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Authors: C.J. Warrant

Forgetting Jane (28 page)

BOOK: Forgetting Jane
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Chapter Thirty-Seven

 

 

E
li pulled up in the front of the house and saw the front door partially opened. He looked over at Holmes. “No one ever uses the front door.”

He and the two agents split up. Jansig headed toward the barn and Holmes made his way to the back kitchen door while Eli was ordered to stay and watch the front. Panic and fear for both Magda and Jane swirled in his gut. There was no way he was staying put.

Gun drawn, Eli walked through the front door and stepped into the living room. He found nothing out of place as he circled the room. As he stood in the threshold of the kitchen, Holmes walked in.

The agent lowered his gun. “Really?”

Eli gave him a smirk. “I’m heading down to the basement.”

He walked toward the open doorway and stepped to the edge of the stairs. The light switch to the left wasn’t working. Eli grabbed his flashlight and turned it on. With his gun still drawn, cautiously, he descended down toward the dark space.

Halfway down, sounds of multiple footsteps above alerted Eli that the agents headed upstairs to the second floor.

Once Eli reached the bottom, he made his way to the string hanging from the ceiling. He pulled it and the small area was filled with a soft glow. The light cast an eerie hue off the cement; shadows played off the boxes and old furniture.

A soft banging caught his attention. The sound echoed from behind the water heater.

Eli listened closely. The banging turned into a whimper. His gut tightened and gnarled up. Someone was down here.

As he cautiously walked his way over to the heater, the crunch of glass under his feet made him stop. The second light overhead was smashed. Eli pointed his light down and confirmed his suspicions. The bulb was shattered.

Another bang sounded and Eli pointed the slim beam right behind the old water tank.

Magda
. Her hands and feet were bounded with duct tape and her head was covered in a black fabric bag. Eli knew it was her, because of her small stature.

“Holmes! Jansig!” Eli hollered for the agents and then bent over and carefully pulled the bag off her head. “I’m here, Magda. Where’s Jane?”

The same silver tape covered her mouth. Time wasn’t on Eli’s side and he ripped the tape off quickly. “Sorry. Magda, where’s Jane?” he repeated.

“Eli,” she coughed out, “He took her.” She tried to catch her breath.

“Who?” Eli pressed as he cut the tape from her hands and feet. “Who took her?”

“I don’t know who, I didn’t see his face. He caught me from behind while I was on the phone. But, when he threw me down here, I thought I heard something metallic drop.” She rubbed at her arm and then her head.

“Where?” Holmes came up behind Eli.

“Who’s that?” she whispered as she tried to take the rest of the tape off her wrists.

“Agent Holmes. He’s from the FBI,” Eli explained. “Now where did you hear the metal sound?”

“It has to be close by. Maybe, right around me and the water heater,” she said, shaking.

“Chief, get her upstairs,” Holmes ordered. “I’ll look around.”

Eli picked Magda up with care and carried her upstairs to the living room couch. He then radioed for an ambulance.

“I don’t need a— ouch, my arm hurts,” she declared as Eli checked her cut elbow. “Who’s that?” she asked as Jansig walked out from the kitchen.

“This is Agent Jansig—Magda, don’t move,” he said then turned to the officer. “Holmes is searching for something metal the killer might have dropped.”

The detective gave him a nod, then disappeared down the stairs. Eli got a wet towel from the kitchen. He quickly folded it and placed it on her arm. “This should stop the bleeding for a bit. Stay put while I help them downstairs.”

“Okay,” she breathed.

Eli rushed into the pantry, grabbed a potato and a light bulb. He raced down the stairs and went straight to the electrical box and turned off the power. Right after, he took the potato and plunged it into the socket with the broken bulb, and twisted, capturing the rest of the light bulb. After he pulled the potato out, Eli replaced it with a new bulb.

In a matter of minutes, Eli had the lights back on.

While Holmes searched the area near the water heater, Jansig poked under the old furniture. Eli checked along the furnace and noticed the evacuation drain cover was open. It must have been kicked off. He knelt down to check inside it. A glint of metal caught his eye under the furnace pipes. Just out of reach. Eli found a thin wooden slat and used it to slide the object out from its hiding place.

