tell him she's not here Read online

  tell him she’s not here

  Oliver Bishop

  Melissa Rees

  Copyright © Oliver Bishop 2011

  Kindle Edition

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  Chapter One

  Jimmy Joe Walters fidgeted upright in his seat, his legs pumping up and down keeping a steady rhythm on the floorboard of his truck. Placing a shaky hand on his heart, he felt it beating wildly against his chest.

  He took a deep breath, then reached underneath the seat and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. Taking a swallow, he felt the liquid burn its way down his throat.

  Liquid courage, his dad always mockingly called it, and so it was, he thought, holding the bottle up so he could see how much he had left. It was almost empty. He would have to get another bottle soon.

  He leaned over and wiped the condensation from the windshield, then peered out the tinted glass of his black 1985 Chevy pickup truck. October in Indiana is damn cold, he decided. Not like Arkansas at all. When he left Arkansas the day before, it had been sixty-five degrees and the sun had been shining. He decided the weather in Indiana was crappy as hell.

  He wiped a larger area and watched as the snow fell in big moist flakes covering his truck, expediently hiding him from the rest of the world.

  The area surrounding his truck and the Dairy Queen was covered in deep snowdrifts. The only sounds Jimmy Joe could hear were the fierce blowing of the wind through empty tree branches. From where he was parked, he could see the back door of the Dairy Queen, which was illuminated by one small bulb. A security light topped on a pole in the back of the lot provided little visibility from the snow-laden skies.

  Jimmy Joe felt the sting of the cold seep into his body and reached back to pull a ragged blue quilt from behind the seat. He dare not start his truck, a running vehicle was sure to draw attention.

  Impatiently, he squinted at the Timex he kept strapped to his thin wrist. Ten o’clock, where was she? Her snow-covered car was the only one left in the parking lot. He bit down hard on his lip and reminded himself to relax. He didn’t want to screw up now. All his plans and preparation would be for nothing if he didn’t chill. Glancing up and down the street he sighed, pleased. Not much traffic had passed in the last hour. Of course, that’s what he had been counting on. Small towns like this rolled their sidewalks up when it got dark.

  Jimmy Joe mentally forced himself to think of calming memories. He had to be cool under pressure if he was going to achieve what he came for. He shifted to find a more comfortable position, and leaned his head back against the seat, snuggling under the blanket. He thought about the headlines in tomorrow’s local paper.

  “Young girl mysteriously disappears from Dairy Queen Saturday night.” Hell, with any luck, it would make the big newspapers, maybe USA Today, he thought, feeling a thrill course through his body. He would be famous.

  He stretched his hand out from under the blanket and grabbed the pack of Marlboros that lay on the dashboard. Bending down, he lit his cigarette and for a brief moment, his face was illuminated.

  Jimmy Joe Walters figured he looked like what he was, a thirty-year-old southern boy who had been raised hard. He considered himself an ordinary looking man. His face was long and narrow with high cheekbones. His forehead sat back away from his nose with shaggy dishwater blond eyebrows above dark brown eyes. His upper lip was almost invisible under an equally shaggy mustache. His nose was narrow and had a small bump where it had been broken when he was four. His shoulder length hair was thin on the top and trailed down the side of his head in stringy curls. Not an ugly man, just nondescript. His description could fit thousands of white males. He felt that for once in his life this might benefit him.

  After much thought, he had parked his truck on the side street that ran west of the Dairy Queen and had partially covered his license plate with snow and mud.

  Jimmy Joe had taken every precaution he could think of. He felt pretty sure no one would remember his truck. In fact, he doubted if anybody would notice a parked vehicle in this shitty weather.

  Jimmy Joe grinned. He was finally going to do something big, something he had always wanted to do. He leaned back against the cold vinyl seat of the pickup and thought about home.

  Frigging people would think differently of him now, if they knew where he was and what he was doing. He and his family were considered white trash in the small town where he grew up and lived. His whole family drank, fought, and ended up in jail regularly.

  Jerked up by the hair of his head is how most folks around town described his upbringing. He had grown up with a crazy alcoholic father and a mom who worked two jobs to keep food on the table.

  This had always been a source of humiliation for him. Of course, most of the kids he went to school with were poor and in the same boat. However, he always thought he should be treated differently. He felt, deep in his heart, he was meant for bigger, better things. When nothing bigger or better came along, he figured he would make his own way to fame .

  That’s why he had decided when he was young, to do something big, something just for him. He stayed at the same job he’d had since leaving high school and he always made sure he kept his nose clean as far as the law was concerned.

  Now all of his waiting was about to pay off. He didn’t know the girl’s name, didn’t care what her name was when it came down to it. She was young, she was beautiful, and soon she would be his. His to do with as he pleased and he had a place all ready for her. Not as nice as she was used to, judging from the new red Toyota she drove around in. Nevertheless, it was a good enough place for now, or until he tired of her. He alone decided what her fate would be.

  He straightened in his seat when he saw her walk out. He watched as she turned to lock the door behind her. This was it and he was ready.

