Scream (32 page)

But then there were the dogs to deal with. Amber said some
nights she could hear them scratching, sometimes digging at the
dirt around the barn, sometimes actually pawing at the wood.
Whether they could actually claw through solid wood, Cheryl
didn't know. She doubted it, but there really was no telling what
starving dogs were capable of. And if they were smart enough
and clawed at the same spot every time, eventually they'd get
through. And then what? She didn't even want to think about
it. Maybe they could somehow kill the dogs. But how? They had
no weapons, and there was nothing in the barn except straw
and the supplies judge had brought.

Maybe they could use something in the supplies. She mentally
ran through their inventory of belongings: apples, toilet paper,
cereal boxes, dirty underwear, Amber's outfit she was wearing
the night she was taken, her high heels, her ... wait a minute! A
thought suddenly materialized and bounded to the front of her
brain like a child on a pogo stick yelling, Look at me! Look at
me! She had to mentally run through it, check for loopholes,
mistakes in reasoning, breakdowns in logic. What if-

What was that?

"What's that?" Amber asked, looking around.

There was a second of silence as they stood stock-still staring
at each other and listening. Amber's hand was frozen in the air.
In her peripheral vision, Cheryl could tell Ginny had lifted her
forehead off the plank. She too was listening. Then it was there
again. A musical tune, muffled, muddled, disjointed, but clearly
"Sweet Home Alabama."

"Oh my gosh!" Cheryl shouted, running for the bed of straw.
Her heart almost thumped right out of her chest. She scrambled
through the quilt she was delivered in, fumbled, rummaged,
looking, looking, all the while the tune, that tune, electronically garbled "Sweet Home Alabama," played on. Finally, she
grabbed the quilt with one hand and lifted it, giving it a good
shake. Something black and hard flipped out, rotated end over
end in the air, then hit the floorboards with a double clank. The
something. Their lifeline. Their way out of this cage. Her cell
phone. She got down on her knees and scrambled for it. Her
mind spun. How...?

The tune started over.

Suddenly it was in her hand. The plastic casing was cracked,
and when she turned it over she saw that the keypad was busted
in two places and the LCD display was shattered, a snowflake
of cracked glass. Still, though, she could make out the caller's
name. "It's Mark," she cried, tears dropping out of her eyes.
"Of all people." She punched the talk button with a trembling
thumb but nothing happened. The first notes of "Sweet Home
Alabama" started over again. She pressed it again, mashing the
tip of her thumb into the button. The phone beeped a weak
electronic impulse. She pressed the speaker end against her ear.
"Mark! Thank God. Mark!"

"Cheryl? What's wrong?"

She was never so glad to hear his voice. Never. Even if he
was a cheating scoundrel. "Mark, I've been kidnapped." The
words sounded foreign to her. Kidnapped? It suddenly seemed
so real. The reality of it hit her all at once, and she started to sob
into the phone. She cried so hard words would not come, only
guttural grunts. He'd never believe her. Why should he?

"Cheryl. What do you mean kidnapped? Where are you?"

Finally, she was able to compose herself enough to talk. "I was
taken last night while I slept. He drugged me or something-"

"Who drugged you? Cheryl, what is this?"

"Mark!" She meant to holler it, but it came out as a highpitched scream. She choked out another sob then collected
herself again. "I don't know who. I woke up in this ... this barn,
out in the middle of...of...I don't even know where we are.
There's nothing around." She was talking fast and hoping he
was getting it all. She could only imagine what it must sound
like on his end.

"A barn? Are you OK? He didn't do-"

"I'm fine. OK, I mean. There's two others here too." She
pressed the palm of her free hand against her forehead. Think.
Think. Be clear. Mark was talking, but she really wasn't
listening. "Mark, listen," she said cutting him off midsentence.
"I think this phone's been on all night-"

"How'd you get your phone?"

"I don't know ...I was in bed last night and called my
mom ... fell asleep ... the phone was in the blankets when
he ... Oh, it doesn't matter! Listen! There's not much life left in
this phone. Call the cops, OK?"

