Trust Me II, page 46
“He won’t,” Sandra said, but she knew there really wasn’t anything to stop him if he really had a mind to do so. “He wants the money from Creighton and he knows if he harms us, he won’t get it.”
“I wish I was as brave as you are,” Sabrina said as the toilet flushed and Sandra stood up.
“I wish I was as brave as I sound,” she said stepping to the sink to wash her hands. “You’d better use the toilet; I don’t know how many more times I can use the excuse of motion sickness to stop.”
They stepped out of the small bathroom a few minutes later to find Bachmeier standing near the entrance as though guarding it, stepping aside as a woman with her three small children entered the store. He looked to Sandra and smiled a wicked grin as though to warn her he would shoot everyone, even the children, if she tried anything. Sandra glared to him, but chose to ignore it as she gathered several items off the shelves; chips, cookies, juice – her husband’s personal brand of course - candy bars and pretzels then walked to the counter and handed the cashier her credit card.
“Tell him to add the petrol,” Bachmeier snapped, making Sabrina actually jump. She turned to the man and spoke to him in French watching as he nodded his head. Fifty two euros later and they were back in the car, heading north once again. Sandra had convinced him to leave them unfastened so they could eat and hopefully prevent having to stop again…for a while at least. He locked the child locks on the back doors before feeling comfortable enough to drive on.
Sandra managed to get a glimpse behind them at the white SUV that was pulled off the side of the road, noticing Morris in the front seat. As much as she was glad to see her, she would much rather have preferred seeing Creighton. She wasn’t sure if they were flying in or taking the train, but she was certain he was nearby. Her watch face had turned from yellow to blue and she knew they were being tracked, but it wasn’t good enough. She was anxious and eager to see him again, to be held in his arms and told that he loved her.
Sabrina had seen the white vehicle herself and felt suddenly much more at ease, a fact Sandra hoped their kidnapper didn’t take notice of. Fortunately for them, he was too consumed with his cell phone to notice much else.
They drove on for nearly an hour more, watching the sun set as they sped through the towns, ignoring the main roads. Sandra glanced behind her as she adjusted her position in the seat in order to glance out the back window. The white SUV was gone, but the green Suburban behind them made her smile; Morris had switched out drivers as another team pulled in behind them. She was certain of it when the driver caught her eye and nodded softly, just enough for her to see it.
Bachmeier seemed to be getting nervous and she knew she had to do something to keep his eyes off the vehicle behind them. Taking a deep breath, she glanced to Sabrina who was actually dozing against the side door.
“Where are we going?” she asked the man in a soft tone, hoping to keep him calm.
“None of your business,” he snapped in return.
“How did you get away from that van before it caught fire?”
“I had help.” He smiled as he glanced through the rear-view mirror.
“The same help that got you out of jail early?”
“I was released on good behavior,” he snarled. Sandra ignored this and continued talking. The man wasn’t very intelligent and she was sure she could get a bit more information from him if she worked hard enough
“What makes you think Creighton owes you?”
“He put me in prison, he deserves the same kind of hell I had.”
“So you don’t think you deserved to go to jail for trying to kill him?”
“I didn’t try to kill him; I was trying to get my job back. The gun just went off; it was an accident.”
“One shot is an accident, two is coincidental, but three is attempted murder.”
“What makes you such an expert at guns?”
“I’m an American, remember?” she asked, trying to keep him talking. She knew with his distraction she could learn something more about all of this and how to help Creighton and Andrew put a stop to him and his partner.
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Have you ever heard of Al Capone? General Custer and the Indians? Jessie James? Guns are a part of our heritage and we know the difference between accidental shootings and murder.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” he snarled. “I think it would be best if you just shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”
“Why are you afraid of him?” she asked, ignoring his threat. Bachmeier looked at her through the rear-view mirror again, his eyes glaring at her in the dim light of the interior console.
“I don’t fear him,” he said in a low tone that sounded more like an angry hiss.
“Then why not go after him directly? Why take your anger out on his family and property? That’s the kind of actions that shout coward.” The car swerved as he turned around to confront her, his arm rose as though to hit her, but he quickly adjusted his steering and ground his teeth together.
“I won’t tell you again to shut your damned mouth.” His voice was low but threatening and Sandra decided it was probably a good idea to do as he said, but not before folding her arms across her chest like a sulking child.
“Fine,” she said with as much venom and irritation as she could summons. “But I don’t think your partner would want to know you’re afraid of my husband.”
“I told you I’m not afraid of anything, especially that farm boy.”
“So stop and let us out; you can go find Creighton for yourself. I’m sure the two of you can take him…or at least give it a good attempt.”
“We’re not ready to take him on just yet,” the man snarled with a sickening grin. “His time will come soon enough.”
“Whatever,” she said again. “It just seems like a waste of time to me. This whole scenario is like a paperback novel; you’re the muscles, he’s the brains and between the two of you, you may manage to shake things up a bit, but only until the cops find you.”
