Sara's Game Read online

  Sara

  Sara tried to straighten her legs. The cage closed in; the metal bars formed the sides of a coffin. The absence of light was so complete that she could have been buried alive, under mounds and mountains of dirt, under roots and worms, under rocks and a thick gravestone. The only reminder that she was indeed alive was Teddy whimpering and shuffling behind her. Outside the cage, but inside his own prison. Inches and miles away.

  Hours had passed. Or was it minutes? Time doesn’t stand still in a vacuum, but in the absence of everything else, it loses all form, becomes elusive and teasing. Taunting with its childish game of ‘catch me if you can’.

  Sara shifted to one side, rubbed the skin on her behind, massaging out the deep crevices left by the thin, metal wiring. Toes numb. Back aching from being hunched over for so long. Neck stiff and throbbing. She could smell the dried sweat on her running clothes. Felt guilty for wanting the luxury of a shower when the world around her was covered in physical and emotional blackness.

  Sara pawed the cage floor and found the bottle of water. Took a small sip, rationing what remained. Partly as preservation, partly as a preventative. The tingling sensation in her bladder wasn’t going away, no matter how hard she tried to direct her thoughts elsewhere. She refused to allow her abductor the satisfaction of torturing Teddy to get what she wanted. She would piss on the floor inside her cage before she would give in.

  I won’t let them win, she thought. I won’t.

  Sara twisted Brian’s ring around her thumb, feeling the sweat between skin and metal.

  Why...why...his wedding ring...his ring...oh my God... she knows what happened to him...she knows...

  How? Unless she kidnapped him, too? Stole him from me. Took him away.

  She knows...maybe he...maybe he was having—

  No. Don’t think like that. He wouldn’t.

  Would he? An affair?

  Not Brian. He wouldn’t...there were never any signs...I never suspected anything...

  You know that’s not true...

  ...the receipt...

  Teddy moaned behind her, followed by the dull scrape of wood on wood as the chair legs scratched against the floor. Then, silence. Nothing more. Back to the darkened depths of her solitude.

  She took a small sip of water, just enough to wet her tongue.

  Brian...what did you do?

  The receipt, the one that had fallen out of the book he’d been reading on his trip to San Diego. Two meals at a restaurant. A bottle of wine.

  Brian never drank wine...hated it. Hated the taste. It made him sick.

  At the time, she hadn’t questioned it. Business trip. Colleagues with a taste for expensive Bordeaux. Trying to woo a new client at a conference. It meant nothing. Less than nothing. An innocuous drink with someone who had money to invest. Choked it down with a smile to earn a hefty commission.

  But was that it? Was that all?

  She thought back to all the connections she’d made earlier in the day, back when she’d thought it might’ve been a woman, back when she thought it might’ve been someone inside LightPulse. The mention of a breakaway, the mini-bomb idea that led her to believe it was Teddy.

  A woman at the office...was Brian having an affair with one of the girls at work?

  No, couldn’t be. He was in San Diego.

  They could’ve met him there. Was anyone on vacation then? Anyone missing from the office?

  I can’t remember...so long ago...

  Sara’s stomach churned. The realization of a deeper truth to his disappearance took her breath away, tightened its grip around her lungs. Made her head swim, made her dizzy. She rubbed her eyes, wiped a tear from her cheek.

  What did I do, Brian? Was it me? Did you not love me anymore?

  The betrayal. The anguish. The pain. It was too much. All those years of loving a man who would dare to take another woman to bed. Had it been going on for some time? Or was it a single act of indiscretion? Too much wine? Promises to do all the things between the covers that they had grown too tired and bored and busy to do? Their relationship had seemed great. To her. To her family. To everyone who complimented them. To her friends, who admitted to jealousy over the emotional connection they had.

  It was true that their sex life had faded to once or twice a month. Brief encounters when they had enough energy to squeeze it in after long days, after the kids had gone to bed. It was the typical scenario of many busy marriages, something they’d discussed and were excited to fix, but he’d gone missing before they’d had the chance.

