Trapped (rewrite)

Disclaimer: This is a repost. I'm not sure what happened to my first posting of Trapped.





June 23, 1995, I was only 5 at the time. That date doesn’t haunt me anymore. There is another date, almost a year later, but I’ll get to it later. This was the date my mother, Iris disappeared. I waited patiently outside with my kindergarten class for my mother to arrive. I spent that time playing with Maggie and Trish on the jungle gym, until their mothers came to shuttle them off. At one point my teacher asked if she could take me home. I boldly told her, “My mother will come. She never forgets me.” The afternoon dragged on; finally I spotted my father’s blue and red cop lights crossing the horizon. Coming to a halt his tires squealed, even from the swing set I could hear the tire’s harsh cry. He raced towards me with fear in his eyes. Almost instantly my father dropped down on his knees to hug me fiercely pleading to never leave me alone again. Gathering my lunch pale he scooped me into his arms. Inside the cab his police radio spewed out the grueling details of the robbery. At headquarters the chief showed us the videotape from the robbery. Immediately I recognized my mother. Two masked men entered behind her. Inhaling I dreaded her being shot. One man held a knife to her throat while the other demanded the cashier for money. Backing out of the convenient store the man with the knife held fast to my mother. Through the display window I could make out the guy who took the money stealing our van. The other man and mom must have been on the other side of the gas pumps, because I detected what little movement that could be seen. Iris had often used that convenient store to fill the tank.

We, my dad and I waited as his coworkers plus others searched for her and the woman napping robbers. A week passed with no trace of her, then that week turned into a month. My father, Jordan consumed himself with police work to avoid his hurt. Jordan used to be a policeman. After the disappearance of my mother he switched positions. He became a private investigator. Turning a new badge he took me to his hometown. He believed that new scenery would improve our life. “Beginning anew,” he told me. I knew by the strain in his voice that was difficult to say, let alone mean it.

Entering Jordan’s hometown vandalism plagued train cars. Doesn’t that happen in all small towns? It annoys the crap out of me. Every teenager wishes they could be gangsters like they see on TV. Now we just call them ‘wangsters’. It’s a cross between wanna be gangsters. That’s the least of this tiny town’s problems. We were on our way to see the police chief.

“Stay here Jess,” ordered Jordan before leaving the van, “I will be just a minute.”

“Yes father.” He kissed me on the forehead.

“Grace, remember me?” asked Jordan hovering over the elderly secretaries’ counter.

“Jordan Watson, is that really you? How many years has it been?”

“Roughly 22. Is Drew Gardner in?”

“Man I’m old. I recall when you were just a tot. Drew is in his office. Follow me.”

(Knock… knock)

“Come in,” Drew Gardner said looking up from his monitor.

“Drew, you’ll never guess who came to visit!” Grace wagered.

Stepping from behind her Jordan rebutted, “I’m not here for a visit. I’m coming back to live here.”

Drew stood up. Shaking hands with Jordan he commented, “I thought you were never coming again to this small town.”

“I’ve grown up since then. I’m no longer a police officer like my old man.”

Facing Grace, Drew motioned for her to shut the door.

“Then what are you?” she questioned.

“I’m a detective now. It has been a while. What’s the crime around here?”

“The usual, only much more noticeable. When your father was working we were trying to pin the art, jewelry, and arsenal thefts on the late Senior Hardy. Unfortunately after many years of failed labor we could never pin him to the crimes. He was the most influential mob boss serving as our mayor. It seems his son; Mathew Hardy is taking over the family business now.”

“Can we hire you to investigate who is behind the thefts? We know they can’t be doing it all alone. Find out who is their outside source before we make an arrest,” informed Grace.

“Are you absolutely positive the Hardy’s are behind the thefts? They were always law abiding citizens,” Jordan said baffled.

“We are positive,” assured Grace.

“I’ll see what I can dig up,” promised Jordan leaving.

“Hey before you go, where are you living? How can I reach you?” interjected Drew.

“I bought my parents house. You can contact me at the old phone number. You still have it?” answered Jordan.

“Somewhere in all this mess,” replied Grace pointing to Police Chief Gardner’s desk.

Laughing Jordan left the building.

“So what do you think of the town?” dad inquired starting his truck.

“Not bad. What’s for supper? I’m h-u-n-g-r-y,” I complained.

“Why don’t I swing you by the house first and drop you off? Then I’ll go to the store.”

“Lasagna, please!” I cried.

“Alright lasagna it is.”



