Dark Visions Page 15

  "I saw what you wrote," he said.

  She could see him watching her from the rearview mirror. She looked away, not sure how to respond yet. The last day or so was a blur. She was in a building, then an SUV, and then another building. It worried her to be so out of it. Although it made sense because she hadn't eaten in at least three days.

  "You were right, by the way."

  "About what?" Sarah asked.

  "My boss does work with the police. I have to thank you for the inside tip about him wanting to kill me. I should tell you though, I already figured that out for myself."

  Sarah realized the message had calmed him. He almost looked happy today.

  "That's why you're not tied up right now. I want your hands free to write if you go into another trance of some kind. Anything else you want to write for me would be useful. Like how can I get out of this?"

  "You don't need me for that. Let me go here and run for Mexico. You might make it."

  "Cute."

  Gert drove down an exit ramp and pulled up to a red light. He turned and faced her. "The only reason I'm talking to you is because of this talent you have. I've provided a pen and paper by the bench there," he pointed to her left. "Write as much as you can in the time we have left together. Maybe something will be useful to me."

  Sarah picked up the paper and pen. She opened it and flipped through a few of the wire bound pages.

  The light had changed to green. Gert spun back around and started the van forward.

  "If you try any funny business of any kind, you die. Are we clear?"

  "Yes," Sarah whispered.

  She thought about a plan. Get the circulation in her hands and legs going so she could run.

  She thought about Dolan. She'd left a note for him. But could he be the guy that was Gert's boss. After all, the note said Gert's boss works with the police. It didn't say the boss was a cop. Who else works with the police?

  The familiar stirrings in her vision, coupled by the numbness in her left arm warned a blackout was coming.

  She slid to the floor and grabbed the pen just as she lost consciousness.

  Chapter 47

  Sam could see the FBI cars parked out front as he pulled into the Roberts' driveway. The sun was rising when they got there. The dash clock said 6:30am.

  He looked over at Dolan who seemed to have a resigned look on his face. They didn't talk much on the way from the motel. Both of them just sat there, watching the sky get lighter and brighter the closer they got to the Roberts' house.

  At the front door someone pulled a curtain back and then opened it.

  A woman stepped onto the front porch with her hand out.

  "I'm Special Agent Jill Hanover. You must be Detective Sam Johnson."

  Hands were shook, introductions made. They all stepped inside.

  Sam saw Mrs. Roberts sitting on a couch, a Kleenex in hand. He could see she'd been crying. A woman Sam didn't recognize appeared to be consoling her.

  "On what grounds are you here? My task force was put together years ago. We're handling this case."

  "Not anymore."

  "On what grounds, I asked?" He didn't want to get angry, nor have a confrontation with a fellow officer of the law, but he was so close to finishing this that he didn't want to let it go.

  "An officer has been killed and another officer assaulted. A member of the Ward family has been shot. Do you know how many agents are involved with the Ward family? An eighteen year old is out there," she stopped talking and turned away. Sam followed Jill's eyes. She was looking at Mrs. Roberts. "We will continue this conversation on the back deck," she said and walked away from Sam and Dolan.

  Sam gritted his teeth and followed her. This was the first time he'd ever been removed from a case. It felt disrespectful. It pissed him off.

  He stepped out onto the back deck. The wind had picked up. It was tossing agent Hanover's long blond hair into her face. She had to keep brushing it aside.

  "As I was saying; we've got an eighteen year old girl out there with this maniac and you still think this is just a kidnapping."

  "I am quite aware of what's happening. I've been at this long enough to know what I'm doing. Within a couple of days, this will be wrapped up. We don't need you."

  "It's wrapped up now. Are you aware what the other officers are saying about you and your little psychic friend here?"

  Sam looked over at Dolan where he leaned against the railing of the wooden deck. The strong eastern wind was having its way with his short hair too.

  "Leave him out of this. I asked him to be here because he's helped us tremendously in the past. Without Dolan, there were some girls who may not have made it home."

  "It doesn't matter anymore. You're both off this case. I'll need everything you have so far. Relinquish all your files to my partner agent Fergus Mant and don't think about any Lone Ranger stuff or you'll be dealing with obstruction charges. All the paperwork you need from us is at the front for you to sign."

  Sam turned around and stormed off the wooden deck. He heard Dolan close behind as he walked through the kitchen and down the hall to the front door.

  He bumped into Mike, his tech guy. Since they wouldn't need him at the Roberts house anymore, he told Mike to ride with him and Dolan. He may need him for something else. Mike said he'd meet them out front.

  Sam paused for in the living room area and nodded at Mrs. Roberts. When he started this case he promised to do whatever he could to bring Sarah home safe.

  He wasn't about to give up.

  He would keep his promise.

  Chapter 48

  Amelia sat alone on the edge of a bed in a room at a Holiday Inn. Caleb had gone to have lunch by himself and Tracy had gone to her own room next door. The FBI psychologist had insisted on adjoining rooms.

  Apparently it would be better for the parents to be here than in their own home while the police did their jobs.

