Chapter Twenty-One
Joe Peabody and Etta had driven in silence for an hour, before they turned off of the state road onto a gravel road for about three miles. There was a sign-post for a nature preserve or something that they passed, then turned into a private driveway with a locked gate. Joe got out of the car, unlocked the gate, pulled the car through, then went back to re-lock the gate. He drove through the very narrow old logging road until he came to a small clearing and stopped the car. He reached down under his seat, took out a revolver, gently tucked it into the back of his waistband and got out of the car. Opening the door to the backseat he grabbed a plastic bag that contained water bottles, the chloroform, the rag he’d used to abduct her, the duct tape and some more towels. He came around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. “Get out.”
Etta got out of the car, turned to look around at her new surroundings. She’d decided that she needed to know everything about where they were going. They were hemmed in, on all sides, as far as the eye could see, by a deep, dark deciduous forest. There were very few pines around, but mainly oak, cottonwoods, poplar with lots of small underbrush along the way. The canopy of the trees was very high, so this was what the sign had been earlier; a nature preserve filled with old-growth trees and totally natural surroundings. If it was possible, she’d leave some kind of a trail so that she could be tracked. Tom had shown her, when they were winter camping, how easy it was to track animals in the snow. If she left a trail of something that was noticeable, someone could track her from this spot to wherever she ended up and she had something in mind.
“We’ve got about a two mile walk ahead of us. No shoes, so be careful, okay? I don’t want you hurt.” He held a water bottle up to her mouth again. “Head back.” Etta drank deep and heartily when he offered her the water.
“This is gonna make me need to pee. It’s been a long time.”
“That’s okay. There’s a bathroom where we’re headed.”
Etta just grimaced and frowned at that news. “Good.” She had to stay on his good side.
“Listen. I still don’t want to hurt you. I’ll take good care of you until Owen gets here. It’s going to take a while. We’ve got at least a few hours to wait until he makes it here. It’s hot so we’ll take our time. If you run, I’m going to have to shoot you. Don’t make me shoot you.”
“Okay. I won’t run. I promise.”
“Good. You go ahead of me, I’ll tell you when to turn left or right.” He pushed her ahead of him. She bent over, in a mock stretch, grabbed a small rock and started to make an arrow in the dirt.
“Stop that. Move.” He pushed gently on her shoulder.
“Okay.” She’d have to be sneakier. She started to walk into the dense forest, when she saw what she needed. There was a small tree that had fallen over in the forest and a two or three-inch-sized stump sticking up. She pretended to be unknowingly looking the other direction and stomped on the stump with her right foot as hard as she could, jamming the stump into the bottom of her foot. “Ouch!”
“God dammit. I told you to watch where you’re going.”
Quietly, Etta answered. “I’m sorry. My mind was …. Well, I’m a little nervous, you know.”
“Yeah. I’m sure. Is it okay?” He thought about bending over to check her foot but that might give her access to his gun. “You need me to take care of it?”
“No, its fine, I’m sure. I can keep going.” Good, she thought. Now there would be a trail of her blood with every step. It would hurt like a bugger, but they could track her.
“Okay, then move.” He shoved her again to make her walk forward. He guided her left, then right through the woods, into a deep glen in the forest. Up ahead she could see a small little cottage. As they grew closer, she saw a sign over the gable end that read “Sugar Shack”. This was apparently a spot where they harvested and cooked maple syrup. She didn’t even know that was possible in Iowa, but you learned something new every day.
“That’s our little hole in the wall.”
“There’s a bathroom in there?”
“There’s supposed to be, yes.”
When they got to the shack, he stepped up onto the one-man wide little porch and unlocked the padlock to the entryway. He had her walk into the small one-room building ahead of him. Inside there were two small windows on either side wall of the building, if you dared to call it a building. It was what the name described: a shack. There were large stainless-steel vats on either side of the building, some type of gas-powered cooking device below the tanks, which had a propane tube to the outside and several large propane tanks stacked against the building. There was also a small pot-bellied stove, near the doorway. Against the back wall there were clipboards hanging on nails. She supposed that was apparently where they must keep notes about quality and quantity of the syrup that was produced. Nowhere in the shack, however, was there anything like a toilet.
“Doesn’t look like there’s a bathroom to me, slick.”
“God dammit. That fucker.”
Etta bent down slightly and peer out the window to the right from the doorway. “I think I know what they were talking about though.” She could see a small one-person-sized outhouse clearly visible about twenty feet from the shack. “That must be it,” she said, gesturing to outside with her head.
“Well, I suppose it’ll do. And I suppose you need it right away?”
“Well, yeah,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Okay, let’s go.” He set down the grocery bag on the top of the pot belly stove, next to a cast-iron skillet and a giant old-time coffee pot.
“How quaint,” Etta said.