  Went missing, or left intentionally for another woman?

  She wanted to run away, leave, disappear. Evaporate into a fine mist and escape the cage walls. But, she was trapped, contained, forced to deal with her regret and sorrow with no way out.

  Sara drew her knees up to her chest, buried her face in her arms.

  Damn you, Brian. Who was it? Who was she?

  Someone at the office...which one? Who was there two years ago when he disappeared? Me. Susan. She wouldn’t...Kara and Sandra in R&D. Mandy at the front desk. She was cute. Her? Jenny in Accounting. Not his type. What was the office manager’s name, the one who retired...Janet...Janet? Too old.

  Six of them. All gone. All moved on to different places in their lives. New jobs, higher paying jobs. Motherhood. From what she’d heard, they were all living in Portland, except for Janet, who’d moved to Key West.

  This woman knows about stuff in the new Juggernaut...all the women who used to be there are gone, so if he was cheating...she’s been hired since he disappeared...

  Why do that? Why get so close to me if she was sleeping with my husband?

  Keep tabs on me? Make sure I wasn’t getting closer to finding him?

  Such a stretch. Somebody could be breaking the NDA, passing along info.

  Lots of new faces...Shelley and Amy and Wendy and Shay and Christina...

  Was it possible? Could any of the women who were there now be the one who had destroyed her life? Damaged her children’s lives? Still so many questions, still no closer to a reasonable answer. The possibilities were endless. So were the motivation and reasoning. It didn’t make any sense. None of it.

  And what if she was completely off? What if Brian hadn’t been having an affair, and the woman was some psycho targeting her family for some unknown reason? She had access to confidential LightPulse information, but it didn’t mean she was actually inside the company. And it could be one of the men, a partner, passing along details. What if they had murdered Brian, taken his ring, kept it all this time in order to torture her, toy with her, make her play a game? Was it a game of life and death? Was that really what was going on?

  I need to know more. Teddy...his pain...more clues...

  No, don’t. You can figure this out.

  How? I know nothing. One...two...three...seven...eight. Eight other women in the office. It could be any one of them. And if it’s one of the guys...how many women do they know? It’s impossible. Why does she have Brian’s wedding ring? No idea. None whatsoever. Affair? Maybe. Kidnapped him and took it? Murdered him and took it? Why me? Why now? Why two years later?

  I could ask Teddy...what if he saw her face?

  She clambered around inside the cage, felt the metal bars digging into her knees. She thought about tugging at the blanket, slipping it off so she could see him, but that would be against the rules. Breaking them would result in another phone call, another scream from one of her children in pain because she refused to obey.

  “Teddy,” she whispered. “Teddy. Wake up.”

  Sara cocked an ear, listened over her shoulder. Tried to hear any movement coming from the other room. Earlier, who knows how long ago, she’d heard the tall man moving around, followed by the front door slamming. Was he gone? Sitting on the front porch? Taking a leak out in the woods?

  I need to pee...almost hurts...

  “Teddy? Can you hear me?”

  She heard him inhale, imagined him waking up, opening his eye
s. Panic setting in as he realized that it wasn’t a dream, that he was tied to a chair in a pitch black room. He mumbled her name through the gag. It came out as a question, testing the space in front of him, like he was unsure if her voice was truly there.

  “I’m here, Teddy, I’m here. Keep your voice down, okay?”

  His response was muffled and wet. “Okay.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “A lot.”

  “I’m sorry. Listen to me. Listen. Everything will be okay. We’ll get out of here. I’ll get you out, I promise.”

  “What’s...what’s going on?”

  She could tell it was difficult for him to speak, difficult to push his words around the cloth binding his mouth open. “Someone’s playing a game with me.”

  “A game?”

  “A bad one. They have my kids.”

  “What?”

  “They’ve been kidnapped.” She scooted close to the cage wall, wrapped her fingers through the bars and whispered, “How’d you get here? Did he bring you?”

