ROMANTIC SUSPENSE : DEATH WHISPERED SOFTLY (3 page)

Then they would realize his value… the value of a foster child!
“I will show them that I will not be their monthly check any longer!
” he promised himself. The mere thought of this plan gave Steve purpose and brought peace and joy to young Steve’s tormented heart.

It would be a sweet revenge, he decided. The thought of retribution (justice in Steve’s eyes) fuelled his resolution, and he started to plan an escape from this vile house.

Steve knew the moment his foster-parents learned about his disappearance, they would panic and notify the cops, who would then come looking for him. 

And he was not willing to ever return to that life.  He knew he had to put as many miles as he could between him and his foster parents—before they discovered that he had bolted. Steve needed money to facilitate his getaway.

“But where do I get the money from?
These words would consume his thoughts, playing over and over again in his mind.

Then he remembered that barely a day before his parents had embarked on their ill-fated flight, his father had given him the heavy gold chain he always wore around his neck. “Stevie my boy, if you miss me while I and your Mom are away, wear this chain, and you will feel I am with you” his dad had lovingly told him.

As he remembered his father’s words, Steve’s eyes were filled with tears. “Daddy why did you leave me” he cried out in pain and anguish. But he knew his tears or anguish wouldn’t bring his father or mother back to him. He had to grapple with his situation alone. He had to get away from this abject place as far and as fast as he could. And for that his father’s gold chain would be the saving grace in his life.

He started planning his getaway.  It took him almost a month of relentless thinking before he came up with a plan.

Steve’s foster parents went to bed late. Typically after 11 pm.

Steve decided the best time to decamp would be around 2 a.m. They would be too deep in sleep to hear any noise. Besides they wouldn’t bother even if they did hear something. His arrogance prevented him from caring! And they had no foresight to think Steve would try and leave, they thought him to be too cowardly to take such action.

His foster father would lock the front door and keep the keys under his pillow. He did not trust Steve. But in the day time, he was not cautious about the keys. He would hang them—with other keys— in the kitchen. He was sure Steve wouldn’t try anything audacious in the daytime. To him Steve was nothing more than a dimwitted wimp.

But Steve was not exactly what his foster parent thought of him.
One day, before leaving for school, he pinched the key from the kitchen. And after school, he took the key to the key cutter at the local hardware store. He lied to the associate there that his dad had sent him to make a duplicate key since they had lost their duplicate key and the unsuspecting clerk had done exactly that—he cut the key for Steve. And when he returned home, Steve had carefully placed the key back in the kitchen. He was relieved to find that his foster father had not missed the key.

“I have the key, but what do I do once I am out of the house?”
He wondered uneasily. What if a cop or a snoopy neighbor spots me? I will not only have to face the fury of my foster parents but the investigation of the police!

Besides once his foster parents found out his intentions of escaping, they would clamp down on him and make it impossible to escape the next time. The thought of getting stuck in this Godforsaken house until he was eighteen, alarmed Steve.

“No! I must make it in the first go! And for that, I have to have a solid escape plan” he reasoned.

He knew that his foster-parents usually woke at around 7 am and typically Steve would leave for school—which was close by— at 7.30 am.

    On the day of his escape, although they would find him missing, they would think that he had left earlier for school. If his step-father found the key under the pillow he would instantly know Steve had fled the house, using a duplicate key. But if he could steal the keys from under his pillow and hang the key in the kitchen, his foster father would think, he had taken the key from under the pillow, opened the door, hung the key in the kitchen, and then left for school, a bit early.

Although his stepfather would be annoyed, he would be too arrogant and indifferent to think anything beyond the fact that Steve had the audacity to take the key from under his pillow, open the door and go out.

“The boy was too scared to wake me!” he would think conceitedly, he wasn’t likely to suspect anything more—he was too uncaring to anyways.

This
would give Steve several hours before it would dawn on his foster parents that their foster-son had escaped their house. And each hour he would be further and further away from the vile couple! 

Less than a mile from Steve’s house was a metro-station. Steve had diligently studied the arrivals and departures. There was a train every hour. He would catch the five a.m. express. Since it would be considered early morning rush hour, the ticket- cashier would not suspect anything was amiss. The boy is probably visiting a relative, they would surmise. Besides at fifteen Steve was almost 5 ft. 10 inches tall. He had a bit of stubble on his face too. If he wore a baseball hat and a dark long-sleeved shirt, he was confident that he could pass for an eighteen year old.

His plan was now in place and the tormented fifteen year old found he was smiling—something he seldom had a reason to do. The thought of escaping this house was exceedingly liberating and invigorating, as he touched his father’s chain that hung close to his heart, the smile on his face beamed like a ray of sunshine through a cloud after a storm.  He was drawn to look at his dad and mom’s framed picture which sat on the table right next to his pillow and inquired lovingly “Dad, you knew that your chain would bring freedom to your son one day? Didn’t you?” Although Steve knew this was not logical thinking, the teenager wanted to believe it was that way.  He found comfort and respite whenever he spoke to his father and mother.

And this had helped him prevent an existential break-down when his foster-parents were unleashing a barrage of cruelty on him. He would neutralize (or at least diminish the impact of) the deadly effects of their spitefulness by talking for long periods of time to his beloved parents, while holding their picture close.

CHAPTER IV  

    The very next day, after he had made his escape plan, Steve sold the gold chain to a jewelry store which purchased old gold jewelry promising to pay “top dollar”.  Although Steve wasn’t sure if he had obtained “top dollar” for his father’s gold chain, he was surprised he received a thousand bucks for the chain. He had walked to the shop briskly after school, so that he could return home in time, without raising suspicions, or ire, of his foster-parents.
The elderly jeweler was alone in his shop when Steve had entered. He was surprised to see such a young man presenting an expensive looking chain.

