Isn't It Time (27 page)

“Hey, Finn. What’s up?” Jack held his phone to his ear while
he unlocked his car, still smiling about the last text he had received from
Angie. That girl was showing a surprising, and very hot, talent for dirty
texting.

“I’ve got a picture for you. Can you look at it now?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m just getting in my car.”

“You’re getting in your car? I thought you were in Chicago,”
Finn said.

“I was. I changed my flight so I could come home tonight. I
was worried about Angie. She’s spending the night with her parents, but I’m
leaving the airport right now to go get her.”

“Aw, young love,” said Finn sarcastically.

“Yep. Now hang up and send me the picture. I’ll call you
back as soon as I get it. I’m in a hurry to get out of here.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are.”

“Send the picture, Finn.” Jack hung up on him and waited.
The picture came through about ten seconds later and he opened it up.  It was
taken from a distance, but it was relatively clear.  He didn’t really recognize
the man getting out of the silver BMW until he enlarged the picture and focused
on the face.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. He looked quite different than
he had the last time Jack had seen him, but he still recognized the face.

Steve.

He dialed Finn’s number, put his car in gear and drove off,
more anxious than ever to get back to Angie.

The force of the punch to my upper right cheek sent me
reeling in the dark into a closet door.  My purse flew across the room and my
hand automatically came up to my cheek, where the pain was shooting through the
side of my face. It was a pain worse than anything I had ever felt in my life.

“Where’s my goddamn money?”

I don’t know how I managed to keep my wits about me through
the pain and the shock of hearing Steve’s voice, but I made a quick turn and
bolted the few steps to the still open front door.

More pain to the back of my head as he grabbed me by the
hair and pulled me back in.  Kicking the door shut, he fisted his hand tightly
in my hair, right up to my scalp, and turned me around.  My hand closed around
his wrist, trying to get him to release the pressure on my head.

He got his face to within inches of mine.  “I am not fucking
around, Angie.  Where’s my goddamn money?”

The stink pouring off of him was revolting and I was
fighting nausea as I desperately tried to ignore the pain and keep my head on
straight.  But all I could think was that I would not lie down and be his
victim again.  So I did the only thing I could.  I brought my knee up
forcefully and nailed him square in the balls.

He released my hair as he cursed and bent forward,
instinctively grabbing his injured balls and giving me the perfect opening. 
Dumb
move, asshole
.  I grabbed the sides of his head and brought the same knee
up again and aimed for his nose.  I missed, but knocked him under the chin so
hard I swear I heard his teeth rattle.  He went down as I quickly turned away
and made another attempt at getting to the door.

His hand snaked out and yanked my ankle, bringing me face
first onto the floor.  Faster than I would have thought he could move in his
condition, he was sitting on my lower back and managed to get both of my arms
painfully pinned behind me, cursing at me the whole time.

That feeling of total powerlessness swept over me and when
it did, it wiped away my fear. The pain in my face seemed remote and
unimportant and I was filled with loathing.  A loathing so intense, I knew, at
that moment, I could take a life and never regret it.

I bucked and tried to twist myself around, screaming at
him.  “Get off of me, you asshole!” He surprised me by suddenly letting go of
my arms and rising to his knees and I made a fast move to crawl out from under
him.  He stopped my progress by grabbing the waistband of my slacks and I felt
something pierce the skin of my left hip. 

I cried out at the pain, momentarily stunned and he rolled
me over to my back and sat down hard on my stomach, knocking the breath out of
me.  I saw the knife glinting in his left hand a split second before the next
punch slammed into my left cheek.

My face was on fire and I was suddenly very afraid for my
life.

“I am not going to ask you again,” he said, as he brought
the tip of the knife up under my chin. He pricked the skin there lightly and I
knew he had drawn blood.  “Where is my goddamn money?

The money had been safely deposited in GLC’s bank account
the same day I withdrew it.  But there was no way I was telling Steve that and
putting Jack’s life in danger.  I would rather die myself.  My first stupid
thought was to play stupid.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I said as I
scrambled to come up with an escape plan.

Almost conversationally, he said, “You know, Angie, you
really are one dumb cunt.”  He increased the pressure of the knife slightly
under my chin and actually smiled.  “I always knew you weren’t too bright, but
I didn’t know you were so gullible.”

I didn’t respond and just stared at him, trying not to let
him see my terror. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Distantly, I heard the
sound of Steely Dan coming from my purse somewhere across the room. Jack. It
was faint and I hoped Steve wouldn’t hear it.

