Remember Me (50 page)

The name suited the woman, she thought. Maybe it was her midnight-colored, close cropped hair that reminded her of a Raven's wings.
Releasing her hand, the woman said cheerfully, “Enjoy the rest of your vacation, you
hear?” And with that, she turned and strolled out of the room.
Taking one last looking in the mirror, Cynne' turned to head back to their table.
               
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Even though he was chatting on his cell phone, Raidon stood as Cynne' approached the table, then helped her into her seat. “Yes, I need a list of all the African American females missing near or around Radford University at the same time Brett Parker was there. Thanks, Stone. When I get home I'll make sure you get everything I gathered here, we need to nail this SOB!”
“Your friend from the FBI?” Cynne' asked when he had finished the call.
“Yeah. Well, you about ready to go, we really should...” Raidon's words were cut off by a sudden uproar on the other side of the restaurant. Hearing the crash of glass and sudden confused shouting, both he and Cynne' saw it was coming from the table where the 'drug dealers' had been seated. One young man, who had seemed to be the leader of the entourage, was slumped over the table while his cohorts shouted confused commands at restaurant employees to call for help.
Scanning the group for the woman who had introduced herself only as Raven, Cynne' spotted her standing behind the confused group, and their eyes locked for a moment. The expression the woman was wearing could only be described as smug satisfaction, and the look chilled her to the bone.
Waste management....drug dealers.....
Cynne' thought in shocked silence as she watched the woman slip out the front door quickly and quietly, unnoticed by everyone but her.
Having seen enough trouble already on their trip, Raidon tossed enough money to cover both the meal and the tip down onto the table, then grabbed Cynne's arm and escorted her out of the restaurant before any more killing went down.