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My dad was getting closer to the truth every month. I was proud of him. A year had almost gone by since relocating to here. It was June 14, 1996 when Jordan received a letter that shook him. The letter changed my life, though I didn’t know it at the time. That day I learned many things, although I can never tell anyone what really happened. All I can recall was my dad taking me with him to meet his long time friend, Mathew Hardy.  The letter directed my dad to an old spot where he and Mathew played as kids. We arrived at the abandoned warehouse by the old railroad tracks on the outskirts of town. My dad was agitated and flustered by the time we got there. I continually asked him what was wrong, but his only reply was for me to stay in the truck. As he got out I knew something definitely was wrong when he pulled his gun out of his holster. He crept slowly around the warehouse. Worried for him and mostly curious I undid my seatbelt, unlocked the door, and slid to the ground. I let the door hang wide open so he couldn’t hear me. I ran to the side entrance door that Jordan entered. I stopped fearful that I would be caught. Cautiously I wedged the door open slowly peeping around to check what lay beyond. Boxes and giant crates loomed to each side creating a hallway of sorts. In many broken crates either statues or paintings were protectively covered with bubble wrap. I edged to the end of the row. I could hear my dad’s voice just beyond. He was with a tall stout man, which later would become my adoptive father. A woman came shrieking in from what appeared to be the original entrance. There was gunfire and at some point during all the chaos I was being lifted up. I vaguely recall seeing Jordan falling, his gun going off, and blood spraying. I don’t remember much after that, but I know my father didn’t shoot anyone.



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         I’m 19 now living with the mob boss, Mathew Hardy and his family. Lately I wake up most nights dripping with fear. I desperately try to recall the facts of my nightmare. The reoccurring nightmare is of June 14, 1996, the day my father died.

         “I can’t believe they are bringing this up again!” shrieked Lisa. She threw the newspaper down on the bar. Lisa is Mathew’s daughter.

“What is it?” Ann picked up the discarded newspaper. Ann happens to be Mathew’s second wife.

“Those news people should leave well enough alone. They need to quit digging up trash,” complained Lisa.

“Don’t show this to your father. He’ll be devastated,” warned Ann. I grabbed the paper out of her hands even though I knew full well what they were talking about. Scanning the articles I came across what they had read. It was an article recalling that bloody day Jordan was shot dead. It claimed on that day the police were going to raid the warehouse. Upon their arrival they opened fire after seeing Detective Watson, my dad being threatened at gunpoint. He shot Matthew’s first wife, Cheryl killing her. They also claimed it had been reported at that time an officer had remembered seeing a child. They dismissed the rumor saying too much happened in a matter of seconds. It stung reading the article. It had been 15 years ago that my father died.

Kissing his wife Mathew sat at the breakfast table.

“Anything new?” he asked searching the room. “Something wrong Jessica?”

Raising my head from the article I replied, “It’s nothing. I just had another nightmare. Nothing to concern yourself about.”

“Come talk to me this afternoon if I’m not in another meeting,” commanded Mathew.

I nodded my head. Mathew is a strict parent, however I knew he was soft with me. I don’t know why he’s like that. I sometimes believe he likes me more than his own daughter.

“How is school, Lisa?” Ann questioned.

“Boring as usual. I met this super cute sophomore. His name is Randy,” she rambled.

“I’m not sending you to college to meet boys,” argued Mathew.

Steve McNell strolled into the dining room.

“One minute Steve,” I hollered. Today he is accompanying me to college. Usually I have my own guard to watch over me. Recently with all the stress I’ve been having I had to fire the last guard, because he nearly got me killed. Let’s just put it this way DWI.  Mathew promised he would hire another guard immediately. I know he will. For now I’m borrowing Mathew’s long-standing friend.

“Jessica wait,” ordered Steve.

“Huh?”

“I was requested by your father to guard Lisa as well,” he answered.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lisa and I whispered in unison.

Lisa and I don’t get along very well. She’s slightly stuck up. Our tastes in most everything are so far off we avoid each other. I tolerate her as much as I can.

“What happened to Eugene?” inquired Lisa. Eugene happens to be Lisa’s guard. I feel sorry for him, but he’s a tough guy.

“Eugene won’t be coming in today. He has some work to do with your father.”

“Now I’m going to be late,” I said grabbing my purse.



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         “Grace, Grace where are you?” shouted Drew.

Rushing into his office she handed him the slip.

“So this is our new rookie?”

“Seems so,” answered Grace out of breath.

“Blake Patterson. Sounds familiar…...hmmm…do I know him?” he asked Grace.

