The Rabbit Hole

Chapter 16

Detective Edwards is in his office -a tidy office-bursting at the seams. Since agent Rennik went off to her own quest to find some answers to the unspoken questions. Edwards has had calls of suspects fitting the description of the killer. Many trucker hat, plaid shirt wearing civilians have been brought in to the precinct for questioning. At first, a big Caucasian male going by the name, Brutis Whyler, came in for questioning. Now, upon laying his sight on the man, Edwards knew for a fact that Brutis was not his man, but he had to follow up on the sightseeing. Witnesses claim to have seen Brutis put something in a rug and drop it in the trunk of his car late at night. He explained his way out of the late-night rug drop by claiming that he was a plumber and had to get rid of the burst pipes and damaged rug in his house, which is true and he also had an alibi when Heather Brooks was abducted. Another list of trucker-hat wearers took most of his day. Agent Rennik enters his office, "Anything?" She asks about a found body.
"No, nothing yet." He answers exhaustedly, "How about you? Find anything?"
"Actually, yes. The killer has a very specific type." She says.
"Yes, we know. Blonde young women."
"No, aside from that. Them being blonde plays a vital role but there's actually more to what he's looking for in a victim." She explains.
"Yeah? And what is that?"
"A perfectionist like him is all in the detail. If something minor is out of order, he won't pursue it."
"Okay, and how perfect should his victims be?"
"On good Samaritan level. Always willing to lend a helping hand, community service and all that."
"And you found out that all his victims are-"
"Exactly. Good Samaritans."
From the office, they hear a ruckus from within the precinct, the worried Brooks family. "I want to see the agent!" Eileen screams at the officer in her way. Moira and detective Edwards come shuffling in the room. "Mrs. Brooks?" Moira says.
"Agent Rennik." She says while trying to wriggle away from an officer. "It's okay, let her through." Moira says to the cop sliding out of Eileen's way.
"It's been hours. I haven't had the call. Did you find her? Did you find my baby?"
"No, Mrs. Brooks. As far as I'm concerned, it's far too early to tell." Moira says to her.
"But it's almost sunset. There has to be word."
"There hasn't been any." Eileen remains silent, and takes a seat over at the waiting room.
"Jesus," Edwards says under his collar, while staring at the distraught woman. "We really have to find this son of a bitch." He says angrily.
"Yes, we do." Moira agrees.

After an hour and the sun has set, Mr. Brooks came rushing into the precinct, worried about his missing wife. Last time he saw of her was sitting on the couch, and the next minute she was gone. He searched the whole house and couldn't find her anywhere, he finally decided to head over to the police and notify them but upon his arrival and to his surprise, he finds Eileen sitting in the waiting room with dried up tears on her cheeks. In another gather of minutes, in comes Casey and trailing along beside her is the Bridgewater couple. "Casey?" Edwards calls out to her upon sight. "Detective Edwards." She says.
"What are you doing here?" He says, and notices the couple standing behind her, "Who's this?" He asks.
"This is Mr and Mrs Bridgewater." She introduces.
"The owners of the house."
"Yes," Mr. Bridgewater says, "We would've come sooner but the airlines were shutdown due to a storm." He explains.
"It's okay, I understand." Edwards says.
"The Brooks family. Do you have any idea where they are? We've been to their house and there seems to be no one home." Mrs. Bridgewater says.
"We're right here, Mrs. Bridgewater." Gordon voices his presence from behind them.
"Oh, I'm so sorry about what happened to Heather. If I hadn't asked her to housesit for me, this would have never have happened." She sobs with deep guilt.
"It's not your fault, Mrs. Bridgewater. We don't blame you for a second." Eileen says.
"So?" Casey asks, "Anything? Any word?" she asks with her heart beating heavy on her chest, waiting for the answer.
"No. Nothing." Moira joins the circle, standing beside Edwards, "and that's good news." She adds.
"Good? How? She's still missing." Casey says.
"Good because if she's still missing, that means that she's still alive out there." Moira explains.
"Giving us a chance to bring her back to you, alive." Edwards adds.
"This is all because of what you told us." Moira says to Casey.
"What did she tell you?" Eileen asks.
"She told us about Heather's pregnancy." Moira states to the parents.
"She's what? No, she's...no, my daughter is not pregnant." Eileen says.
"She was, Mrs. Brooks. That's what we found out at the doctors. She doesn't have a stomach bug." Casey admits.
"Now, Mrs. Brooks," Moira starts, "let me just say, Heather's pregnancy is the reason she hasn't been killed."
"What?" Gordon asks, "How do you know?"
"I can't really go into detail about it. All you should know, is that you should be grateful that your daughter fell pregnant at that time." She says to calm them. "Your daughter is a smart girl, she's a survivor. Right now she's counting on you not to give up on her." Moira says, and Casey agrees by nodding. "Heather's the strongest person I know. She's probably figuring a way out as we speak." She believes.

*

Day four is coming to an end, I can tell from the fading outside light of the sun. I lay in wait, sitting on this wet and soggy mattress, squelching with a slight movement. My neck still throbbing in pain after he wrapped that hose around my neck and dragged me across the room. After since he left, I crawled, crawled to a corner crying. Feeling weak and useless around him. I searched and searched for that wooden prick I planned on using on him, but with no luck. However, the second I crawled to that God-forsaken corner, I find it. I find that damn thing laying on the ground, after he's left the room, I find it! After he's done that to me, I find it!
There's no point in losing it now. If I'm going to survive this, I must be level headed, no matter what he throws at me. So for now, I'll sit on this squelchy mattress in patience, waiting in this silence which my grumbling belly keeps begging for food, waiting for my chance, biding my time. This time I'll grip this wooden stake tight so it doesn't slip from my hands again, and when he comes, I'll strike, strike hard and fast, repeatedly.

Nightfall. The padlock rustles from the other side. He's coming back for another game, fine by me. I may be starving and weakened by that fact, but I'll be damned if I let him ragdoll me around once again. He gets close, I impale him. The padlock snaps loudly as it unlocks, the door opens. From the sound of what's going on up there, he's been watching the nature channel. I hear a documentary about Jackrabbits. There's a light behind him, I can't quite see his face, only an outline of the body, and from what I see, I find that I was wrong, it's not even him coming down, it's the woman from last time, Samantha. She comes bouncing down the steps, holding a bucket in one hand. She stands a few feet away from me, glaring and sending off a weird expression from her face. Nothing sinister or wicked, it's more like surprise. She glares at me like she's surprised I made it here, like she never expected to see me in here. I stare back at her, she blinks and shuffles over to the opposite corner from where I'm sitting and places the bucket on the ground. "I don't believe it." She whispers.
"What?" I ask in a raspy voice, sounding hoarse from all the screaming from this morning.
"I didn't expect you to be here. I didn't expect you to be alive still," she confesses to me. "He never kept the others alive for this long. You must be special...and that's not a good thing." She says and starts to leave.
"Wait," I call out, "Please. I need something to eat, I beg of you." She gives me one long stare with her eyes, holding pity and a hint of concern within them, and then rushes up the stairs without a word. She leaves me, alone and isolated in this pit. With the absence of the moon's light, covered by grey clouds with rumbling thunder, I remain in the darkness. I feel my eyelids blink but see no difference after the second, it seems as if my eyes are trapped shut and left to see nothing but my now tenebrous life.

In an hours time, the doors open once again. She has returned, with a tray of leftover food. More bones than meat but I don't care, I get to eat, that's all I care to think about. She sets the tray and leaves the room. Leaving me scrounging for the little remnant's of food I've been offered.