                                                             Chapter 41
                                                      Flagstone Inn 9:00 am
Curled up on the sofa and watching her favorite episode of Seinfeld, the musical sound of Cassandra's laughter echoed throughout the suite as the 'Soup Nazi' screamed at George Costanza, refusing to serve him the much-coveted soup. Still giggling, she took another sip of hot chocolate and heard her cell phone ringing. Leaning forward, she put her mug of cocoa on the coffee table and glanced at the flashing caller ID. Seeing it was Granger, she turned the volume down on the television and flipped the phone open. “Well helloooo there you sexy thang!” she purred.
“Have you worked up a good sweat yet?
Because I intend to lick every drop off that hard body of yours. You better be good and ready when you get back, because I'm going to.....”
“Shut up bitch!” a harsh voice interrupted.
Feeling her entire body suddenly go numb with horror and shock, she asked in a quavering voice, “Granger? Who is this?”
“You know good and Goddamn well who it is, so let's cut the shit, shall we?”
“Brett? What do you want, and how did you get my husband's cell phone?”
“Really now, how dense can a person be? Take one guess, you treacherous Jezebel!”
“What have you done with Granger!” she demanded, her sudden panic making her nearly hyperventilate.
“Nothing, YET. Well, almost nothing, a few scrapes and bruises, maybe a broken bone or three, but that's nothing compared to what's in store for lover boy if you don't shut up and listen, and obey my instructions to the letter. So what do you say, are we together on this?”
“What do you want?”
“I'm going to give you an address, so grab a pen and paper.”
Leaping up from the couch on legs that were trembling, she ran to the bedroom and rummaged around in her purse, grabbing an ink pen and a small post-it notepad she always carried with her. “Ok...I've got one.”
“Alright, my instructions are very simple. You are to notify NO ONE of this phone call. If you do, your husband dies. The address I'm going to give you, if anyone follows you there, your husband dies. You are to come alone, understood?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good girl, now here's the address.”
Scribbling the instructions down on the notepad, a sudden, terrible thought struck her. “Wha....how? I can't just leave, I have bodyguards all around me, they'll never let me leave this place by myself!”
“That's not my problem, it's yours.” he chuckled. “It will be interesting, indeed, to see how resourceful you are under pressure. But I'm not without some compassion, my love, I'm giving you five hours to get to your destination. If you're not there in five hours what is going to
happen?”
Blinking back sudden tears of rage, she could hardly bear to utter the words, but she knew she had to play along with the madman if she ever wanted to see her husband again. “My husband will die.”
“There, that wasn't so hard now, was it? WAS IT?” he screamed.
“No no, it wasn't!” she cried in desperation, not wanting to agitate him further.
Now that he no longer had to maintain the facade of a good, upstanding citizen, the depths of his insanity was terrifyingly clear.
It truly frightened her how he had been able to fool so many people for so many years, including herself.
“Oh, and just so you know I mean business, there's something I think you should hear, hold on a sec...”
“Cassandra, don't listen to him!” she heard Granger plead. “Don't do it, go get Malcolm and...ahhhhHHHHHH!”
Hearing her husband's scream of pure agony, she suddenly began sobbing uncontrollably, and her mind raced, wanting to beg and plead for her husband's safe return, but knew it would be futile.
“For HIS sake....” Brett's voice purred as he got back on the phone, “....you had best ignore his instructions and follow MINE, understood? And if I were you, I would get here as fast as I could, because this broken arm doesn't look so good.”
“Please don't hurt him, please!” she wailed, unable to help herself as she heard Granger scream in pain once again.
“Well now, that all depends on how cooperative you're going to be, doesn't it?”
“Yes.” she moaned, desperately wishing it was all a terrible nightmare.
“Righty-O. And just to show you what a wonderful, compassionate doctor I am, I'll give pretty boy something special for the pain. Oh, and one more thing, wear something sexy for our little get-together.”
“Wha...” she stammered, then caught herself at the last second. “Alright.”
“Good girl, see you there.” he purred.
Flipping the phone shut, she stared at it is it were a viper. Her lovely face suddenly contorting into a mask of utter hatred and loathing, she spat, “Fuck you, you sick freak! I would rather DIE than dress up for you!” Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her yoga breathing techniques for several minutes. Once she felt more or less centered and in control of her
emotions, she wiped the tears from her eyes and contemplated her next move.
Grabbing her purse from the nightstand, she headed for the front door and stepped out into the hallway to speak to the two bodyguards who were stationed there.
                                           
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As the Limo pulled into a parking space directly in front of the beauty salon, Cassandra asked the two burly bodyguards, “I don't want to sound rude, but can you two just sit here in the car and wait? You can see anyone who goes in and out, and I do like a little privacy now and then.”
“Uhhh...well, sure, I guess that would be Ok.” the driver said, glancing at his partner.
“Yeah.” the second man chimed, thankful he didn't have to sit in a beauty salon full of women and have to listen to their incessant bitching about husbands and boyfriends.
“Thanks guys, I really needed a change of scenery and some fresh air, I was beginning to get cabin fever cooped up in that hotel all the time.” she smiled as she opened the door to get out. “Be back in a bit.”
Closing the limo door, she stepped inside the beauty salon and was greeted by a young, perky woman at the register.
“Hello, may I help you?”
“Hi! I'd like a manicure, I don't have an appointment though.”
“That's fine, we accept walk-ins. Just have a seat and....” her voice trailed off as she glanced at the computer monitor. “....Marie should be with you in about twenty minutes.”
“Thank you.” she smiled, then took a seat. Picking up a magazine, she pretended to read for the next five minutes, for the benefit of the two bodyguards outside, who she was certain was keeping a casual, yet careful eye on her. Finally, she placed her purse on the empty seat next to her and asked the lady at the desk, “Ma'am? Is there a restroom I can use?”

“Through the double doors, and straight back, you can't miss it.” the woman smiled sympathetically, knowing the feeling. She herself had always had a weak bladder.

“Could you keep an eye on my purse, too?