He called the agents over as he picked up the metal piece.

The moment his fingers touched the star, Eli knew immediately what it was. “Son of a bitch,” he spat out as Jansig took the badge from his hand.

Rage took root, as Eli knew whom it belonged to. What a fool he had been.

“Whose badge is it?” Holmes asked as he shined his small flashlight on it.

“Tom Faber, my deputy,” Eli snarled between his teeth. “That bastard got Jane. This whole fucking time, it was him,” Eli snapped out, then took the stairs three at a time, with the agents right behind him.

When he got to the main floor, the paramedics were by Magda’s side.

“Did you find what made that clanking noise?”

“Yes. A badge. Tom’s badge,” Eli barked. His mind and body filled with fury.

“Tom’s?” Magda looked up. Confusion knitted her brows.

“Tom is the second killer. Tom took Jane and threw you down into the basement.”

Magda’s mouth dropped open. “That can’t be,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yes. It’s him.” Eli walked out of the house and ran to his truck. Just as he grabbed the radio, Holmes and his partner reared up behind him, Jansig got a hold of it first.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eli shouted.

“What you were you planning to do? Call Tom and ask where he’s at?”

“Damn right.”

“No. You calling Tom will only clue him in that we know he’s the killer,” Holmes explained. “There has to be a better way to find out where he’s at.”

One of the paramedics ran over. “Chief. Magda wants a word with you.”

Eli rushed over to the ambulance. He touched the woman’s hand and offered her a small smile. Inside, he couldn’t quell the rage that surged though his body. “Yes, Magda?”

“Jane and I found out who that girl in the yellow was. Her name was Jane Proster and she was thirteen years old. I called Francine at the library and she told me that a girl went missing July of 1977 and the police never found her body. And Elias…she was Tom’s cousin. He was there when she disappeared.”

Eli couldn’t breathe. His lungs ceased to work. All this time, the one person he trusted, was the psychopath. How did he miss that? “I don’t want you to worry anymore. The agents and I are going to track down Tom and find Jane. You’re going to the hospital to get yourself looked at,” he said calmly, but inside, everything melted to the core.

“I’m scared for her. I should help,” Magda said as she pushed away the paramedic’s hand.

“No. I’ll get her back. I promise.” His oath scorched his tongue. Jane might be already dead and buried, or was being brutalized as he spoke. He shook off the ill thought. What good would he be to her now, if he fell apart. He prayed Jane was okay. This woman made her way into his heart so fast, and there was no way in heaven or hell he’d lose her.

“But Elias, I might know where he took her.”

Jansig stepped forward and asked where.

“From what Francine said, the girl had gone missing near Tom’s grandfather’s place.”

“Where? Ma’am, you need to get to the point,” Jansig said, slightly abrupt.

Eli glared at the agent. “Back off, Jansig.” He turned his focus on Magda. “Go on.”

Magda’s voice shook slightly when she spoke. “From what Francine said, the property is near Beaver Lake, but not sure how far. That is all I know.”

Eli leaned in and kissed the old woman’s forehead. “Get her to the hospital,” he said to the paramedic and helped push the gurney inside the ambulance.

“Ask her,” Magda blurted out. “You’ve seen her yourself, I know it. Ask her to help you find Jane,” Magda called out as he closed the door.

“What was that about?” Jansig asked, scratching his shaved head.

“Nothing pertaining to the case,” Eli lied. From the way the agent smirked, telling him about ghosts would have landed him in a padded cell.

Once the emergency vehicle drove away, Eli turned to both agents. “We need to move fast. Tom has nothing to lose at this point and will kill Jane.”

Holmes held up a finger as he talking into his cell phone. Within a minute, he got off the phone. “Our warrant’s cleared. The men went in Henley’s house and found the victim in the cage. They’re searching the rest of the home. There’s a crew heading to the lake now, where we should be going. Jansig?”

“You are not losing me that quickly. I’m coming with you,” Eli rushed out.             

Eli’s radio chirped. “Chief, come in.”

“What, Ryan?”

