Mississippi Heat, page 7
Holding her breath, she listened. She heard the leaves fluttering in the night breeze, the sounds of crickets chirping. And, yes, the sound of tires on gravel that seemed just a bit closer than they were.
Lacey looked for that beam of light, noticed it was still sweeping away from where she crouched. Rising just enough to see through the windows of the truck, Lacey looked towards the house. There were lights on, she noticed with a glimmer of hope. Hope that surged when she saw movement. Deciding it was now or never, Lacey moved around the front of the truck and made a mad dash for the back of the house. As she’d not been expecting them, she tripped on the steps to a deck and made her way up them on all fours. On a half sob, she reached the back door and began to bang on it with clenched fists. In a matter of seconds, it was opened by a woman, her golden-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and a look of irritation on her face.
“What in the world is--” At the sight of a pale and wide-eyed Lacey, sweaty and disheveled, she cut her question short. “Oh, my word. Come on in here, honey.”
Without a word, Lacey followed the woman into the house, directly into the kitchen. The trembling she’d been doing since the moment she’d been snatched from the woods turned to near-violent shaking.
“Sit down here and let me take a look at you.” With a gentle hand, the older woman guided Lacey to a kitchen chair, pulling it out for her and giving her a soft push to sit. “My name’s Terry.”
“I know.” Wrapping her arms around her midsection, Lacey looked at the woman now sitting across from her. “You’re friends with my parents.”
“Oh, my God.” Recognition dawned in Terry’s eyes as she realized who was sitting in her home. “You’re Lacey Fuller.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Sweet Jesus. Everybody’s been looking for you. Bill,” she called into the other room. “I need you to get on the phone with the sheriff’s office.”
“Why?” A burly man came striding into the kitchen and, without taking notice of the scene unfolding, opened the refrigerator to rummage.
“Well, if you’d get your mind off your stomach long enough, you’d see why.”
The stern tone of his wife’s words had him turning and realizing they had company. And, like his wife, realized who he had sitting at his kitchen table.
“Hey, there. Lacey, right?” At her nod, Bill gave one of his own. “Sure am glad to see you. Word went out as soon as Brooks sent up the signal you were gone.”
“Is he okay? Brooks?”
“Far as I know.” Bill turned to look at his wife. “Hon, why don’t you go get a blanket for Lacey? I think she might be in shock.”
“Yes. You’re right.” Lacey watched as Terry stopped long enough to give her a thorough onceover. “And maybe a washcloth and some first aid supplies to get you cleaned up some.”
“No, ma’am.” Lacey gave a jerky shake of her head. “I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
“What I mean is, I need to keep everything just the way I am right now. It’s evidence.”
“Definitely a cop’s daughter,” Bill cut in with a chuckle. “She’s right, but go ahead and grab her a blanket though. And speaking of your father,” he paused as he reached for the phone, “I better be giving him a call.”
While Bill made the call, Terry hurried back in with a thin blanket to wrap around Lacey’s shoulders. Lacey pulled it tight around her, her knuckles going white as she gripped the edges of the fabric.
“Can I get you anything, honey?” Terry asked quietly. “Something to drink or eat?”
“I’m pretty thirsty,” Lacey replied in a near whisper.
“How about I get you some water? Or maybe some tea?”
Lacey just nodded and watched as Terry moved to the cabinets, took down a glass, and filled it with ice and tea. When she took a small plate and filled it with cookies from the jar on the counter, Lacey could feel the tears well up in her eyes.
“Hey,” Terry crooned as she set the glass and plate on the table before taking the chair opposite Lacey. She reached out to rub Lacey’s upper arms gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” When the tears rolled down Lacey’s cheeks, the woman did what came naturally and pulled the girl into a hug, running a hand in circles on her back.
Bill came back into the kitchen as he finished up the call. Setting the phone aside, he watched the scene in front of him and waited until they parted.
“Lacey?” Bill stepped forward to rest a hand on the back of his wife’s chair. “I just got off the phone with the police station. Your folks are on their way here now, along with another deputy. They shouldn’t be too long.”
“Thank you.” Lacey sniffed loudly before she reached for the glass on the table. She took a long drink before setting it aside again with a sigh. “Thank you so much for helping me.”
“It’s what decent people do, honey.” Terry gave her a small smile. “It’s what we hope someone would do for our daughter if she needed it.” The older woman sat up straight and slapped both hands on her thighs. “Well, if we’re gonna have company, I think I need to get some coffee started. Eat you a couple of those cookies, Lacey. They’re my specialty and I think they’ll have you feeling some better. C’mon, Bill. Give me a hand.”
As Terry and Bill made their way back to the kitchen work area, Lacey eyed the plate of cookies. They did look good and, as her stomach was now reminding her, it had been a while since she’d eaten last. But that same stomach was still upset, still pitching about after everything she’d been through today.
She was still nibbling gingerly through her first cookie when the doorbell rang. Lacey set the cookie aside and listened as Bill went to answer it. The voices she heard, scared and shaky, had tears forming once more.
The next thing she knew, Bill was leading her parents into the kitchen and in a blur, the arms of her mother and father were banded tight around her. Their voices mingled together, an incoherent mix of words, as they looked her over, pressed kisses to her hair, and hugged her more.
