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Oliver is happily chatting away at my side, telling me about all the things that happened in school this week and what he’s working on in the art classes I’ve missed. There’s a stab of guilt in my gut for missing so much that’s been going on with him, but there isn’t really much I can do about it. Maybe I’ll talk to Carson next time I see him and push to be more involved with Oliver. It’s probably not my place but I don’t care. Oliver and I are friends. Just because Carson changed his mind about wanting to be with me doesn’t mean that both Oliver and I should suffer for it.
We’re about twenty feet from my car when a large white van with no windows comes screeching to a halt right in front of us. I instinctively pull Oliver back behind me, out of the path of thecarelessly driven vehicle. The driver pops out of the front seat and comes rushing towards us.
“Hey man, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? You could have killed—” my mouth immediately slams shut when the man that was driving the van stands in front of me with a gun pointed directly at my chest. I can’t stop staring at the gun that’s clutched in his slightly shaking hand. Carson’s gun is large and black while the gun this man is holding is much smaller and silver. I wish I knew anything at all about guns, the only thing I know is that it’s pointed straight at Oliver and me.
Oliver keeps trying to look around my legs and is calling out my name. “Stay right where you are Oliver,” I bark at him. I can feel him flinch at my tone but he stays behind me, clutching at my thigh.
My heart feels like it’s about to pound out of my chest and it takes me a minute to realize that the man is yelling at me. I peel my eyes off the gun in his hand and finally look at the rest of him. He’s dressed in disheveled and wrinkled clothes, his brown hair is dirty and unkempt, sticking out every which way from under his stained baseball cap. He looks like he’s somewhere in his mid-fifties but it’s difficult to tell with the layer of dirt caked over him.
It’s then that I realize I’ve seen this man before. It’s the same man that was lurking amongst the trees weeks ago when Oliver and I were playing in the park. Was he watching us the entire time or are we merely targets of convenience right now? It takes a minute but my ears finally hone in on what exactly he’s saying. “You stupid bitch, what are you deaf? Get in the fucking van or I’ll blow your brains out.”
He wants us to get in that van? Not fucking happening. As soon as Oliver and I got in there nobody would ever see us again. My eyes dart around the parking lot but this late in the day there’s nobody near enough to us to see what’s going on. There’sa group of parents sitting at some picnic tables but those are at least a hundred yards away. There’s nothing they can do to help us right now.
“We’re not getting in that van with you,” I say with a lot more conviction in my voice than I’m actually feeling at the moment.
“Did you not hear the part where I said I was going to blow your fucking head off?” He’s getting steadily more angry and my mind searches for the right thing to do. The only thing I know for certain is that if Oliver and I get into that van we’re fucking dead. And that’s if we’re lucky and not sold into slavery or something even worse.
Surprisingly, I don’t seem to give a flying fuck about me. My mind is solely focused on Oliver and getting him out of this situation. I’m not letting this psycho touch him. “Look man. The kid and I are not getting into that van with you so you’ve got two options here.” The rage of me speaking back to him is starting to turn his face purple so I keep going before he does something we’ll all regret. Like shoot me in the face. “Like I said, we’re not getting in that van. So you can shoot me right now. Between the sound of the gunshot and how fast this kid can run it will alert everyone in the park to what’s happening. They’ll see you, they’ll see your van, and you’ll be caught before you even make it to the highway. That’s your shitty option number one.”
The man looks back and forth between Oliver and me and the groups of people interspersed around the park. “Your option two is letting the kid go. You let him go right now and I’ll go with you myself, no arguments, no struggle. Then you’ve got a nice cooperative hostage. If you’re lucky, nobody will even see you do it.”
“What about the kid?” He asks skeptically. Frankly, I’m a little surprised he’s even considering my suggestion. Obviously, this guy isn’t some experienced criminal. That’s going to help me a great deal.