“Yeah, ain’t it just special?”
“I’m thinking of booking a vacation here next year,” she smirked.
“Very funny.” He turned around to keep her in front of him at all times. “Move.” He pushed her out the door.
“So, how are we gonna do this, slick?” Etta asked.
“Hmmm …. Well, I’m not undoing your tie-up for anything. I’ll open the door, you stand to sit down, then I’ll pull all your stuff down, okay?”
“My, how private.”
“Yeah, well, he wanted me to strip you and tie you to a tree. Would you prefer that method?”
“No, thanks.”
“That’s what I thought. Okay, then let’s get to this. You ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen before, so ….” Joe opened the door with the moon-shaped cutout, Etta stepped into the building and stood ready to have her shorts pulled down. Joe reached around her, with her arms between them and pulled down her shorts and panties. She sat and peed. When she was done, she stood up again.
“I presume I don’t get to wipe?”
“Nope. You’re good enough for now.” He leaned over, reaching around her, with her arms between them, and pulled up her panties and shorts.
“Oh you’re good at that slick. Dress a lot of girls, do you? Precious,” she said, leaning up against his shoulder as he finished his task.
“Smart ass.” He backed away and gestured with his shoulder for her to move back to the shack.
She walked back into the open door of the shack. Good, she thought, she was still leaving small blood stains as she walked along, although the wound was starting to heal up now. She hoped she left a nice, gushy trail along her way. “He wanted me stripped and tied to a tree? Really?”
“Yeah, and that ain’t my shit, man. I see no need to humiliate you. This was bad enough.” He motioned for her to move towards the back wall. “Here. You sit down here, back to the wall. I’ll help you get down.” He helped her get down to the ground, with her feet out in front of her. He went and sat across the shack, next to the open door. “At least it’s cooler back in the woods.”
“That’s true. And it’s pretty back here.” She glanced out the side window to the woods beyond.
“You like nature, huh? That boyfriend of yours is some nature freak, out on Isle Royale?”
“Yeah, something like.” They sat in silence a long time. “You knew he was on Isle Royale?”
“Yeah, part of what Owen had me do. Watch his mail. Find out where you were from his mail to you, then send him some stupid package.”
“What kind of package?”
“A silk scarf from him. I have no idea. The guy’s psycho scary.” They sat again in silence a while. “And I am sorry. If he didn’t scare the shit out of me, I probably would’ve taken your offer. I’ve got a woman and kid. They need me. I can’t let him kill me.”
“Okay.” Etta’s mind raced with thoughts of what Tom was going through. He knew that Owen had her by now. He was sick with worry and frustration. What if he was still stuck on the island and couldn’t get to her? That would make him crazy. She hung her head, as much as possible between her arms. She was desperately tired from what she’d been through today. Maybe if she just laid down to rest. But she couldn’t. She had to talk to this guy. Stay awake and alert and figure out a way to get out of this. After fifteen or twenty minutes of quiet between them, Etta spoke. “What’s your name?”
“Why? So you can testify against me one day?”
“No. Don’t I deserve to know? If Owen’s gonna kill me anyway, what difference does it make?”
“Good point. Joe.” He nodded in her direction.
“Hi, Joe.”
“Hi, Etta.”
They were both very accepting of their respective fates in the world at this point. “Can I make a confession, Joe?”
“Sure. What’s the harm? What is it?”
“I’m scared. Not just a little bit scared, but really scared.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you are. And I’m sorry for my part in that.”
“Yeah, I’ve figured that out. Can you do me a favor? Can you make sure Tom knows I love him?”
“Oh shit.” Joe’s eyes were starting to fill with tears. “Fuck. Sure.”
“Okay. That’s all I needed to know.” She leaned her head back against the wall. She’d looked at Joe a long time and he had the same tired in his eyes and was, no doubt, in hers. They sat again for another five or ten minutes. ”What I don’t get, Joe, is why you’re sticking around. Why don’t you just leave?”
“He wanted me to wait for him.” He looked towards the open doorway. “Shit. He wanted me to strip you naked, tie you to a tree and wait for him. But that’s bullshit. I’m not gonna humiliate someone who’s about to die.” They sat against for another five or ten minutes, while Joe thought about what Etta was proposing. “But you have an excellent point, Etta. What am I sitting here for?”
“Well? What are you thinking now, Joe?”
“I’m thinking he’s told me where to pick up my payout. I’ve delivered you. You’re secured. The rest is his problem, isn’t it?” His heart was drumming in his chest at just the thought of giving Owen back some of his own.
“Exactly. What am I gonna do, Joe? You got me tied up here. You lock that door and walk away. I’m not going anywhere, am I? How could I?”
“Fuck, Etta. You have a really good point. You know, you’ll never know how sorry I am. You actually seem like a really nice girl.”