“Oh, baby, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Her mother, tears streaming, couldn’t keep her eyes and hands from wandering, looking for injuries.
“I’m okay.” As she said the words, she realized they weren’t entirely true. I’m tired, Lacey thought, so very tired. And scared. And worried that things will never, ever be the same again.
“Lacey?” Another voice, one she knew as well as her father’s, piped up from the background. When her parents took a half-step back, she saw Hank Martin, her dad’s right-hand deputy. “You okay talking to me about what happened today?”
“I thought…” She looked to her father, who shook his head.
“We have to keep it as by-the-book as possible, so I won’t be the one to question you because I’m too close.” He gave her a smile and all Lacey could think was how much her dad seemed to have aged in just the short time she’d been gone. “So, Deputy Martin’s gonna handle things, if you’re okay with it.”
“It’s okay. Um…” She looked down at her clothes, dirty and ripped in spots from her struggles. “I know you’re going to need my clothes…”
“I brought a fresh set with me,” Lacey’s mom said quickly, reaching for her bag. “If there’s a place she can change?” She looked at Terry.
“Absolutely. There’s a guest bathroom right through there.” She pointed to a door Lacey hadn’t noticed before.
Lacey made her way to the bathroom and quickly changed her clothes. She had to resist the urge to wash her hands, her face. After all, as Bill had said, she was a cop’s daughter and knew better.
Coming out of the bathroom, she dropped her dirty clothing into the bag Deputy Martin held open for her. Once the clothes were inside, he sealed and signed it before setting it aside. Without a word, Lacey held her hands out to him. Her actions were met with a puzzled look.
“I scratched at him,” she said simply.
“Gotcha.” His single word reply was said with a quick grin and a glance in her father’s direction.
“There’s a kit in the back of the cruiser,” Mitch told him with his first genuine smile. “I’ll go grab it.”
“Alright. Now, while he’s doing that, Lace, let’s chat.” He gestured to the empty seats around the table before catching himself. He looked over to where Terry and Bill stood, leaning against the counter, and watching the scene unfold in their kitchen. “My apologies. We should probably take this to the station and get out of your way.”
“You’re absolutely fine to do what you need to do here, if that’s what makes Lacey comfortable,” Bill answered.
“I have coffee on for y’all. It’s just about ready.” Terry gave a nervous gesture to where the coffee maker gurgled and hiccupped.
“Much appreciated.” Deputy Martin gave a nod. “We’ll make this as quick as possible so you can have your kitchen back. Now, Lacey,” he said, turning back to her, “I want you to start from the beginning and tell me everything you can remember.”
“I will. But first, can you tell me if Brooks is okay?”
“He’ll be fine. Took quite a blow to the head and has an impressive knot to show for it. Got a concussion, but he’ll be okay here in a few days.”
“Good. I’m glad.” She watched as her dad came back in, handed the kit to his deputy, and took a nearby chair.
“I’m gonna work on collecting this while you tell me what happened.” He pointed to his phone. “I’ll be recording it, too. Okay?” At her nod, he opened the kit and got to work, leaving Lacey to start when she was ready.
“The man just came out of nowhere and hit him.” Lacey took everyone in the room through the sequence of events, barely breaking stride when Terry brought out a tray with coffee makings and mugs, then came back with more cookies and to top off Lacey’s glass.
The words seem to come out as if a dam had broken and there was no way to stop them. Lacey talked until she needed a drink to wet her dry throat, then talked some more. When she finally wound down, she felt drained and wished for nothing more than a long hot shower where she could scrub her skin clean of the day, followed by hours of sleep.
“This man,” Deputy Martin began, as he sealed the scrapings and nail trimmings into a bag, “did he… touch you in any way that wasn’t appropriate?”
“No. The only time he ever touched me at all was when he took me from the woods and put me in the car.”
She could hear the twin sighs of relief from her parents as the deputy asked his next question.
“Can you describe this person?” Deputy Martin had tugged a small notebook out of his pocket and was now taking notes.
“All I know is it was a man.” Lacey hesitated. “I never really saw his face. He grabbed me from behind and I could tell from his build it was a man.”
“Can you describe his build?” At her look of uncertainty, Deputy Martin gave her some guidance. “When he first grabbed you, how tall were you compared to him?”
“Oh,” she replied, understanding. Lacey closed her eyes and thought back. “I think my head met his chin, but it’s hard to say. He wasn’t super tall, but he wasn’t shorter than me either.”
“And how tall are you?”
“About five eight.”
“So, would it be accurate to say somewhere between five ten and six two?”
“Yes.” Lacey hesitated. “Yeah, I’d say that’s about right. He had to pick me up off the ground some, so that sounds right.”
“Okay. You said you didn’t see his face, but did you get any other impressions of him? Was he muscular? Did you catch the color of his hair? Notice any jewelry or tattoos?”
“He was strong, but not really muscular. I mean, he had muscles but wasn’t…bulky. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.”