“What do you know about any of this?” he asked in an angry tone. “He’s not the brains, I am; I’m the one who thought up the threats; I’m the one who set the animals loose and I’m the one who managed to get hold of both of you. He’s just sitting back in his cushy flat telling me what to do. If it wasn’t for me, he’d still have those idiots after him. Damn fool and his gambling, that’s the real waste of time.”
“So how much are you asking as ransom; two, three million? That’s not really much to divide between two people. Why not ask for more, or better yet, keep it for yourself. That’s what I would do.” She turned her head and saw the suburban pull up alongside of them. The dark skin man in the passenger seat stared at her with concern as they pulled ahead of Bachmeier while the familiar white SUV turned onto the road behind them again.
Sandra knew they were safe but hoped their visitors didn’t do anything to rescue them just yet. She was determined to find out who was on the other end of those phone calls and stop the harassment and fears once and for all. She just hoped there was enough strength left in her tired frame to deal with the events she knew were about to commence. She told Creighton that a person learned to read the air around them and right now the small confines of the sedan was filled with electricity and anxiety; but from which one of them was it being emitted was the question.
“Nobody’s asking you and we are going for more,” Bachmeier answered, his hideous laughter filling the car. “Fifteen million; that’s what we want,” he said proudly. “How’s that for a nice sum eh?”
“Yeah I guess, for amateurs. I happen to know my husband is worth more than that, at least five times more. He’d pay all of it to get rid of you two.”
“He doesn’t even know where we are; he still thinks I’m dead, I heard it on the news.”
“His brother told him you were still alive,” she said, hoping to keep her tone even as she played with the sleeve of her shirt. “The autopsies on the bodies in the van proved it. Why else would he increase security at the farm?” Bachmeier was quiet for a few minutes, his eyes shifting from the road to the woman’s reflection in the mirror.
“Doesn’t matter, he won’t figure out where we’re going or who I’m working with in time to save you.”
“You sure about that?” she asked with a wicked half grin. “Do you think he doesn’t know your little Italian friend is waiting for us?”
“How did he find out about…shut up! I’m done talking to you.” Sandra shrugged her shoulders and adjusted her position in the seat before closing her eyes. She hoped she looked as relaxed and nonchalant as she wished she felt. The truth was, she was more than nervous about the man waiting for them…wherever they were going. As for the Italian, she could only guess at who the man might be and unfortunately only one person came to mind…Donato Vigano, The Don.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It was late night when the car pulled off the main road and into the parking stall of a small hotel a short distance past a small sign that read Beauvais. Sandra frowned, she had no idea where they were or why they were stopping, but the thought didn’t last long as Bachmeier checked his phone again, then climbed out of the car. He pulled the door next to Sabrina open so quickly she nearly fell out then grabbed her by the hair and stood her up.
“Get out,” he told Sandra who bent over momentarily and picked up something from the floor, as she slid across the seat and did as she was told. He shut the door to the car and walked around the side of the building. He reached up above the small light hanging over a door that read F and unlocked the dirty handle.
“Inside,” he told them, shoving Sabrina in after Sandra, nearly causing them both to topple to the floor with the impact.
“Where are we?” Sandra demanded as he shut the door and flipped on the light switch beside it, locking the barrier and turning around.
“Why are you so full of questions?” he asked, his lip curling upward as if disgusted.
“Occupational habit,” she replied, her tone matching his.
“Sit down and shut up. We’re staying here tonight.”
“Why?” she asked, looking around at the dirty room with two small beds.
“Because I’m tired of listening to you and I want to get drunk. Now sit down and shut up.” He placed a large hand on her shoulder and pushed her so hard; she fell onto the floor beside the bed. It took all of ten seconds before she was back on her feet, the pain in her back and hip ignored as she stood facing him.
“You will not drink so long as you have us in your presence,” she said, biting the words as she spoke them.
“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch.” He stepped up so close to her that she felt like she was going to vomit on him; the smell of stale cigarettes, sweat and severe halitosis was enough to knock a bull over. Instead, she held her position and squared off against him. It would be all too easy to knock him down; she knew how and she was quite certain she could do it, but she was determined to remain calm until she found out who his partner was.
“Touch me again and those three years you spent in prison will seem like a Sunday stroll down Broadway.” Her voice was low but the threat and the heat behind the words were clear. Sabrina stood by the end of the bed, her eyes wide as she watched the two, fear and admiration mingled behind the terror of what may happen.
“Sit down and shut up,” he told her again, his tone less threatening as he stared into her bright green eyes. Sandra stood there for several seconds until he removed the gun from his jacket pocket and pointed it at Sabrina, pulling the hammer back. Sandra clenched her jaw tight and obeyed, her eyes never leaving his. She wanted him to know if he did what he was threatening, he wouldn’t get out of the room in one piece.
“Get over here,” Bachmeier told the girl who stood trembling at the end of the bed. Sabrina took two hesitant steps toward Sandra, who reached out and snatched her hand, pulling her down beside her. He took the handcuffs he had in his pocket from when he released them earlier and secured one hand each together again.
“Lay down,” he said with a wicked smile.
“Why?” Sandra asked. She knew he was feeling slightly more in control with them cuffed together again, but she wasn’t about to let him think he was winning.