“Sure.” the woman replied.
“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!” she gushed, then stood and headed for the back, leaving her purse behind for the benefit of the two men who were watching from the limo.
Once in the back and behind closed doors, she looked around and spotted the rear exit, which she was relieved to see wasn't equipped with an automatic fire alarm if opened. Unlocking the door as quietly as she could, she slipped out the back.

                                                  
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“Well hello again, pretty lady!” a quiet voice called out.
Nearly jumping out of her skin, Cassandra stifled a scream at the last possible second, knowing it would draw unwanted attention, then whirled around, her heart hammering in her chest.
“Didn't mean to startle you, sorry.” the man replied, still leaning casually against the silver Ford Crown Victoria that was parked in the narrow alley. Taking a final drag from his cigarette, he threw it to the pavement and ground it underneath his heel.
Still in shock, it took a moment for Cassandra's memory to catch up with her racing heart. “You...Zeke, was it? What are you doing here?” she asked in a quavering voice, panicked at how quickly her plan was coming unraveled.
“Get in the car, hon, I'll explain everything on our way out of here.”
“What? I...what do you want, and who are you, really?”
“Listen sugar, your husband doesn't strike me as the sort of fellow who would hire a couple of simpletons to protect you. If you're not back in your seat in there in the next three or four minutes, I'll wager those two fellas in the limo will come round back here looking for you. Now, you obviously slipped out the back for a reason, so hop in the car and I'll get you out of here as quickly and quietly as humanly possible, Ok?”
Deciding to trust her instincts, and praying they were right, she bolted to the passenger door of the Crown Vic and climbed inside.
Climbing in behind the wheel, Zeke started the car and backed down and out of the alley, then merged quickly and smoothly with the light traffic.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” Cassandra asked again once they had put at least two miles between them and the beauty salon.
“I've been keeping an eye on you, and when I saw you leave the hotel earlier, I could tell you were a woman on a mission, but you were also acting as skittish as a newborn colt. I'm amazed your bodyguards didn't pick up on that. Well, maybe they did, but were overconfident to a fault in their abilities. Yeah, more than likely, that was it.”
“Watching me? Are you a cop?”
“Yes.” he lied, not seeing any point in frightening the woman any more than she already was. “Cops instincts, hon. I knew something was wrong the minute you left the hotel, so I trailed your limo to the salon, then parked across the street and went into the Baskin Robbins, where I watched you discreetly. When I saw you were only pretending to read that magazine, I figured you were up to something, so I left the ice cream shop and pulled around back.”
“But..but, how did you know I was pretending to read?”
Glancing at her, he chuckled and gave her a genuine smile. “Most folks don't read a magazine holding it upside down, honey.”
Incredibly, considering the circumstances, she suddenly found herself laughing hysterically as she thought about how foolish she must have looked.
“Now, suppose you tell
me
why you wanted to slip away?” he asked in a gentle voice.
Wiping her eyes dry, she came crashing back down to earth in a hurry as she remembered why she had slipped away to begin with. “Listen..I..I don't even know where start, but where I've got to go, I have to go alone, or....” her voice trailed off as she remembered Brett's warning about telling no one about the phone call.
“Or what?” he urged.
“Listen, you have to let me out, I've got to find a place to rent a car or something, I...”
“Now now, calm down sugar, just calm down.” he soothed as he heard her begin to sob miserably. “Why don't you tell me what's going on, I want to help.”
“But I don't even know you! Why? Why have you been following me?” she wailed.
“Listen to me, Cassandra.” he said as he reached over with his free hand and took her small, delicate one in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know there are some bad people who are wanting to hurt you and your family, and I intend to put a stop to it, Ok? Now, who told you to go where, and to go alone? It was Martina, wasn't it?” he asked, figuring the lunatic had finally ran out of patience and laid some sort of trap for the terrified woman.
“Huh? No, it was....”
“It was who? Was it Brett Parker, hon?” he asked in a sharper voice than he had intended.
“I....no! Listen, I HAVE to go alone!”
Pulling the car to the shoulder of the road, he turned and looked at her. “Cassandra, listen to me. From what little I've managed to get out of you, it sounds to me like someone has laid a trap for you, for reasons you're still not telling me. You can deny it all you want, but I
know it has something to do with Brett Parker, or that psychotic cousin of his. Honey, you're completely out of your element here, believe me. I want to help you, but the only way I can do that is for you to TALK to me, Ok?”
“But he said, he...”
“He? It IS Brett, isn't it?”
“Oh God, I don't know WHAT to do!” she wailed, then leaned against him as the floodgates opened further.
Wrapping his arms around her, rage gripped him as he felt the wetness of her tears drenching his shirt. “Talk to me, Cassandra, you're in good hands, I promise.” he murmured.
Feeling near the end of her rope, she told him everything. “Now do you see why I have to go alone? If you come with me, he'll kill Granger.” she finished as her sobs finally subsided somewhat.
“Cassandra, if you go there alone,
neither you nor
your husband will ever leave alive. You DO know that, don't you?”
“Yes.” she answered in a small voice.
“These people are more dangerous than you could possibly imagine. Now, where is this place?”
Hesitating only a moment, she finally reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out the post-it notepad, praying she was making the right decision.
Taking the notepad from her, he studied the address for a moment, then said, “Ok, I know where that place is. Buckle up.”
Pulling the car back onto the highway, he executed a sharp U-turn and floored the accelerator, tires screeching.
                                                   
