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  NADIA SIDDIQUI

  Dark Place Collection

  Preyed Upon

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the

  author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons,

  living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Nadia Siddiqui – All rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a

  retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,

  photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright

  owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various

  products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The

  publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the

  trademark owners.

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  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  About the Author

  ALSO BY NADIA SIDDIQUI

  1

  hink about your future.” Those were the last words Tori Whitfield spoke in

  her capacity as a high school guidance counselor. Life at McDougal High had

  “T come to an end. Tori was simply working her last day, using her final hours

  to pack a few boxes and speak to a handful of students that she had become

  fond of.

  “You're really going to become a cop?” a young, pretty, red-haired senior asked in a

  sad voice.

  Tori watched Andrea Chilton standing at her office door wearing a pair of sad puppy

  dog eyes. Andrea was a smart young girl but suffered from low self-esteem which allowed

  the world to walk all over her. Andrea was dating an arrogant football player that was

  trying to talk her out of going to college. Why? Who really understood the mind of high

  school students? “I have my reasons, Andrea. Now, get back to class and start working on

  your grades. You have a real shot at getting an academic scholarship, but you have to pick

  up your grades in Mr. Smith's class.”

  “Why does the world need trigonometry?” Andrea complained and then offered Tori

  a sorrowful wave goodbye. “I'll miss you . . . don't get shot, okay?”

  Tori replied with a forced smile that felt fake and insincere. “You bet.” As soon as

  Andrea left the office, Tori slowly ran her hands through her short blond hair that was

  styled to reflect her intelligent demeanor. “You bet, Amanda,” she whispered in a

  miserable voice, dropped her eyes to a drab green sweater. She sighed and then walked

  over to the office window and pulled back a brown curtain. A heavy, icy, rain was falling

  outside, turning the town of Greenson, Tennessee into a depressing sight. Not that Tori

  would admit such a thought. No. Tori Whitfield was known to be a highly intelligent,

  strong, confident woman who always kept a cool head and adequate restraint in dealing

  with hot-headed high school students. Some of Tori's colleagues considered her attitude

  a bit dry, but Tori didn't care. The world was a serious, dangerous, playground filled with

  vicious acts and deadly promises.

  My sister . . .

  As Tori stared out at a side parking lot lined with a mixture of new and old vehicles,

  the image of a bright, happy, smiling woman flashed through her mind. Amanda Rogers,

  the wife of Matthew Rogers and mother of Paula and Noel Rogers, stood smiling in front

  of a dinner show she had visited in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee on a soft spring evening.

  Paula and Noel, who were pushing ten years old at the time, stood in the background

  making funny faces as Matthew laughed and then allowed a new, expensive, Cannon

  PowerShot G7 X to capture the moment. Matthew Rogers, Tori thought, loved new toys—

  and certainly could afford his new toys since he worked as a stock broker. Amanda was

  more old fashioned and enjoyed the simple life, but didn't mind that her husband was

  always stuck in high gear. Matthew was a good, loving, faithful husband and that's all that

  mattered. Then why is my sister still missing? Tori thought bitterly. If Matthew is such a

  loving husband, why hasn't he found his wife? It's been seven months.

  A gray cell phone on a wooden desk cried out and shattered the image of Tori's sister

  into a stream of tears filled with pain, anger, confusion and agony. Tori turned from the

  window, approached the bare desk, and slowly lifted the cell phone to her eyes. “Lacey?”

  she answered the call in a confused voice. “I began to believe your name was simply a

  mirage on my phone.” She spoke in a serious voice. “A person can expect a call every now

  and then.”

  Lacey Fleishman turned her desk chair and looked out over a gray, depressing, Los

  Angeles that was currently being attacked by a heavy rain storm. “Veronica called me,”

  she spoke in a quick voice, bypassing Tori's scolding, and getting right to the point. “Are

  you out of your mind?”

  “Veronica has a big mouth,” Tori replied. “Lacey, it's seven months. My sister is still

  missing and no one is doing squat to find her.”

  “So you're going to take it upon yourself?” Lacey asked in a tone that didn't sit well

  with Tori. Lacey and Tori had known each other since grade school and were closer than

  sisters, but Tori was in no mood to be barked at—especially not by some high class lawyer.

  “Tori, be reasonable. You have a solid career. You live in a safe community. You—”

  “My sister is missing . . . and possibly dead, Lacey,” Tori cut her best friend off with

  her sharp tone. “I'm going to find out what happened to my sister. The so-called police

  officials down in Nashville aren't offering any help. By now they've marked my sister off

  as a 'Missing Person' and have forgotten her. That's not acceptable.”

  “And becoming a cop is going to solve the problem?” Lacey scolded and then quickly

  backed down. “That was uncalled for, Tori. I'm sorry. I know you're upset and hurting.

