Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Acknowledgements
Across State Lines
A City of Fountains Novel
C. J. Johnson
ACROSS STATE LINES © 2020 by C. J. Johnson
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the permission of the author.
Cover design & interior formatting by Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs
Dedication:
To all those who have lived through nightmares and those who helped get them through.
Chapter 1
The sound of tires rolling across the pavement echoed in Heather’s ears. She twisted her body but couldn’t loosen the duct tape that bound her hands and feet. She took slow, deep breaths trying not to panic as the trunk walls closed in around her. Sweat ran down her face, stinging as it hit her swollen eyes.
The car began to slow down. Heather thought her heart would beat through her chest. She listened to the muffled voices, straining to make out what they were saying. When the car finally came to a stop, the doors creaked open, then slammed shut. Heather waited.
To herself, she thought, “Maybe they’ll let me out now.”
The trunk lid didn’t open.
Tears created a wet trail down her pale cheeks. Heather’s mind was racing. When would they let her out of the trunk? What would they do to her when they did? To distract herself from the questions, Heather began to hum a song her mother sang to her when she was frightened. And she was frightened now. Heather hummed the verse of the song three times before she heard the doors to the car open again. The car shuddered as the engine turned over and roared to a start. The muffled voices and laughter from the backseat echoed into the dark trunk.
Heather felt the seatback move against her head, then the center console lower as the car began to move backward. A rush of cool air forced its way into the hot, cramped trunk. Heather gulped the fresh air, fighting the urge to scream.
“Drink this.”
A dark hand thrust a Styrofoam cup through the opening in the back seat. Heather saw a straw sticking out of the cup, but hesitated, fearing what the cup might contain. Tentatively she sipped the amber liquid, sighing with relief at the familiar taste of cola. Abruptly the cup was moved from her mouth, causing the liquid to dribble down her chin.
Heather began to plead when the console started to close, “Please! Leave it open. It’s so hot back here.”
Heather heard the men muttering in the backseat, something about hell being hotter, but they left the console down.
“Where are you taking me?”
Heather lay there, listening to the sounds of the radio, waiting for an answer to her question. She twisted her hands to loosen the tape, but her efforts were futile. If anything, the binds felt like they had tightened.
“Let me out of here. Why are you doing this? Where are we going? Just let me go.” Heather continued to ask questions, barely stopping her monologue long enough to take a breath.
Tired of the constant barrage of questions, the man shut the armrest once more. Heather cried quietly and tried to focus on her breathing in the cramped space. After what seemed like hours, Heather felt the car begin to slow again. When it came to a stop, the radio went silent, and the chatter within the car came to a lull. Once again, she heard the car doors creak open. Heather could hear footsteps on the pavement. The thumping sound stopped at the back of her car. When the latch holding the trunk closed was released and the lid popped open, Heather wriggled her body and tried to sit up.
Corey pushed her back into the trunk and said, “Bitch, I didn’t say you could sit up.”
“Please let me out of here. I won’t tell anyone if you just let me go.”
From the trunk, Heather strained to see where they had stopped. The road was lined with trees, but in the distance, she could see decrepit mobile homes with grassless yards made of dirt. An ominous clanking sound was the only background noise.
Corey looked at her and laughed a deep, sinister laugh. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
He grabbed a pillowcase from the trunk and jerked her body into a full seated position. He started to put the pillowcase over Heather’s head.
“Please don’t! I promise I’ll be quiet! Please don’t cover my head. I won’t be able to breathe!”
Corey ignored Heather’s pleas and
put the pillowcase over her head and grabbed the duct tape. Her protests became louder, and her voice shriller until he finally removed the pillowcase.
Corey grabbed a handgun from his waistband and rubbed it lightly against Heather’s cheekbone and growled, “I should end this right now.”
“Please…don’t…just let me go. I promise…”
“You promise what, bitch?” Letting the side of the gun rest against her face, he said, “I could dump your body into the Missouri River, and no one would ever find you. Hell, I bet no one would even miss you.”
“I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me. I’ll do whatever you want. Please just let me go!”