“You made it easy, you know,” he went on in that same
conversational tone.  “When you’re so stupid that you hand over all your keys –
and your car - to someone you don’t even know, you shouldn’t expect a good
outcome.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied, knowing
now that he was talking about Heather – whom I had willing lent my car to on
many occasions.

“Of course you don’t.  Because you’re an idiot.  If you
hadn’t fucked me over, I would have already been gone by now.  All I needed to
do was get the final payment, clean out the bank account and get the hell out
of here.  It would have been all over.” 

My hysterical urge to laugh at his Scooby Doo-like speech
disappeared when he smiled again and twisted the tip of the knife just a
fraction, opening the cut under my chin further. My neck was painfully arched
from trying unsuccessfully to avoid the knife and my chin was already tilted as
far back as it could go. I clenched my teeth and tried not to let out the
whimper that was trying to escape.

The smile left his face and he narrowed his eyes at me. 
“There are only two people who had access to that money.  You - because, for
once in your life, you had a brief moment of intelligence and somehow figured
out there was a large bank account with your name on it – and one other
person.  And she…well, let’s just say I was able to work it out to my satisfaction
that she doesn’t know where the money is.”

“Heather.” The name slipped out, although I really didn’t
want to be engaging in any kind of conversation with him.

“Oh, my gosh.  I’m so proud of you,” he said
sarcastically.   He looked at me like I was an insect he had just spotted in
his gravy and replied angrily. “Of course Heather, you moron.  You practically
begged her to steal your identity. If you knew how often she was in your house,
‘borrowing’ all your personal documents, using the keys you gave her…” He
trailed off and stared over my head towards the door.

He seemed to be under the impression I had a suitcase full
of cash somewhere in my house. I felt sure his plan was to get the money and
then kill me.  I doubted he was going to give me a confession and then let me
walk away to share it with the police.  I shuddered at the thought of my
parents or Jack discovering my lifeless body.

The shudder brought his attention back to me.  “Last chance,
Angie. And let me point out that you haven’t even begun to feel pain yet. 
Heather could tell you all about how much more pain there can be.”  His laugh
was sinister and creepy - and I didn’t doubt for a second he meant what he
said.

“It’s in my bedroom,” I blurted out, but not sure why.

“Well,” he said, smiling again. “That’s better.”  He dropped
the smile and glared at me.  “Now here’s what’s going to happen.  I’m going to
let you up and you are going to get up slowly.  Do not try anything else funny
or I swear to God I will kill you.” He abruptly stopped talking and a second
later asked, “Are you expecting company tonight?”

I hesitated briefly before answering, trying to figure out
why he was asking. I was afraid of what his plans might be.  “No.”

“You’re a bad liar, Angie.  Who is it?  Jack? I always knew
you were sucking that fucker’s dick. You barely left his house all weekend. Is
he coming over tonight to fuck you some more?  I remember how much you like
that.” 

He was back to the conversational tone and I hated myself
for the fear I heard in my own voice when I responded. “No!  No, he’s not
coming over.  No one is coming over.”

He seemed determined to believe I was lying - and that
turned out to work to my advantage. This time his smile was one of smug
satisfaction. “Now listen. After I let you up, you will go get my money.  I
will stay here and watch the doors.  You’d better hope, for his sake, he
doesn’t show up before I leave.  Do not try to run.  Remember that I know where
your mother lives and I would be more than happy to stop by and find out if she
likes dick as much as her daughter does.”

I sucked in an audible breath and knew he was serious. 
“Okay,” I said.

“Okay, what?” he asked.

“Okay. I’ll go get the money and bring it right back. Just
please – don’t hurt my mother.”

This felt like divine intervention and I offered up a silent
prayer of thanks.  If he wasn’t going with me to my bedroom, then I still had a
chance.  A plan finally started to take shape in my head.

“Be a good girl and I won’t,” he said, as if he was the most
reasonable man on earth.  “I just need that money and then Heather and I will
be on our way back to Vegas.”

He slowly lifted himself off of me and I could tell he was
still feeling the pain in his balls.  Good.  I rolled equally slowly to my
right side and gained my feet.  My face had gone numb, thankfully, but my hip
hurt so badly I knew I was going to have trouble doing anything that required
speed.  But I would do it, pain or no pain.  If I could help it, he would not
emerge from this victorious.  Again.

