Richard Hale - Frozen Past

Putting the box back on the shelf she returned to the chair and sat.

And sat.

And sat.

She had no sense of time. No clock, no windows, no outside noises to give her any clue. She slept on the cold floor when she was tired and drank the water when she was thirsty. The crackers and orange hadn’t lasted very long, and now she was down to one Ding Dong and one bottle of water. She had not seen or heard her father since that first visit. She wondered when he would return and yet hoped he wouldn’t. The hours and minutes dragged on and she longed to see daylight, or moonlight, or anything which would give her a sense of perspective.

She thought of Luke a lot, his face smiling at her and his tender hands holding her and stroking her hair. The last time she had seen him, he had been lying on the kitchen floor, either dead or unconscious. She hadn’t had time to check as the madman chased her through the house. She felt sure he was alive, though, because she could sense him.

She thought of her mother too. Even her loser brother at times, but for the most part she thought of her father and what he was going to do with her. Her imagination ran wild with scenes of him torturing her, or beating her, or even killing her. She had no idea what he meant by her having a destiny and he would help her fulfill it. It drove her crazy and at the same time filled her with dread.

Some time had passed when she heard footfalls on the ceiling above her, then the jangle of keys and the door to her prison opened. The footsteps made their way down the stairs and then her father came into view carrying a video camera, tripod, and some white poster board. She was terrified.

He set the things down on the floor and pointed to the chair and said, “Bring that over here and sit down in it.”

She didn’t move.

“Now!” he shouted and it made her jump. She stood and went to the chair, sliding it over to the middle of the room and sitting as she was told. He went behind her and bound her hands together again.

“That’s good,” he said. “If you behave and do what I say, you’ll only be hindered for a short time.”

He bound her tightly, but not too uncomfortably. At least the circulation continued through her wrists.

“What is all that?” she asked.

“You’re going to be a star,” he said and smiled.

He set up the tri-pod directly in front of her and mounted the video camera to it, aligning it to her position. He turned the camera on and pressed a button. A red light appeared for a few seconds as he looked through the view finder and he said, “Say something.”

“What do I say?”

“That’s fine.” He turned the camera off.

He disappeared behind her for a few minutes and then reappeared with the white poster board in his hands. He set that down and disappeared behind her again. She heard a scraping noise and a clunk and then he set something down behind her she could not see. She started to shake.

He spoke directly into her ear from close behind her and it made her jump. “You’re going to read what’s printed on the cards when I hold them up. You’ll read exactly what’s on them and nothing more. You can read correct?”

She nodded.

“Now, this isn’t going to be too pleasant, but it’s necessary for the effect.”

She barely had time to process what he had just said when liquid was poured over her head from behind. The smell immediately assaulted her and she started gagging as soon as she realized what it was.

He had poured the bucket of urine over her and she was drenched in her own piss.

He stepped around her to the camera as she gasped for breath, the reeking ammonia smell making her eyes burn and tear up. He held up the first card and turned the camera on.

“Read,” he said.

She couldn’t see the letters and she couldn’t catch her breath. She was sobbing now and struggling against the restraints as she tried to get away from the awful liquid soaking her clothes and skin.

“Read!” he shouted.

She concentrated on the card and a few words came into focus. Shaking and sobbing she read:

“I am Eliana…” she stopped.

“Read!”

“I am Eliana Worthington . I am alive…for now.” She sobbed harder. “I am being held by a man who loves me.” She looked quickly at him, but he shook the card at her to continue. “He will let me live if his demands are met.”

He changed cards. The urine and ammonia burned her eyes and now her skin was starting to sting. The words swam in and out of focus.

“Detective Jaxon Jennings is to locate me and attempt a rescue. If he does not…” she had to stop, she couldn’t see for the burning in her eyes.

“Read, damn you!”

“I can’t! My eyes burn and I can’t see!” She drooled as she spoke and felt bile rising in her throat. He turned the camera off and approached her with a towel. He wiped her eyes roughly and went back behind the camera. He pressed the record button again.

“Read.”

She focused on the words and tried again. “If he doesn’t find me in three days, I will be killed.” The card was swapped for another. “My father will only allow one clue and you have already seen it. You have three days.” The card dropped and she pleaded with him. “Please! Don’t do this! You’re my father! Please!”

He turned the camera off and went upstairs leaving her tied to the chair. He returned a few moments later and set something else down on the floor behind her. She braced for whatever else was coming, but instead she felt his hands as they untied her bindings and he told her to stand. He gathered the tri-pod and camera and carried them to the stairs. He turned before climbing them and said, “Clean yourself up. You stink.”

He nodded at two buckets on the floor by her and she could see one was filled with soapy water and the other fresh. He tramped up the stairs and locked the door behind him. She sat back down and sobbed for a long time.

Jaxon watched the video end and the local newscaster go on to say, “The disturbing video of Eliana Worthington was delivered to the station at seven o’clock this morning. The man she speaks of is her father, Leonard Worthington, who the police are seeking in the deaths of a number of teens in the DC Metro area. Dubbed the Swimming Pool Killer, he has led the authorities on a number of wild goose chases, and is believed responsible for the death of local Fairfax County Police detective, Sally Winston, along with a number of Indiana police officers, SWAT team members, and FBI agents who were lured into his supposed residence in Hobart, Indiana last month, and then killed in the subsequent explosion. The Fairfax County Police Department has remained unusually quiet and the FBI has refused comment. What this reporter wants to know is where is the detective who was so prominently mentioned in the video? Why has Detective Jaxon Jennings, the lead investigator on the case, disappeared? An exhaustive search performed by Mel Jacobs in our investigative department indicates that he is holed up in his apartment and refuses to acknowledge anyone on the outside. We go now live to Mel at the Oaktier Apartment complex for an update.”

The picture segued into a shot of the outside of his apartment building and Jaxon groaned.

“Shut it off,” he said.

Victoria stepped to the small set and flipped the switch.

“When did this first air?” he said.

“Four hours ago.”

He rubbed his face and sat forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I’ve got to sober up. Can you make coffee while I shower?”

She smiled and said, “Of course.”

He stood slowly and went to step past her to the bathroom, but she grabbed his arm. “We only have three days.”