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                                                       Several Hours Later
One half mile from their destination, Zeke pulled onto the shoulder of the road, turned the emergency flashers on, then killed the engine. “You wait here, I'll go take care of him. If I'm not back in half an hour, you take off and call the police, alright?”
“NO!” Cassandra replied in a firm voice, looking him directly in the eye. “He said for me to come alone, so he'll be watching. Now, it seems to me the best way to pull this off is for me to drive straight up to the hospital entrance, and go in. If we're lucky, that will distract
him long enough for you to slip in the back. I want to do everything we can to make it appear I've followed his directions to the letter. That's our only chance, and it's my HUSBAND'S only chance.”
Knowing she was right, he studied her for a moment, then finally nodded. “Ok. I'll slip into the woods there..” he said, pointing to their left…“then sneak around back and hide in the brush. Give me twenty minutes, I should be in position by then, then you drive up to the front and go in. Now listen to me very carefully Cassandra, the best thing for you to do is to follow his orders to the letter, no matter how unpleasant they may be. Don't you worry, I won't be far behind you, believe me.”
“Brett told me to lock the front door when I go in, what if the other entrances are locked too?”
“Don't you worry, I can pick a lock blindfolded, and as silently as a ghost.”
Grabbing one huge hand with both of hers, she whispered, “Thank you, Zeke.”
Feeling her hands trembling, he gave her what he hoped was a smile of encouragement. “Thank me later.” he replied, then reached for the door handle with his free hand.
“Zeke?” she asked, giving his hand a tug.
“Yes?” he answered, turning to look at her again.
“Will you...pray with me?”
“Sure. I think I'm long overdue, myself.”
When she finished her short prayer, she said, “Please be careful, Zeke.”
Giving her the sunniest smile he could muster under the circumstances, he got out of the car and disappeared in the dense woods.
                                            
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Pulling up in front of the long-deserted, foreboding hospital structure, Cassandra put the Crown Vic in park, killed the engine, and stepped out. Glancing at the large white Dodge van that was parked several yards away, she shuddered, took a deep breath, then began what felt like a ten mile walk up the front steps. Stopping in front of the massive, old-fashioned wooden double doors at the entrance, she reached out with a trembling hand and pulled one of them open.
Stepping inside, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, and she closed the door behind her, just as Brett had instructed, then threw both locks in place. Making her way further inside, she spotted the stairwell he had instructed her to use, which was to the
right of what had once been the admissions area.
Opening the door, she stepped into the near-complete darkness of the stairwell and closed the door behind her. Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, she never had a chance to scream as a dark figure hurled itself towards her from the darkness and clamped a hand over her mouth. Feeling the jab of a sharp instrument against her throat, she nearly lost control of her bladder as she heard a familiar voice whisper, “Welcome to the party, bitch.”
                                          