  Chapter Two

  Twenty-year-old Emma Stewart pushed her chair back and stood up. She had just spent six hours working on a thesis about prenatal care for teenagers and now felt restless and depressed. She couldn’t imagine being a pregnant teenager. She knew a couple of girls at school who were pregnant, young pretty women, burdened down by the weight and responsibility of an unborn child, too tired by the end of the day for pizza or football games.

  She didn’t know if they were pregnant by choice or accident. She had never asked, but she did feel sorry for them. Trying to go to school while pregnant and concentrate on studies seemed an impossible task to Emma.

  She yawned and walked to her dorm window, gazing at the falling snow that filtered in and out of the security lights. The weather, which started the day as light snow, had turned into a full-blown blizzard by mid-afternoon.

  She pressed her warm forehead against the panes of glass and watched as gusts of wind blew in sporadic spurts, shaking the remaining leaves on the giant oak tree outside her dorm window.

  The weather had affected both staff and students all afternoon as they hurried from car to home, bundled and bent against the swirling snowfall. Emma stretched and sighed with pleasure that she’d spent the day inside, comfortable and warm in dark blue sweat pants and a new Ball State University sweatshirt. She walked back to her computer and stared down at the text she was working on.

  A snack wouldn’t hurt, she reasoned. She’d been working on the assignment all afternoon and it was, gl
ancing at her watch, nine-thirty. Bending down, she hit Save and closed the laptop. Digging her cell phone out of her purse, she punched in her sister’s number.

  Sixteen-year-old Kerry was supposed to call and let her know if she was coming to Muncie the following day. When she heard Kerry’s voicemail, she left a message, asking Kerry to call her before she started out, because of the blizzard.

  Emma was amazed at how much like her mother she was becoming. She didn’t like it but she couldn’t stop herself. All those dire warnings about traveling in bad weather kept reverberating in her brain. When she closed her eyes, all she could see was Kerry’s car in a ditch somewhere.

  She loved being away from home. It wasn’t that her parents were awful to live with; it was just that they worried about her and her sister. She felt that their parental concern bordered on the ridiculous, given their ages. She was twenty and Kerry was sixteen and both knew how to take care of themselves. Besides, the security on the campus was excellent. Her father had made sure of that before she enrolled. An ID Card Reader protected each residence hall and visitors had to be accompanied by a student at all times.

  Emma gazed around the dorm room she shared with her roommate and thought how warm and cozy it was. They had decorated it in green and blues. Each had their favorite movie posters above their bed. Throw rugs and pillows in bright colors were scattered around the space.

  When she heard the musical ring of her cell phone, Emma pushed Send, expecting to hear Kerry’s voice, but instead it was her father. She listened, shocked by what she heard and her heart picked up the frantic pace of her fear. Dropping her cell phone on the wood floor, she sank to her knees.

  Kerry had disappeared. Her car had been found parked at the Dairy Queen in her hometown. The door was wide open and her purse was on the ground near the back tire. Her parents were in a state of inconsolable panic.

  She reached for her phone and punched in Kerry’s number, praying she would answer and laugh at all the fuss their parents were making. The phone rang four times before it went to Voice-Mail. Feeling sick to her stomach, Emma tried again.

  No answer. Horrified, she realized Kerry was not going to answer.

  Chapter Three

  Emma pulled into her parent’s driveway and sat, trying to compose herself before going inside. She had talked to her grandmother earlier and knew the doctor had stopped by to check on her mother.

  She spotted her grandparents’ car parked close to the house. There were a lot of other cars she didn’t recognize. Is this what it’s like when tragedy strikes? People she didn’t know, filling up her house, wanting and waiting to help.

  Emma ran a hand nervously over the leather steering wheel of her Honda and felt fresh tears trickle down her cheeks.

  Her grandmother had said the police were searching the area, hoping whoever took Kerry, would drop her off when they were through with her.

  What did through with her mean? Did they mean after she’d been raped, beaten? Were they still hoping to find her alive?

  She rested her head on the steering wheel and prayed for Kerry’s safety.

  She and Kerry had grown up in the sleepy town of Conway, Indiana, population 46,000. The town was situated close to Indiana Dunes State Park. It was a wonderful place to grow up, the kind of place where children could still play outside, safely. There’d never been any problems.

  Was the person who abducted Kerry from here? Or someone who was passing through?

  When she heard a tap on her car window, she raised her head, her face wet with tears. Seeing the ragged face of her father, she opened the car door and slid out.

  Jason Stewart wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Exhausted from the long drive and the worry over Kerry, Emma leaned on her father. Neither spoke. What could they say? Each was afraid to say what they were really thinking.

  Jason held his daughter at arm’s length, “Everything’s going to be all right. They’ll find her, I know they will.”

  Emma nodded. Reaching inside to grab her purse, she closed the car door. “How’s mom?”

  “She’s not doing very well. The doctor gave her a sedative. She should sleep for a little while.”

  “What do the police say?”

