Just Me - M J Marlow (reading strategies book .txt) 📗

looked for the license plate. It was obscured by mud. He motioned to Simon and nodded towards the car moving down the street at the speed limit. “That’s our man!” he yelled as he looked for his team. “Follow him, Simon,” James ordered tersely. “Call in when he stops and let us know where you are.” Simon nodded and ran to the SUV. He followed the sedan at a distance where he could just see the vehicle’s taillights. He saw it heading out of town as if the man were just on his way home and had no worries in the world. But the moment it left the town limits, the vehicle suddenly sped up, took a corner sharply and then managed to disappear from sight. “K,” he snapped into the radio as Simon hit the brakes to keep from tipping over at the corner. “He lost me!” He stopped his vehicle and got out to look down the side streets. “Whoever this bastard is, he’s slick.” I had no idea how long I was locked in the trunk. All I knew was that I was stiff from behind bound and I was finding it harder and harder to move. I had hit my head when he had taken the corner fast and it was throbbing. I hadn’t eaten in quite some time and my stomach was cramping up on me. When he finally stopped, I was so weak and achy I couldn’t have fought him. He stroked my hair and smiled as he lifted me out of the trunk. “Poor little girl,” he said as he saw the blood on my face. “Hit your head, did you?” He carried me out of what I saw was a barn and locked the doors to hide the car. He set me down so I could see the house. “Look familiar, Kerrigan?” he asked as he saw me go pale. “You’re home, little girl.” “Home?” I looked at the farmhouse surrounded by green lawn, rich cornfields, and hills in the distance, and was puzzled. I could seeimages flash into my mind of a laughing man with copper hair and his dark-haired wife, both with green eyes. This was my home, I realized as the memories returned that had been buried for the past seventeen years. I shivered at the thought that this was going to be where I died. He hefted me over his shoulder and carried me up the three steps to the porch and then in through the front door. He took me up the stairs and opened a door at the end of the landing to the left. “Your old room, little girl,” he said as he dumped me on the bed and untied my ankles. “I’ll bring up something for you to eat later,” he said kindly as he removed the gag. He brought out his bag and filled a needle. “Rest is what you need right now.” “I want to go home,” I whimpered as the needle bit into my vein. “I want Joseph…” “You’ll forget Joseph,” Simpson said as he injected the sedative. He stroked my hair as he removed the needle. “He is a part of your past. Your future is with someone else.” “No,” I sobbed as he hit on one of my major fears. “I don’t want someone else.” “We have no intention of giving you a choice, little girl,” Simpson said gently. “We have been waiting seventeen years for you.” I began to cry and he shook his head as he untied my wrists. I heard him leave and the door being pulled shut behind him. Why was he doing this to me? I found my eyes moving around the room and memories came surging back to me. I had been happy in this room, I remembered. Stuffed animals and dolls sat on shelves and in child-sized furniture. Not a whole lot, though. I had been given a limited number of special companions growing up, and each one had been handmade by my mother or father. I got up and went to the shelves built into the corner of the room. I remembered my father then, a copper-haired man with green eyes smiling up at me as he sanded the wood in a workshop. He held his hand out to me and I took the sandpaper from him as he showed me how to smooth the wood. He held me in his lap and nodded. “That’s right, my fairy child,” he said, his voice warm and deep and filled with affection. “You need to be firm but gentle with the wood and let it tell you how it wants to be.” He kissed my head and smiled over at the dark-haired woman sitting in front of a sewing machine. “It’s just like being a parent.” He left me sanding the shelves and went to the large box on the worktable. He opened it and pulled out a wrapped package. “Maggie, darling,” he called and I turned to smile at him. He held out the gift. “Happy Birthday, fairy child.” I ran over, giggling in delight, and unwrapped the package. Inside of it was a small hand-carved wooden box stained a deep mahogany and embellished with pieces of mother-of-pearl in the shape of three hearts. I could still feel that smooth wood under my fingers and I knew where it was. I opened a drawer in the cabinets under the bookshelves and lifted the box out. “Papa!” I sobbed as I remembered him. I could feel the drug kicking in and I took the box with me and laid down with it clutched to my heart. His gift to me on my seventh birthday, the same night someone had taken my parents away from me. I remembered more of that night as I drifted off to sleep. Mama and Papa had shown me the secret room hidden behind the fireplace. My