"Yeah, of course. Who's with you? You said two others."

"The other women here are..." She bounced the heel of her
palm on her forehead.

Amber said, "Amber Mann and Ginny... Virginia Grisham."

Cheryl looked at Amber, her eyes were wide, tears streaming
down her cheeks. She then looked over at Ginny, who was
now standing, still in the corner, but at least standing. She was
crying too.

"Write this down," she said into the phone. She was gaining
some composure. "Do you have something?"

"Yeah. Go."

"Amber Mann. Virginia Grisham. Call the cops and tell
them we're here. I'll try too."

"Cheryl, where's here? What am I supposed to tell them?"

Cheryl ran to the wall and looked at the outside world.
"We're in a barn on what looks to be an abandoned farm. In a
valley. Surrounded by hills. There's woods on one side, nothing
but overgrown pasture all around. I don't know where, though.
Could be Pennsylvania or West Virginia for all I know. Just call
them, OK?"

"As soon as I hang up."

There was a moment of silence on both ends. "Mark?"

"Yeah"

"I'm OK. We're all OK. But..." She looked at Amber, then
at Ginny. Ginny showed no sign of knowing how sick Amber
was. If she did, she might withdraw even deeper into her place
of despair. "Nothing. Just get us some help."

"Of course. And ... Cher, I love you."

"OK. I'm gonna power down to save battery. I'll call you in
an hour if I can." She depressed the disconnect button and held
it down, praying the phone would reset itself. It did. She then
pressed the 9, and an uncoordinated digital 9 appeared on the
screen. But when she pushed the 1 button nothing happened.
"No, no, no. C'mon." She pushed it again, harder this time and
held it down. Still nothing. The LCD display looked back at her
with that fractured face as if to say, Is that all you got? Panic gripped her throat and squeezed. She tried it again, pressing
with both thumbs. But only the 9 remained, black on a white
background. "No! Please, no."

Now Amber was there beside her. "Let me try," she said.

Cheryl cursed and slapped the phone into Amber's hand.
With tears leaving pink trails in the dirt on her face, Amber
fumbled with the phone for a few seconds then fell silent.

Ginny whimpered and let out a desperate moan.

Amber said in a low, defeated voice, "Only the nine and four
work. That won't do us any good."

Cheryl took the phone back and hugged it against her belly.
Her mouth felt like she'd been chewing on sawdust. She and
Amber stood staring at each other for several moments. The
barn was vacuous, like the air had been sucked out of it. Even
the bats were silent.

"He'll call us," Amber finally said. "Won't he? When you
don't call back, he'll call, right?"

Cheryl nodded. "He'll call. They'll find us." But she didn't
believe her own words. How could they find them? An abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere. That really narrowed
it down. She could hear the cops now: Sure, great, we know
exactly where that is. We'll just send a cruiser on over to pick
em up. They could be anywhere-Pennsylvania, West Virginia,
the back hills of Maryland's panhandle.

Only one person knew.

Judge.

Mark dropped the phone back in its cradle and realized for the
first time how badly his hand was shaking. Sweat pooled in his
eyebrows, and his heart was pounding out a steady rhythm,
double time, maybe triple. It felt like a Thoroughbred was racing through his chest. He glanced at his watch-four o'clock on the
button. She'd be calling again at five.

He looked at the names he'd scribbled: Amber Mann,
Virginia Grisham. They didn't mean anything to him, just
names on a piece of paper, but they were people, real people,
trapped in some barn with Cheryl. His Cheryl. He looked at the
other notes he'd jotted down while Cheryl was talking. He'd
tried to keep up with her and thought he'd done a pretty good
job, but now the writing seemed like a foreign language. He
picked up the scrap paper and studied it. Valley was there. Yes,
she'd said they were in a valley of some sort. On an abandoned
farm, or what seemed like an abandoned farm. But why did she
think it was abandoned? Overgrown pasture was scribbled next
to valley. But what if the farm wasn't abandoned at all? What
if the pasture was just unused? What if the kidnapper was the
farmer? More than likely he was. If there was a barn, there must
be a house nearby. But she hadn't said anything about a house.
Surely, if there was a house in view she would have mentioned
that. His head was starting to hurt.