“He was wearing a hoodie so I didn’t catch a hair color. The hoodie was plain black, one like I’ve seen dozens of kids at school wear. Um… I didn’t notice any jewelry or tattoos, but it happened so fast. There is one thing though. He was wearing cologne. It was kind of strong, and really familiar, but I couldn’t place it.”
“That’s okay. You can let us know later if it comes to you.” The deputy leaned forward a bit, propped an elbow on the table. “What about his car? You said you were in a trunk.”
“Yeah. When he dropped me in it, I was facing towards the front of the car, with my back to him.”
“Did you happen to catch a color of the car? Maybe a make or a model?”
“I suck at identifying cars,” she confessed with a shake of her head. “All I can tell you is that this one was a maroon color.”
“Think back to when you escaped from the trunk. When you were running, did you look back at the car, to see if he was behind you?”
“Once, I think, really quick.”
“Can you close your eyes and try to remember the car itself? Is it two doors or four?”
“Um.” Closing her eyes, Lacey brought the moment back to mind. Immediately, her heart began to race and her breathing quickened. She could feel the palms of her hands begin to sweat. When a hand came to rest on her shoulder, she jerked without thinking, springing from her chair, and scanning the room with wild eyes.
“You’re okay, honey.” Her dad walked over to where his daughter stood, tensed and braced to run. “You’re okay.”
She focused on his face, saw his sad and weary eyes focused on hers. Lacey made herself relax, made herself slow her breathing as she allowed her father to lead her back to the chair to sit once again.
“Have a drink there, Lace.” Deputy Martin nudged her glass closer. “Take a few deep breaths.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered before taking a long sip of tea.
“Nothing to be sorry about. You have every reason to be on edge. We’ll take it nice and slow, and start again when you’re ready.”
“I just want to get this over with.” Lacey set the glass back on the table with a soft thump. Taking another deep breath, she closed her eyes again and focused on that split second when she would have seen the car.
“He was yelling,” she began slowly. “I pushed past him and started to run. My eyes were stinging a little, because I’d gotten caught in some of the spray. I just started running and… yes, I did look back once. It was over my shoulder, because I wasn’t going to stop running.” Pausing for a beat, Lacey did her best to bring the image to mind. “I can’t think of much about the car, other than it was maroon and I’m pretty sure it was a four door.”
“No markings on it to indicate model? No scrapes or dents?”
“Not that I remember seeing. Sorry.”
“No worries.” The deputy made a few notes before moving on to his next question. “Did he ever say anything to you or speak in any way?”
“The only time I heard his voice was when he yelled after I sprayed him. He never said anything to me, so I can’t tell you anything about his voice or an accent.”
Deputy Martin smiled as he noted this down. “Yes, definitely a cop’s daughter.” Looking up to meet her eyes again, he asked, “Is there anything else you can remember that you’d like to tell me? Anything at all?”
“Um.” She glanced over at her dad, who was sitting and staring into his coffee. “There is one thing.”
“Okay?”
“I left some things in his trunk.”
“Such as?”
“Hair. I pulled some out and stuck it in a place he couldn’t easily see. Um, blood.” She held up her hand, showed the deputy the cut. “I took off the bandage and tossed it into a corner, then opened this up to drip onto the carpet.”
“You were listening,” her father murmured.
“Yes.” She gave him a small smile before turning back to the other officer. “And of course, my fingerprints are going to be all inside the trunk.” Lacey looked down at her lap where her fingers were twisting together. “Not that any of it will be much help if we don’t know who it is.”
“We’re a helluva lot closer now than we were yesterday. You did good, Lace.” Carefully, the deputy laid a hand on her arm. “I may need to talk to you again at some point, but for now, what do you say we have your parents take you home?”
7
Lacey barely remembered getting home from The Cider House. Once all the adrenaline had drained from her system, her body gave in to the fatigue and she fell asleep in the car. However, sleep didn’t last for more than a few minutes at a time, because with every bump they hit, Lacey jerked awake, scrambling for a way to escape. Each time, her mother soothed her from where she sat next to her in the back seat.
The pattern repeated itself all throughout the night. Lacey would sleep for short stretches of time before her brain would wake long enough to tell her body it was in danger. She’d thrash in the sheets, clawing her way to consciousness, her breath heaving and a scream lodged in her throat. And each time, one of her parents would be sitting by her bedside, ready to calm her down and help her realize she was home, she was safe. Finally, her mother convinced her to take a sleeping pill. Lacey took it in hopes of going into a sleep so deep, she’d forget everything that had happened in recent days. At least for a little while.
As a result, Lacey slept until nearly noon the next day, stunned to wake and find the sun high in the sky, the light beaming brightly through the filmy curtains at her window. Not wanting to move from the safety of her bed just yet, she stared through that window and let her mind wander. She had no idea what she was going to do with her day and she doubted her parents would let her get very far from their sight. Which meant she was more than likely spending the day at home, in the quiet where her mom could-and would-fuss over her.
Lacey was pulled from her musings at the sound of her parents talking. What was her dad doing at home in the middle of the day? The question flashed in her mind before she realized that, like her mother, her dad would want to fuss some, too. And had likely taken the day off so he could. Before she could slip from her bed to join her parents, their conversation caught her attention.