“Tom hasn’t showed up. Should I wait?”

He forgot about Harold.

Holmes leaned in and said, “Your officer doesn’t need to know.”

Eli nodded in agreement. “I want you to bring Harold to the station and keep him there. Watch him close.”

“Should I put him in a cell?” Ryan questioned.

“Only if he gets ornery,” Eli replied back.

“10-4, Chief.”

Eli raked his hand through his hair, looked at the agents walking away. “I’m coming with you.” His heart thrashed against his lungs as reached their side.

“Chief McAvoy. We’ll take it from here.”

“I can’t stand here and wait.” His words came out clipped and sharp. “I know this area well, you need me.”

Jansig turned and faced Eli with a finger pointed to his chest. “You are going to do nothing. You are out of this, as of right now. If we need you, we’ll call.” The agent walked away.

Eli knew she’d be dead before they found her. As hokey as it had sounded, he had to try what Magda suggested. He had to somehow reach that little girl. Maybe the ghost knew Jane’s whereabouts.

He got into his truck and headed toward Beaver Lake where he first might have seen her.

             

             

             

 

 

                                         

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-Eight

 

 

W
hen Jane woke up to a pitch-black room, pain surged through her head. The back of her skull felt pierced through. Her temples pulsated with pounding force. She had a hard time controlling her ragged breath.

She had no idea where she was.

As her eyes got accustomed to the dark, Jane realized she was chained to the floor, spread-eagled and naked. The cold wet concrete against her skin made her shiver. The metal cuffs around her wrists and legs were tight and shackled to metal links in the floor. Jane jerked and twisted but she wasn’t able to move much. Tears flowed as she tried again to yank herself free before giving up.

She took a stuttered breath and then it hit her. The stench of decay and mildew swamped her. The putrid stink filled her nostrils and made her stomach lurch.

As bad as the smell was, it was all too familiar to her. Jane knew this place. She’d been here before.

Jane closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled. All at once, all the missing images of her life engulfed her, filling in the holes of her memory.

Her name was Christina Brown. A slight sense of relief rose. However, Jane couldn’t wrap herself around that name.
Jane
seemed more suitable for her. She was a CPA for Lyons Corporation in Madison. Grew up in California and took the job last year. All was good, until…

She got lost trying to find an easier route up to Green Bay. Getting a flat tire in the middle of nowhere and a friendly face nearly ended her life.

Jane remembered pulling the tire out of the trunk when a cop car drove up.

Tom’s smile eased her worries immediately. He got out to help. As he stepped up behind her, he clamped his hand over her mouth and nose with a cloth. Jane tried to fight but he was too strong and all the strength in her vanished. She woke up on a table, a single light bulb hung above her.

A frenzied panic filled her when she spotted glints of silver on the table next to her. Knives. Her instinct to survive took over. She grabbed a small knife off the table and with all the strength she was able to muster, Jane swung out and stabbed the deputy in the shoulder.

Pushing back the hard pain in her body, Jane raced up the uneven stairs. She rammed into the locked screen door, broke through it and flew out of the house. But she wasn’t fast enough. The deputy grabbed her from behind. He yanked her hair and punched her face repeatedly.

It was her last ditch effort to fight back but something slammed against her skull. Spangled lights lit around her and a deep burn resonated from the back of her head.

Jane had prayed for death that night.

A huge knot formed in the middle of her throat as she remembered how she had dug herself out of her grave. How desperate she had felt until she punched through the topsoil into the bitter, icy air.

The only thing good that came out of all this atrocity was Elias. Jane felt her tears slip past her cheek and into her ears. Her desperation made her try again at the cuffs.             

Jane swallowed hard at the thought she might never see Elias again, which caused her more pain than what Tom had planned for her.

Her inner voice screamed to stay strong. She tried to calm her thrashing heart, one deep breath at a time, but she was losing the battle. Jane closed her eyes and tried to imagine Elias’s gentle hands on her skin. His imaginary caress touched her face and stroked down her body. Her heart eased into a calmer rhythm.