  Amelia knew this was only to help control Caleb. After his little performance last night, that new female FBI agent wasn't going to have him moping around the house, getting in the way.

  Our house, she thought.

  She got up and moved to the window. The wind had died down a little, the trees only bending slightly. In the distance she could see a highway, trucks and cars racing by. She wondered where Sarah was right now. Then she stopped herself. Thinking about Sarah only led to negative dark thoughts.

  Amelia stepped away from the window and went back to the bed where she flopped down. Caleb told her Sarah had saved Mary from a kidnapping. What was that all about?

  Mary was asked to lie for Sarah the night she was taken. What had her daughter been up to? Amelia used both hands to run through her hair and tighten her grip in frustration as she realized that she was thinking about Sarah again. But how couldn't she?

  A part of her really felt she knew nothing about her daughter. Yet she always thought she did.

  After her diagnosis of depression and subsequent prescription of Zoloft, Amelia felt a deeper connection with Sarah. Evidently her daughter hadn't.

  Amelia didn't know how much she'd be able to handle. She hoped this would be all over soon. Life had to get back to some sort of reasonable control.

  How is a parent supposed to lose both her girls to kidnappers? Wasn't one enough? She didn't think she'd be able to handle losing Sarah.

  The phone rang.

  She looked at it. Why would Caleb call her? He was just down the hall in the restaurant.

  It rang again.

  No one knew she was here but Caleb and the FBI and Tracy was in the next room.

  The incessant ring came a third time. Amelia picked it up.

  "Hello."

  At first she heard nothing. Then a distant sound came to her. It sounded like the wind at the end of a tunnel.

  A young female voice whispered, "I'm okay."

  The hairs on her neck rose, she shivered as goose bumps roamed her arms. "Who is this?"

  "Vivian."

 
; That couldn't be. What a cruel trick. Amelia wiped a tear away. She could hear someone knocking on the motel room door.

  "Who is this?" she shouted. Her eyes were wide, but unseeing. Her heart beat a pulse through her, breath coming in gasps. This was the worst trick someone could play on her.

  "Hi, mommy," the soft female voice whispered. "I'm okay. I'm with Sarah."

  "Is Sarah dead?"

  She wondered why she was playing along with this. She switched the phone to her left hand and pressed it hard against her left ear.

  "No, she's alive."

  The voice faded away. The knocking on the motel room door was a hammering now.

  "A note will be left for you in a van."

  The line went dead.

  "Vivian! Vivian! Oh, my baby."

  Amelia collapsed on the floor between the beds.

  The motel room door flew open. Caleb rushed up.

  "What happened? Why were you screaming?"

  He kneeled down and placed his arms around her. They held each other. Amelia could feel Tracy in the room. She wasn't going to talk to Caleb with the psychologist hanging around.

  She felt Caleb move his hand, subtly asking Tracy to leave them alone.

  Amelia heard the soft hush of the door shutting.

  She looked up at her husband and told him everything. Whether he believed it or not, Amelia knew she'd talked to her daughter. She knew it with the maternal instinct God gave her.

  If the line between sanity and insanity had been crossed then she knew exactly what side of the line she was on.

  And now she was determined to get out of this motel room and find a van with a note in it.

  Chapter 49

  The cramps doubled her over. She'd felt hunger in the past, but not like this. Out of habit, she reached up and yanked hair inside the bandana line. She could handle this. Try to ignore the pain. Think of better times.

  She thought of what she'd written down during the last blackout. It made her pull a little more. Everything always felt better with the pulling. Who cared anyway? It didn't matter what she looked like. She'd gone way too far in the years past with her hair. Only stray patches remained on her head.

  Getting those prophetic messages and then acting on them, she actually thought she was doing something good. She cared. But no else does.

  Look at the mess she was in now. She couldn't even remember how long she'd been with this sadist. Two days? Or could it be longer than that? Four days?

  She leaned back and stretched out across the wooden bench. With her hands out of her hair, she placed them together on her stomach and shut her eyes. She imagined this was how she'd look in her coffin. She didn't want to be the one to let go, give up, but what else was there? If there ever was a chance to run, she'd have to take it.

  "You asleep back there or are you having a blackout?"

  She didn't answer him. With her eyes closed, he'd never know the difference. The currency of hope was almost paid out. This game of ruining lives he played was ending. She didn't know how she could still be going after all the people she'd seen killed. The cop on the highway, who probably had a family, didn't have to die. The only reason she had the ability to get through this was because of the Automatic Writing. Seeing violence, injuries and near death situations for the last six months had changed her. Yet this situation had changed her too. It was like she was jaded now. She once heard that the only thing that separated humans from animals was our capacity to hope and she wasn't sure she possessed any of it. No hope, nothing to lose.

  "I've got to get gas. I'll pick up some take-out at this restaurant up ahead?"

  She felt the speed decrease. Then the gentle turn onto a gravel surface. The transmission was shifted into park and the engine died. She kept her eyes closed and didn't move. She listened as he got out of his seat and made his way back towards her.

  There was a moment of silence. She wanted to open her eyes to see what he was doing. The interior of the van became silent.

