Christmas Stalking

“Shut up. Turn right here.” The gun in Max’s hand never wavered. Damn that CSI show—she could picture the bullet entering her body, tracing a path to her heart… Her purse lay at his feet, so she couldn’t get to her cell phone or the mace.

“Can’t we talk about this?”

“No. Head for I-95.”

Jade threaded her way through the streets of Arlington for the highway, fully aware that it headed for either Washington or deeper into Virginia. She considered faking a skid on the snow-swept streets, but the gun could go off in a crash.

“Get on here,” Max said, waving the gun toward the southbound on-ramp.

She swung onto the highway, merged with the traffic and accelerated into the blowing snow. She reached to turn the heater up and Max’s nervous twitch reminded her that she was being kidnapped by a cold-blooded killer.

She tried to recall what she’d heard about the man on the news—pitifully little, actually—that might help her reason with him. He was a reporter for the Washington Post. He’d done some big stories, some undercover work. He’d even been up for a Pulitzer. For unknown reasons, he’d brutally murdered an older man, a friend of his father’s and an important man at Geotech, an energy and mining company large enough to change the course of the nation for years. Even the FBI, often loathe to meddle with the D.C. police, was involved in the hunt for this man. His father said the murder was totally uncharacteristic, that Werner Edwards was a family friend. He swore Max would be exonerated.

Oh yeah, she felt much better now. All his neighbors probably thought he was a real nice guy. Never hurt a fly.

“Pull off at the next exit.”

“We’re going to Springfield?”

“Just pull off.”

Jade did as she was told, and Max directed her through turn after turn around the suburban streets.

She watched him as closely as she could as he divided his attention between her and the streets, peering out between the gusts of snow, then back at her. “Stop. Stop here.”

Again, she did as she was told, pulling behind a black SUV on a quiet, windblown street.

“Turn the car off.”

She did, her hand shaking, her heart in her throat. Was this the end? Was he going to kill her here? In the middle of suburbia?

From beside him, on top of the Santa suit, Max withdrew the blue scarf. “Crawl through to the back seat and lay down.”

“No. Please.”

He waved the gun at her, a new sense of urgency and desperation to his moves. She obeyed, the fear making her clumsy. She finally made it to the back seat where he forced her to kneel on the floor. “Put your hands behind your back.”

“Don’t hurt me. My father can help you—”

“Your father’s the reason you’re here.”

“My father? What does he—”

“Put your damn hands behind your back.”

The seats pressed into her stomach as she worked her arms around until her hands were in the small of her back, and Max tied them tightly. “Lay down on the seat.”

“I can’t.”

Max grunted and opened the door. As the cold swept across her bare legs, Jade realized how exposed she was, but he quickly closed it, then opened the rear door. He tossed the presents into the back with his free hand. Once the seat was cleared, he pulled her roughly onto the cushions and pulled off the thick black belt from his Santa suit. He used it to tie her ankles together.

“One more thing,” he said and pulled a neckerchief from his pocket.

“No.”

“I can’t have you scream.” He crawled onto the seat with her. He didn’t hurt her, in fact, he moved carefully, making sure his knee was on the seat and not her body, but the closeness, his proximity, made her flesh crawl and it was all she could do not to pass out.

He forced the cloth between her teeth and tied it behind her head. “I’m going to be out of the car for a few minutes, but I’ll be watching you. Don’t be stupid.” Max waved the gun in front of Jade’s terrified eyes, then slammed the door.

As she lay face down on the back seat, the sound of his footsteps disappeared rapidly in the winter wind. She tested her bonds, but whatever other flaws Max might have, tying knots badly was not among them.

She tried squirming around so she could push herself upright against a door, but the necessary movement caused both her coat and her dress to ride up her thighs, and she felt horribly vulnerable, so she lay quietly and tried to think of a way to escape.

She heard scraping at the back of the car, but couldn’t tell what it was.

The mace and her phone were so close, and yet there was no possibility of getting them. No one knew where she was. The moronic detective had stopped tailing her. Her father wouldn’t even miss her for a few more hours, and then what? They’d look at the mall, but had anyone seen her abduction? The crowds that had been so pressing inside the stores had vanished in the far reaches of the parking garage, so she couldn’t count on any witnesses. Even if they had seen her, she’d been kidnapped by Santa Claus. She doubted they’d even start looking for her car for hours, and with this snow…

Overwhelmed, frightened beyond any kind of reason, she blinked frantically as hot tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, God, at least she wanted to see. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The driver’s door opened with another blast of cold wind and gusting snow. She heard his coat rustle, the SUV tip slightly with his weight. Then his voice. “You okay?”

She tried to tell him she was not okay, that she’d never be okay again, but she couldn’t with the gag in her mouth.

He turned on the interior light and looked over the seats at her.

All she could do was blink, trying to clear her vision.

“Legs cold?” he asked.

That startled her. What the hell did he care if she were cold? She didn’t want to answer, but the fact was, her legs were freezing. She nodded once, then turned her head so she faced the back of the seat.

She heard the rustle of cloth, then her coat slipped down to mid-calf. More rustling, then more of her legs were covered. She twisted around so she could glance down, and saw the red of the Santa suit across her ankles.

He started the car, slowly edged into the street. As he drove, she shifted on the seat until, when she craned her neck, she could just see out the top of the side window. She tried to guess where they were from her limited field of vision but it was useless, and she quit trying. She needed to conserve her energy. He had to stop sometime.

She tried to focus on sounds, anything at all familiar, but the big luxury car had been designed to keep traffic noise out. All she could tell was when they got on the highway again, by the speed of the car and the occasional sound of a truck going by.

Time crawled by as he drove and drove, and every minute seemed to reveal a new ache, a new pain, a new terrifying facet of her situation. Her arms cramped in the unnatural position and no matter how she lifted them, shifted them, the pain just worsened. Even her ankles hurt, as the edge of the thick belt chafed.

Her ribs hurt, her head throbbed, and she’d gotten stuffed up from crying and had to struggle for breath beyond the gag in her mouth.

It felt as if she would surely die from the fear, if nothing else. Image after image of what he could do to her flooded her brain, only to be followed by vivid mental pictures of her father hearing the news that she was dead.

A lurch, and her eyes opened.

God, she’d slept. It seemed impossible. But she had slept, for how long, she had no clue.

She realized that the very absence of noise and motion was what had awakened her. The driver’s side door opened and her kidnapper got out, then the rear door opened and she once again felt cold air on her legs.