Elias made her feel beautiful and loved. Even in a short period of time, his respect and adoration filled her with the strength she needed. Jane thought of the way his green eyes bored right through her. She grabbed hold of that picture and held on to that courage.

She fought against the sharp lash of pain around her wrist while she tried to pull off the cuffs. With every twist and turn, the metal gouged deeper into her skin. As Jane slipped her left hand through, a sense of relief filled her, and courage.

After her eyes cleared from the haze of tears, Jane examined her wrist. Blood seeped out of the wound. Wet and sticky, she wiped the fluid off and rubbed it on the other wrist, working on freeing her right hand.

Her heartbeat echoed in her ears with every painful twist. Jane had her palm halfway through, when a whimper to her right caught her off guard. She paused and listened.

A soft spotlight flashed on, casting a shadow off the wall. A towering silhouette.
It can’t be the deputy.
The light flipped on and off twice more before it stayed off.

Jane’s insides gnarled tight and a large lump formed in her throat.
Panic flooded through her. She shut her eyes and waited. A full minute passed as silence fill the dank space.

A whimper—more like crying—rang through her ears.
Jane looked over and studied the shadow on the wall. With a deep breath, she took a chance and whispered, “Hello?” Her voice was barely audible.             

A strained moan replied back.

“Who are you?” Jane asked a little louder.

There was no response. Jane took a deep breath and slipped the bonds off her right wrist. She almost got it. A little bit more. She twisted and pulled her palm completely through.

“Are you all right?” Jane asked while she examined her neck strap, hoping to find a clasp. She tried getting up but her head only lifted off the floor a foot. Jane dropped back down.

A woman’s voice broken through. “C-Car…”

“Car? Is that your name?” Jane asked. She shifted her head to get a better view of the person, but all she saw a half the body.

“T-T-To…” The woman barely got a syllable out when another light flipped on at the far corner. Car whined. Was that fear in her voice?

Sounds of heavy footsteps from above made Jane’s throat tighten with dread. The woman’s desperate cry turned louder as a squeak from a door resonated down. Her sobs made Jane shudder.

She quickly adjusted her body for the handcuffs to give a wider hole for her hands to slip through with ease and then closed her eyes.
Don’t panic.

Too late
.

A creak of the wooden plank echoed. Jane’s anxiety turned into full-on terror, as footsteps got louder coming downstairs.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Please, God. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
She swallowed down the fear.
Don’t move!

He might kill her now. Tears streamed down, Jane couldn’t help it.
Breathe
.

With each creaky step closer, Car’s cries grew louder.

Jane stopped crying and listened. With her head turned away, she was only able to hear the woman’s agony.

As quickly as she began, Car stopped crying. A calm before the storm?

Jane’s chest burned from her slow shallow breaths. The sudden need to urinate jabbed at her bladder. But she kept her body still and her eyes closed while she focused on the surrounding sounds.

The soft shuffle of feet on concrete brought a prickling fear straight down her spine. The footsteps stopped right by her. She sensed his boring eyes on her.

Jane kept reminding herself to keep her eyes shut and her body limp.
Don’t react
.

He kicked her leg. She remained still as the dead. It felt like an eternity before Jane heard the movement.

“Shhh,” Tom said to Car.

Jane relaxed a bit, but her ease was short-lived. Loud slapping reverberated in her ears. Car screamed out in pain.

Jane bit her tongue and took in the anguish Car was going through.

That bastard kept hitting her until her wails were silenced. Did he knock her out? She hoped so. Or did he beat her to death? Jane’s stomach lurched.

Oh God, please let her be alive.

The shuffling got closer again. Jane held her breath. She couldn’t hold it for too long and exhaled slowly. A stench of sweat and beer pillowed her face. The warmth of his rancid breath brushed her right cheek. He was very close.

The deputy caressed her gently along her jaw line. Jane cringed inwardly. His fingertips were so light that it tickled her.

His fingers trailed down her neck, along her collarbone and then between her breasts. He stroked down to her belly button and then back up to her face. Jane didn’t expect gentleness. His touch made her more uncertain about her survival.