Corey ripped a long piece of duct tape from the roll and wrapped it across Heather’s mouth and around her head. He hesitated and then hit the side of her face with the edge of the weapon. Heather’s screams were muffled by the tape. Corey shoved her back into the trunk, dropping the roll of tape next to her body.
Heather twisted her body and moved her head from side to side, trying to get the tape off her mouth. But the more she twisted, the more the tape pulled against her hair. She finally stopped moving and lay quietly, wondering why someone she thought was her friend would do this to her.
Chapter 2
Heather didn’t know how long they drove before the car once again came to a stop. Her eyes were sore from crying, and her chest hurt from the strain of trying to breathe inside the cramped space.
The car doors opened, and Heather could hear the muffled sounds of someone talking, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Sweat trickled from her damp hair down her face and into her red eyes. Heather blinked, trying to clear her vision. Blood oozed from the wound on her cheek and mixed with the salt of her tears. Heather’s heart pounded and her body ached from being cramped inside the trunk. The fear of her fate echoed in her mind.
Corey knocked on the back door of a small blockhouse. The doorway filled with a dark, imposing figure.
“Hey Big Bruce.”
“What do you want?”
“We need to stash a girl here while we use her car. Can we put her in your basement?”
Bruce looked through the doorway to the car. Not seeing anyone inside, he said, “Boy, quit messin’ with me.”
Bruce turned his back to Corey and let the door slam closed behind him.
Corey returned to the car and unlocked the trunk. The lid popped open, causing Heather to jump in surprise. Corey stood over her body with William and a man she only knew as Tubby.
Corey grabbed her by the shoulders, looked at Tubby, and said, “Get her feet.”
The pair carried Heather to the back door of the little house. She twisted her head and tried to catch a glimpse of the rundown neighborhood as William opened the back door to the residence. He stepped aside to give Corey and Tubby room to carry Heather into the kitchen.
Corey was moving towards the basement stairs when a man’s voice boomed, “What the hell’s going on in here?”
“Big Bruce, I told you we needed a place to hold this girl.”
Corey and Tubby carried Heather into the sparsely furnished living room and dropped her onto the couch. Heather suddenly wished the tape was off her mouth, so she did not have to breathe through her nose. The smell of rotting food and days-old garbage made her gag with each breath. Heather surveyed the room, and a motion out of the corner of her eye caused her to turn just as cockroaches scurried up the wall.
Big Bruce followed the men into the living room. He stood in front of her and looked down, towering over Heather, with question in his eyes. She jerked her head backward in fear as he reached down with his bear-like hand and grabbed the tape’s edge, then ripped it from her mouth. Heather gulped the air hungrily and then began to cough. She opened her mouth to speak, but the look in Corey’s eyes caused her to stop.
Bruce walked into the kitchen, with William close behind. Tubby retrieved a brown vial from his pants pocket and poured a fine white powder onto a mirror lying on the coffee table. Using a razor, he divided the powder into lines. Tubby made a straw out of a twenty-dollar bill, placed it near the powder and inhaled. Corey took the makeshift straw and snorted the rest. Heather looked on in silence.
Snapping his head to the side, Corey said, “Damn, that’s good stuff. You aren’t cooking with that shit, are you?”
“Naw, man, this is my personal stash.”
Corey nodded then stood up to leave the room. Tubby’s eyes bore through Heather. With her hands and feet still bound, she scooted her body as far back against the couch as she could get. Sensing her fear, Tubby stood up and started to move towards her, a smirk forming on his mouth.
“Corey and William got theirs, now it’s time for me to get mines.”
Softly Heather asked, “What about Audrey? Won’t she be mad?”
“Bitch don’t own me. I do what I want. I’m my own man.” Heather cowered as Tubby made his way to stand in front of her. He exposed himself, grabbed her hair, and said, “Suck it bitch.”
She clenched her lips tightly.
Tubby twisted her hair and jerked, “Maybe you didn’t hear what I said. I said, suck it.”
Tears trickled down Heather’s red cheeks as she complied with Tubby’s orders. When he was finished, he shoved her back onto the couch, zipped his pants, and left the room.