  Who am I to sit here in my fancy office, dressed like a snobby fashion model, giving

  advice? I can't tell you the last time I've represented an honest person.” Lacey turned back

  to her desk and looked at a green dish holding peppermint candy. “I'm worried that

  you're . . . allowing your emotions to think for you, Tori. I just don't want to see you give

  up your career and life—”

  “My career means nothing to me now, Lacey,” Tori interrupted allowing a hint of

  misery to enter her voice. “How can I sit here day in and day out and encourage kids to

  focus on their future when my own nieces are crying themselves to sleep at night?” A tear

  stung the edge of Tori's eye. She quickly fought more tears. The time for tears had come

  and past. Action was now required. “Lacey, I've been accepted by the Tennessee Police

  Academy
in North Ridge. I leave in one week.”

  “Tori—”

  “I understand I have to be a regular cop for three years. Afterward, I can apply to

  become a detective. During that time I'm going to dedicate my life to finding my sister

  and helping others,” Tori continued in a determined voice. “I have a long, difficult, road

  ahead, but it's a road that I have to walk, Lacey.”

  The tone in Tori's voice clearly told Lacey to back down. “What about your

  relationship with Brent? Veronica told me that things were getting serious.”

  “Our relationship ended four months ago,” Tori explained in a voice that offered no

  hint of regret. “Brent couldn't handle that I was dedicating my after school hours to

  locating my sister.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “I'm not, Lacey,” Tori replied. “I'm a twenty-nine-year-old woman. I'm not some

  seventeen-year-old who wants to spend her time gushing over the new science teacher.

  Brent proved to me that his needs were more important that my sister. Enough said.”

  Lacey took a piece of peppermint in her left hand. “Have you called Rachel and

  Gennifer?” she asked, gently bringing the subject around to the original topic.

  Relationship issues were not Lacey's strong point. She had already suffered a failed

  marriage and was currently nursing a failed engagement.

  “No. Gen just gave birth to her son and Rachel just moved to Seattle. They're busy.”

  A deep pain consumed Tori’s heart. “I . . . do miss all of you.” She allowed her defensive

  shield to weaken. “We girls were always close, especially during our school years.”

  “Yes, we were,” Lacey agreed as a tender smile touched her lipstick-soaked lips. Lacey

  hated wearing lipstick. She was a Tennessee gal who had moved west to become a famous

  lawyer but had ended up letting Los Angeles restructure her style and life. “I miss those

  days, Tori . . . I miss you. We were always so close.”

  “I know,” Tori whispered as a tear stubbornly slipped from her eye and rolled down

  her cheek. “Lacey . . . I have to go. I have a little more packing to do. School will end in

  about two hours . . . and then I have to go back to my house and pack. I'll be in touch,

  okay?”

  Lacey heard the tear in Tori's voice. “I'll be here,” she promised, fighting back her

  own tears. “I love you.”

  “I . . . love you, too,” Tori whispered. She put down her cell phone, placed her hands

  over her beautiful face, and closed her eyes. “Amanda was part of the group,” she

  whispered, struggling to fight back a flood of threatening tears.

  There was a knock on Tori's office door, forcing her to quickly wipe away the fear

  tears with a frantic hand. “Yes . . . come in.”

  Detective Andrew Lory opened the office door and entered Tori's bare office wearing

  an arrogant expression on his face. “Ms. Whitfield?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Tori nodded as her eyes quickly soaked in a tall, bulldog-built man who

  appeared to be in his late forties.

  “My name is Detective Andrew Lory. We have spoken over the phone.”

  Tori stiffened. “My sister—”

  “May I sit?” Detective Lory asked in a quick, cold, tone and nodded at a wooden chair

  resting in front of Tori's desk.

  Detective Lory’s expression informed Tori that no good news was stuffed in the gray

  overcoat or hidden under the gray hat that hid his nearly bald head. “Yes,” she answered,

  turning her voice toward a watchful lion.

  Detective Lory sat down without removing his hat. He folded his arms and studied

  Tori with eyes that were less than kind. “You filed a complaint against me,” he finally

  spoke.

  Tori stared at Detective Lory. She had only spoken to the man over the telephone.

  Each conversation had turned into a yelling match that ended with Tori hearing the smug

  detective hang up on her. Now she was face to face with the man she had reported where

  every ear would listen. “Yes,” she confirmed in a stern tone. “You have done absolutely

  nothing to find my sister.”

  Detective Lory glared at Tori with angry eyes. “I've already told you,” he spoke in a

  voice that sounded like a threatening growl. “I investigated every possible lead. Nothing

  else can be done.”