  “The guy...him.”

  “Not so loud, okay? He’s working with some woman, any idea who?”

  “No. A voice...on a phone.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Said I...said I deserved this. For being...a pig.”

  “I think it’s somebody at the office.”

  “Said I’m...motivation.”

  “Motivation? Teddy, focus. Who’s doing this?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Anything at all. Think. Guess.”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Teddy, please. Say the first name that comes to your mind.”

  The seconds ticked by. He was silent for so long, Sara thought he might’ve passed out again. Finally, he mumbled, “Maybe—maybe it’s—”

  The door crashed open, slamming against the wall hard enough for Sara to feel the vibrations through the floor. Thundering footsteps, followed by, “Quiet!” The voice echoed off the walls as Sara screamed, pushing herself up against the far side of the cage, away from him. Light from the open door penetrated the black cloth enough to illuminate the interior. She could see her hands shaking.

  The sickening thuds of fists on flesh replaced the noise of her gasping. It sounded like someone with a sledgehammer beating a dead animal carcass.

  Teddy coughed and gagged. Moaned. She was almost relieved that she couldn’t see what was happening to him, but the images in her mind were just as bad.

  One, two, three more punches, and then it stopped.

  The black cloth whipped open and the tall man knelt down in front of her.

  “Don’t hurt him again,” she begged.

  “Penalty,” he said, slipping another note through the cage.

  Sara grabbed it. Hands unsteady, paper flapping like a wounded dove. She didn’t want to read it, terrified of what it might contain. What penalty had she brought upon herself? What had she done by breaking a rule? If it was for her, she’d take it. She would take the punishment.

  Not the kids...not the kids...don’t hurt them anymore...I’ll play...

  Fingers trembling and uncooperative, she fumbled the note open.

  THE PENALTY IS SEVERE. NO MORE CLUES. NO QUESTION FOR THIS ROUND.

  AND NOW YOU MUST CHOOSE YOUR PATH:

  1. HE DIES – YOUR CHILDREN ARE SAFE AND YOUR CAGE TIME ENDS

  2. HE LIVES – I’LL REVEAL WHO I AM BUT THERE MAY BE CONSEQUENCES

  One simple choice that changed the game completely. Sara dropped the note to the cage floor. It was easy. The first option was clear: order Teddy’s death and the kids would be fine. The ambiguity of the second choice left her wondering. It didn’t say anything about harming Lacey, Callie, and Jacob, just that she would reveal her identity.

  She won’t do anything to hurt them. The game is over if she does.

  I can’t risk it. I can’t. It’s not—it’s not even a choice.

  She’d read about questions like these before. Psychological tests designed to assess compassion. A passenger train is speeding down the tracks, a single person in its path. Derail the train to save one man and risk countless lives, or run him over and save everyone on board? The problem with the question was the lack of guarantee that anyone would die in the first option.

  But this...this was different. There were no alternatives.

  She would have to play God. Choose when and where someone died. The remainder of her days would be spent wondering what might’ve happened if she had picked the second option, but the regret would pale in comparison to what she’d feel if she had read too far into it and something happened to her babies.

  The tall man said, “Choose.”

  “Give me a minute.”

  She listened to Teddy’s breathing.

  He was clueless. His fate contained in a simple slip of paper. No idea that he was about to die. Had to die. If he knew what the note said, would he offer himself as a sacrifice? Would he say, ‘Do it, save them,’ or would he be the same self-centered, egotistical brat that he’d always been? Could he, for once, let go of his self-absorption and care about another person? She’d heard stories of soldiers jumping on hand grenades, surrendering their lives to save others. That level of personal disregard was almost incomprehensible. She would do it for the children. Would Teddy? If he knew what was at stake, would he make that choice?

  He wouldn’t. He would come up with an excuse. Run if he could.

  Forcing away her pity didn’t make the decision any easier. But, she only had one to make.

