Dark Visions Page 7

Who would be at her door at this hour?

  She walked down the hall until she reached a window, parted the curtains and looked out. She felt reasonably sure whoever was standing outside wouldn't see her because she didn't have any lights on.

  It was the security guard from the gate. He had a teenage girl with him.

  He knocked again.

  Esmerelda walked to the door and opened it. "Are you aware of the hour?"

  "I know and I'm sorry to bother you. It's just, this girl." The guard turned and Esmerelda could hear him ask what her name was again. "Mary, here, says that she has information for you about your daughter. She says it's urgent."

  Esmerelda looked past the guard and into Mary's eyes. "How do you know my daughter?"

  "I don't know her. I just have something to tell you about her."

  "Okay, like what?"

  "Maybe we should talk in your trailer."

  Esmerelda shook her head. "You can't come here at this hour, get me to let you into my trailer just to tell me where my daughter may be living or some other trivial piece of information. Whatever you have to say, you can say it out here."

  "Sarah sent me. She's the one who told me to come to you about Denise Hall, your daughter."

  Esmerelda stepped back. Her fingers gripped the door frame. No one even knew her daughter's name. After their falling out when her husband died, she stopped talking about Denise to anyone. It pained her too much to discuss the love of her life and how it had been destroyed. Most of her current friends weren't aware she even had a daughter.

  The security guard turned to Mary. "Wait a second. You don't mean the same Sarah who broke in here this afternoon, do you?"

  "I wouldn't know anything about that," Mary shook her head.

  Esmerelda cut in. "It's okay." She edged past the guard and gripped Mary's arm. "Come in inside so we can talk."

  Before shutting the trailer door, she thanked the security guard and bade him good night.

  Esmerelda motioned for Mary to take a seat. She flicked on a table lamp beside the couch and looked back at her guest.

  "Can I get you anything?"

  "No, thank you."

  Esmerelda came around and sat in her armchair, opposite Mary. "Where do you want to start?"

  "I think Sarah is in trouble."

  Esmeralda tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. "I know that. I tried to warn her when she came to see me."

  "It's not just her though. She said that Denise might get hurt too."

  Esmerelda sat back and raised a hand to her lips where she absently started nibbling on a nail. "How would she know about Denise? How could my daughter be involved with Sarah?"

  "I'm not exactly sure how it works. All I know is she gets told things about people. It's usually bad stuff. Things she has a chance to avert. Like when I met her. She saved me from being kidnapped."

  Esmerelda sprung forward. "She saved you? Are you saying she gets these messages and changes the future? She actually does something about it. That could be risky, even dangerous."

  Mary went on to tell her about how Sarah intervened six months ago and saved her from a certain kidnapping. How she offered Sarah her phone number, with a promise to repay her in any way. But Sarah didn't use the number until yesterday when she called for help.

  "Sarah was on her way to stop another kidnapping tonight. She knew it would be late before she got home and wondered if I would text her parents saying she was sleeping over. That way she could return home after midnight and say to her mom that we fought so she decided not to stay out."

  "Did you send the text?"

  Mary nodded her head.

  Esmerelda got up and grabbed the hands free phone. "We have to call the police. We've got to tell them what we know."

  "Wait, no. Sarah asked explicitly to not get the police involved."

  Esmerelda's thumb hovered. "Why? They're already investigating a hit and run on Birk Street. A witness said it was Sarah Roberts who drove the car."

  "How do you know that?"

  "It was on the news a few hours ago."

  "Sarah said she wouldn't be as effective if everyone knew who she was. She said that helping people had given her purpose after a number of years of depression. She doesn't want to stop."

  "Wow, she told you a lot."

  "She admitted that. She said she never really trusted anyone before, but recently felt nervous for her own safety. She said you might be able to help. She also told me to tell you that Denise is your daughter and she will be shot if not today, it'll be tomorrow."

  "That's it. I'm calling the police."

  Chapter 20

  Sarah stirred to consciousness. Everything ached. Her wrists and ankles were shackled to a heavy iron bed frame in one of the two rooms of the cabin. She'd spent the night falling in and out of sleep on the hard wood floor.

  Sunlight streamed through the old storm window of the room, blinding her. She guessed the time to be around 6:00am.

  She cocked an ear but heard nothing. The cabin sat silent. She shifted and moved but couldn't find a level of comfort.

  In the corner by the window sat an old looking desk and a wooden chair. On top of the desk was a small stack of paperback books. She leaned forward and slid the handcuffs up the iron rod to the top. This allowed her to be in a kneeling position about waist high.

  She looked at the storm window. Outside, she saw barren grass for about a hundred yards and then a wall of trees.

  Something sparkling in the sunlight on the window ledge caught her eye. She pushed herself a little harder against her restraints to get a better look. She saw the edge of a screwdriver. A couple of screws lay beside it. She looked to the left and saw fresh screws at the base of the wooden window.

  Then she understood. Her captor planned on keeping his intended victim here. He hadn't just nailed the windows shut, he'd screwed them down.

  She needed to get her hands on that screwdriver.

  The strain on her wrists was becoming more than she could bear. She dropped back to her knees and rolled onto her side.