“Don’t worry, bitch, I have no intention of touching either one of you. I just want you out of my way and silent for a while.”
Sabrina moved up the bed without hesitation pulling Sandra with her. The bed was little more than a twin size, making them very cramped as they lay side by side. He moved up to the top of the bed and cuffed Sandra’s hand to the rickety metal post of the old headboard before moving to Sabrina. Once they were snugly fastened, he looked down at them and smiled, drawing a deep breath.
“That’s better,” he said before walking into the bathroom. He returned a moment later with two wash clothes that Sandra assumed were clean, though they were dingy and grey. He held Sabrina’s head still as he stuffed one into her mouth then smiled at Sandra, following suit. Once he was content with the way they were restrained he walked to the second bed, took off his coat and threw it to the brown upholstered chair next to the door, covering the rip that ran along the top and down the side where the stuffing was beginning to show.
“Now don’t go anywhere,” he laughed as he walked to the door and looked out the small window beside it. “I’ll be back when I’ve had my fill of whatever this town has to offer.” He left the room and the two women alone, shutting the light off as he locked the door. Sandra listened to the off-key whistle as he turned the corner and sighed, relieved that they were alone, for a short time at least.
She turned her head as Sabrina began to sob, then pushed the cloth out of her mouth with her tongue. Her mouth was dry but it wasn’t impossible to tolerate and she began to feel around the side of the handcuffs, smiling when she felt the small button. Sabrina stopped crying when she realized Sandra was free and pulling the cloth from her mouth.
“How did you do that?” she asked in amazement.
“I know how these things work. I just didn’t want him to know it. Are you alright?”
“Yes, but I’m scared. Sandra please, let’s get out of here. I’m sure Crey and Andrew can force a confession out of him; he’ll tell them who is behind this.” Sandra slipped a reassuring arm around the younger woman’s shoulders and hugged her to her chest. She needed to convince her to remain calm and try to relax as much as possible. There were plenty of times they could have escaped; Bachmeier really wasn’t as keen of a kidnapper as he would like to think, but she was determined to find out who this other person was.
“What happened to your parents?” she asked.
“He caught dad outside and they struggled by the back door,” Sabrina said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “He shot dad, but I don’t think it was very bad. It just looked like he caught his shoulder.”
“Thank God,” she whispered.
“Please, Sandra, let’s get out of here. I’m really scared.”
“I want to leave too, but we can’t,” she said in a hushed tone. “We need to stay with him for a while longer. Remember, I’m armed, I can take care of him if we need to.”
“How is that possible when we’re handcuffed like common thieves?” Sandra smiled brightly, raising her arms up to show Sabrina that they were free.
“We aren’t handcuffed now, are we?”
“How did you do that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at her sister-in-law’s shadow sitting next to her.
“Promise not to tell anyone?” she asked, seeing her nod in the dim light that blinked in from the hotel sign outside. “Creighton likes to play sometimes,” she said with a blush, thankful for the room’s dark interior. “He has a set of handcuffs and he’s shown me how to use them in case I need to get lose.”
“Ewww,” she said in an amused tone. “I don’t think I really want to know that.”
“That’s how I know how to use these. We’ll need to get back into them when he returns, but in the meantime, I have the car keys if you’re hungry.” Sandra held up the keys and dangled them in front of her face so she could see them flash in the shadow of the neon lights.
“How did you get them?” Sabrina asked in a tone of amazement.
“He dropped them when he pulled you out of the car. He didn’t even realize it.”
“Are you going to give them back to him?”
“I don’t know, probably, but not until he goes crazy trying to find them.”
“Why are you antagonizing him?” Sabrina asked in a hushed tone as they slipped out of the room, blocking it open with a chair while they scurried to the car and retrieved their many snacks and juice, then returned just as silently and closed the door again.
“When I was a younger, we had a neighbor who acted like him; all tough, thinking he was so suave and sexy. He had the same attitude and I tried to be nice to him for a while, until he thought I was easy and tried to get me into bed with him. I broke his nose and two ribs. He was more chicken than man.”
“Just please be careful. I don’t want him hurting you.”
“He won’t hurt you either, I won’t let him. Just try very hard to stay as invisible as possible. He doesn’t like me and I’m going to make sure he remembers that. If he’s too busy arguing with me, he’ll forget about you.”
“Creighton will never forgive me if he does anything to you while you’re trying to protect me.”
“Don’t worry about your brother,” Sandra smiled, glancing to her watch and smiling at the soft green glow of the face as she checked the time. It was already one o’clock in the morning and she sighed. She wanted to sleep but she was afraid to, afraid of what she may miss or what she may learn, but she was fading quickly.
They ate the last of the cookies and chips and drank one of the two bottles of juice before stowing the packages beneath the bed. Sandra took the pen from her sleeve and scrawled a note on the Oreos bag as the sound of Bachmeier’s slurred whistle could be heard through the air. He was back and was fumbling with the lock, just long enough that Sandra was able to reconnect the cuffs and pretend she was asleep.