“And you, Joe, seem like a really nice man, for a kidnapper.”
Joe got up, walked over to the bag of goods on the stove and pulled out the water bottles. “Think you need these? I could set them over by you.”
“I’m good, Joe. Get out while you can.”
“Okay, I will. Bye Etta. I’d say good luck but ….” He walked out the door, closed it and locked the padlock and turned to waltz down the path back towards the car they’d arrived in. He even whistled while he walked.
Owen had had a plan for both of them, and screw Owen’s plan. Now Etta was formulating a plan for Owen.
* * *
Tom sat in the front seat of Glen Staley’s car as they sped along the highway towards Iowa. He was tapping his fingers, nervously, on his knee, biting his lip as he watched the fence rows and luscious green fields of southern Minnesota pass him by. Occasionally he’d glance over to Etta’s father whose total focus was on the road in front of him, with an intensity that he’d never seen in anyone before. In fact, it was doubtful he’d ever see anyone again in his life with that kind of penetrating stare.
“Thanks for waiting for me,” Tom said to Glen.
“Sure. No problem. Connie is there with Gen making sure she’s okay. Art and Mary are going to look after her when Connie needs to go home. That’s Peggy’s uncle and aunt.” Glen’s hands repeatedly tapped against the steering wheel. Tom just nodded his head. “It isn’t like we could do much anyway except sit and wait and hope to hear something from the authorities.”
“I know.” Tom’s hands kept tapping against his knee in quick, small, constant, continuous motion of his fingers against his knee. His mind was racing with thoughts of what he could’ve done differently. He’d been able to call Izzy from Isle Royale and had her call Etta’s father as soon as he’d gotten the package, but it had taken until this morning to get in touch with him. Who knew that he’d been spending the night with a new woman he’d been seeing. They’d finally gotten a hold of him this morning at work when they called from Houghton. He’d grabbed the first boat back to Houghton early that morning, a fishing boat of all things, but it was still taking forever to get from Point A to Point B. Thank God they’d been able to get to Glen so he could relay the message about the package to the cops. They’d needed to know to take this all very seriously. There was no doubt in Tom’s mind that Owen had kidnapped Etta.
“You know, you’re gonna wear a hole in those jeans like that.” Glen glanced down at Tom’s knee.
“Oh, sorry.” For a few moments Tom stopped the movement of his hands. “Nervous. Really nervous.” Now he rubbed his fingers on the fabric of his jeans.
“Yeah, I know. Listen, I’m really glad you and Izzy tracked me down. You okay, Izzy?”
From the backseat, Izzy said, “Yeah, I’m fine. We’re just both kind of a wreck, you know. Really worried about her.”
“You’re both great kids. Your whole family.” He started to get a little teary-eyed. “You’ve all been a real inspiration to both me and Etta.” He had to get a grip of his emotions, for Tom’s sake, if not for Etta’s. “Seeing your parents together …. Well, they inspired me to try dating again. I got a good view of what I was missing.”
“That’s great,” Izzy chimed in from the backseat. “Where’d you meet her?”
“At the golf course, of all places. She loves to golf.” He chuckled to himself. “I’m a lousy golfer. Etta knows that now. She’d always get me these golf things for Christmas, you know, golf gloves, golf tees, monogrammed golf balls.” His mind wandered back to memories. He had a million good memories of his little girl. And maybe he hadn’t told her that he loved her enough. Certainly he didn’t when she’d been younger, while he was still grieving for her mother. When this was over, if they came out of this alive and together, he wouldn’t waste time being stubborn. He’d tell her a million times over how much he loved her. “At some point I had to tell her, you know, to stop giving me golf things, because I hated golf.”
“Oh yeah?” Tom asked.
“Yeah. She was shocked. All that time she thought I loved it, when I was only golfing so much to make work contacts, you know.” He thought back to the look on her face. She was disappointed that in all those years she’d been giving him things he didn’t want. “I’m sure Etta will be shocked that I met Marianne golfing. Etta thought she was giving me lousy gifts and felt bad. It didn’t matter ‘cause they were from her.” His voice broke as he spoke. “Oh shit. We’ve gotta get her back, Tom.”
“We will. We’ll find her. The cops will find her and catch that bastard.” Tom formed a fist in his right hand and brought it up to his face. “And if I ever see him again, I’ll make him pay,” he muttered to himself.
“What’s that?” Etta’s father asked.
“They’ll make him pay.”
“Yes, they will. He’ll finally go to prison for what he’s put her through this time.” Glen Staley’s glare continued down toward the ribbon of highway before him. Anger was now getting the better of him too. “I just don’t understand his motivation this time around. Why would he do this?”