Focus, man, focus. This is Cheryl's life we're dealing with.

He stared at the paper, hoping the location would suddenly
materialize, like one of those computer-generated picturewithin-a-picture things that were so popular a few years back.
He even let his eyes unfocus; it worked with the pictures.

A barn on a farm in a valley surrounded by fields and woods.
That didn't give him much. C'mon, baby. Give me something I
can work with.

After staring at the paper some more, trying to imagine what
the farm would look like and remember if he'd ever seen such
a farm around Allegheny County, he finally set the paper down
and smacked the desk hard with an open hand. The jolt sent a shock of pain up the outside of his hand and into his elbow. He
cursed and hit the desk again, this time ignoring the pain.

Picking up the phone, he pushed 911 with his index finger.

When the dispatcher came on, he told her he needed the
police.

"Is this an emergency?" the woman asked.

"I have a crime to report," Mark said. "Just patch me through
to the police. Please."

Moments later a man's voice, deep and gravelly, came over the
phone. "Allegheny County Sheriff's Office, Deputy Franklin."

Mark froze. How to explain this? He hadn't thought about
what he would say. Maybe he should ask for Sheriff... what was
his name? ... Hickock. No, he'd never believe him. That female
deputy with him might, though. She seemed a little more open
than Hickock. But what was her name? Think!

"Hello?" Deputy Gravel.

"Hello, uh, can I speak to...um"...Her name? "Deputy,
uh"... Yes! "Foreman"

"Who's calling?"

"Um, Mark ... Mark Stone. She knows who I am."

"Hold on one minute. I'll see if she's available."

Mark tapped his desk and bounced his knee while he waited.
C'mon. C'mon. They needed to hurry. What if the kidnapper
came back soon and did God-knows-what to Cheryl and the
other two? I'd kill him, that's what. With my own bare hands.
Beat the life right out of him.

"Mr. Stone?" It was Foreman all right. He recognized her
voice immediately.

"My wife's been kidnapped. She's in a barn on some farm.
We need to find her-"

"Whoa, whoa," Foreman said. "Slow down, Mr. Stone. Now
what's this? Your wife's been kidnapped?"

"Kidnapped. Abducted. Last night while she slept."

"How do you know?"

"I called her on her cell. She's in a barn with two other
women, but they don't know where the barn is. Only that it's
on what appears to be an abandoned farm."

There was a moment of silence, then, "Mr. Stone, is this
another one of your screaming calls? Because if it is-"

Mark shot out of his chair, ready to go head to head with
Foreman, even if it was over the phone. "No! No, it's not. I didn't
hear any screams. Thank God. Look, we have to do something.
Who knows when this guy's gonna return and what he'll do
when he does. We have to find them."

"OK, OK. Just hold on. Let me get something to write with.
OK. Your wife called you from her cell phone."

"I called her."

"You called her. Why did you call her?"

"I got the vehicle registration info for her car in the mail
and ... what difference does it make? I called her and she
answered."
"

Another pause. This time short. "She's been abducted, and
she has her cell phone with her?"

I guess. Something about falling asleep with it last night
and not realizing she still had it until it rang. What are you
gonna do?"

"Right now I'm trying to figure out exactly what's going on,
OK? Work with me a little." Foreman sounded like she was
getting irritated. Not good.

Mark sighed and sat in his desk chair. "I'm sorry. Look, I
know you and Hickock probably think I'm nuts, but I'm telling
you the truth. You have to believe me. She said they're in a barn
in the middle of what looks like an abandoned farm in a valley. That's it. That's all she could tell me. And that there are two
other women with her. Both were also abducted."