  The door to her room banged open.

  "What're you doing?"

  Sarah looked up at him but didn't speak. He was unshaven and had bloodshot eyes. It looked like he was going through something internally that was driving him mad. She would swear he looked rabid.

  "You think you're smart, don't you? You're in here moving around, trying to get those restraints undone. Well, let me help you."

  He rushed over, dropped down and produced a key. In seconds, Sarah was free. She scampered on her butt up against the wall by the window. She wanted to show fear. She also wanted to grab the screwdriver when he turned his back. Maybe he'd give her enough time to drive it into his back.

  "I undid you so you can come out, use the bathroom and eat. Then you're tied up and in the trunk again. We're on the move. If you hear me tell you to stay quiet, then you do it. If you try to signal anyone, you'll cost them their life, and you'll pay that debt in pain, trust me. Do I make myself clear?"

  Sarah nodded.

  "I said, do I make myself clear?"

  Startled by his outburst, she stuttered her compliance.

  She was pulling again. One look at her fingers revealed hair as it fell from them. It had become an unconscious activity.

  He looked at her, bewilderment creased his brow. "What is the matter with you? Why are you missing all that hair? You got cancer or something?"

  Sarah shook her head.

  He walked over to her. "Go to the bathroom. Let's go. Last chance at a civilized rest stop." He said this last part while his arm pointed at the door.

  No chance to grab the screwdriver now. He hadn't taken his eyes off her the whole time.

  Ten minutes later after using the bathroom to clean the caked blood on the back of her neck and readjusting her bandanna, she was eating sandwiches at a wooden dinner table.

  Her captor watched her intently. It was almost like he was undressing her with his eyes.


  He told her he was going to make a phone call and that he would be right outside the cabin door for a few minutes. When he finished the call, they would be leaving.

  She had to walk all the way to the back of the cabin, grab the screwdriver, hide it somewhere and get back to the table before he noticed.

  No time to waste. He stepped out and secured the door behind him. She jumped from her chair and bolted to the back of the cabin as her joints shot pain through her legs. She brushed past the door to the room she'd been in, and stopped in front of the window.

  Her hand tightened on the handle of the screwdriver and held it to her chest. She had to get her breathing under control.

  Where could she hide it?

  The cabin door banged open.

  She lunged forward and then stopped. The screwdriver was still in her hand.

  He yelled for her.

  She spun into a corner of the room and jammed the tool into her right front pocket of her jeans. Before her hand came out, the screwdriver nicked the inside of her palm.

  She knelt down, leaning against the wall.

  He jumped into the room, his gun drawn.

  Sarah ducked her head down.

  "What're you doing? Trying the windows, are you?"

  She looked over at him as he crossed the room and checked the integrity of the window. He turned to her and placed his gun against the skin of her temple.

  "Get up."

  She remained on her knees, whimpering. She didn't want to stand in front of him for fear he'd see the impression the screwdriver was making on her jeans.

  "I said, get up."

  She shook her head.

  He rushed her.

  She thought he must have lost his balance because he fell into her. She was lifted by her shirt and shoved towards the door.

  Then his foot came out and knocked hers away from the floor. She fell hard, landing on her stomach before she could get her hands out in front to absorb most of the fall. A grunt escaped her lips as the tool in her pocket jabbed hard just below her hips.

  "I can see you will need to be taught a few lessons. When I say something, you do it or you get hurt. Understood?"

  She nodded her head.

  "Get up."

  With a struggle, she got to her knees and then to her feet.

  "Good. It appears you can learn a thing or two. Now walk. Go to the car and stand in front of the trunk."

  A minute later they were outside. He popped the trunk and motioned for Sarah to crawl in. She tried angling herself to avoid the tool in her pocket doing any further damage.

  Then his hands were on her back. He shoved her hard and fast.

  She had time to duck her head, but banged her right shoulder against the top of the trunk which caused a high pitched cry to escape her lips.

  The trunk lid came down fast, but not before she saw him smiling. Evidently her pain pleased him, she thought to herself.

  In the chaos of leaving the cabin he forgot to tie her up. Her wrists and ankles were free of restraint.

  She maneuvered in a way to pull the screwdriver out and started working on her escape.

  Chapter 21

  Caleb started for the door. If he was going to get his daughter back, he was going to do it his way. The police didn't help when Vivian was kidnapped and murdered years ago and he was convinced they wouldn't this time either.

  He stopped at the door. Did he really want to do this without Amelia? Would she understand? Could he tell her about the phone calls? It was always a fight with Amelia. She had to do it her way. If he told her what the caller said about Sarah this morning, she would be hysterical.

  But maybe she should be let in on this?

  He turned around and headed for the living room. His wife lay sprawled at a crooked angle on the couch, her neck twisted on the arm rest.

  "Amelia, wake up. It's nine-thirty in the morning. Sarah's still not home."

  She grunted a reply and turned to ease the pressure on her neck. She began massaging below her jaw as she winced.

  "What time is it?"

  "Nine-thirty in the morning."

  Amelia moved her head back and forth. He wasn't sure if she was saying 'no' or trying to get the muscles moving again.