“He is Sergeant Patterson’s son honey. They live over in Huntsville. She made us that cherry pie for Cassie’s retirement party,” she said.

“Is she recommending her son?” Drew wondered.

“He is interested in solving the recent robberies,” offered Grace.

“When is he coming?”

“He is in the waiting room.”

“Bring him in.”

“Chief Gardner is ready to speak with you,” Grace said sweetly.

Blake took the seat nearest him. On the opposite side of the desk Chief Drew clicked out of the programs on his desktop.

“Chief,” started Blake.

“I know why you are here. My wife explained it to me,” snapped Drew.

“She sure is a nice lady,” complemented Blake.

“Grace is something. I decided I’d hire you. Your mother, Sergeant Patterson is a personal friend of mine. I need more officers, but if you screw up. You are out of here first thing. I don’t have time to baby-sit rookies,” clarified the Chief.

“Yes sir. May I ask when I start?”

“Today. I need someone to go undercover. They have to be young.”

“As what?”

“Don’t know yet. I have to have someone in the Hardy mansion. Any job will do.”

“Who will I be watching?”

“Mathew Hardy and his associates. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Yes sir.”



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         “So glad you could join me,” welcomed Mathew Hardy.

“I came to see about a job offer,” prompted Blake.

“Yes, there is a position open. How old are you?”

“I’m 24.”

“Do you have a license for firearms? If not can you get one?”

“I already own one. What kind of job is this?”

“To be honest. I recently had to fire one of my guards, because of his incompetent actions. Will you be a reliable guard?”

“Yes, no one will be able to get past me.”

“I sure hope so. Before I allow you to take the job, there are a few things we must go over.”

“Like what?”

“How do you treat women?”

“Respectfully.”

“How much do you know about my family?”

“Not much. I most recently moved to this area.”

“I will be doing a background check on you. Will that be a problem?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Return this afternoon. By then I should have an answer for you. Good day,” Mathew said dismissing the young man.



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Dashing back to the police station Blake was troubled.

“Grace I must speak to the Chief,” responded Blake as he burst through the door.

“Drew knew you would return. He is waiting for you in his office. Go right in,” urged Grace.

“Ahh. Blake you returned! Something the matter?” Drew quizzed.

“Mr. Hardy is going to do a background check on me,” he blurted out.

“I had a feeling he would. Don’t worry. Did you use your name or a fake?”

“My own name.”

“That’s okay.”

“How can that be okay?” shrieked Blake.

“Officer Patterson, it doesn’t matter if he knows you’re a cop. You’re just a rookie. Nothing about you is a threat to him,” reassured Drew.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means he will take you in. You won’t appear to be deadly to him. The matter is over. Leave my office. I have a dinner reservation I need to ensure.”



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         I walked out of my last classroom for the day Steve stood up from the bench adjacent to the door.

“Afternoon Steve, what’s up for tonight?”

“The usual, a nice evening with Rudy, my German shepherd. This came for you.” He handed me a yellow rose.

I sniffed it and examined the blooming flower.

“Your secret admirer?” questioned Steve.

For several years I’ve bought two yellow roses. It’s a ritual of mine. I send one to my mother’s grave and at night when I’m away from everyone I personally deliver the second rose to my father’s. Yellow roses were my mom’s favorite despite her name. No one really knows the reason why I get the roses or that I’m the one who buys them. Most speculate though.

“No, no secret admirer. It’s for a dear old friend of mine,” I say closing my eyes enjoying the scent of the rose.

“Here comes Lisa. She seems to be in a rambunctious mood. Who’s that with her?” noted Steve sizing up the punk hanging over Lisa.

I opened my eyes and grunt, “Must be Randy.”

Lisa waltzed up wearing a lower pink tank top and skimpier mini skirt than she had worn this morning.

“Lisa is that you?” I commented, “Frankly I thought a hooker was strutting this way.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Whose this little punk?”

“This is Randy. Remember I mentioned him this morning. He’s coming home with us.”

Randy enveloped Lisa with his arms, “What’s up?”

“Does your father know Lisa?” inquired Steve.

“Yeah he knows. Hey squirt whose the flower from?” She pointed to the rose laying atop the books in my arms.

I snapped, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” I turned on my heels to the parking lot.

“Hey Jessica where are you going?” shouted Lisa.

I swiveled around facing towards Steve.

“Steve I’ve got to work on a project at the library. Do you think you could take those two home and pick me up in thirty minutes?”

“Go ahead, I trust you. I’ll pick you up in an hour. I have some errands,” he shouted in return.

“Alright, you know where to find me,” I yelled back.