  She kicked the cage, close to the tall man’s face, surprising him. Watched him fall backwards, landing on his ass. “Number one,” she said.

  He grunted, groaned, crawled back to his feet. Grabbed the cage and shook it. His only form of retaliation.

  Sara thought about kicking his fingers, smashing them against the bars.

  He pulled a handgun from his waistband, screwed a silencer into the barrel. Pointed it at her head.

  She lifted her arms, knowing the fleshy shield would do no good, but it was a natural reaction.

  “Watch,” he said, throwing the blanket off the cage, revealing the room.

  Teddy was a crumpled mass, bloodier and covered with extra bruises. His body purple and limp. Unconscious, unaware of his impending death.

  The tall man lifted his gun, pointed, and paused.

  Paused.

  Paused.

  Paused.

  Sara screamed, “Don’t—” as he pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 17

  DJ

  DJ sat at his desk, going over a list of LightPulse’s female employees while Barker went to check out Rutherford’s car for any evidence. The initial feedback had been discouraging, but the Bloodhound was on a trail, and there was no convincing him otherwise.

  There were nine women at LightPulse, including Sara, and he’d turned up nothing significant on the first five. Mostly clean, a traffic ticket or two, one instance of a Minor in Possession. Young women fresh out of college. Still in party-mode, first real job, first real paycheck. None of them fit the profile of what he was looking for, but then again, did a sociopath ever reveal her true nature? And since Oregon didn’t list eye color on driver’s licenses, he examined their ID photos, enhancing them for clarity as much as possible, trying to discern different-colored irises. Considering any one of them could’ve been wearing contacts to hide that fact, he could almost hear Barker over his shoulder, telling him how pointless it was. Yammering on with some proverb that he’d heard hundreds of times over the years.

  What I need, he thought, is an outlier. Something that stands out.

  The next two proved to be as unrewarding as the rest. Grandmothers in their sixties. He didn’t bother going through their information. It was unlikely either of them could be misconstrued as an attractive twenty-something with a possible boob job like the Ladyfingers bartender had suggested.

  The last employee didn’t come up in his Oregon DMV search. He checked
the spelling of her name again. Hmm...still driving with an out of state license, are we? How long have you been here? A couple of months...where are you from...where are you from...California.

  There you are, Shelley. Shelley Ann Sergeant. Formerly of San Diego...registered a tan SUV...California driver’s license says your eyes are...green.

  “Shit.” DJ hurled his mouse at the nearby wall, the cheap plastic shattering into a dozen pieces. Heads whipped around, examined him, and then went back to their calls and case files. Amongst the cluttered desks, with keyboards clacking and phones ringing, frustrated outbursts were common enough that nobody paid much attention. As long as you didn’t hurt anyone in the process, you got it out, you moved on. Standard norm for a group of people chasing wisps of information, trying to put jigsaw puzzles together in the dark.

  Regardless, it’d been a long time since he’d had an outburst like that, and the embarrassment of losing his composure left his cheeks flushed. He crawled across the floor, scooped up the remnants and tossed them in the trashcan. Put his back against the wall.

  We screwed up. Chased too many shitty leads. I’m wrong, Barker’s been wrong about everything.

  Sergeant Davis ambled up to DJ’s desk, tossed a file down. “Judge denied your request, JonJon, not enough circumstantial to search the car rentals. Better luck next time, huh?”

  DJ stared at the ceiling and beat the back of his head against the wall as Davis waddled away.

  He called Barker, hoping he’d made some progress.

  “Go for Barker.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Waitress across the street saw a tall guy park the car sometime this morning. Said he left and never came back.”

  “Tall guy, huh? Think it’s the same one?”

  “Has to be. Too convenient.”

  “Can she identify him?”

  “Dressed in black, dark hair. That’s about it. Sent some blood samples back. Hope we’ll be able to identify Rutherford from it, but we’ve got another clog in the drainpipes.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Found two receipts from yesterday in the center console. Guess where the first one’s from?”