Chapter 3
Big Bruce led the men back into the living room and asked, “How long you gonna be gone?”
“A few hours. I got some business to handle,” Corey answered.
“Why can’t you take her with you?”
Corey looked at Heather, “I need the space in the trunk. Besides, she ain’t goin’ nowhere. ‘Cept maybe the morgue. She won’t be no problem for you.”
Heather flinched as Tubby ran the side of his hand across her jaw and said, “I’m sure she’ll take care of whatever needs you have. Won’t you?”
Bruce hesitated before saying, “Leave her.”
“Give me your phone number.”
Bruce looked from Heather to Corey, “741-1925.”
“Okay. We’ll call you. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Bruce waited until the men left to ask Heather her name.
“Heather. Heather Whitaker.”
“Where are you from?”
“South Kansas City. Grandview, actually.”
“How’d you get mixed up with them boys?”
“Tubby’s girlfriend, Audrey. She’s my roommate at the women’s shelter.” Heather paused before quietly adding, “I thought Audrey was my friend.”
Bruce gently placed his hand on Heather’s knee. She instinctively jerked her knee away in fear. Realizing what she must have thought, Bruce lifted his hand and said, “I’m not going to do anything to you. You gotta be about my baby girl’s age.”
Heather didn’t respond. Her stomach began to rumble.
“Are you hungry?”
She nodded.
“You like chicken nuggets?”
Heather nodded.
“Alright. I’ll go fix you some.” Bruce clicked the power onto the television and went into the kitchen.
Heather could hear him talking to someone, but the television masked what he said. She moved her body, trying to ease the pain in her wrists and shoulders. When Bruce finally returned with a plate of food, she softly asked, “Can you please undo my hands? I promise not to do anything.”
Tears returned to Heather’s eyes and her stomach sank with defeat when Bruce turned and left the room. She sat and stared at the food, silently wondering if he expected her to eat like a dog with her hands bound behind her back.
A few moments later, Bruce returned with a knife in his hand. Heather shrank into the sofa, jumping when a bug crawled across her leg.
“Can you stand up?”
She looked up with hesitation, then nodded her head slightly. She scoot
ed towards the edge of the sofa, put her bound feet on the floor, and used her hands to push herself up. Bruce pulled her hands away from her body and sliced the tape.
“Oh my gosh, thank you!” Heather rubbed her shoulder and rolled her neck. “My arms were starting to go numb. Can I cut the tape on my feet too?”
Bruce paused, unsure if giving this woman a knife was a good idea.
Sensing his reluctance, Heather said, “I promise I won’t do anything. I just want to undo the tape.”
Bruce said, “Sit down.”
Just as Heather thought he was going to leave her feet bound together, Bruce knelt and cut the tape.
Once the tape was removed, Heather hungrily ate the chicken pieces that had been laid before her. When she was almost finished, she asked, “Can I please have something to drink?”
Bruce went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. Sitting it on the table, he asked, “Where do you live?”
Heather took a long drink of water then said, “I’ve been staying at the women’s shelter by the highway. I’ve only been there for a few weeks. I couldn’t stay in my apartment anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Bobby-that’s my ex-boyfriend-he tried to kill me a few weeks ago, so the cops thought I’d be safer in a shelter. My caseworker said they’d help me transition into my own place again, but I need to find a job first. Do you know of anywhere I could work? I’m reliable. I have a car. Shoot, they’re going to bring me my car back, right? I mean, I have to have the car. It’s not even my car. It’s my grandma’s. She’s going to be so mad if I don’t get it back. Do you think they’ll bring it back?”
Bruce tried to keep up with all of Heather’s ramblings without answering her. He had no idea what these boys were capable of.
Chapter 4
When Heather finally stopped to take a breath, Big Bruce said, “I thought they would be back with your car by now. Let me see if I can get them on the phone.”
Bruce picked up the phone then realized Corey never gave him a number. And they hadn’t called him. Bruce knew he was going to have to do something. The sunlight coming through the window was starting to fade when he looked at Heather and said, “I can’t keep you here. My lady friend will be coming by tonight. If she sees you here, there’ll be a heap of trouble.”