The soft gentle touch changed to a sharp jagged dig along her skin. His fingernail scored her from ear to cheek and dragged across her chin. He scratched down her neck to her left breast. He circled her taut nipple, scraping along her areola. Jane wanted to lash out, punch and kick, and get away from him.

Jane’s skin was on fire. She clamped her teeth tight and forced down the pain. If he knew she was awake, would he hit her the same way as Car? Probably.             

He pinched her nipple hard. The pain lanced deep, but Jane fought to keep her body from jerking.

The deputy mumbled something. “Wouldn’t rush” was the only thing she was able to hear. Rush what? Her death? He released her, snickered and walked off.

Jane cracked open one eye and watched him walk away. He picked up a thin strip of leather off a small table—the same small table she remembered with all the knives. He swung once at Car and rolled the strip around his hand. The man stood there, arms crossed and studied his handiwork. Bastard.

The deputy shook his head and chuckled, which brought a tremor through Jane’s body. He turned back, dropped the leather, and headed upstairs.

She counted the creaks until he reached the eighth step. She heard metal scraping along the cement—like nails on a chalkboard. The soft light from the single bulb turned off.

Darkness shrouded her again.

A couple of clicks and that spotlight flashed on. It pointed to where Car was flat to the wall.

Jane wouldn’t dare move to see if Car was okay. She wanted to be sure Tom wouldn’t come back down. She sucked in a few deep breaths to alleviate some of the pain he caused her.

Once Jane felt safe enough to move, she was able to free one of her hands, then the other. She then worked on her neck. After she stripped off the neckband, Jane got up and began untying her ankles. She understood immediately why he used twine. It easily burned and dug into her skin every time she moved, though she wouldn’t give up. Once loose, she unraveled it and stood up.

Jane got her footing quickly and carefully walked toward where Car was. She almost let out a loud gasp but stifled it. The woman was naked and chained in an X fashion, shackled tight from wrists to ankles. She had a dog collar around her neck that seemed too tight against her skin. She had lacerations all over her body. Her beautiful blonde hair was blotched red from her blood. The woman was beaten so badly, Jane gagged.

Jane closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and opened them again. She needed to know if Car was still alive—hoping she was.

As she took a nervous step, Jane paused. Something about the woman was familiar. The more Jane stared at her, the more familiar she looked.
Oh my God
,
Caroline
. The nurse she met in the hospital. She wasn’t the tall voluptuous blonde Jane remembered and hated.

She looked like a rag doll, beaten and cut up. Her face was slashed up, swollen and black and blue. Deep welts along her breasts and inner thighs were thick and puckered. They were overlapped with cuts sliced in the opposite direction. Fresh blood dripped down her leg. Guilt seeped in. No one deserved what the deputy had done. Did she look like that when the hunters found her?

Jane reached up and checked her pulse. It was very weak. “Caroline, can you hear me?” she whispered in her bloody ear.

Caroline lifted her head slightly, exposing her face to the bright light. Relief reflected in the nurse’s bloody eyes and then dropped her chin down to her chest. Tired and weak herself, Jane leaned against the wall. She wasn’t sure what to do next.

But one thing was for sure, Jane had to remove the cuffs around Caroline’s wrists and ankles and get her off the wall.

She had to find something small to unlock the cuffs, and went over to the table. Luck must have been on her side, because keys to the handcuffs were sitting on top.

Just after Jane took the dog collar off Caroline’s bruised and bloody neck, a chirp echoed off the walls. The loud scratchy sound made her jump out of her skin. She also dropped the keys.

Overhead, there was a small stereo speaker screwed into the low ceiling joist.

The deputy’s voice blared out. “It’s your turn, Christina. You won’t escape me this time. I left that slut on display for you to study and learn. This is what happens to whores. Are you a whore, or are you a good girl? Remember, you’re getting what you deserve. And your precious chief will never be able to find you once I’m done. I’ll be down there in a little bit to show you.”

Jane’s throat constricted with each word that bastard said. A clear image of herself in Caroline’s place made her drop to the floor. Jane attempted to push the gruesome picture out of her head but with Caroline right there—vomit rose fast. She threw up all over herself.             

BOOK: Forgetting Jane
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