  “They said it looked like abduction. Someone noticed a truck parked beside the Dairy Queen a couple of hours before she closed up.”

  “I don’t understand. Why wasn’t there someone else working with her?”

  “Her friend, Amy, was working, but she wasn’t feeling well so Kerry told her to go home. You know how responsible she always felt because it was Uncle Rick’s store.”

  Emma tried to stay calm. Stared at the ground where fresh snow had turned to brown sludge from all the tire tracks. She looked up at her father and nodded toward the back door, “I want to see Mom.”

  Jason placed a protective arm around her shoulder and together they hurried towards the house.

  Kerry felt her father stiffen the moment they walked in. The kitchen was full of police and their muddy footprints littered the normally pristine floor.

  She followed her father into the living room where her grandparents sat surrounded by friends and family. Her grandmother’s face looked bleak and exhausted. Her grandfather’s ruddy complexion was gone, leaving his face ashen. His short gray hair was standing on end, his eyes anxiously watching her grandmother.

  Seeing Emma, they rose and walked, dazed toward her. Wrapping her arms around her grandmother, Emma felt slight tremors quivering through the frail body. Her grandfather’s hug felt feeble and shaky. She bit lip to keep from crying while she held onto her grandfather. This couldn’t be happening. This was a bad dream in which she would wake up and everything would be back to normal. Squeezing her eyes shut, Emma held her breath and said a quick prayer.

  She opened her eyes and gazed around, then felt her heart throb painfully against her chest. This wasn’t something she could imagine away. The nightmare was still here, in their house.

  Without saying a word, she patted her grandmother’s face, and then turned toward the stairs, heading for her parents’ room.

  Emma slipped into their master suite and hurried to the bed. Her mother lay on her side but Emma could see the pale face still stained with tear tracks. Fighting back sobs, she leaned over and pulled the comforter around her mother’s shoulders.

  Her mother stirred, opened her eyes and stared up at Emma. Holding out her hand, she drew her daughter down beside her. It didn’t take long before she drifted back to sleep.

  Emma sat motionless on the edge of the bed and wondered how her parents would find the strength to go on if they lost their youngest child.

  Her mother’s delicate face looked drawn and weary. It had only been a day and she’d already aged, unable to shoulder the catastrophe of losing her daughter.

  Emma kissed her mom’s forehead. They had to find Kerry. They just had to.

  Chapter Four

  Kerry swallowed the vomit that kept rising in her throat and placed a trembling hand against the side of her neck. Shifting her legs to a more comfortable position, she leaned against the mildew covered drywall inside the small closet that had been her jail for more than a month.

  She’d lost all hope of someone coming to her rescue. If she was ever going to be free again, she’d have to do it herself. The cost would be high and she’d prepared herself for this. Either she would die or he would. Either way, this would be the last day she’d be chained up like a dog in the small closet that had been her jail for more than a month.

  She forced her exhausted brain to go over the details one more time. She had to be prepared because he’d be coming back soon. His routine never changed - he would unchain her hands first, then her feet. When he bent to unchain her legs, that’s when she’d do it. She would grab the chains he kept on the small table that sat next to the closet door. She would hit him and she would hit him until he was dead.

  She refused to consider what else could happen. She struggled to stand
and rubbed her legs to get the blood flowing. She’d have to move fast, she couldn’t afford to cramp up. Her life depended on it.

  She was careful not to tip over the pee pot he’d given her. The small bottle of water was almost empty, as were the box of crackers he’d left for her. Pushing back limp blonde hair, she sighed and sat back down.

  She prayed God for the strength she would need. Picking up a cracker, she nibbled on it through cracked, dry lips. She felt so weak, weak from hunger and weak from lack of sleep. She wondered if she’d ever feel normal again.

  She peered through the crack in the door that separated the closet from the living room. The light was already fading and it would be dark soon, she thought growing uneasy.

  Where was he? What would happen to her if he never came back? If he left her to die locked in this tiny closet?

  She squeezed her eyes shut and thought about her parents, her grandparents, her sister and her friends. They would never know what happened to her, if she died here, alone.

  She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and then absently glanced at her nails. She had bitten them down to the skin. Stretching her shaking hands out in front of her, she tried to remember what they used to look like. Closing her eyes, she willed determination to return. She had to be strong. She knew her parents were looking for her, would never stop looking for her. Tensing, she thought about the man. She hated him with such intensity it took her breath away.

  Relax. She had to relax, to conserve what was left of her energy. Exhausted and in a semi-doze, she felt the sensation of floating outside her body. Looking down, she could see herself sitting on the closet floor, a thin sixteen-year-old girl with long blonde hair and deep gray eyes. She looked defeated sitting like that. She didn’t want to look like that. With great determination, she pushed herself up. She wouldn’t die without a fight. She had to fight, fight for her parents and sister, but most of all for herself. Her parents had always told her that anything was possible; you just had to believe in yourself. The man had abused her mind, body, and her very soul. However, she had to believe she would survive. She would get away from him.