“That’s a mighty nice chain boy. Whose is it? He asked, looking inquisitively at Steve. But Steve did not blink or hesitate. With a straight face he replied “It was my dad’s chain sir,
he
gave it to me”.

That seemed to satisfy the old jeweler’s curiosity. He simply nodded his head, weighed the chain, opened the drawer, and counted 10 hundred dollars bill and handed them to Steve.  Although thrilled at seeing all that money, his gateway to freedom, Steve knew that hundred dollar bills would raise eye brows everywhere he used them. He had to have tens, so he cautiously asked the old man “Can you please give me the money in ten dollar bills please?”

“What do you think I am a bank or something?” the old man replied in a curt voice.  But before Steve could say anything, he went on “But I can do this; I can give you two hundred dollars in tens and eight hundred in hundred dollar bills. Now, do you want that?”

Steve was so relieved, that he could say nothing but nod his head vigorously.

The old man smiled and took back two bills from Steve and replaced them back in his drawer and counted twenty ten dollar bills and handed them to Steve.

“Here you are son. Be careful with what you do with all that money.”

He then looked straight into Steve’s eyes, winked, and said “Good luck son”. 

Steve was still in a daze as he walked out of the old jeweler’s shop. He wondered if the old man knew what he was planning to do. Although there was no way for him to have known with certainty, still, Steve knew, the old man knew. And yet in a strange way he seemed to approve of what Steve was planning.

Steve also knew that the thousand dollars he got for the chain would be enough to take him far out of the state of Indiana and the prison they called home.

On the night of escape, Steve had waited patiently until four in the morning, and then he had tiptoed into his foster-parents’ bedroom. He had found them snoring, and he gently placed his hand under his foster-father’s pillow, found the key, and then quietly he tip-toed out of the room and went straight to the kitchen. He then hung the keys there, and using his own duplicate key he had got cut from the hardware store, he silently stepped out stealth like and secret from his house, opened the small rusty gate gingerly, strode out and closed the gate into freedom. It was still pitch dark and completely deserted. He stood for a long moment staring at the house that had tormented him ceaselessly for ten long years. And before he realized what he was doing, he spat viciously towards the house, one last defiant act from a broken young man.

He then proceeded to the sidewalk, and walked briskly to the station – a mile away. He reached the station at 4:45 am, exactly as he had planned and right in time for the 5 am train.

    He was relieved to see there was hardly anybody in the station waiting room. The three people who were there were too sleepy to care. Using the money he had received from the jeweler, Steve purchased the ticket electronically and waited for the train. The train arrived precisely at 5 am and Steve was the first one to board the train. There were scarcely any people in the car, and like the waiting room, they were too sleepy to gaze at a five feet ten inch tall teen that looked older than his years.

But it was only when the train started moving, that Steve fully comprehended that he had done it! He had beaten the old scalawags! He knew at that moment he would never see them again in his life. His flight from his miserable house and despicable foster-parents filled him with great joy and exhilaration. He had never felt like this before and he wanted to pump the air with his fist and cry out loudly… a cry of joy and victory! But he restrained himself. He did not want to attract attention. He wanted
nothing
to come between him and his newly found freedom.

For a month, after his escape, Steve diligently avoided cops---wherever he saw them--- and managed to reach Los Angeles, the home of movie and TV stars he adored.  A city so filled with people and business, that Steve immediately knew, this would be a perfect place to hide and start a brand new life.

Steve had no means to know that the cops in the little town of Indiana, where he executed his escape, had not put much effort into tracking him. His foster parents had blown their fuse when they had learned late the next day that Steve had fled from their house. Steve was right indeed in thinking they would fly into frenzy and a panic upon learning about his getaway. Not only did they go into frenzy, but they also started blaming each other and trading charges. “You careless old biddy it was because of
your
callousness that the boy fled from the house. Had you shown some love to him we would have not lost our monthly paycheck!” he screamed at his wife, who was quick to retort “Oh no, it wasn’t because of
me
you old fart, it was because of
your
cruelty that the boy didn’t want to stay any longer. Had you shown some kindness he would still be here and we would be receiving our money from the county. It was
your
callousness that made us lose the boy! Now take your old ass to town and find some work! We need the damn money! She bellowed at the trembling man. Also go and inform the police that the boy fled and don’t tell the coppers it was because of your freaking nastiness that he did what he did, else they will kick your old ass into a jail!” she screamed at her dazed husband.

The crushed foster father did go to the cops to file a report, but the sharp detective there could quickly infer, from the old man’s mannerisms and talk, the true reason behind the boy’s flight.

“We will certainly look for the boy Mr. Donald. But if we find out that you and your wife were mean and abusive to him, we will not hesitate to arrest and charge you under the child abuse act” he sternly warned  Steve’s foster father who started trembling when he heard what the officer had just said. Seeing him quivering like a leaf the detective knew that this man (and perhaps his wife as well) had been tormenting the kid and because of their actions he had fled their house. Although the cop registered Donald’s report, he (or his colleagues), were not particularly enthusiastic to find the boy in a hurry and restore him to this couple before they fully investigated their home and the situation that induced him to run away.

CHAPTER V

    Steve found work at a restaurant in Los Angeles. The restaurant served Mexican food, and although the restaurant was small, it was pretty popular, and the customers tipped generously.  Steve started making a decent amount of money, but he was just sixteen and lived with the hard reality was that he was all alone. And his loneliness started bothering him. Even though the money provided him the freedom he had desperately sought, he longed for friendship and companionship. And with his new found freedom, steady money, and none to guide or chasten him, Steve soon fell into bad company.