“God knows. The guy is a psycho and always has been. He’s apparently got some kind of hard-on against me and he’s taking it out on Etta. If I’d known he was this sick when we were younger I would’ve taken care of things back then.” The words were coming from Tom’s mouth, but his thoughts were so filled with disgust and hatred, it was almost as if they were seething from him.
“Tom!” Izzy cried out from the backseat. “Stop it. Get a grip.”
Both of Tom’s hands now formed into fists and he lightly tapped one of them against the door of the car. “I’m sorry. I’m just so angry and frustrated. I’ve got all this aggression against this guy and nowhere to go with it.”
Izzy leaned forward, her head coming between the two front seats. “Well, think about things instead. Think of why. Why would he be doing this?”
Tom leaned his head over towards Izzy. “Because he’s frikkin nuts! I don’t know.”
“No, slow down. There’s gotta be something. He already got away with the rape, right?” Izzy asked of Etta’s father.
“Yes, that’s what doesn’t make sense. He has no motivation to take her unless it’s just to irritate Tom. And how did he even know about Etta and Tom being together?”
Izzy was formulating some thoughts about Owen’s motivation in her mind. “That’s just it. He must’ve sent someone to Marquette to check into Etta. It wouldn’t have taken long to ask around and find out she was seeing Tommy. But just to piss you off? That’s not enough of a reason to kidnap somebody.”
Glen interjected, “No, you wouldn’t think so. But if this is some old childhood grievance, perhaps it is.”
“Well, Tom? Was it that big of a deal, back then?” She put her hand gently on his shoulder. “How pissed off was the little schmuck?”
“Oh, he was mad. I shoved his face in the dirt and told him to pick on someone his own size. Something like that but it wasn’t that big of a deal. At least I didn’t think so. It probably would’ve been a bigger thing, but Donovan held me back. You know he was always the smart one of our bunch.”
“Yeah, I know. So, if it wasn’t that big of a deal then, was it something that festered or something? You know, over the years?”
“A little bit, maybe. I know he was pissed when I won Mr. Hockey, but even then …. Well, Christ, I earned that. I’m sure it burned him a little but ….”
“Yeah, that’s not enough.” She shook her head and leaned back in her seat to think “It had to have been something between him and Etta. If it wasn’t something with Tom then …..” Izzy gasped. “Oh, God.” She covered her mouth with her hand.
Tom swirled around to look in his twins’ face. “What? What are you thinking?”
“Oh shit, Tom. What if she saw something? Knew something? You know, when she was dating him. You know, well ….When you’re seeing somebody, you meet people, you know, their friends and people they know… acquaintances. What if the guy who was like selling those designer drugs he used on her or some dealer….. What if she knows too much?” Tom’s heart was now pounding in his chest. That thought had never occurred to him.
Etta’s father replied, “That’s a disgustingly real possibility, Izzy. And it’s something I hadn’t even considered.” The three of them were suddenly very quiet, each of them thinking through the possibilities and reasoning of a kidnapper and potential killer. None of them wanted to express those thoughts aloud. Finally Staley asked the most important question, “What if he wants her dead?”
“Well, then he’s going to be very fucking disappointed!” Tom shouted.
With that thought, expressed so clearly and so loudly, silence again reigned through the car. Izzy, again, put her hand on Tom’s shoulder. “How well do you know this bastard, Tom?”
“I don’t know. Not very well. He’s a rich prick,” he responded, somewhat resigned to wondering what was in a psycho’s mind.
“Where would he take her? Do you have any idea?” Izzy asked. “I’m just trying to ask what the cops will ask.”
Tom was so angry, pretty much all he could see before him was red and red-hued. “I don’t know. I suppose, since he’s a rich punk, he’d take her somewhere private, out of the way, you know, where he could kill her on some private estate or ….” A very clear, distinct thought ran through Tom’s mind. He knew exactly where Owen Randall would take Etta. And it was a very pure, strong thought of revenge at the scene of the crime that went through his mind. Somewhere very private, quiet and natural. “Or a private camp somewhere. That’s it! He’d go back to that camp. The camp where I shoved his nose in the ground. What the hell was the name of it? It was in Iowa. Naturesomething. Let me think. Spring …. Springwood, Springbrook. That’s it. Springbrook Nature Center. It’s outside of Des Moines …. Like an hour west of there.”
Glen raised up his hand for a high-five. “Good thinking, young man.” Tom gave him that high-five. “We’ll stop at the rest-stop in Clear Lake and call the house to talk to the Sherriff about this. We’re only about a half-hour from there, so we’ll have them take you along to see if you can point out the most-likely spot. It’s certainly worth a shot and better than any other lead they’ve got at the moment.”
Tom let out a deep breath. “Yeah, we’ll give it a try. It’s the only thing I can think of.”
Izzy patted her brother on the shoulder, “That’s probably it, Tom. Just keep thinking positive thoughts.”