I walked very slowly in the direction of my bedroom,
exaggerating the limp, while he watched, smirking.  He was leaning against the
wall between the kitchen and the living room, where he could see both doors and
he was still holding the knife.

As soon as I was out of his sight, I ignored the pain and
ran as quietly as I could to my bedroom.  I didn’t turn on the light but went
directly to my window.  For once grateful for my procrastination in not
retrieving the screen, I unlocked the window and slid it open without a sound. 
I knew I couldn’t get out the window and outrun him in my current condition and
I didn’t intend to try.  I only wanted him to think I had left that way.

I jumped when I heard Steve yell, “Hurry up.  You’ve got
thirty seconds to be back out here or I’m coming in to get you.”

I trashed my original plan of getting into the hidey hole in
my closet when my eyes landed on the shadowy outline of the shelves that were
still leaning against the wall just inside my bedroom door. I knew what I had
to do.

I was going to need every ounce of strength I had, so I
didn’t waste any of it by responding to him and shot back across the room. I
picked up one of the shelves and, holding it like a baseball bat, stood in the
dark just to the left of the open door.

Then I waited.

I didn’t have to wait long.  I heard him running down the
hall and he stopped at my bedroom door. He was so close to me, I could smell
his stench. I held my breath and hoped he would fall for the open window ploy. 
He did.

“Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed, taking two steps inside and
turning on the light. And when he did, I cocked the shelf back and swung with a
force fueled by pure adrenalin. The shelf connected with a sickening crunch to
the side of his head and he crumpled, landing face-first on the carpeting, the
knife still in his hand.

I didn’t wait to see if he was going to stay down. I dropped
the shelf and got the hell out of there. I stumbled my way through the darkened
house to the front door, hysterical tears streaming down my face.  If I could
just get safely to my parents’ house, everything would be okay.  They would
know what to do.

I flung open the door, pushed the screen door out of the way
and rushed blindly through it.  I screamed when I collided with a large male
body standing at the bottom of my steps and immediately started punching and
kicking. He grabbed my upper arms firmly and gave me a shake.

“Angie! Stop! Settle down. It’s me!”

I looked up into Finn’s face and saw shock register as he
took in my battered appearance. He put his arms around me and I collapsed,
sobbing with relief, against his chest.

“Jesus,” he said.  “What’s going on?”

“I think he might be dead,” I sobbed.

“Who? Who might be dead?” He pulled me away from his chest
and forced me to look at him.

“Steve. He came for the money.”  I knew Finn didn’t even
have an inkling of who Steve was, but I was shaking and anxious and my brain
was still directing my body to get to my parents.

“Where is he?” Finn asked urgently.

“On the floor in my bedroom.”

“Stay right here. Do not move. I’ll be right back.” Finn
started to walk away from me and I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket.

“No! Don’t leave me! He has a knife. Oh, God. Oh, God.”  I
was sobbing and hysterical and I didn’t care. There was a very real possibility
I had just taken a human life and, as much as I had believed I would never
regret it, I was terrified at the thought.  I prayed he was only unconscious
and tried to drag Finn in the direction of my parents’ house.

“Angie, stop!” Finn commanded, disengaging my hand from his
sleeve. “Listen to me. I have to go make sure he’s not going to get away. Stay
right here. I promise you’ll be safe. Jack is on his way, so don’t move until
you see either him or me.”

“No! Jack’s in Chicago.” I tried to remove my hand from his,
but he tightened his grip.

“He’s on his way back. I don’t have time to explain. Just
stay here and wait for one of us. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Okay,” I whispered, forcing myself to calm down and
see reason. The numbness that had given me a temporary reprieve from the
throbbing pain in my face had faded and I was suddenly finding it uncomfortable
to move my mouth and speak.

“Okay,” Finn said, looking into my eyes and squeezing my
hand lightly before releasing it. Then he sprinted up the steps and disappeared
into my house.

Alone in the darkness, I stood rooted to the spot where Finn
had left me, shaking, and trying to calm myself down.  I wrapped my arms around
my stomach, bent over slightly and took deep breaths.  I fought the urge to
ignore Finn’s orders and try to make it to my parents, knowing it was best to
listen to the person who was still rational.

Suddenly exhausted, and feeling unable to stand on my own
power, I dropped to my knees on the lawn, still hugging my arms across my
stomach. The minute my knees hit the grass, a car that was moving too fast for
the speed limit roared down the street and pulled into my driveway. I looked up
to see Jack jump out of his car and run towards me at the same time Finn
emerged from the house, alone.