one final plea, refusing to give into my fate. “Please, Nicky. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to kill me. Just … keep me here. As a hostage. I can be leverage in case you ever need it. I won’t cause you any trouble, I swear it.”

Frank chimes in. “She’s just a kid, Nicky. C’mon.”

“I have no other choice,” Nicky replies. He aims the gun at my head and places his finger on the trigger. I hold my breath for what’s about to happen next, keeping my parents’ faces in the forefront of my mind.

“I love you, Mom and Dad,” I whisper just as Nicky squeezes the trigger.

“NO!” FRANK SCREAMS, diving for Nicky and tackling him to the ground. The gun is yanked sideways, and the chair leg beside me is fractured when a bullet tears through it instead of me. Frank wrestles Nicky to the ground, each vying for the gun as the two goons stand at the edge of the room, frozen in shock. I scramble behind the chair so I’m out of the path of any more bullets.

“Reagan! Get out of here, now!” Frank yells. He’s got probably fifty pounds on Nicky, but Nicky is wily and knows exactly where to strike and lands several blows to Frank’s kidneys and solar plexus. Tweedles Dee and Dum have finally snapped out of their stupor and are trying to break up the two, but neither man is budging. “GO!” Frank shouts again. “Go and get help for my boy.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I scramble to my feet and sprint to the front door, ignoring the searing pain in my side. My fingers tremble as I fumble to unlatch the bolt, but finally manage to get it free. I take one last look behind me to make sure I still have a real chance to escape and won’t catch a bullet the second I cross the threshold. Frank has managed to take control of the gun and is holding it to Nicky’s head while the two goons are pointing their own guns at him. It’s a standoff, and I am not sticking around to find out how it ends.

I throw open the door and take off, practically flying I’m running so fast. I stumble over a gnarled tree root and crash to the ground, scraping both of my knees before rolling to my side as stars dance in my vision. The pain from my arm and side is unbearable, but I have to suck it up if I want to live. There is no other choice.

I scramble to my feet once more and push forward, wishing I had taken those cardio exercises in gym class more seriously. Thick brush filled with chiggers and thorns scrape the skin on my legs, and my lungs are on fire, but I don’t dare slow. My life and Marco’s life depend on it.

It’s not until I’m several hundred yards away do I even think to take in my surroundings so I can know where to send help once I find it. I pause, sucking in as much air as I can tolerate, my heart nearly exploding out of my chest. My eyes dart around, looking for any signs of life. There’s only one SUV sitting in front of the house and no perceivable driveway, just some muddy tracks from when they drove in. The narrow dirt path I’m on is overgrown, indicating to me that it’s most likely isolated. My heart sinks. The odds of finding help out here are not very high. I debate momentarily if I should even stay on the road, knowing it’s the first place they’ll look for me, but I decide not to veer off the main path. It might be a mistake, but it may also very well be the first place I’ll find help. And with the amount of pain I’m in I can’t afford to take it slow.

Squinting up, I study the sun’s position in the sky. It’s low on the horizon, setting to my right so I know I’m heading south. I press forward, searching for any sign of life that could help, but see nothing in the distance. The area I’m in is pretty densely covered with trees, but I still can’t see any light from a house or smoke from a chimney. I listen, hoping for maybe a car engine, but hear nothing but a few birds in the trees above.

I take off running again. I run faster than I’ve ever run in my life. My lungs want to explode, I can barely take a breath, and my arm is killing me, but I don’t stop. Adrenaline is pushing me forward.

The path is not even or flat, and with every passing minute, it grows darker and darker, making it even more challenging to see where I’m going. I stumble and trip repeatedly, resulting in my body becoming streaked with blood on my knees, palms, and elbows. My ankle has twisted more than once, and it’s only the adrenaline that’s keeping the pain at bay, but exhaustion is setting in. After what seems like miles, I spot a tiny building in the distance.