  "I've got a splitting headache. Can you get me some tablets?"

  Caleb was back a minute later with pills and water. "Here, take these. Have a shower and we'll talk about what to do. I've called the plant and told them I wouldn't be in for a few days."

  "Give me a minute. Do you have coffee on?"

  He looked at his watch. Every minute was important. He was losing time. He made his decision.

  "I made some coffee. It's in the kitchen. Look, why don't you wake up, have a shower and get dressed and I'll be back before you know it."

  "Where're you going?"

  The doorbell interrupted them.

  "Stay here. I'll get it," Caleb said.

  He rushed to the door. When he looked through the peephole he saw two men. They looked like cops. Clean cut, one sporting a goatee. Both wore suits. One man was watching the street; the other was looking at the peephole.

  Caleb opened the door and offered a greeting. He lifted his hand to ward off the rising sun from going directly into his eyes.

  Goatee flipped through a notepad and asked, "Are you Caleb Roberts?"

  Caleb nodded. "Yes. Can I help you?"

  Were they coming to tell him that Sarah was found dead? He shook his head to banish the thought.

  They identified themselves as police officers.

  "Would your daughter Sarah be home?"

  "Not right now. Is something wrong? Is there anything I can help you with?"

  Goatee looked at his partner and then back to Caleb, who watched this as best he could with the sun glaring at him.

  "There was an incident downtown in the Entertainment District. A man was killed in a hit and run. There were witnesses who put your daughter at the scene. If you know where Sarah is, it's in her best interest to meet with us so we can straighten this out."

  "A man was killed?" Caleb asked, stunned. Maybe that's why she didn't come home. She was in a jail cell. But then these guys would know that. "Well, there must be a mistake because my daughter slept at a friend's house last night. I've got the text to prove it on my cell phone."

  Caleb felt his hand shaking as he held it up to block the sun. What had Sarah gotten herself into? Could she have actually killed a man?

  "Can we come in?"

  Goatee took a step forward.

  Caleb blocked his way. "Right now wouldn't be the best time."

  "And why would that be Mr. Roberts?"

  "It's my wife. She's not feeling well."

  He'd decided earlier there would be no police on this. If anything, they'd just bungle shit up. Especially not after the two phone calls he got this morning. Caleb had left a message for Dolan last night after Amelia had fallen asleep. This morning he got his return call. Dolan wasn't going to help with locating Sarah, even though that's what he does. Caleb had checked him out; he finds missing children and he has a good success rate.

  The other call told him not to involve the police, or Sarah would die.

  Today, the police would not be a part of his daughter's welfare. Caleb had other plans.

  "I'm afraid that finding your daughter is a priority and we would rather do that with your cooperation. So I need to ask; are you hiding Sarah?"

  "Look, I understand I may appear a little apprehensive. It's just; she's such a shy, introverted girl that I can't really believe all of your witnesses. What they said she's done is extremely unlikely. I'll talk to my wife. We'll make some calls. Leave me a number where I can reach you and when we talk to our daughter, I'll get to the bottom of this and then we'll call you."

  Goatee spoke first. "It's not that simple. There's more to this than a car accident."

  "What else is there?"

  "We found a notebook at the scene."

  Goatee turned and put his h
and out. His partner placed the notebook in his hand.

  "Do you recognize this? Is it Sarah's notebook?"

  Caleb nodded. He'd recognize it anywhere.

  "We scanned through it and found references to kidnappings, accidents and crime scenes; information that only people investigating those crime scenes would know. In some cases, Mr. Roberts, she appears to know what's going to happen and when, based on the dated entries. She's either psychic or she plans the accidents and then tries to save people. We don't know what to believe."

  Caleb couldn't control the waver in his voice. "What are you saying?"

  "There are references to Kim Wepps who was kidnapped and held for ten days. We believe your daughter has some involvement in these kidnappings. Remember, this notebook was found at a murder scene where witnesses put your daughter at and now we have confirmation from you that it is in fact Sarah Roberts' notebook. Do you understand why we have to find her now, before she does further damage."

  Could Sarah be a part of something this diabolical?

  "Tell him the rest," Goatee's partner said.

  "We got a call a couple of hours ago from a woman who claims she's from the Psychic Fair in town. She told us that your daughter was in some kind of trouble, which we already knew. The odd thing was she was told that her daughter was in trouble too. She says that her daughter is going to be shot in the next day or so. It looks like Sarah's planning something. We are going to have to find Sarah quite fast to stop this."

  Goatee had opened the notebook to the last page of writing. Caleb looked down and saw a word circled numerous times. He lowered his head to block the sun and saw the name 'Dolan'.

  He also saw save yourself beside it.

  He had wanted to corner that woman Esmerelda and make her fess up for her prophecy of danger. He also wanted to talk Dolan into helping.

  A thought was stirring in the back of his mind. Somehow, this whole thing has to do with the Psychic Fair.

  Dolan won't even see him coming.

  Chapter 22

  Sarah held on to the screwdriver by the cold steel shaft as she shifted her position. Her hands slid along the smooth velvety surface of the trunk liner until she came upon the plastic thumb screws directly behind the brake lights.