“Are you kidding me? He’s five. He’s not going to remember what you and your car look like. Even if he did, who would believe him? Unreliable witness and all that.” The man is looking around again, his hands shaking. There’s even a split second where I think I might be able to wrestle the gun away from him but I’m too worried the gun might go off and hit Oliver. The entire reason I’m agreeing to go with this guy is to keep Oliver out of danger so that’s an unacceptable risk as far as I’m concerned.
His face settles back into one of determination. “Give me your phone and your purse,” he snaps. Fuck. I was hoping he would forget about my phone. Like I said, he doesn’t seem like this is his kind of thing, and with how badly his hands are shaking, I figured he might not think about it. I hand over my purse and dig my phone out of my pocket before handing them over to him.
He starts pawing through my bag. I’m not sure exactly what he’s looking for but in no time at all my receipts, makeup, and wallet are strewn across our little corner of the parking lot. The next thing he does is take my phone and hurls it against the ground, shattering the screen. I flinch a little when he draws back his foot and smashes his heel into the phone grinding it against the concrete, ensuring its destruction. Maybe this guy isn’t as inexperienced as I thought. “Now get in the fucking van!” He snaps at me through clenched teeth.
Before I make a move to follow his command I turn and gather Oliver into a tight hug. “It’s going to be okay, Oliver. You understand me?”
Tears are running down his cheeks and they gut me. “But why are you going with that man?”
“It’s going to be fine, I just have to go with him for a little while. You go find some grown-ups and tell them to get your dad, okay?” He looks like he wants to argue with me but insteadhe just nods his little head. I take my hands and rub them up and down his arms in a slow soothing gesture before leaning forward and quietly whispering a simple “Shhhh,” into his ear. His eyes are wide and he nods his head at me.
“Enough of this shit, let’s go.” The man grabs my arm and yanks me away from Oliver but not before I bury my clenched fist down into the bottom of my coat pocket. I wrench my arm out of his grip, hold my head up high, and climb into the van.
“Go find a grown-up Oliver, remember?” He nods his head, tears streaming down his face, and starts making his way across the park to the group of people sitting at the picnic tables across the field. I know he’s scared and confused and doesn’t understand what’s going on. I wish I could hold him and comfort him, but I’ve already accomplished my main objective. I’ve gotten him away from this psycho with a gun.
As I’m watching him the door to the van slides closed, blocking my view and the man crawls through the interior until he’s back in the driver’s seat.
“What the fuck do you want anyway?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“Just keep your fucking mouth closed and I won’t have to break your jaw, you bitch.” I narrow my eyes at him but stay silent. He’s still got the gun gripped in one hand as he awkwardly puts the van in drive and peels out of the parking lot.
I don’t know where he’s planning on going and I have no idea what the fuck he wants with me. I decide my best move is to stay quiet and to closely watch where he’s going turn after turn, just in case I’m able to escape. Then at least I’ll have some idea of where I am. I keep my hand buried deeply into the bottom of my coat pocket as I desperately clutch the watch and GPS tracker I was able to slide off Oliver’s hand when I was hugging him. Hopefully he’ll remember to tell Carson I took it. The man is now constantly shaking and talking to himself though I can’t quitemake out what he’s saying. I’m worried that this tracker in my hand is the only thing that’s going to get me out of this situation.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Carson
I check my watch and notice the time is long past when I promised Gloria I would be by for dinner. I know she’ll understand, I just don’t like missing any of the little time I have available with Oliver right now. The week without Bianca has been hard but the only thing that’s kept me going is getting to see my son every day, even if it’s only for a few hours.
Rafe and I have been going through old files the LAPD sent over for the past few hours and my eyes are starting to blur. No matter how many I go through, it just feels like I’m grasping at straws. The fact that we haven’t been able to find a single viable suspect added to the lack of any additional clues from the perpetrator himself, and I feel like I’m spinning in circles.
I’m about to tell Rafe that we can pack it in for the evening when my desk phone lets out a shrill ring. “Detective Turner,” Isay cradling the receiver between my ear and shoulder while I start to close the open files on my desk.
“Detective, this is Shirley at the front desk.”