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“Oh God, Granger, what has he done to you?” Cassandra sobbed as Brett shoved her inside the third floor hospital room, number 301, according to the ancient, tarnished brass numbers on the open door. Horrified beyond words, her vision blurred with tears, but not before she had
seen
her beloved husband strapped down to an antiquated hospital bed. His broken right arm had swollen to the size of an average man's thigh, and his face was covered with multiple lacerations and bruises.
“Cass, I told you not to come here.” Granger mumbled, then closed his eyes as a tear slid down one cheek.
“Get over here, you!” Brett demanded, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her to a chair beside the hospital bed. “SIT DOWN, or lover boy gets it, GOT IT?” he screamed as he released her hair and pressed the razor sharp scalpel against Granger's neck, drawing a thin line of blood.
“OK OK, don't hurt him.” she croaked as she sat and tried to wipe the tears away with a trembling hand.
Walking up behind her, he placed the scalpel on her delicate neck. “Now, put both your hands behind the chair.”
“Please, let him go, take me instead.” she sobbed.
“DID I ASK YOU TO BEG OR BARGAIN???? WAS THAT PART OF MY INSTRUCTIONS?” he screamed.
“No! Ok, alright.” she screamed in desperation, putting both hands behind her.
“Cassandra, don't do it.” Granger wailed in a forlorn voice.
“Shut up, pretty boy.” Brett snarled as he put the scalpel back in his pocket and handcuffed both of Cassandra's hands behind her. “Look at you.” he mocked once he had finished, then walked to the side of the bed and looked down at his helpless victim. “Yeah, look at you, Mr. High and fucking Mighty bleeds red just like the rest of us peons, doesn't he?”
“Please, Brett, I'll do whatever you want, just don't...” Cassandra pleaded, but was cut off
by the lunatic's scream.
“Didn't I tell you to SHUT UP???” he roared, turning his full attention back to her. Walking up to the chair slowly, he squatted down on his haunches in order to be at eye level with her. “You know, I'm really in sort of a pickle here. You remind me of my first love, and like her, you turned out to be a backstabbing whore who turned on me for another man. And like her, you'll pay for that, but I just can't figure out exactly what would be the most fitting punishment for you. I can't decide whether to have my way with you while he watches...” he said, nodding in the direction of the hospital bed, “then kill him while you watch, or kill him first while you watch, then have my way with you. What to do, what to do?” he muttered, then stood and walked behind her.
“If you touch her I'll fucking kill you...you sick, twisted FUCK!” Granger screamed, then began thrashing wildly in a futile attempt to break free. Having spent his last bit of energy, he slipped back into unconsciousness.
“Really? That would be a neat trick, don't you think?” Brett mocked, then turned his attention back to Cassandra. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against the nape of her neck. “You know Cassandra, I often wondered why I favored women of color. I don't know, maybe it’s the fire and passion. When I kill a black woman, they fight until they draw their last breath. Or it could be the desire and obsession I felt the first time I killed a woman I loved. You'll be joining them in my special place, one that only I know about.” he said, then, stroking her face with the back of his hand, he felt himself becoming excited just thinking about the fight she would put up as her life drained from her body.
Shuddering with revulsion, she closed her eyes as she felt his lips making their way around her neck to the front.
“I should have had my way with you while I had the chance.” he murmured. “But as they say, the best laid plans often go shitty, don't they? Oh well, now is as good a time as any to make up for lost time.” Circling the chair, he squatted down on his haunches again and began unbuttoning her blouse slowly, then leaned close and kissed the top of her shoulder.