  “Investigated every possible lead?” Tori asked in a sharp voice, feeling a sizzling

  anger threatening to override her ability to control her emotions, “You asked a few

  questions and then closed my sister's case. That is not acceptable.”

  Detective Lory didn't like to be barked at by a woman. As a matter of fact, Detective

  Lory didn't even like the fact that a woman like Tori was allowed to attend the Police

  Academy of North Ridge—his home town. As far as Detective Lory was concerned, a

  woman belonged in the kitchen cooking dinner and washing clothes. Police work was

  man's work. “Is that why you filed a complaint against me and then applied to become a

  cop?” he asked, staring at Tori with beady, hateful, eyes. “Are you going to save the world

  and prove that I'm the bad guy?”

  “If that's what it takes,” Tori nodded. “One way or the other I'm going to find out

  what happened to my sister.”

  “Hire a private investigator, lady,” Detective Lory snapped. “Don't waste your time

  or mine trying to play Superman. We both know you want to become a real cop. You're

  angry at the system and want to take matters into your own hands, and that's going to

  cause nothing but a big mud puddle for everyone . . . including yourself. I know you're

  upset about your sister, but there's other ways—”

  “Other ways?” Tori sliced through Detective Lory's hateful words. “I suppose

  allowing you to assume you're the answer to all the world's problems while playing the

  helpless victim is the answer, right?” Tori leaned forward and firmly placed her hands

  together, narrowed her angry eyes, and continued. “Detective Lory, I'm becoming a cop

  because of you. I see how awful the system is and I'm going to fix the broken ladder. Yes,

  I have to start off at the bottom, but each step I take up the ladder I'm going to pause along

  the way and fix what is broken to ensure that people like my sister receive the justice they

  deserve. Is that clear?”

  Detective Lory glared at Tori with eyes that could have killed. He was a divorced man

  with two kids that were nothing more than smart-mouthed little brats. He hadn't put up

  with a nagging wife, her two smart-mouthed brats, and he certainly was not going to

  tolerate Tori Whitfield slapping food off his plate. “Just remember that I'm the big man

  at the top of the ladder,” he warned Tori. He shot to his feet, and then planted his hands

  on the back of the desk. “You're stepping into my backyard, lady. I'll be watching you.”

  Tori slowly rose like a shark swimming toward the surface of a wave and met

  Detective Lory's threat. “If you harass me, you'll answer to EEOC. Now get out of my

  office.”

  “You're a joke,” Detective Lory nearly spat at Tori and then turned to leave. “By the

  way,” he said, yanking the office door open, “the reason your sister is still missing is

  because she probably ran off with some new guy. Her husband told me that their marriage

  was having problems. I guess in a year or two
she'll turn up in Las Vegas or someplace out

  west. Seen it before.”

  “Get out of my office,” Tori snapped. Detective Lory tossed Tori a hard eye and then

  left. She waited until the man slammed her office door and then hurriedly sat down.

  “Amanda never mentioned that she and Matthew were having problems?” she said aloud

  in a confused voice. Without wasting a second she called Doris Whitfield. “Yes, Mom . . .

  it's me . . . no, I'm fine,” Tori spoke in a calm but urgent voice. “Mom, I'm calling because

  I need to ask you something.”

  “Yes, what is it?” Doris Whitfield asked. She stood in a country kitchen staring at a

  pan of fresh-baked biscuits.

  “Did Amanda ever mention that she was having marital problems?” Tori asked.

  “No . . . at least not to me,” Doris answered honestly.

  “That means Matthew must have told Detective Lory that his marriage to Amanda

  was having problems . . . but why?” Tori whispered to herself, leaving her mother standing

  in a pool of confusion as the hard, icy, winter rain continued to fall outside. “Mom, I'll call

  tonight. I have something that I need to do.” With those words Tori ended the call,

  grabbed a single cardboard box holding a few items, and left her office for the very last

  time.

  2

  ori noticed a strange man standing out in the icy, rain-soaked parking lot attached

  to the side of McDougal High. The stranger was obvious because the employee

  T parking lot was currently empty. He was standing in front of her 2017 Dodge

  Journey. The first thing Tori noticed was that the stranger was a man and not a

  woman. He was too tall to be a woman and standing in a position that only a threatening

  man could create. Tori carefully slowed her pace and watched the stranger lock his eyes

  on her, peering out from under a black hood. Her chest tightened. “This parking lot is

  reserved for school employees,” Tori announced, struggling to sound stern, while the icy

  rain poured onto a green rain jacket.

  The stranger stood silent and still.

  Guns were not allowed on school property. Tori shifted the cardboard box under her

  right hand to free her hand. The only chance she had of protecting herself and calling for

  help was to activate the alarm on her SUV. She glanced down at the keys in her right hand.