Stepping out through the front door, she surveyed the clearing and saw the van in the same spot they'd parked it when they brought her here. And behind it, she saw Lennon, standing oddly with another person. It took her a moment to resolve what she was seeing into something coherent: her kidnapper, his arm wrapped around the neck of another girl. It was someone she recognized, too. She knew they must have been back to the bar.
"I have a gun," Lennon said loudly and clearly. "You have a stick. And I think you know this person."
It was all true. His gun was small and black but clearly pressed against the temple of Lisa McAlister, the bar's busty blonde barmaid. She was dressed in a black vinyl jacket, tight black lace-up top, denim skirt, flesh-colored nylons, and shiny high-heeled boots so tight they looked painted on. A thick plastic strap pinched tight around her upper body just below the bulge of her bustline, and her hands were clearly bound behind her. Her mouth was sealed shut with another strip of duct tape.
"Kelley is calling the police inside," she called, wondering why they hadn't done just that. She hadn't seen a phone anywhere, but why hadn't she looked? She cursed herself. And why hadn't she cut Kelley loose? She thought she'd be able to get the drop on this one, too, but he was the smarter of the pair.
"That's great, babe. Now get over here and give me that thing before you hurt yourself."
She stood, indecisive, looking at Lisa, who was staring back with teary eyes. She was obviously terrified. If she didn't do what the guy told her, he might shoot Lisa. At the very least he'd probably shoot her. And what was she supposed to do to fight back? All she had was the baton, and without surprise on her side, there wasn't much working in her favor.
"I can tell you're having trouble making up your mind," Lennon said. "Let me help."
He turned the gun on her. Her blood went ice cold in the instant before he fired. The bullet punched through the siding near the front door. Tiffany jumped and felt her knees begin to shake. She dropped the baton.
"That's a good first step. Now do me a favor. Turn around and walk backwards toward me."
She turned slowly, the elation of her former advantage mocking her, and began to do as she was told.
"That's it. I learned this from the cops. Now put your hands behind you. Good. Keep coming. Cross the wrists."
She heard him walking out to meet her. She braced for the impact of the stun gun or possibly a whack in the head. But all he did was what she knew he was going to do: zip a plastic cuff around her wrists. Once that was done he turned her to face him and stuffed the gun down the waistband of his pants.
"Very nice try, honey. Very nice indeed. Good thing we ran into your co-worker back at the bar, huh? She's as snug as you were. But you're going to be even snugger than that, I think, after this stunt. Now where's my associate?"
She tipped her head at the house but didn't say anything.
"STEVE!" Lennon shouted at the open doorway. When no answer came he walked Tiffany quickly over to the open rear of the van, where Lisa sat awkwardly on the ground, her unbound legs splayed. With a quick and easy motion he kicked Tiffany's legs out from under her, using his calf to sweep her knees out of position and send her hard to the ground. She met Lisa's gaze. The blonde girl looked severely shaken but otherwise all right.
Lennon dug in the back of the van and turned around with a fistful of plastic ties. He yanked Tiffany's legs by the ankles, tipping her painfully onto her back, held them together with one hand, and used the other to strap them together. He dropped them and moved over to Lisa, who so far had shown no signs of resistance. He crouched while he plasticuffed her boot-clad ankles together.
"I don't know what you did to Steve," he said to Tiffany, pulling Lisa's ankle tie tight with a thin zzzzzp, "but if he's dead, you're dead."
He went for the house. Tiffany wobbled back into a sitting position. "Lisa," she said. "We don't have much time. I figured how to cut these things off, but I need something pointy and small. Do you have a safety pin or anything like that?"
Switching glances between the house and Tiffany, Lisa wrinkled her brow and looked to the side thoughtfully. Her jaw went down and up and the tape over her mouth wrinkled along the line of her lips. She made a suppressed attempt at speech that amounted to a quiet mutter: "Mmm mm."
"I can't understand," Tiffany said.
"Mmmm MMMM." She rolled her eyes, gave her head a futile shake, and nodded toward the van. "Mmmm mm MMM."
The van. It was open, and there was a toolbox in there somewhere. Tiffany put her back against the rear bumper and moved herself awkwardly up until she was standing, precariously teetering on tied-together feet. She turned herself around.
There, on the carpeted floor of the back of the van, was what Lisa had been mmm-ing about. It was a patent leather purse as black and glossy as her jacket and her boots, and it was lying on its side, its contents half spilled out. There was a makeup case. Sticking out of it was a nail file.
"Oh my God," Tiffany said excitedly, and threw herself up onto her side in the van. Her hip took the brunt of it and hurt terribly, but she ignored it. She fumbled for the file with her strapped hands, found it, and turned it on the latch of the plastic restraint. Inside of five seconds it gave. She pulled her legs up and levered the ankle strap off, then looked around frantically for a weapon. There was a heavy-duty screwdriver behind the passenger seat. She grabbed it and, still holding the nail file, jumped out of the van.
It was her second escape today, and she wasn't going to let the opportunity pass. She dropped down behind Lisa and went to work on the strap that was pinching her wrists together, her hands curled and motionless below with their red laquered nails. It came off, but the larger piece around her abdomen still held her arms down. Tiffany pried that one off with some difficulty, keeping her eyes locked on the house.
When the second strap had come off Lisa's body, Lennon reappeared at the door, moving with frightening speed. When he saw the scene at the van he stopped, his mouth set into a grim line, and then tore off directly at them.
The adrenaline was in Tiffany at that point. The fight or flight instinct took hold and after a microsecond she picked the former. She stood up from next to her friend and extended the screwdriver with both hands at Lennon. She shouted in anger.
So did he. He barreled into her, knocking the screwdriver away with one sweep of his arm. He took her to the gravel on her back. She lifted her knee into his groin but he caught it between his thighs and straddled her, pinning her arms down against the ground. The look on his face was utterly terrifying. Tiffany knew that if she didn't get away he'd kill her.
But he was probably five times stronger than she was. He held her easily. He transferred both of her hands to one of his and went behind him with the other one. She knew he was going for the pistol.
Instead he came around with her old friend, the stun gun. He held it in front of her face with a savage grin and pressed the button. Electricity crackled between the points.
She bucked as hard as she could, but it wasn't hard enough. He socked the business end of the stun gun against the curve of her neck above her left shoulder and put a long jolt of pure agony into her body. She couldn't even scream. The fight went out of her instantly and she tried to pull in, tried to get away from it.
After a vicious length of time (an hour? two?) he yanked it away. By then the world had started to go gray for Tiffany. She vaguely felt the horrible pressure of his body remove itself from her and she stared into the sky, holding her tingling collarbone with both hands.
"You didn't kill him," he said. "Lucky for you. Very lucky. Whoa, blondie, where are you hopping?"
She didn't watch, but she could hear him zip Lisa back up. He got into the van and came out with a small case with a hinged lid. He extracted a plastic syringe.
"This is for you," he said. "Much better than you deserve, believe me. Night night."
The injection went into her left thigh. It burned below the skin as the drug entered her bloodstream.
A ringing in her ears became first apparent and then louder and louder and then was replaced by a washed-out white noise sound like the ocean at night. Her hands fell away from her neck as the drug began to massage her brain and eased her into the deepest, blackest pit in the world. Her final thought was to wonder if she'd ever wake up.
To Be Continued...