  A knock on the window made her jump. Her heart rate spiked along with her breathing. She tried hard to remain still. Did he notice her movement? She wouldn't risk opening her eyes yet.

  Then she heard him shuffling to the front of the van. An attendant wanted to know if he could fill the van with regular or super. The door opened and she felt the vehicle move a little under Gert's weight.

  He had stepped out.

  This was her best chance. She was untied and unwatched. She couldn't be with Gert any longer. She couldn't handle more people dying.

  This ended now.

  She opened her eyes and got up. A Volkswagen van was parked up ahead getting gas by a young brown haired guy. He wore what looked like a gas station uniform with his name sewn into the left breast pocket.

  She grabbed the pad of paper Gert had given her and removed the note she'd written for her mother a half-hour ago. A slot between the bench and the side of the van was a perfect fit. She left a small corner sticking out. It was just enough for someone to see if they were in the back, but not enough for the driver to notice.

  She folded the rest of the pad and slipped it in her pocket.

  In a crouched position she made her way towards the front. She kept her eyes peeled on the windshield, looking for any sign of Gert.

  It wasn't until she reached the passenger seat that she saw him. He was inside the restaurant at the counter.

  She opened the driver's side door and jumped down, her legs wobbly, but strong enough to sustain her.

  The attendant smiled and nodded his head as he lifted the nozzle out of the Volkswagen. She waved her hand for him to come over.

  "What can I do for you?" he asked.

  She could tell he was staring at her eyebrows. The makeup she used to paint them on would have faded by now. Her clothes were in disarray and she probably looked dirty, gaunt. She had no time to be concerned with appearances though.

  Her eyes watered as she fought back tears. What a horrible time to start crying, she thought.

  "I've been kidnapped. You've got to help me. My name is Sarah Roberts. That man who asked you to fill up the van is a murderer. He killed a cop on the highway." Then she thought of something that would explain how she looked. "Look what he's already done to me. He's torturing me by slowly pulling all my hair out." She tugged on his sleeve. "Please help. Call the police."

  "Okay, slow down. I do recall they were looking for a guy who kidnapped a girl. I only saw the cover of today's newspaper in the box over there." He pointed.

  "He'll be coming back any minute. I have to be gone, or he'll kill me."

  "Hold on. I'll just pick up a phone and tell him I'm calling the police. He won't do anything crazy in public. You go hide behind a car at the back of the building or something. Just stay hidden."

  "No. No you can't. Don't you understand? He has nothing to lose." She darted a glance at the counter where she saw him moments before. He was gone. "He doesn't care. He won't hesitate to kill you too."

  This isn't working. She told him to call the police discreetly as soon as he could. Then she turned and started to hobble away. She stumbled on her weak limbs, but managed to maintain her balance.

  Exposed, out in the open, she gave it her all. The tree line would provide cover.

  The trees drew close. Twenty more steps.

  She looked to her right. Cars raced by on the highway. People in their own world, completely unaware an eighteen year old was running for her life.

  Panic set in. She could feel it. Her breathing hitched in her throat. She felt eyes on her. She anticipated a bullet in the back at any moment.

  She didn't waste time to look over her shoulder. If he'd seen her making a break for it then he'd give chase or shoot her.

  She'd either make the cover of the trees or be shot, which amounted to this ordeal ending. Something about death seemed desirable, like food. She was so hungry she could taste the smell coming from the gas station's restaurant, her mouth chewing.

  Leaves a
nd branches brushed her arms as she dropped down a small three foot rise. The cover of trees swallowed her. She stopped about ten feet in.

  While catching her breath she tried to hear if someone was pursuing her. She peeked through the branches by pulling one down. The gas attendant was out of sight. She couldn't see Gert either.

  She made it. She'd escaped. A flush came over her. Could this really be done?

  She'd wait in the trees for a few hours. Maybe until the cover of dark or when the police arrive.

  Then the gas attendant appeared at the side of the van pulling the nozzle out and replacing the gas cap. He looked her way once before walking around to the front and heading for the restaurant.

  Gert came into view.

  She ducked down. Being blind was worse. She pulled on a branch and raised herself a little to look across the parking lot.

  She could see Gert and the attendant talking. Gert was shaking his head.

  She turned around and started deeper into the thicket. This was over for her. She was determined to put as much geography between her and Gert as she could.

  ***

  "You're all filled up sir. It came to fifty-eight dollars."

  Gert studied the guy. He looked to be around seventeen. But something was wrong because the kid's eyes couldn't hold still. He looked past Gert's shoulder, then back, then over to the pumps and on to a car going by on the highway. He rubbed his hands together and looked down at them like the grease stains were suddenly very interesting. Maybe the kid noticed the bulge of the gun under Gert's shirt and recognized it for what it was.

  Gert guessed they were about six feet from the van. Could this kid have talked to the girl?

  He kept his eyes on the nervous kid while he stepped backwards to look in the vans windows. He cupped his hands around his eyes to see all the way to the back.

  No Sarah.

  He spun around, dropped the paper bag of greasy burgers and pulled his gun.

  The gas jockey was running. He almost made it to the safety of the restaurant.