box was the key that opened the entrance to it. I was delighted at being entrusted with this secret. They made certain that I understood that no one else could ever know about it. They also made certain that I was aware of the defense mechanism. If I did not key in the secret code on the computer within five minutes of opening the door, the room would be destroyed and everything inside of it. “Never tell anyone, fairy child,” Papa had told me. “You understand? If the wrong people get their hands on this data they could ruin a lot of people’s lives. We don’t want that to happen.” “I won’t tell, Papa,” my seven-year-old self had nodded solemnly. I crossed my heart. “Never ever!” I felt something on my arm and when I went to rub it off I touched someone’s hand. I opened my eyes and saw Simpson looking down at me, smiling. He helped me sit up and I saw the tray of food he’d brought. I wasn’t expecting this kindness from him. “Why are you doing this?” I asked him as he settled the tray over my lap. He just shook his head and held the cup out to me. I slapped it out of his hand and turned away from him and he yanked my head back and slapped me in return. “What do you want from me?” “You know, little girl,” Simpson replied. “Your parents told you where it’s hidden and you are going to tell me.” He put his hand on my throat when I shook my head. “I want to be gentle with you, Kerrigan, given your delicate condition, but we need that information.” “I don’t know anything!” I protested. I looked up at him in total confusion. “Please, Dr. Simpson. You have to believe me…” “No, I don’t,” Simpson replied. He let go and patted me on the head. “Eat now, little girl. We’ll talk more about this later.” He nodded as I ate. I didn’t want to eat, but it had been several hours since my last meal and I needed my strength. “That’s a good girl,” he nodded as he picked up the cup I’d sent flying. “I’ll get you some more milk.” I watched him leave and ate the meal quickly. I pushed the tray aside and got on my feet. When I tried to door, it was locked. I beat on it and then turned away with a cry of frustration. I went over to the rocking chair and sat down to figure out what I was going to do. The door opened and Simpson came in with the cup of milk. He handed it to me and I drank it slowly, trying to keep him from doing anything else to me. But it was soon gone and he took the cup and dishes and left me alone a moment. When he returned, I was trying to get out the window. He pulled me back and shoved me down into the rocking chair. “I hurt a lot of people to find you, Kerrigan Grady,” he said coldly as he brought out a pair of handcuffs and fastened one on my left wrist. “I won’t stop at you.” He yanked me back to the bed and shoved me down, running the other cuff behind a slat in the headboard before fastening it to my other wrist. He ran his hand along my arm and I shuddered in reaction. This made him smile. “Tell me what I want to know, little girl. Save yourself the pain and degradation.” “I don’t know anything,” I sobbed. “You’re doing all of this for nothing!” I pulled on the cuffs and looked at him in anguish. “Please let me go!” “Calm down, little girl,” Simpson smiled as he ran his hand slowly down my arm. “I don’t want you having another heart attack.” There was a glow in his eyes that made me shudder and he was smiling. “I’ve been watching you, Kerrigan,” he said softly as his fingers stroked my lips. “You’ve grown into a very beautiful woman. It is an exciting thought that I would be the first man to have you.” I screamed and he covered my mouth with his hand. I could feel my heart racing in terror at the thought of what he meant to do to me. Simpson saw the signs of panic and he let me go. “Don’t worry, little girl. I am not going to touch you that way.” He leaned close and ran the tip of his tongue along my lips. “Yet.” I started to sob then and I could not stop. He let me go and I watched him leave the room. I had to get out of this place, was my only thought as I pulled on the cuffs. I ignored the warning signs and kept pulling. My breathing grew more and more labored and my heart was pounding so hard my vision was blurring. I could feel myself growing faint but I refused to let go. I could hear the wood cracking and I was determined to get free. “What are you doing?” Simpson demanded as he came into the room just as the slat broke. I pulled my wrists free and backed away from him as he came after me. “You’re just wasting your energy for nothing, little girl,” he laughed as he caught my hair and yanked me back. “You are going to tell me what I want to know,” he promised as he straddled my struggling body, “or I will start killing people you care about.” He saw me trying to talk and got his bag from the hall. He put his stethoscope to my heart. “Damn it, little girl. What have you done to yourself?” I couldn’t answer him; it was all I could do to breathe. He ran out of the room and came back with an oxygen mask. I didn’t fight him as he put this over my face. I began to feel better as my